PART ONE, CHAPTER FOURTEEN: "SPRING CLEANING"

-THE GOLDEN BOY & THE INNER CITY-

It's hard to get a sense for how fast superhumans move.

Traits attributed to the average superhuman included general heightened physical parameters. While this included physical strength, it also included more minute improvements over the human frame such as stronger immune systems and higher overall longevity. Superhumans retained a youthful appearance longer than the opposition. These boons, however, were not one hundred percent universal.

Even one as illustrious and immaculate as myself was not exempt from the failings of a human body. On paper, Satou Shibuya suffered from a case of short-sightedness. In practice, my ability tweaked my eyesight to the widely accepted superhuman standard. Under its influence, my eyes had no match. Without its assistance, I could only watch as the world around me became a blur of movement. This was the outcome I expected upon being prompted by Kengo Kusanagi to observe the day's next training exercise.

And yet, where did these glasses come from?

Red-rimmed, square-framed glasses cleared my vision. I disliked carrying them, but sister dearest always insisted that I keep them on my person. In retrospect, she was right to do so.

From where I stood on the field's sidelines, I had a clear view of the so-called mock demon that the elder Kusanagi had praised. On the western end of the field, in the leftmost corner of my view, Fran Fairchild's calisthenics cheated me of focus. White hair in a long braid bobbed as she hopped up and down, alternating from one foot to the other. One red eye snapped shut and the other watched the cloudy skies above. Driblets of rain fell upon the glossy red and black anti-contamination suit wrapped tightly around her frame, which stood out as abnormally toned and slender.

It was immediately clear that Fran Fairchild's contamination suit was the genuine article. Bright red rubber covered from neck to groin. Thin yellow lines at the shoulders and hips separated the red from black, which clad both arms and legs, then gave way to red again; it came up to the elbows and knees to give the impression of gloves and.. dare I say thigh-highs, respectively. Protoadamantite plating covered the knees, elbows, shoulders, and even cupped more delicate places. The unflattering aesthetic was of little consequence given a real contamination suit's ability to defend against even high caliber firearms.

I suspect Karatsuba's contamination suits were designed by that man, but I wouldn't be surprised if mother dearest played a hand in this specific case's raunchiness.

Though I could complain, even the archetypal Karatsuba Anti-Contamination Suit, the CRS-071, sported an inherently sensual design by virtue of being a skintight suit. Granted, only Fran Fairchild's seemingly unique suit dared to evoke the sexual icon that was heaven's absolute territory. It was a shameless popularity grab, no doubt meant to capture the hearts of young and lusty fools, the key demographic that Karatsuba sought to court. Advertisement was advertisement.

Even still, the suit's easy to recognize once character profiles come into play.

Fran Fairchild, listed on the official website as twenty. The former Beta was actually twenty-four; it was easy enough to look up. Hobbies included piano, song, cooking, gymnastics, and boxing. The last was included to invoke the legendary gap, and it worked. Fran Fairchild had held second place in the Karatsuba Girls popularity contests four years in a row, throughout which she remained twenty years old. I doubt nobody noticed. Rather, it seemed like nobody cared.

If they did, they'd notice how manufactured her character story is. She couldn't have been the featherweight champion that year. During the specified timeframe, Fran Fairchild was working as a private eye in Jotunheim. Fools and hacks, the lot of them.

Simple knowledge, dredged up from a cursory internet search. Not for any particular reason, mind you. Or rather, the brilliant Satou S. Shibuya had not done so. He had not needed to! The calendars that mother dearest sent around Christmas time, the yearly Karatsuba Girls calendars featuring various women in rather risque positions, were assuredly meant to warn me of my encounter with the mutt. Of course!

"As expected of mother dearest," I whispered.

Independent of my rambling, Fran Fairchild approached the end of her pre-battle ritual. She touched her toes, leaned backwards with unnerving flexibility, then touched the backs of her knees. From between her own legs, she glanced in my direction. Though I could barely see it, I registered a slanted smirk. What a fool. Her back snapped upright like a rubber band as she turned to address the entirety of my class.

"Alright!" she yelled. "This is as good as it's gonna get, huh?"

