mission report for gomushroom (part 1 of 3)
Title: With a Nice Spirit (Occasional Hero)
Groups/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Perfume(-ish), Arashi & a few special cameos
Rating: PG-13, mostly for language
Warnings: Magical girls, monsters, time travel, alternate universes (ha!), faux-action & explanation-lite, inspiration drawn from everywhere. Apologies in advance!
Summary: One, his name is Matsumoto Jun. Two, he is thirty years old. Three, he just wants to have a normal, average, not-constantly-on-the-brink-of-death life.
Notes: Hello gomushroom! Your request had me at Jun/Perfume and this all sort of spiraled from there. I have no idea if this is anything you were expecting, but I really hope you enjoy it! I had too much fun writing it. :) Thank you to my fabulous betas and capn-planet for being so patient with me. ♥
Spring of life
Jun wakes to a stiff neck, an aching back, and thin, girly arms strewn across his chest. A-chan is snoring lightly against his left side, fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt. Kashiyuka is snuggled against his right, one arm firmly hugging his abdomen. Nocchi is on her other side, but one of her long, slender legs stretches over Kashiyuka to tangle between his. He tries to wriggle free in vain. Why do these girls refuse to understand the concept of personal space?
He notices a beat too late that his comfortable-and now pink thanks to a certain laundry incident with frilly red panties-covers are pooled around his ankles, squished snugly over and under and around girlish bodies.
Shit.
He tries to cover himself with the blanket, but Nocchi’s legs, though willowy, are decidedly stronger than his. One last attempt to free his legs ends with his face mere centimeters away from A-chan’s, close enough to feel her warm breath over his eyelids. Jun holds his breath and closes his eyes-but she remains asleep. “Whew.”
A-chan’s eyes snap open and her smile is cheerful and bright despite waking in such close proximity to his face. “Jun-sama, good mor-” Until her eyes travel downward. “Not again, Jun-sama!”
“How vulgar,” Nocchi says in a tone that makes Jun want to apologize for the entirety of his gender being such inherent perverts. Except-wait, this is not his fault. “Look, it’s biology okay? Bi-o-lo-gy. And stop barging into my room in the middle of the night if you don’t like it.” She seems to harbor no inclinations of stopping. Or removing her legs from his own, for that matter.
She never does.
“Your room is much warmer,” Kashiyuka murmurs through a yawn, cheeks colored a dusty pink. She blinks up at him like her cuteness will magically override his irritation. Which it doesn’t.
Except when it does.
“I want a mini-tomato omelet for breakfast, Jun-sama!” A-chan cries, sitting upright and bouncing up and down on his bed.
“Ah, fresh strawberries and French toast for me, Jun-sama!”
“No, definitely rice balls, Jun-sama!”
Jun covers his face with his hands and recites three truths in his head.
One, his name is Matsumoto Jun.
Two, he recently turned thirty years old.
Three-and this is where it gets tricky-there is a moment he can’t quite pinpoint, one single, horrible moment when his life decided that normality was simply not an option.
It could have been the night he turned thirty. Or the day his mother passed away. Or the morning he noticed three school girls staring at him from across the train tracks.
If he’s honest, Jun thinks it was probably the moment he was born.
“Jun-sama, are you listening to us?”
But he prefers to blame the second he met Ninomiya Kazunari.
“Ding-dong!” Speak of the rat-faced devil. “I see we’re all lively this morning.”
Fucking Nino.
Troublemaker
“Found ya!”
Jun barely has time to look up before there is a strange, rat-faced boy-man grinning down at him from above, stretching his middle finger toward him. It makes contact with Jun’s forehead and time seems to stand still or move faster or something because everyone around him is still walking and he can’t move, can barely breathe and why is everyone walking so much faster than him and why won’t anyone help him and the last thing Jun sees before he blinks is that weird, Cheshire grin on boy-man’s face.
And then nothing.
Jun gasps for breath and when he opens his eyes he is hunched over on the sidewalk, palms flat against concrete and-great, now people are staring at him. He resists the urge to vomit and stands, wipes his hands on the front of his already wrinkled work pants and touches his forehead. Damp with sweat, but no fever. Not a bad sign, but not a good one. He could use one of his sick days if he were sick. But he’s not sick.
One, his name is Matsumoto Jun, and he does not get sick.
The skies rumble overhead and Jun frowns.
Two, he wishes he had an umbrella.
When the skies swiftly darken, Jun ducks under a store awning to avoid the initial downpour, but not a single drop falls. He peeks out from under the awning to spare the sky a curious glance and is met with the sight of a giant, green, tentacled blob blocking out the sun. There is a very large, very bulbous eye right in the center of its…head? Body?
Three, this may be how he is going to die.
Spice
Rice balls win every breakfast battle because Nocchi is the only one who can-and ever offers to-cook. She never lets Jun help, though, always ushers him out of the kitchen with a stern shake of her head because he is a Prince, and it would be unbecoming of a Prince to have to make his own meals. Even though that’s exactly what he’s been doing for the past few months.
Before that, too, counting the two years his mother was sick…
The rice cooker sings and Nocchi hums along with it as she pins her hair back and fumbles with the tie of her apron.
“At least let me help you with that,” Jun says, bemused, as he watches her struggle with the tie.
