Akira slowly got up from the wreckage of the trees.
Bark fell from his shoulders. Splinters stuck to his hero suit; he coughed as he pushed himself up.
"What the fuck?"
He looked around and soon enough found Momo, who was a few metres to his right, lying in the grass, her suit's armour plates dented on the left side. Her visor was flickering, most likely scanning the surroundings.
"Are you okay?"
He reached down and offered his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. She wobbled for a second, steadied herself, and ran a quick diagnostic on her suit with a few taps on the forearm panel.
"I'm fine," she said. "Armour absorbed most of it. But whatever hit us..."
"Did you get a reading? Did you see who it was?"
Momo shook her head.
"No idea," Momo said, frustration threading through her voice. "It was moving too fast for me to run an analysis. My thermal caught a signature circling the clearing, but it vanished before the system could identify it. Whatever it is, it's faster than my suit's tracking capabilities."
Akira's jaw tightened. He scanned the treeline. Nothing. No movement. No sound. Just the forest, silent and indifferent.
"Let's g-"
But before he could finish, someone whispered in his ear.
"Boo."
The voice was right there. Directly behind him. Close enough that he felt the breath on his neck.
Akira moved on pure instinct.
His hand went to his hip. The blade cleared the sheath in a fraction of a second.
Cleave!!!
A line of red flame erupted from the blade's edge. It carved through the air in a horizontal arc — a crescent of fire that scorched the grass, split a fallen log in half, and burned everything in its path for ten metres.
The heat wave washed over the clearing, alas, there was no one there.
The space behind him was empty. Whoever had whispered was gone — vanished between the syllable and the strike, moving fast enough to exit the kill zone before the flame even ignited.
Akira held the blade, his eyes scanning, his senses extended. He could feel the heat of his own flame. He could hear the crackle of burning grass. He could smell the scorched earth.
But he couldn't find the target.
"Momo," he said.
She was beside him. Suit in battle mode. Sensors are on maximum. Her turrets were tracking anything that moved.
"Still nothing," she said. "Whoever it is, they're suppressing their heat signature somehow. My sensors can'-"
A voice came from behind them once more.
"Damn, you really are strong."
They both froze and then relaxed.
Because they knew that voice.
Mirko was leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing. Arms crossed. One foot propped against the trunk. Her rabbit ears relaxed, angled backward, the posture of a predator that had assessed its prey and found it entertaining but not threatening.
And like always.... she was grinning.
Akira's blade lowered. His shoulders dropped. The tension drained from his body and was replaced by exhaustion.
He sighed heavily.
"Can't you do anything normally?" he asked.
"Nahhh," Mirko said, pushing off the tree. "Where's the fun in that?"
She walked to the centre of the clearing and looked at both of them.
"Lesson one," she said, her grin fading just enough to let something serious show beneath it. "Never let your guard down. Not when you arrive at a location. Not when you think you're safe. Not when you're standing in an empty field holding a piece of paper like a tourist."
She looked at Akira.
"You reacted fast. The blade draw was clean. The flame control was good. But you reacted after the threat was already on top of you. If I had been an enemy that whisper would have been a knife in your neck."
She looked at Momo.
"Your suit's sensors are impressive. The thermal tracking, the motion detection, the targeting system — all high-level tech. But you relied on them completely. When the sensors lost the target, you froze. Your technology is a tool, not a crutch. When it fails, your body has to take over. Your instincts. Your ears. Your gut."
Momo sighed, but nodded. Because Mirko was right, and they both knew it.
"Guess we did learn that," Momo said.
Mirko clapped her hands. The sound cracked through the clearing like a gunshot.
"Good! Now that the warm-up is done..."
That was a warm-up? Akira thought.
"...let's get down to business!"
Both of them straightened. Momo's notebook appeared from somewhere, and she held it ready, pen in hand.
Mirko planted her feet. Put her hands on her hips. Took a deep breath.
"TODAY," she announced, her voice carrying enough volume to scatter a flock of birds from a nearby tree, "WE WILL BE DOING THE MOST IMPORTANT THING A HERO CAN DO!!!!!!!!"
Whatever she was about to teach them had to be significant. And they were ready for it.
They waited. Momo's pen hovered above the page.
This was going to be very important.
Alas... they had no idea how wrong they were going to be.
***
1 hour later...
Akira stood on a branch.
Forty feet above the ground. Perfectly still. His body pressed against the trunk of the tree, his breathing controlled, his eyes locked on the target below.
He did not move a muscle. The enemy would see it and react. Any shift in weight, any rustle of leaves, any change in the air current — the enemy would detect it and bolt.
He had to be extra careful.
The enemy was smart. The kind of smart that came from years of survival in an urban environment, from navigating alleys and rooftops and garbage bins, from evading humans who wanted to catch it and dogs who wanted to chase it.
The enemy was fast. Faster than its size suggested. Capable of acceleration from zero to full sprint in the time it took a human to blink.