The classmates in the corner of my right eye stood in formation: a large V with its tip pointed at the opposition, a tactic decided upon beforehand by one Yoshida Yamashina. I recognized this as a formation meant to enclose and defeat demons of lesser mental faculties. On the right tip stood Kozue Kotobuki and on the left stood Reika Rurisaki. Iori Ikuzawa stood where two lines converged and in front of him, in front of everyone, stood the golden girl herself. Golden eyes focused ahead straighter than any arrow. She raised her fists in front of her face.

That mutt is fast, but is she faster than that... other mutt? No, hold on.

As I worked through the muddy dog-mutt hierarchy in my head, Mr. Kusanagi, who had stood next to me, stepped off the pavement and onto the grass. He tightened the sash around his waist and set about announcing the rules of the exercise to the class once more.

"I'll go over the details one more time! Ms. Fran Fairchild of Karatsuba, who has so graciously blessed us with her time, is standing in as our mock demon for today's exercise! You guys don't have any room to relax. Take this seriously or you will be sore in the morning! Remember, many of you are slayer candidates before students! Education is secondary, combat experience is everything! We can play dodgeball when the dust settles, so you have to get out there and kill those goddamned demons!

"Now then, the rules are as follows! For our students, you operate under the same rules as our game of CTF- if you fall, you're out! In the middle of a demon swarm, you will die if you fall! One ghoul-class demon is nothing, but footage from the front lines show that hundreds of ghouls can pile onto a downed slayer within seconds if they aren't careful! You won't always be able to rely on power armour, so we're teaching you to rely on your own strength!

"As for our mock demon, if you fall, you're defeated! A well trained squadron of slayers can destroy all of a demon's cores the instant its incapacitated! You should know better than anyone else! Karatsuba's point-five second record comes the closest to reaching Quallen of the Boreal Sword's point-two seconds, recorded during Operation Stormwater!"

"That point-five seconds is down to point-four seconds now." Fran thumbed the palm of her left hand. "Yggdrasil is still confirming the footage, but the boss is confident in his work."

Sighs of admiration came from my classmates. I clicked my tongue.

"Anyway, enough chit-chat!" Mr. Kusanagi raised his right hand with three fingers raised. "We're starting on my mark, so get ready for hell! Three!"

Yamashina exhaled. White hot platinum gnawed at the ends of her hair. She no doubt planned to utilize her lightning speed right out the gate.

"Two!"

A cool gust of wind swept across the field. Moist grass danced under mother nature's influence. The rest of my classmates fell into their stances.

"One!"

Fran Fairchild dropped into a low, almost animalistic stance with her face low to the ground and both hands pressed into the mud. Pink eyes glinted under dim sunlight. I didn't recognize this stance, the mutt hadn't used it against me. Not any sort of martial form, it felt closer to posturing. The natural conclusion, I reasoned, was that she intended to hold back.

"Go!" Mr. Kusanagi swiped his hand.

The world behind Fran Fairchild exploded. A shockwave caused my eardrums to pop. I flew backwards and rolled to a halt against the school's walls, spitting out grass and pebbles. Concerete monoliths spiralled out from the epicenter, scattering mud and water across the entire field in a thick brown rain. It couldn't be called simple movement; Fran Fairchild ceased to exist where she once stood, leaving only a massive gash in the the earth.

So this is the speed of a Beta?!

I almost missed the sight of twenty-three classmates spinning through the air. Less than a third of a second had passed. Some had yet to realize what happened as they assumed combat stances in the air, unaware that failure was inevitable. One after another, they hit the ground, letting loose a series of grunts and moans. But it wasn't over yet. A platinum bolt deftly landed on its feet.

Fran Fairchild slid to a gentle halt behind the mountain of collapsed students. She spun around and let loose a wide grin at the scene behind her, where Yoshida Yamashina stood. The girl's once golden eyes burned with brilliant white light. With a dull crunch, Yamashina spat a battery into the mud. She reached into her tail and produced another battery, which she slipped into her mouth. All the while, she kept her gaze trained on the monster at the other end of the field.