Nocchi blinks and bites the bottom of her lip uncertainly, but Jun steps forward anyway, turns her by the shoulders so that her back is to him. Honestly, he’s a Prince, allegedly, not a glass bowl that will break into pieces at any moment. He deftly ties the apron strings into a cheerful bow that rests against the hollow of her back and his finger slips. The barest touch against the fabric of her-his-t-shirt. Nocchi freezes. Literally. He hears the shatter of ice against the kitchen floor and she apologizes and bows profusely, despite his attempts to tell her it’s okay and it’s just water and it can be cleaned up unlike the scorched tip of his roof.
They quickly set about picking up scattered pieces of ice, but when Jun’s hand brushes against hers one too many times, he backs away and clears his throat. “Um, so you like cooking?”
“Hmm, I do. Learning was mostly a necessity, though.” She shrugs as she wipes down the floor with a towel. “It was just us three for so long. A-chan couldn’t always control her fire and Kashiyuka was so fragile when we were younger, so it was a lot of trial and error before I could make something edible.”
“What about your family?” The words slip out before Jun can stop them.
Nocchi just smiles lightly. “Ah, Jun-sama, are you teasing me?”
“No, I-”
“You know there was no one to find us for a long while.”
Ah, it’s there again. That odd, gnarling sensation in the pit of his stomach. That irrational, emotional, undeniable bitterness down the back of his throat.
“Nocchi…”
“Breakfast will be ready in a bit, Jun-sama.” She masks her face with a sunny Nocchi smile, takes him by the shoulders, and successfully ushers him out of the kitchen because Jun doesn’t have the strength to put up much of a fight anymore.
In the living room, the others have booted up the Wii and Nino is explaining the intricacies of Super Smash Brothers.
“So,” A-chan interrupts after a minute, “we just beat each other up, right?”
“Well-”
“LET’S SMASH!”
Monster
Jun can’t move. He can’t breathe, again, but that’s less worrisome. What’s more worrisome is the fact that he seems to be the only person on the sidewalk who notices the giant jello monster leering over all of Japan with its bulbous eye, because not a single other person stops to look at the thing. Thousands of tourists on the streets, he’s sure, and not a single camera flash.
He wonders if this is how his life is fated to end, by some giant, not-even-Godzilla-like monster. And in that second of monster-comparing contemplation, when his time would have been better spent running away, the green blob turns its eye on him and stares.
And stares.
And stares.
And then oozes toward him.
Will he be buried in green gelatin shaped like a coffin, or will they at least sculpt him out of the ooze and place him in a wooden one? The thought comes unbidden and Jun could punch himself in the face.
One, his name is Matsumoto Jun, and he has the worst last thoughts in the history of the world.
Two, now might be a good time to try that whole running the fuck away thing.
He takes a step back and the glob reacts, eyes widening. It picks up the pace and speeds toward him.
Three…it’s probably too late.
No one can save him now.
Except someone steps in front of him.
Three someones.
Three girls in high school-esque uniforms.
“Move!” Jun snarls, willing his jelly-legs to work so he can push these innocently stupid girls out of the way and at least die a heroic death to make up for the worst last thoughts in the history of the world.
The girls sidestep him-in perfect synchronization-and one of them even turns to wink as he hits the pavement.
“Leave this to us, Jun-sama!”
Jun-sama?
The leader of the formation-dressed in a ruffled red skirt that skims her knees, a matching red ribbon under the collar of her blouse, and a pair of strappy high heels-lowers her right hand to the left side of her waist. It glows a golden orange and he can’t help but wonder if Red, as he’s dubbed her in his mind, will fight with a wand.
He’s sorely mistaken.
In place of the glowing orange light is slender, curved blade.
“A katana…”
Curls of fire spark when she flexes her fingers around the hilt. She takes one step forward and lowers her gaze. Waiting. The slime monster is but a few centimeters away before she finally makes a move, draws her sword with a one clean swing and there is a sickening gurgle as it gets knocked back from the impact. The katana leaves a gaping, smoking cut just under the eye.
“Way to go, A-chan!” Yellow cheers-that is, the girl dressed in a lacy yellow mini-skirt, a matching colored bowtie and strapless high heels. The blob’s wound festers and oozes over until it looks brand-spankin’-jello-mold-new. Yellow’s face falls. “Um, too soon?”
“Duck!” Blue cries, throwing herself over Yellow and knocking them both into Jun as a glob of goo hurtles toward them. It lands exactly where Yellow and Blue stood not five seconds ago and it hisses, eroding the concrete like sand. In another instant, Red-A-chan-also careens into them.
“Didn’t you say you were going to protect me?” Jun wheezes, trying to shake off the pounding in his skull.
“Working on it!” A-chan cries, tossing green slime off of her arm. Her skin is red and raw underneath. She charges at the monster with renewed vigor while Blue frowns as she lifts herself from the ground. She extends a hand to Jun, but he refuses to take it.
“No matter how many times she hits it, it can regenerate its body, except…” Blue’s eyes widen. “Kashiyuka, aim for the eye!”
“H-huh?”
“Quickly!”
“Okay!” Kashiyuka lifts one arm straight out and her hand glimmers brighter than the sun. Jun watches through squinted eyes as the light is replaced with a golden, wing-tipped bow. And no arrows. He’s about to voice some concern when she raises her other hand against the bowstring, draws back-and releases.
Nothing happens.
Then the monster draws in its goop and stretches tall and thin and forms a hole in the middle of its fucking body and just after that, a large chunk of a nearby skyscraper’s roof is blown clean off.
“Shoot,” Kashiyuka mutters, lowering her bow and drawing her eyebrows together. “I’ve got to get to higher ground-Nocchi, I’m leaving Jun-sama to you!”
“Got it!” Nocchi nods as Kashiyuka dashes off in a golden blur.
