Chapter 40: PLUS CREAMA!
The sky over the coastal town of Kamakura was an aggressive, brilliant blue. It was a stark, almost blinding contrast to the heavy, smoke-choked gray clouds that had hung over Hokkaido just twenty-four hours ago. The sun beat down with a cheerful intensity, and the air carried the distinct, salty tang of the nearby ocean, mixed with the scent of sunscreen from passing tourists.
Aokiji Kuzan walked down the sun-drenched sidewalk. He wore his hero costume—the crisp white suit, the matching waistcoat, the indigo shirt—but carried a simple, worn canvas backpack slung over one shoulder. He moved with his usual languid pace, a tall, cool anomaly amidst the crowd of people in shorts, floral shirts, and flip-flops. He felt strangely exposed without the layer of snow and tension he had grown accustomed to over the weekend.
"Look! Look over there!" a high-pitched, excited squeak broke through the ambient noise of traffic and chatter. "It's him! It's really him!"
Aokiji paused mid-step as a small stampede of elementary school children swarmed around his legs, vibrating with energy.
"It's the big brother from the TV!" one boy with a scraped knee shouted, pointing an accusing finger upward.
"The Ice Guy! The one who won the big stadium fight!" a little girl chimed in, clutching a brightly colored backpack. "Wow, you're so tall! Can we take a picture? Please, please?"
Aokiji looked down at the sea of expectant faces. He sighed, a very small, almost invisible puff of cold air escaping his lips despite the coastal heat.
Slowly, deliberately, he bent his long legs, crouching down until he was eye-level with the miniature mob.
"Sure," he drawled, his voice low and unbothered. "Make it quick."
The kids erupted in giggles, huddling in tight around him, throwing up peace signs and grinning wildly as one of them held up a smartphone with a surprisingly professional grip.
Click.
"Thanks, Mister Ice Hero!" they shouted in a disorganized chorus before scattering down the street like pigeons frightened by a sudden movement.
Aokiji stood up slowly, he watched them go, a mild look of perplexity on his face. Do elementary school kids have smartphones nowa days? he wondered idly, before resuming his walk.
He checked the map application on his own phone. The little blue dot led him away from the bustling main street lined with souvenir shops and cafes, guiding him down a quieter, narrower alleyway lined with older, salt-weathered wooden buildings.
He stopped in front of a small, slightly dilapidated storefront. It looked less like a hero agency and more like a Showa-era snack shop that time had forgotten. Above the sliding wooden door hung a hand-painted sign featuring a poorly drawn penguin wearing sunglasses. It read: The Chill Vibes Office.
Aokiji stared at the sign for a long moment. Then, he slid the wooden door open.
Clack-clack.
The interior was dim and smelled intensely of artificial vanilla and sugary waffle cones. It was completely empty of people. Three industrial soft-serve ice cream machines hummed happily against the back wall, their red power lights glowing in the semi-darkness. A small, empty reception counter stood near the door, covered in dust motes dancing in a sunbeam.
"Excuse me," Aokiji called out, his voice slightly louder than usual to cut through the humming machines. "Is the Pro Hero... uh... is the hero in charge here?"
From the back of the shop, behind a Noren curtain leading to a staircase, there was a loud crash, followed by the sound of something plastic hitting the floor.
"Coming! I'm coming! Just a moment, citizen!" a frantic voice yelled.
Footsteps thudded rapidly down wooden stairs. The curtain was whipped aside, revealing the proprietor of the Chill Vibes Office.
Aokiji blinked slowly.
The man standing before him was... yellow. Aggressively yellow. He wore a full-body spandex suit that was unmistakably shaped and colored like a ripe banana, complete with brown spots painted near the ankles. But the pièce de résistance was the helmet. It was huge, shaped like a waffle cone that encased his entire head, topped with a swirl of plastic white soft-serve ice cream. Only his eyes and mouth were visible through holes cut into the "cone."
The Banana-Cone Hero froze. His eyes, visible through the helmet holes, went wide with genuine shock.
"You..." the hero breathed, pointing a yellow-gloved finger. "You actually came. The email wasn't a prank?"
"I accepted the nomination," Aokiji said simply, shifting his backpack. "It would be rude not to show up."
"But... but why?" The hero stammered, walking around the counter, his banana suit squeaking slightly. "You're the U.A. Champion! You had thousands of offers! Hawks! Endeavor! Best Jeanist! Why did a glittering diamond like you choose a dusty, beginner-rank, poverty-stricken agency like mine?"
Aokiji looked around the shop, taking in the peeling paint and the humming machines. He thought about the burning house, the death threats, the suffocating pressure of his father's expectations.