"Not bad, not bad at all!" hissed Fran. She lunged forward with supersonic ferocity, confident that her second attack wouldn't miss its mark.

The platinum girl too lunged forward, claws outstretched to meet their better.

-S0024-

A bell marked the start of lunch which, for my class, signalled the start of cleaning. Despite my initial hopes that the matter would be resolved quickly, fortune had once more found its fool.

"Kozue, go long!" spoke one Walter Washio as he tossed his broom across the gym. He was a troublemaker. The oaf of a boy looked content to waste my precious time putzing around like a child, tossing his cleaning tools back and forth between himself and the blue-haired Kozue Kotobuki. The latter had shown himself quick to play along with anything if it seemed fun.

"No way. The absolute mad man, can he do it?" Kotobuki licked his lips. He dropped into a low stance with both hands outstretched. His fingers wriggled like eager worms.

The broom spun through the air on the other end of the gym and hit the floor. It rebounded as if doing a cartwheel. Kozue Kotobuki watched through glistening blue eyes as the broom bounced its way towards him. Once, twice, then three times. It slid to a halt a little ways in front of Kotobuki, balanced on the tail end of its handle. The broom spun for a couple seconds before it fell towards him. He caught it and exploded into applause and excited hollering.

"Two for two, baby," said the rather bulky Washio. He wiped his nose against the collar of his gym uniform and gave a small flex. He hardly completed it before breaking out into laughter. Apparently Kotobuki and Washio were on good terms. Or rather, that didn't matter.

What are these fools doing?

I watched the buffoons prance about, spilling water from plastic buckets and knocking over a cleaning droid. The one meter-tall, garbage-filled machine toppled over with a thunk. It rolled around, letting lose a storm of anguished beeps and boops in its struggle to keep trash from spilling out. I almost felt sorry for the machination as it lay there, flipped on its back like a turtle and left for dead.

I resumed sweeping the floor. The mound of dust to my left was smaller than the mound those oafs had swept into the cleaning droid earlier. Honestly, it was peculiar how hard a person could work in pursuit of tomfoolery to come. One way or another, the cleaning would get done. In the interest of preserving good health, however, today's Satou Shibuya lacked the power to solve the class's lunch predicament. As expected, the forces that be denied had me the springtime of my youth.

What is a man to do, little kitten?

My imagination ran wild. A beautiful girl (red-haired and a full head shorter than me, for no particular reason) waited for me on the school roof. She dropped to one knee and, in a rather sultry voice, swore an oath to stand by me until the end of time. Not my ideal, not at all. Why would it be? I'd seen a similar scene in a show I'd followed, that's all.

"So LOVE-MAX is out of the question, is it?" I pursed my lips.

Perhaps in response, I heard the golden girl at my back stifle her guffaw. "Though you mentioned watching it, I didn't put two and two together. It came as quite the surprise me to hear such a name come out of your mouth of all places."

I spun around. "Because you didn't hear it. At no point did I mention my taste in television to you, not once. Never. Anything you believe as to the contrary is a figment of your imagination. Therefore, don't act as if you begin to understand the inner workings of my mind, of the illustrious and immaculate Satou S. Shibuya. Honestly, how presumptuous of you!"

Yoshida Yamashina wore Kawagusa General Academy's gym uniform- a red track suit. A little dull, really. She tied the coat around her waist to reveal a white shirt beneath. The surname 'YAMASHINA' read along the chest, which I caught glimpses of through my numerous, accidental sidelong glances. She stood with a rag in one hand and a spray bottle in the other.

Yamashina set about cleaning the gym's stage. Spraying the floor, scraping the rag across every nook and cranny, so on and so forth. She moved fast. So fast, in fact, that any assistance would have gotten in the way. The golden girl had finished two-thirds of her work whilst the rest of us swept perhaps a fourth of the gym's floor. It was foolish to expect anything to come of aligning myself with the common rabble.

"Presumptuous?" Yamashina swept her rag along the stage's edges.