There are many questions that he could ask now that he’s alone with one of them and they don’t seem to be in any immediate danger-many questions he should ask-but the one that bubbles up his throat and out of his stupid mouth is, “Are you really going to fight in high heels?”
Nocchi blinks at him like he’s grown a third head before contemplating this. “Ah, I guess you’re right.”
She slips the heels off her feet and arranges them neatly together on the sidewalk just as the monster roars, charging at them in the blink of a bulbous eye. A-chan is nowhere in sight and he hates himself for putting the stupid suggestion in Nocchi’s head because the other girls were fighting just fine and this one doesn’t even have a weapon out and now. His name is Matsumoto Jun and this time, with a giant blob catapulting into the air and an unarmed girl, dressed in blue, fussing about her shoes, he’s pretty sure he is going to die.
“Nocchi!”
Nocchi snaps her head up and rears her leg back. Her bare foot glows with swirls of blue before she brings it around and over her head, making contact with a loud crack.
…So that’s why she’s the only one wearing shorts.
The monster veers off course and three things happen simultaneously: Nocchi raises a fist swirling with glowing blue light until a massive chunk of ice forms around it; A-chan fights her way out of some wreckage and charges forward with her katana; and a burst of lightning fast wind and the monster stops. It’s tiny at first, but then a puncture opens wide in the middle of its eye, sucking the monster in until there is too much pressure and it explodes in a shower of green slime confetti. From the roof of a near skyscraper, he can make out a shining, yellow silhouette hopping off and landing cleanly on her feet in front of them.
In high heels.
Kashiyuka grins, holding up a victory sign that A-chan and Nocchi mirror back at her.
Green slime falls like rain and Jun’s mind grows fuzzy and faint as the sound of burning flesh sizzles in his ears.
Two, again, he really, really wishes he had an umbrella.
Sweet (fan service)
A-chan ends up winning through sheer button mashing determination, and the scowl on Nino’s face is almost worth the three days he had to take off from work to recover. Almost. The three girls hovering over him, answering to his every beck and call, would have been a bonus if they didn’t do more harm than good. What would his mother say about the crisp and crumbling tiles of the roof, the pink sheets and laundry basket full of clothing that belong to him but do not smell like him, the scratched and nicked wooden floors, and her poor garden that never stood a chance.
Jun sighs.
She might have been thrilled by the female company.
“Jun-sama?”
“Yo, Emperor!”
“Don’t call me that,” Jun grumbles, cramming the last of his rice ball into his mouth. It takes five chews to realize that everyone is staring at him. He swallows it down with a painful cough. “What?”
“I asked if you made a decision yet. We’re running out of time. We can probably only stay here for another few days at most without any lasting repercussions.” There is a glimmer of something hard behind Nino’s wry expression, under his normally cheerful tone. An edge scraped and sharpened by battle. War. Twenty-four years with no lasting peace. Something churns in Jun’s gut and bile rises to the back of his throat. His mouth feels bitter, sour.
Guilt.
“Jun-sama, are you all right?” Kashiyuka asks, placing a cool hand over his forehead.
“I’m fine…I think I need to go lie down for a bit.” He shifts away from her touch and heads to his room, ignoring the angelic chorus of concern behind him.
“Jun-sama…” A-chan catches up with him in the hallway, taps him on the shoulder just as he opens his bedroom door.
“I said I was fine, don’t worry so much.” He ruffles her hair and it’s so hard to remember that she is older than she looks. Until she takes his hand with both of hers and presses it above her left breast.
“A-chan!”
“Shh,” she says, closing her eyes. “You feel it, right, Jun-sama?”
“Feel…?”
“My heartbeat.”
Oh.
“The blood that pumps through my body-the blood that pumps through Nocchi’s and Kashiyuka’s-it flows for you, Jun-sama. We were born to serve you, sworn to protect you, no matter what choice you make.”
“Should you commit yourself so fully to someone who couldn’t even find you?” Jun asks, though he’s not sure for whose sake he asks.
“There is no point worrying about past circumstances out of our control.” She cracks an eye open and grins impishly. “All that matters is that you found us now…and now that you have, you can’t get rid of us that easily.”
But they found him.
“Besides, it’s like Nino said-you probably can’t survive without us, anyway.” It’s said so nonchalantly for something that seems increasingly, painfully, obviously true. She releases his hand and stands on her tiptoes to press her forehead against his. “Ah, you’re a bit warm. Please get some sleep, Jun-sama. You’re returning to work tomorrow, right?”
“Right.”
“Don’t worry! A-chan will help take care of Jun-sama’s house while you’re away!”
Jun’s mouth curves into a wry smile. “You mean you’re going to play games all day with Nino while Nocchi cooks and Kashiyuka cleans?”
“Pin-pon!” She pushes him into his room and closes the door after him. “Rest up, Jun-sama!”
He waits a beat to see if she will leave, but she doesn’t. A-chan is more stubborn and protective than them all. He hears her settling herself against the door, the rustle of his clothing-several sizes too big for her-shifting and rustling until, he is sure, she brings her head to rest against her knees. She sits like that sometimes, when Nocchi is busy preparing food and Kashiyuka is hanging the laundry, sits and lets the smile drop. Then she sings. It’s a slow, forlorn melody, so unlike the A-chan he’s grown accustomed to, but he can’t forget that she, too-all of them are children of war.
He closes his eyes and feels groggy, but almost blissfully sleepy. He wonders if he’ll have those dreams again.