"Let's just drop that subject," Aokiji said, his tone final. "What's done is done. I'll be in your care for the week. Please treat me well."
The hero seemed to deflate slightly, overwhelmed. "R-right! Of course! Welcome aboard, Kuzan-kun! Follow me, follow me!"
He led Aokiji through the curtain and up the narrow, creaky stairs.
The second floor was not an office. It was a tiny, cramped apartment. There was a small kitchenette with a hot plate, a futon rolled up in the corner of the main tatami room, and boxes stacked everywhere.
"Welcome to headquarters!" the hero said, gesturing grandly to the messy room. "I currently occupy this main space. There are two smaller storage closets—I mean, guest rooms—in the back. You can take whichever one doesn't have spiders in it."
Aokiji raised an eyebrow, looking at the hot plate. "You live here?"
The hero laughed nervously, scratching the back of his cone helmet. "Ah, yes. Well, you see, the hero business isn't exactly lucrative when your rank is in the four digits. My monthly salary barely covers the rent for the shop downstairs. Renting a separate apartment in a tourist town is... a distant dream."
"You live and work in the same place," Aokiji noted. He looked at the cramped space, then gave a small nod. "Efficient. I'll happily take one of the rooms."
He dropped his backpack in the slightly-less-dusty of the two small rooms and walked back out. The hero was gone.
Aokiji went back down the stairs. He found the hero standing behind the soft-serve machines, holding a freshly pulled cone of vanilla ice cream and licking it with intense concentration.
The hero looked up, saw Aokiji, and froze mid-lick. He grinned sheepishly, ice cream smeared on his chin beneath the helmet hole.
"It's my breakfast Haha. A hero cannot save the world on an empty stomach!" he declared cheerfully.
"And you're filling it entirely with ice cream? In the morning?" Aokiji asked dryly.
The hero averted his eyes, looking shamefully at the floor.
"Well... you see..." he mumbled, his voice dropping to a pathetic whisper. "Breakfast prices in tourist towns are extortionate. Sometimes... you just have to make do with the inventory. It's cost-effective."
Aokiji stared at the grown man in a banana suit eating inventory for breakfast. He let out a long, deep sigh that seemed to empty his lungs completely.
Twenty minutes later, the scene shifted to a moderately priced Italian family restaurant down the street. The air smelled of garlic and tomato sauce, a welcome change from vanilla.
Aokiji sat at a booth, looking perfectly calm in his white suit. Across from him sat the Banana-Cone Hero, still fully costumed. The contrast was so jarring that every patron who walked in did a double-take.
The hero, however, noticed nothing. He was holding the laminated menu with trembling hands, his eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy behind his helmet.
"Are you serious?" the hero whispered loudly. "I can really order anything? Even the lunch special with the side salad?"
"Keep your voice down," Aokiji murmured, resting his chin on his palm. "People are staring. And yes. Get whatever you want. It's on me."
"An U.A. student with an expense account! Bless the educational system!" The hero practically vibrated with happiness.
"Which education system? This is my father's money," Aokiji said, gesturing vaguely at the hero's outfit with his free hand. "And was it absolutely necessary to come here dressed like a piece of fruit?"
The hero gasped, offended. He slammed the cute yellow fist on the table. "Fruit?! This is my uniform, Kuzan-kun! The first step to being a hero is to feel pride in your gear, not embarrassment! This suit strikes a balance between approachability and potassium-rich branding!"
"I think I'd rather live in the Arctic Circle with polar bears than walk around town in that banana suit," Aokiji stated flatly.
"Your young mind simply cannot grasp the aerodynamic elegance of this design!" the hero retorted. He pointed a french-fry-like finger at Aokiji's chest. "And what about your 'costume'? It's just a white suit! You look like a sketchy businessman or a jazz singer waiting for a gig. Where's the flair? You need a helmet! Or a cape! A majestic white cape fluttering behind you, with 'Ice Prince' embroidered in sparkly blue thread on the back!"
Aokiji stared at him deadpan. "Are we in the Middle Ages? Do I look like a navy admiral to you? No capes."
"It's the Age of Heroes! A cape adds fifty percent more gravitas, scientifically proven!"
A waitress arrived, looking very confused by the pair.
"Order," Aokiji commanded.
"Uh, yes! Um..." The hero panicked, overwhelmed by choices. "The lasagna? No, wait, the carbonara. Oh, but the pizza looks good..."
Aokiji turned to the waitress. "I'll have black coffee and the grilled chicken caesar salad."
"And for you, sir?" she asked the banana.
Five minutes of agonizing indecision later.
"I'll have the pancakes with extra honey. And a cup of hot tea, please."
The waitress left, looking relieved.
"Pancakes at an Italian restaurant," Aokiji noted. "Bold choice."