I nodded. "Besides, do you really think I'd be interested in such trashy romantic schlock? My standards are high, you see. Rinko Sakagawa is a splendid actress, that's all. It can't be helped. If I'm interested in her career, then naturally I might end up learning a thing or two about LOVE-MAX. For instance, did you know that Kenta Fujimura is Kaito Kitagawa's debut as an actor?"

"Rinko Sakagawa... Sakuya, you mean?"

I ignored her question. "Kaito Kitagawa started out as a voice actor in popular demolition-themed drama, Concrete Jungle. I won't say he was miscast as a half-American, but I especially liked-"

"Sakuya has poor taste in men," Yamashina interrupted. "Despite how Kenta treated her, she still sees fit to chase after the man. She's a Vanguard, isn't she? It won't do if she gets distracted on the battlefield."

"They're childhood friends. They're destined to be together, a union determined by the stars. They even promised to wed after Operation Thunderbolt."

"I believe Sakuya has better chemistry with Reiji."

I snorted. "I suppose you would. Such surface interpretations of fiction are the limit of a sad dog such as yourself. It was foolish to even discuss the matter of true romance with you."

How must a human mind degrade in order to disregard love in its purest form? Whilst Kenta had certaintly berrated and insulted Sakuya early into the series, he had long since changed. Though he retained his sharp tongue and somewhat abrasive attitude, it was clear that Sakuya could see past that! To see past a person's imperfections, could that be called anything less than love?

Counter to this, Reiji's appearance could be tied to the genre's infatuation with the notion of a love rival. A person who showered you with kindness on the first meeting was nothing less than suspicious. It was plain to see that he existed as a means to test Sakuya's affection for Kenta. I understood that, but it seemed lesser intellects had yet to do the math.

Plus, Reki Renard is much too short. He's nearly on eye level with Rinko Sakagawa. Standing side by side, don't they look a little mismatched? What a farce.

Yamashina and I argued for maybe a minute or so. The common end to this discussion would be the golden girl shutting her mouth, but not this time. It seemed this topic in particular riled her up.

"Reiji is a kind man with a troubled past. He left the streets to take care of his younger sister, Shibuya!" Yamashina threw a rag at me. I slapped it aside. "If you disregard kindness on the basis of it being suspicious, how many good people will you ignore? Not every person has a shell that needs to be cracked!"

"You can't simply ignore those who act kind to get what they want! More often than not, a person that's kind from the outset has a hidden agenda! Reiji may have left the streets, but do you really think he's changed? Sakuya comes from a rich family! Of course Reiji would be kind, he needs to pay for his elder brother's treatments! The man is a leech!"

"You should understand better than anyone else, Shibuya." The golden girl ran a hand through her own hair. She wore it in a tail on her shoulder. Her checkered scrunchie felt out of place. "Pride in the face of scorn surpasses turning the other cheek for some- some childish idea of love."

I scowled. "Tell me, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

A wet mop entered between our faces. We traced the plastic handle all the way back to the long, spindly fingers that held it. A shark-toothed look of frustration greeted us.

Why is it that the masses never mind their own business?

Reika Rurisaki's blackish-greenish hair parted above the brow and fell down her back. She waved the mop around in front of our faces, as if battling some invisible enemy. Yamashina resumed cleaning with a sigh. Once I went back to sweeping, the shark-toothed girl finally lowered the mop. She went to work combing over the spots where I had swept. Extreme, especially considering nobody else had a mop.

Why the hassle, I wonder? All it serves to do is extend the process. I doubt the place needs to be so squeaky clean that one can eat off the floor.

"By the way," Kotobuki's voice pulled me from my thoughts, "Shibuya, I heard that you got decked pretty hard during our exercise. How are you holding up?"

"I wasn't decked, I'll have you know. I won that encounter with ease. Any scrapes I may have come away with are worth less than the papercuts on an cubicle worker faced with a particularly busy day. That is to say, I was fine. One could even venture that I had forgotten such a waste of my time had occurred."

Kotobuki scratched his head. He gave a coy smirk. "Yeah, I can imagine. Smaller wounds are easy to forget about, especially if you're physically active like most of us."