Hero
“What happens next?” Jun asks, bouncing impatiently on his mother’s lap as she turns the page of his picture book. She rests her chin on top of his head and Jun breathes in the scent of his mother, the scent of lotus and fresh ocean spray.
“And then the man lifted his sword and felt the power of the world-of everyone’s hopes and dreams-surge through him, filling him with strength. The winds and waters circled around him, bubbling hot, and the hero roared, ‘Monster be gone!’ before driving his broadsword into it, defeating it once and for all. The monster dissolved in a cloud of smoke and the man returned to the kingdom a great and mighty hero who had saved them all.
The end.”
“The end?” Jun repeats dully.
“The end.”
He frowns as his mother closes the book and replaces it on top of his dresser. “But what happens next?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, hoisting him up by the shoulders and carting him off to bed.
“What happens after the end? What happens to the hero and everyone in the kingdom?”
“After the-oh! Of course. They lived happily ever after.” She brings the blankets up to his chin, tucking him firmly into place, before pressing her forehead against his. Jun always feels safe and warm and blissfully sleepy when she does this.
“But what does the hero do after he saves everyone? Is he still a hero after there are no monsters to slay?”
“Hmm, well, heroes aren’t heroes simply because there is evil to slay-although that does play a big part-but sometimes the real heroes are the ones who do things that they might not want to do, because it’s the right and noble thing.”
“Like eating your vegetables?”
She laughs and Jun smiles wide. “Like eating your vegetables.”
“Is Dad your hero, Mom?”
“Yes, Jun-chan,” she says softly, kneeling down to smooth the hair away from his forehead. “Yes he is.”
Laser beam
“Welcome back,” Sho greets, patting Jun on the shoulder as he joins him for a smoke on the rooftop terrace. Jun doesn’t smoke, but he knows Sho does, knows he takes his smoke breaks like clockwork and would just like the comfort a familiar, normal, non-ratty, non-girly face. “How was your break?”
“Not a break,” Jun replies, wrinkling his nose and declining the cigarette box Sho rattles in front of him.
“Are you sure? It sure looks like you could use one.”
He probably could, all things considered. If ever there was a week to smoke a cigarette, this might be that week. Still, he declines, because he’s Matsumoto Jun and smoking’s not good for him.
“Ah, I heard you were laid up with something-it must have been serious for you to actually use your sick days.” Sho politely blows his smoke in the opposite direction before shooting him a grin. “But why not just take today off and come back on Monday? Seems like a wasted opportunity.”
“Are you kidding?” Jun groans, crossing his arms against the railing and resting his head on top of them. “I don’t even want to think about the amount of paperwork that would pile up if I was out of the office even one more day-did you see the stack on my desk?”
“Yeah. It was about double the size before I was through with it.”
Jun turns sharply and chokes on a cloud of smoke. “Wait, seriously? No you didn’t.”
Sho laughs and ruffles Jun’s hair with his free hand. “I always told you to take a break once in a while. You’ll get more gray hairs than me with your constant worrying.”
“You’re only one year older than me,” Jun grumbles, swatting Sho’s hand away. “But you really didn’t have to.”
“I know, but it’s done.” He smiles, catching Juns’s hand and giving it a light squeeze before letting go. “You’ve been using the lotion, huh?”
“Ah, yeah. Thanks so much for that.” Jun rubs his hands absently, embarrassed at getting caught. Sho keeps a bottle of hand cream at his desk at work, and the day after Jun first tried it out and mentioned that it smelled nice, Sho returned with a giant container of the stuff for him.
It smells like lotus.
“Of course. It’s important to take care of your skin in the summer, too, because the heat can damage it just as much as the cold.”
“Yeah…”
Sho grinds his cigarette against the standing ashtray and lights up another, this time aiming his smoke toward the sky. Jun watches him, chin propped up in his hands. Jun likes Sho. He’s only one year older, but he’s always been a reliable senpai, whether with work or life. He was the only one from the company Jun told about his mother’s passing and the only one who attended the funeral. His grief was so palpable, so earnest, it was as if he knew Jun’s mother personally.
No one else, not even his mother’s best friend, came to the funeral.
Jun crams his eyes shut and wills away any tears, turns his attention instead back to Sho. Even though he’s really only known Sho for a year since he transferred in from a different department, Jun respects him a lot. Likes him a lot. Sho is normal. He has lopsided shoulders he always complains about, and he’s prone to failing at everyday life even if he’s the top salesman at the company, and he tells Jun of even his most embarrassing moments, like wearing two gray parkas out of the house and getting made fun of by grade-school children.
Yes, if Jun were to leave this world-Sho might be the only person he would miss.
So when a giant laser beam careens across the sky and Sho pushes Jun out of the way, Jun wishes he could do anything other than scream.
Blue
Jun is racing paper boats in the ocean, laughing as the water turns the paper translucent and floods over the pitiful shape until it’s nothing more than a watery afterimage. He’s a little sad, but he’s also laughing harder than he ever remembers.
Someone is calling his name and Jun realizes with a start that he’s not racing boats-he’s on one-staring up at cloudless rainbow skies over the horizon. Someone is talking to him, but he can’t quite make out the words. Still, the person has a nice voice and a rich, deep laugh. Jun is vaguely aware of one more person on the boat. If only the sun weren’t so bright and his eyelids weren’t so heavy, he might be able to make out their faces.