The enemy... was a cat.
A tabby. Orange and white. Green eyes. Sitting on a wall below Akira's tree, licking its paw with the indifference of a creature that knew it was being hunted and did not care.
Akira stared at the cat.
The cat stared at Akira.
Their eyes met. Green on crimson. Predator versus predator. Phoenix versus cat. The Symbol of Fear versus a twelve-pound tabby with an attitude problem.
Come on, Akira, he told himself. You got this. Use all that training you got from chasing down Nia. Years of experience. Thousands of failed attempts. This is what it was all building toward.
He leaped.
The trajectory was calculated to intercept the cat at its current position with zero margin for error.
The cat saw it coming.
Of course it did. Cats always saw it coming. The cat's pupils dilated. Its muscles fired. It launched itself off the wall with the explosive power that only a feline body could produce.
The cat landed on a fence three metres away. Turned its head. And smirked.
Sadly for the cat... that was all part of the plan.
Akira smiled back.
The cat's expression shifted to confusion.
The cat's instincts screamed at it to move. But it was too late.
Just as the cat pushed off the fence, a drone appeared.
Equipped with a padded capture net that deploys with a soft flip. The net wrapped around the cat gently but securely, cradling it in a cocoon of soft mesh that held it without hurting it.
Momo emerged from the bushes behind the fence. Her forearm panel was open, the drone's control interface glowing on her visor's HUD. She pumped her fist.
"YES!!!"
Akira sighed. He dropped from the branch, landed on the ground, and walked over to where the drone was hovering with its feline cargo.
The cat, suspended in the net, looked at Akira with an expression of pure betrayal. As if the use of technology in what was supposed to be a fair hunt was a violation of some ancient code between cats and humans.
"Sorry, buddy," Akira said. "She's smarter than both of us."
The cat hissed... most likely saying Fuck you.
Akira looked at Momo.
"This is really what Mirko meant by 'the most important mission'?" he said.
Momo adjusted her visor and checked her notebook. "Rescue operations. Search and retrieval. Community assistance. She said it's the foundation of everything a hero does. Quote: 'Anyone can punch a villain. Not everyone can find a cat in a city of fourteen million people.'"
Akira stared at her.
"She actually said that?"
"I wrote it down."
"Of course you did."
They secured the cat — who was trying its absolute best to claw Akira's hands through the net, because the cat had decided that between the two humans, Akira was the one it had a personal grudge against — and began walking toward the address Mirko had given them.
The address led to a small house in a residential neighbourhood. Quiet street. Garden out front. A low fence with flower pots on top.
An elderly woman was standing at the gate. She was small and hunched slightly with age. White hair pulled back in a neat bun. She was wearing an apron and holding a watering can, and her face carried the particular worry of someone who had been waiting for something important to come home.
She saw them approaching. She saw the cat in the net. Her eyes widened.
"Tama!" she said.
The cat — apparently named Tama — heard the voice and immediately stopped trying to murder Akira. And begin to purr.
Momo deactivated the net. Tama leaped free, landed on the fence, jumped to the old woman's shoulder, and curled around her neck like a living scarf, purring with the volume of a small engine.
The old woman looked at Akira and Momo with eyes that were bright with gratitude.
She reached out and touched their cheeks. One hand on Akira's face. One on Momo's. The gentle touch of a grandmother who saw two children doing good and wanted them to know it mattered.
"Thank you, kids," she said.
She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out two paper bags of homemade sweets.
She pressed the bag into Momo's and Akira's hands.
Then she smiled at them. The kindest smile either of them had ever seen.
Not the biggest. Not the brightest. The kindest. The smile of a woman who looked at two teenagers in hero costumes holding a paper bag of sweets and a recaptured cat and saw something that gave her hope.
"Live a long and happy life," she said.
They just stood there. Akira and Momo. Standing at a garden gate in a quiet neighbourhood, holding homemade sweets, wearing hero suits, looking at an old woman with a cat on her shoulders who had just told them to live long and be happy.
Both of them thinking the same thing.
This is what a hero is.
Not the cool flames. Not the cool transformation. Not the railgun or the battle suit, or the highly secretive international organisation.
This. A lost cat returned. A grandmother's smile. A bag of sweets was given with a blessing that came with it.
This was it.
***
From a tree down the street, hidden in the canopy, Mirko watched.
She had been there the whole time. Following at a distance. Tracking their progress through the neighbourhood. Watching how they worked together.
But more importantly, she had watched the moment at the gate.
And the look in their eyes when they understood.
Mirko leaned back against the branch and smiled to herself.
Well, now, she thought. They're ready for the bigger stuff.
She stood on the branch.
Then she dropped from the tree and landed in front of them, making both Akira and Momo jump.
"Not bad, kids," she said. "Not bad at all."
She looked at the bags of sweet. Then at them.
"Now give me some of those."
***
Some normal stuff.. Hope you enjoyed.
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