I frowned. "Who forgets about a wound? I'm not an animal, you see. Being the extraordinary man I am, peerless among the stars, I simply ignored it. After all, it takes a certain level of nobility to fight past one's wounds, to strive for perfection when faced with a disadvantage."

"Man, you're a funny guy."

"Unrelated, but correct."

"Anyway," Kotobuki continued, "I busted my arm a while back and kept forgetting it was in a sling. You aren't nearly that bad, but you're still looking pretty banged up. Must be stressful to respond to a love letter when you aren't in top form, huh?"

Wait, what?!

"H-huh?" I frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about? In what timeline would any fool dare test their mettle by attempting to court the exquisite Satou S. Shibuya? I-It should be common knowledge, but I'm not so easy as to be swayed by vapid praise and sweet nothings. Or rather, who told you?!"

Kotobuki glanced to the shark-toothed girl behind him, who waved her hands in rapid, death-fearing dismissal. The blue-haired youth tilted his head. Perhaps he came to a realization, because his eyes next traced a slow line towards the stage to our right, where a familiar golden girl was working. Rurisaki turned to look as well, and I followed suit.

Yamashina slid to a halt, wiping sweat from her brow. The golden girl strode over to a bucket on the stage's edge and squeezed the contents of her moist rag within. She placed her spray bottle down, then plopped on the edge of the stage with a sigh. She looked in our direction, then squinted when she saw us three- Rurisaki, Kotobuki, and I- staring at her.

What's with that look? No, it couldn't be...

Yamashina scooted towards us. The waist of her pants slid down to the hip, but she pulled them back up without fuss. The girl tugged the strings on her gym pants to tighten the waist, then silently cleared her throat before addressing us in her usual cool tone.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

I slapped the stage's edge. "You stupid lightning dog!"

"W-wait, excuse me?"

"You can't even keep your damned mouth shut, even after one as magnanimous as myself deigned to pour but an inkling of a drop of my heart's contents out for yourself? Or rather, that never happened! You stupid, stupid mutt!" I spat.

"I-I'm unsure what you mean. In fact, there are far worse matters I could have divulged that I dared not, so why am I being lambasted? Even putting that aside, you still owe me an apology."

"An apology? What? Certainly, I'm sorry, but I don't understand the bleatings of animals! If you would address me in a human tongue, I would surely be able to make sense of the drivel spilling out of your mouth and onto the floor! How is that, you damned—"

"She, uh, said something about a letter!" Kotobuki hastily intercepted my next insult with a grin. "After positions reset, Ruri mentioned a funny story about little kittens and rooftop escapades. I kind of put two and two together. You did get a love letter, right?"

Blast! Foiled so easily?!

"Huh?" I averted my gaze. "P-perhaps. It was a letter. I found it in my shoe locker, and another party confirmed its existence. I cannot say for sure that it was a love letter... or rather, why am I telling you this?! Even if it were a love letter, which it assuredly is not, it's none of your business! Hmph!"

Yamashina kicked her feet. "Even someone as arrogant and obnoxious as Shibuya gets flustered over love letters. It's the outcome I half-expected, but to see it in action is... somewhat refreshing."

"How rude."

"You're the last person to complain about that."

I frowned. "Watch your tongue, mutt. Besides, it's a non-issue. It's unfortunate, but my current obligations include cleaning this gymnasium. Such is the weight I must carry with my twenty-fifth of a loss, which realistically rounds down to zero losses—"

"Wait, you're supposed to be there right now?" said Kotobuki. "What are you doing here, then? Go on, get out of here, tiger."

I scowled. "As I've already said..."

"You're not particularly helpful at cleaning," interrupted Yamashina.

"And you talk a lot," added Rurisaki.

My brow twitched. "As I've already said... I suppose I should go! It's only natural for peasants to maintain the streets of their lord's city. Yes, it makes perfect sense! As if the almighty Satou Shibuya, unmatched in all the land, the sea, and the sky, would dare be caught doing grunt work like this! It suits a bunch of ignorant fools such as yourselves far better!"

And with that, I started on my way to the roof. As I exited the gym, the sound of Kozue Kotobuki's voice reached me before the thick, metal door slid shut.

"Protip: don't say anything weird!"