And then he hears his mother calling him from over the boat’s edge-but mother is at home-but he peers over into the water, calling back to her just in case and then a hand shoots upward and it won’t let go and he tries to scream but it wraps around his throat suffocating and he can’t think and it’s dragging him over the edge into the water and he’s sinking, sinking…
s
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k
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On to Part 2
Groups/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Perfume(-ish), Arashi & a few special cameos
Rating: PG-13, mostly for language
Warnings: Magical girls, monsters, time travel, alternate universes (ha!), faux-action & explanation-lite, inspiration drawn from everywhere. Apologies in advance!
Summary: One, his name is Matsumoto Jun. Two, he is thirty years old. Three, he just wants to have a normal, average, not-constantly-on-the-brink-of-death life.
Notes: Hello gomushroom! Your request had me at Jun/Perfume and this all sort of spiraled from there. I have no idea if this is anything you were expecting, but I really hope you enjoy it! I had too much fun writing it. :) Thank you to my fabulous betas and capn-planet for being so patient with me. ♥
Spring of life
Jun wakes to a stiff neck, an aching back, and thin, girly arms strewn across his chest. A-chan is snoring lightly against his left side, fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt. Kashiyuka is snuggled against his right, one arm firmly hugging his abdomen. Nocchi is on her other side, but one of her long, slender legs stretches over Kashiyuka to tangle between his. He tries to wriggle free in vain. Why do these girls refuse to understand the concept of personal space?
He notices a beat too late that his comfortable-and now pink thanks to a certain laundry incident with frilly red panties-covers are pooled around his ankles, squished snugly over and under and around girlish bodies.
Shit.
He tries to cover himself with the blanket, but Nocchi’s legs, though willowy, are decidedly stronger than his. One last attempt to free his legs ends with his face mere centimeters away from A-chan’s, close enough to feel her warm breath over his eyelids. Jun holds his breath and closes his eyes-but she remains asleep. “Whew.”
A-chan’s eyes snap open and her smile is cheerful and bright despite waking in such close proximity to his face. “Jun-sama, good mor-” Until her eyes travel downward. “Not again, Jun-sama!”
“How vulgar,” Nocchi says in a tone that makes Jun want to apologize for the entirety of his gender being such inherent perverts. Except-wait, this is not his fault. “Look, it’s biology okay? Bi-o-lo-gy. And stop barging into my room in the middle of the night if you don’t like it.” She seems to harbor no inclinations of stopping. Or removing her legs from his own, for that matter.
She never does.
“Your room is much warmer,” Kashiyuka murmurs through a yawn, cheeks colored a dusty pink. She blinks up at him like her cuteness will magically override his irritation. Which it doesn’t.
Except when it does.
“I want a mini-tomato omelet for breakfast, Jun-sama!” A-chan cries, sitting upright and bouncing up and down on his bed.
“Ah, fresh strawberries and French toast for me, Jun-sama!”
“No, definitely rice balls, Jun-sama!”
Jun covers his face with his hands and recites three truths in his head.
One, his name is Matsumoto Jun.
Two, he recently turned thirty years old.
Three-and this is where it gets tricky-there is a moment he can’t quite pinpoint, one single, horrible moment when his life decided that normality was simply not an option.
It could have been the night he turned thirty. Or the day his mother passed away. Or the morning he noticed three school girls staring at him from across the train tracks.
If he’s honest, Jun thinks it was probably the moment he was born.
“Jun-sama, are you listening to us?”
But he prefers to blame the second he met Ninomiya Kazunari.
“Ding-dong!” Speak of the rat-faced devil. “I see we’re all lively this morning.”
Fucking Nino.
Troublemaker
“Found ya!”
Jun barely has time to look up before there is a strange, rat-faced boy-man grinning down at him from above, stretching his middle finger toward him. It makes contact with Jun’s forehead and time seems to stand still or move faster or something because everyone around him is still walking and he can’t move, can barely breathe and why is everyone walking so much faster than him and why won’t anyone help him and the last thing Jun sees before he blinks is that weird, Cheshire grin on boy-man’s face.
And then nothing.
Jun gasps for breath and when he opens his eyes he is hunched over on the sidewalk, palms flat against concrete and-great, now people are staring at him. He resists the urge to vomit and stands, wipes his hands on the front of his already wrinkled work pants and touches his forehead. Damp with sweat, but no fever. Not a bad sign, but not a good one. He could use one of his sick days if he were sick. But he’s not sick.
One, his name is Matsumoto Jun, and he does not get sick.
The skies rumble overhead and Jun frowns.
Two, he wishes he had an umbrella.
When the skies swiftly darken, Jun ducks under a store awning to avoid the initial downpour, but not a single drop falls. He peeks out from under the awning to spare the sky a curious glance and is met with the sight of a giant, green, tentacled blob blocking out the sun. There is a very large, very bulbous eye right in the center of its…head? Body?
Three, this may be how he is going to die.
Spice
Rice balls win every breakfast battle because Nocchi is the only one who can-and ever offers to-cook. She never lets Jun help, though, always ushers him out of the kitchen with a stern shake of her head because he is a Prince, and it would be unbecoming of a Prince to have to make his own meals. Even though that’s exactly what he’s been doing for the past few months.
Before that, too, counting the two years his mother was sick…
The rice cooker sings and Nocchi hums along with it as she pins her hair back and fumbles with the tie of her apron.
“At least let me help you with that,” Jun says, bemused, as he watches her struggle with the tie.
Nocchi blinks and bites the bottom of her lip uncertainly, but Jun steps forward anyway, turns her by the shoulders so that her back is to him. Honestly, he’s a Prince, allegedly, not a glass bowl that will break into pieces at any moment. He deftly ties the apron strings into a cheerful bow that rests against the hollow of her back and his finger slips. The barest touch against the fabric of her-his-t-shirt. Nocchi freezes. Literally. He hears the shatter of ice against the kitchen floor and she apologizes and bows profusely, despite his attempts to tell her it’s okay and it’s just water and it can be cleaned up unlike the scorched tip of his roof.