"You seem used to these kinds of places," the hero observed, finally relaxing now that the ordering ordeal was over.
"Sort of," Aokiji shrugged. "So, Ice Cream Hero..."
"Ah, please," the hero interrupted, waving a hand. "When we are off-duty, or eating pancakes, call me by my real name. It's Tadashi. Just Tadashi."
"Okay, Tadashi-san," Aokiji said. "What exactly do you do? What is your typical workday?"
Tadashi puffed out his chest, the foam banana suit swelling with pride. "I specialize in high-stakes, rapid-response urban rescue operations targeting the most vulnerable demographic: elementary school children."
Aokiji sat up slightly, surprised. "Oh? That sounds unexpectedly impressive. What kind of crazy adventures do you get into? Stopping kidnappers? Traffic accidents? Villain attacks?"
Tadashi grinned broadly beneath his helmet. "Don't get ahead of yourself, young champion. You will witness my heroic methodology firsthand very soon. Prepare to be dazzled."
One Hour Later.
The sun was higher now, the heat intensifying. Aokiji stood next to the humming soft-serve machines outside the Chill Vibes Office, his hands deep in his pockets.
Tadashi, in full banana glory, was standing in front of two wide-eyed elementary school boys holding coins.
"Are you ready, citizens?!" Tadashi boomed, his voice echoing slightly inside his cone helmet. "Are you ready to be rescued from the oppressive heat of this midday sun?!"
"YEAH!" the kids shouted, catching his energy.
"Then behold!"
Tadashi spun around to the machines with dramatic flair. He grabbed two crunchy waffle cones. With practiced, lightning-fast movements, he pulled the levers. The white soft-serve swirled perfectly into the cones, creating towering, flawless peaks of frozen dairy.
He spun back around, thrusting the cones toward the children like he was handing them Excalibur.
"PLUS CREAMA!!!!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Aokiji stared. His brain threw up a loading screen.
...Wasn't it 'Plus Ultra'?
The kids' eyes sparkled. They grabbed the ice cream with shouts of joy, instantly beginning to lick the melting swirls as they skipped away down the street toward their school.
"Another successful mission," Tadashi declared, placing his hands on his hips and watching them go. "Their blood sugar levels are stabilized, and their morale is boosted. The city is safe once more."
Across the street, a group of adult tourists walked by. They stopped, pointing at Tadashi and snickering. Phones came out.
"Look at that guy," one man laughed. "Is that a hero? He looks like a mascot for a smoothie shop."
"Maybe he's the lowest-ranked hero in Japan," his friend chuckled, snapping a photo.
Aokiji heard the whispers. He looked at Tadashi, who remained frozen in his heroic pose, ignoring the mockery completely.
Aokiji let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"So," Aokiji drawled. "This is the nature of your work, huh?"
Tadashi lowered his arms. "Don't mind what the adults say, Kuzan-kun. I'm used to it. They don't understand the mission."
"At the end of the day," Aokiji summarized, "you earn your living by selling ice cream to grade-schoolers."
"I also provide free samples every Wednesday," Tadashi corrected proudly.
"Truly heroic," Aokiji murmured.
Tadashi turned to him, his helmet tilting sadly. "You shouldn't have raised your expectations so high from the beginning. You seem disappointed. This is what I am. Alone in this agency, doing what little I can."
Aokiji looked at the man in the ridiculous suit. He thought about the explosions. The fire. The screams. The suffocating weight of his family name.
Then he looked at this quiet street, the bright sun, and the slowly melting vanilla ice cream.
"What are you babbling about?" Aokiji said, walking toward the shop entrance. "This is literally the best place I could spend this week."
"Eh?" Tadashi blinked in confusion.
"It's quiet. It's peaceful. And nobody is trying to blow anything up," Aokiji said as he stepped into the shade of the shop. He paused and looked back over his shoulder, his marketing brain involuntarily twitching. "Although, you need some serious branding help. Your business model is a disaster. I'll lend you a hand with the marketing strategy tomorrow."
Tadashi's eyes lit up. "Really? You'd do that? A U.A. student's perspective! Wonderful! Why don't we start today? The day is still young!"
Aokiji kept walking toward the stairs, waving a lazy hand dismissively.
"Impossible," he yawned. "I came here for one reason only."
He started up the creaky steps toward the cramped apartment.
"I'm entering an eternal slumber."
"E-Eternal slumber?!" Tadashi spluttered.
Before he could protest further, a small group of children tugged on his yellow spandex leg.
"Mister Banana! Mister Banana! We want ice cream!"
Tadashi immediately snapped back into character.
"Ooh! Duty calls! Let's go! PLUS CREAMA!!!"
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