They quickly set about picking up scattered pieces of ice, but when Jun’s hand brushes against hers one too many times, he backs away and clears his throat. “Um, so you like cooking?”
“Hmm, I do. Learning was mostly a necessity, though.” She shrugs as she wipes down the floor with a towel. “It was just us three for so long. A-chan couldn’t always control her fire and Kashiyuka was so fragile when we were younger, so it was a lot of trial and error before I could make something edible.”
“What about your family?” The words slip out before Jun can stop them.
Nocchi just smiles lightly. “Ah, Jun-sama, are you teasing me?”
“No, I-”
“You know there was no one to find us for a long while.”
Ah, it’s there again. That odd, gnarling sensation in the pit of his stomach. That irrational, emotional, undeniable bitterness down the back of his throat.
“Nocchi…”
“Breakfast will be ready in a bit, Jun-sama.” She masks her face with a sunny Nocchi smile, takes him by the shoulders, and successfully ushers him out of the kitchen because Jun doesn’t have the strength to put up much of a fight anymore.
In the living room, the others have booted up the Wii and Nino is explaining the intricacies of Super Smash Brothers.
“So,” A-chan interrupts after a minute, “we just beat each other up, right?”
“Well-”
“LET’S SMASH!”
Monster
Jun can’t move. He can’t breathe, again, but that’s less worrisome. What’s more worrisome is the fact that he seems to be the only person on the sidewalk who notices the giant jello monster leering over all of Japan with its bulbous eye, because not a single other person stops to look at the thing. Thousands of tourists on the streets, he’s sure, and not a single camera flash.
He wonders if this is how his life is fated to end, by some giant, not-even-Godzilla-like monster. And in that second of monster-comparing contemplation, when his time would have been better spent running away, the green blob turns its eye on him and stares.
And stares.
And stares.
And then oozes toward him.
Will he be buried in green gelatin shaped like a coffin, or will they at least sculpt him out of the ooze and place him in a wooden one? The thought comes unbidden and Jun could punch himself in the face.
One, his name is Matsumoto Jun, and he has the worst last thoughts in the history of the world.
Two, now might be a good time to try that whole running the fuck away thing.
He takes a step back and the glob reacts, eyes widening. It picks up the pace and speeds toward him.
Three…it’s probably too late.
No one can save him now.
Except someone steps in front of him.
Three someones.
Three girls in high school-esque uniforms.
“Move!” Jun snarls, willing his jelly-legs to work so he can push these innocently stupid girls out of the way and at least die a heroic death to make up for the worst last thoughts in the history of the world.
The girls sidestep him-in perfect synchronization-and one of them even turns to wink as he hits the pavement.
“Leave this to us, Jun-sama!”
Jun-sama?
The leader of the formation-dressed in a ruffled red skirt that skims her knees, a matching red ribbon under the collar of her blouse, and a pair of strappy high heels-lowers her right hand to the left side of her waist. It glows a golden orange and he can’t help but wonder if Red, as he’s dubbed her in his mind, will fight with a wand.
He’s sorely mistaken.
In place of the glowing orange light is slender, curved blade.
“A katana…”
Curls of fire spark when she flexes her fingers around the hilt. She takes one step forward and lowers her gaze. Waiting. The slime monster is but a few centimeters away before she finally makes a move, draws her sword with a one clean swing and there is a sickening gurgle as it gets knocked back from the impact. The katana leaves a gaping, smoking cut just under the eye.
“Way to go, A-chan!” Yellow cheers-that is, the girl dressed in a lacy yellow mini-skirt, a matching colored bowtie and strapless high heels. The blob’s wound festers and oozes over until it looks brand-spankin’-jello-mold-new. Yellow’s face falls. “Um, too soon?”
“Duck!” Blue cries, throwing herself over Yellow and knocking them both into Jun as a glob of goo hurtles toward them. It lands exactly where Yellow and Blue stood not five seconds ago and it hisses, eroding the concrete like sand. In another instant, Red-A-chan-also careens into them.
“Didn’t you say you were going to protect me?” Jun wheezes, trying to shake off the pounding in his skull.
“Working on it!” A-chan cries, tossing green slime off of her arm. Her skin is red and raw underneath. She charges at the monster with renewed vigor while Blue frowns as she lifts herself from the ground. She extends a hand to Jun, but he refuses to take it.
“No matter how many times she hits it, it can regenerate its body, except…” Blue’s eyes widen. “Kashiyuka, aim for the eye!”
“H-huh?”
“Quickly!”
“Okay!” Kashiyuka lifts one arm straight out and her hand glimmers brighter than the sun. Jun watches through squinted eyes as the light is replaced with a golden, wing-tipped bow. And no arrows. He’s about to voice some concern when she raises her other hand against the bowstring, draws back-and releases.
Nothing happens.
Then the monster draws in its goop and stretches tall and thin and forms a hole in the middle of its fucking body and just after that, a large chunk of a nearby skyscraper’s roof is blown clean off.
“Shoot,” Kashiyuka mutters, lowering her bow and drawing her eyebrows together. “I’ve got to get to higher ground-Nocchi, I’m leaving Jun-sama to you!”
“Got it!” Nocchi nods as Kashiyuka dashes off in a golden blur.
There are many questions that he could ask now that he’s alone with one of them and they don’t seem to be in any immediate danger-many questions he should ask-but the one that bubbles up his throat and out of his stupid mouth is, “Are you really going to fight in high heels?”
Nocchi blinks at him like he’s grown a third head before contemplating this. “Ah, I guess you’re right.”
She slips the heels off her feet and arranges them neatly together on the sidewalk just as the monster roars, charging at them in the blink of a bulbous eye. A-chan is nowhere in sight and he hates himself for putting the stupid suggestion in Nocchi’s head because the other girls were fighting just fine and this one doesn’t even have a weapon out and now. His name is Matsumoto Jun and this time, with a giant blob catapulting into the air and an unarmed girl, dressed in blue, fussing about her shoes, he’s pretty sure he is going to die.
“Nocchi!”
Nocchi snaps her head up and rears her leg back. Her bare foot glows with swirls of blue before she brings it around and over her head, making contact with a loud crack.
…So that’s why she’s the only one wearing shorts.
The monster veers off course and three things happen simultaneously: Nocchi raises a fist swirling with glowing blue light until a massive chunk of ice forms around it; A-chan fights her way out of some wreckage and charges forward with her katana; and a burst of lightning fast wind and the monster stops. It’s tiny at first, but then a puncture opens wide in the middle of its eye, sucking the monster in until there is too much pressure and it explodes in a shower of green slime confetti. From the roof of a near skyscraper, he can make out a shining, yellow silhouette hopping off and landing cleanly on her feet in front of them.
In high heels.
Kashiyuka grins, holding up a victory sign that A-chan and Nocchi mirror back at her.
Green slime falls like rain and Jun’s mind grows fuzzy and faint as the sound of burning flesh sizzles in his ears.
Two, again, he really, really wishes he had an umbrella.
Sweet (fan service)
A-chan ends up winning through sheer button mashing determination, and the scowl on Nino’s face is almost worth the three days he had to take off from work to recover. Almost. The three girls hovering over him, answering to his every beck and call, would have been a bonus if they didn’t do more harm than good. What would his mother say about the crisp and crumbling tiles of the roof, the pink sheets and laundry basket full of clothing that belong to him but do not smell like him, the scratched and nicked wooden floors, and her poor garden that never stood a chance.
Jun sighs.
She might have been thrilled by the female company.
“Jun-sama?”
“Yo, Emperor!”
“Don’t call me that,” Jun grumbles, cramming the last of his rice ball into his mouth. It takes five chews to realize that everyone is staring at him. He swallows it down with a painful cough. “What?”
“I asked if you made a decision yet. We’re running out of time. We can probably only stay here for another few days at most without any lasting repercussions.” There is a glimmer of something hard behind Nino’s wry expression, under his normally cheerful tone. An edge scraped and sharpened by battle. War. Twenty-four years with no lasting peace. Something churns in Jun’s gut and bile rises to the back of his throat. His mouth feels bitter, sour.
Guilt.
“Jun-sama, are you all right?” Kashiyuka asks, placing a cool hand over his forehead.
“I’m fine…I think I need to go lie down for a bit.” He shifts away from her touch and heads to his room, ignoring the angelic chorus of concern behind him.
“Jun-sama…” A-chan catches up with him in the hallway, taps him on the shoulder just as he opens his bedroom door.
“I said I was fine, don’t worry so much.” He ruffles her hair and it’s so hard to remember that she is older than she looks. Until she takes his hand with both of hers and presses it above her left breast.
“A-chan!”
“Shh,” she says, closing her eyes. “You feel it, right, Jun-sama?”
“Feel…?”
“My heartbeat.”
Oh.
“The blood that pumps through my body-the blood that pumps through Nocchi’s and Kashiyuka’s-it flows for you, Jun-sama. We were born to serve you, sworn to protect you, no matter what choice you make.”
“Should you commit yourself so fully to someone who couldn’t even find you?” Jun asks, though he’s not sure for whose sake he asks.
“There is no point worrying about past circumstances out of our control.” She cracks an eye open and grins impishly. “All that matters is that you found us now…and now that you have, you can’t get rid of us that easily.”
But they found him.
“Besides, it’s like Nino said-you probably can’t survive without us, anyway.” It’s said so nonchalantly for something that seems increasingly, painfully, obviously true. She releases his hand and stands on her tiptoes to press her forehead against his. “Ah, you’re a bit warm. Please get some sleep, Jun-sama. You’re returning to work tomorrow, right?”
“Right.”
“Don’t worry! A-chan will help take care of Jun-sama’s house while you’re away!”
Jun’s mouth curves into a wry smile. “You mean you’re going to play games all day with Nino while Nocchi cooks and Kashiyuka cleans?”
“Pin-pon!” She pushes him into his room and closes the door after him. “Rest up, Jun-sama!”
He waits a beat to see if she will leave, but she doesn’t. A-chan is more stubborn and protective than them all. He hears her settling herself against the door, the rustle of his clothing-several sizes too big for her-shifting and rustling until, he is sure, she brings her head to rest against her knees. She sits like that sometimes, when Nocchi is busy preparing food and Kashiyuka is hanging the laundry, sits and lets the smile drop. Then she sings. It’s a slow, forlorn melody, so unlike the A-chan he’s grown accustomed to, but he can’t forget that she, too-all of them are children of war.
He closes his eyes and feels groggy, but almost blissfully sleepy. He wonders if he’ll have those dreams again.
Hero
“What happens next?” Jun asks, bouncing impatiently on his mother’s lap as she turns the page of his picture book. She rests her chin on top of his head and Jun breathes in the scent of his mother, the scent of lotus and fresh ocean spray.
“And then the man lifted his sword and felt the power of the world-of everyone’s hopes and dreams-surge through him, filling him with strength. The winds and waters circled around him, bubbling hot, and the hero roared, ‘Monster be gone!’ before driving his broadsword into it, defeating it once and for all. The monster dissolved in a cloud of smoke and the man returned to the kingdom a great and mighty hero who had saved them all.
The end.”
“The end?” Jun repeats dully.
“The end.”
He frowns as his mother closes the book and replaces it on top of his dresser. “But what happens next?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, hoisting him up by the shoulders and carting him off to bed.
“What happens after the end? What happens to the hero and everyone in the kingdom?”
“After the-oh! Of course. They lived happily ever after.” She brings the blankets up to his chin, tucking him firmly into place, before pressing her forehead against his. Jun always feels safe and warm and blissfully sleepy when she does this.
“But what does the hero do after he saves everyone? Is he still a hero after there are no monsters to slay?”
“Hmm, well, heroes aren’t heroes simply because there is evil to slay-although that does play a big part-but sometimes the real heroes are the ones who do things that they might not want to do, because it’s the right and noble thing.”
“Like eating your vegetables?”
She laughs and Jun smiles wide. “Like eating your vegetables.”
“Is Dad your hero, Mom?”
“Yes, Jun-chan,” she says softly, kneeling down to smooth the hair away from his forehead. “Yes he is.”
Laser beam
“Welcome back,” Sho greets, patting Jun on the shoulder as he joins him for a smoke on the rooftop terrace. Jun doesn’t smoke, but he knows Sho does, knows he takes his smoke breaks like clockwork and would just like the comfort a familiar, normal, non-ratty, non-girly face. “How was your break?”
“Not a break,” Jun replies, wrinkling his nose and declining the cigarette box Sho rattles in front of him.
“Are you sure? It sure looks like you could use one.”
He probably could, all things considered. If ever there was a week to smoke a cigarette, this might be that week. Still, he declines, because he’s Matsumoto Jun and smoking’s not good for him.
“Ah, I heard you were laid up with something-it must have been serious for you to actually use your sick days.” Sho politely blows his smoke in the opposite direction before shooting him a grin. “But why not just take today off and come back on Monday? Seems like a wasted opportunity.”
“Are you kidding?” Jun groans, crossing his arms against the railing and resting his head on top of them. “I don’t even want to think about the amount of paperwork that would pile up if I was out of the office even one more day-did you see the stack on my desk?”
“Yeah. It was about double the size before I was through with it.”
Jun turns sharply and chokes on a cloud of smoke. “Wait, seriously? No you didn’t.”
Sho laughs and ruffles Jun’s hair with his free hand. “I always told you to take a break once in a while. You’ll get more gray hairs than me with your constant worrying.”
“You’re only one year older than me,” Jun grumbles, swatting Sho’s hand away. “But you really didn’t have to.”
“I know, but it’s done.” He smiles, catching Juns’s hand and giving it a light squeeze before letting go. “You’ve been using the lotion, huh?”
“Ah, yeah. Thanks so much for that.” Jun rubs his hands absently, embarrassed at getting caught. Sho keeps a bottle of hand cream at his desk at work, and the day after Jun first tried it out and mentioned that it smelled nice, Sho returned with a giant container of the stuff for him.
It smells like lotus.
“Of course. It’s important to take care of your skin in the summer, too, because the heat can damage it just as much as the cold.”
“Yeah…”
Sho grinds his cigarette against the standing ashtray and lights up another, this time aiming his smoke toward the sky. Jun watches him, chin propped up in his hands. Jun likes Sho. He’s only one year older, but he’s always been a reliable senpai, whether with work or life. He was the only one from the company Jun told about his mother’s passing and the only one who attended the funeral. His grief was so palpable, so earnest, it was as if he knew Jun’s mother personally.
No one else, not even his mother’s best friend, came to the funeral.
Jun crams his eyes shut and wills away any tears, turns his attention instead back to Sho. Even though he’s really only known Sho for a year since he transferred in from a different department, Jun respects him a lot. Likes him a lot. Sho is normal. He has lopsided shoulders he always complains about, and he’s prone to failing at everyday life even if he’s the top salesman at the company, and he tells Jun of even his most embarrassing moments, like wearing two gray parkas out of the house and getting made fun of by grade-school children.
Yes, if Jun were to leave this world-Sho might be the only person he would miss.
So when a giant laser beam careens across the sky and Sho pushes Jun out of the way, Jun wishes he could do anything other than scream.
Blue
Jun is racing paper boats in the ocean, laughing as the water turns the paper translucent and floods over the pitiful shape until it’s nothing more than a watery afterimage. He’s a little sad, but he’s also laughing harder than he ever remembers.
Someone is calling his name and Jun realizes with a start that he’s not racing boats-he’s on one-staring up at cloudless rainbow skies over the horizon. Someone is talking to him, but he can’t quite make out the words. Still, the person has a nice voice and a rich, deep laugh. Jun is vaguely aware of one more person on the boat. If only the sun weren’t so bright and his eyelids weren’t so heavy, he might be able to make out their faces.
And then he hears his mother calling him from over the boat’s edge-but mother is at home-but he peers over into the water, calling back to her just in case and then a hand shoots upward and it won’t let go and he tries to scream but it wraps around his throat suffocating and he can’t think and it’s dragging him over the edge into the water and he’s sinking, sinking…
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On to Part 2