Ha! This only took a day instead of months! Fuck yeah! If we're lucky, the next one will be the same!
Leave a comment if you want more!
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Chapter 2
Peter glared at his best friend with the heat of a thousand burning suns as the bastard looked far too smug for his liking.
The way he had a skip in his step was also not helping, nor was the way he was humming a happy tune as they made their way home.
Said friend turned to him with an all-too-familiar smile, a smile that meant he got what he wanted at his expense.
And the socially awkward genius was not dumb enough to not realize that him getting paired with the girl they just talked about earlier was anyway close to a coincidence.
"Oh, don't look so pissy at me, Pete! You've got to spend time with a hot girl," Taka elbowed him while waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "If anything, you should be thanking me instead~"
"THANK YOU?!?" He yelled out indigantly at the sheer audacity, face hot red.
"Why, you're very fucken welcome, my best friendo!" Taka bowed as if he'd just performed some great public service, one hand to his chest, the other sweeping dramatically through the air.
Peter stopped dead in his tracks.
Taka, still mid-bow, nearly walked straight into him.
"You—" Peter started, then stopped, jaw working as he searched for words that adequately conveyed just how betrayed he felt. "You bribed the teacher!"
He saw it firsthand earlier when class started, but didn't think anything of it at the time. Now that he thought about it a little bit more, it was overwhelmingly suspicious that Taka, of all people, gave a teacher money through the goodness of his heart.
"Allegedly," Taka corrected immediately, popping back upright. "And if I did, it was a donation because I know for a damn sure teachers don't get paid damn near enough to put up with fuck ass teenagers."
"Just to pair me with Gwen?!" the bespectacled teen snapped, throwing his hands up. "I couldn't even talk to her properly! I sounded like I was choking on my own tongue!"
"And yet," Taka said smugly, strolling past him and walking backward with his hands behind his head, "You still managed! Eye contact was made, you made her laugh, and no restraining orders were filed. That's an absolute bitchin win in my book."
Peter groaned, dragging a hand down his face at the sheer lack of understanding happening between them. "You don't understand how normal social interactions work."
"Oh, I understand perfectly, well, not the normal interaction thing, but the Peter interaction! Now that I understand!" Taka shot back with a confidence that should not have been had at all, getting a raised brow from him. "You panic, stumble over words, accidentally charm people with that Peter charm of yours, they find you absolutely delightful, then bang! New friend and or girlfriend acquired!"
As if! Where were all his friends then?! Because he could count on one finger how many he had, and he was looking at them!
"That is not how that works!"
"It absolutely is," Taka said with conviction as his hand landed on the bespectacled boy's shoulder. "Girls love awkward! Makes you look harmless, approachable! Like a wounded baby deer with glasses that they can't help but coo at and pet."
Peter made a strangled noise of protest. "I am not a baby deer."
"Sure you are," his friend replied cheerfully. "For now, that is! But don't ja worry, mate! Once we kick up your training and I put some more muscle on your bones, you won't be a baby deer any longer! That's a Taka guaranteed!"
The boy flexed his own biceps for emphasis, causing his muscles to bulge impressively.
Peter shivered at the threat of more training, his entire body suddenly sore again at the reminder.
He was going to be a scientist, for God's sake! Why was he even training as if he was going to go to war instead of just being around a desk and sitting all day?!
The actual literal genius took a moment to think about this…
Ah, right, Taka somehow made him sign a binding agreement when they were younger that he would train him and would only stop until he was satisfied, and he, being young and naive, thought it simply meant that he would have a friend who would always want to play with him and that it would be fun.
… It's been fifteen long, grueling years since then…
"I'm good at the pace we're going, thanks!" the brown-haired teen insisted, picking his pace back up as they continued down the sidewalk. "But as I was saying! You can't just meddle like that!"
Taka glanced at him sideways, grinning madly.
"Relax, I didn't do anything you couldn't have done yourself."
"I absolutely could not have done that myself."
"Exactly," Taka said, pointing at him as if he'd just proven a flawless argument. "That's what friends are for."
Peter opened his mouth, then closed it. He hated, hated, that a small part of him couldn't fully disagree.
Gwen had been nice… Dare he say fun and easy to talk to?
Once he stopped internally screaming and struggling to talk, anyway.
"…You're a jackass," Peter muttered with no real heat to it, which his best friend easily caught on.
"And you love me for it," Taka replied without missing a beat.
Peter huffed before making a lazy attempt at a kick, which was easily dodged. "Don't push your luck."
Taka laughed, loud and carefree, slinging an arm over Peter's shoulders despite his half-hearted attempt to shake him off.
"C'mon, Pete. Trust me. This is just the start of it all! Because let me tell ya the future is very bright!"
The awkward genius did not like the way that sounded.
Not one bit.
By the time Peter's house came into view, the familiar two-story building with the neat little lawn and white porch railing, the shift happened.
It was instant.
One second, Taka was loud, smug, and radiating menace.
The next—
"Ah, it seems we have arrived," Taka said pleasantly, posture straightening as if a switch had suddenly been flipped. His hands folded neatly behind his back, his stride smoothing out into something almost… dignified. "I do hope your day was productive, Peter."
Peter stopped walking.
Slowly, he turned his head.
The sight nearly gave him whiplash every time he saw it.
Gone was the chaotic gremlin of a best friend; in his place stood a polite, well-mannered young man with impeccable posture, a calm expression, and a soft, respectful smile that looked like it belonged on the cover of a parenting magazine.
The glasses-wearing boy stared.
Taka blinked innocently as if nothing was wrong.
"Is something the matter?"
"…You're doing the thing again," Peter said flatly with an equally flat look.
"I have absolutely no idea what you're referring to," Taka replied smoothly, not a single curse word in sight.
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, deep and long, the sound of a man who had lost this battle years ago.
Every single time.
Whenever they were anywhere near his house, anywhere his aunt and uncle might see them, Taka underwent a complete and utter personality rewrite.
No swearing.
No violence.
No unhinged comments about inappropriate things or "establishing dominance." Just… manners.
Perfect, irritating manners.
"You know I hate when you do this," Peter muttered as they walked up the driveway.
"I do not 'do' anything," Taka said, adjusting his collar as if preparing for a formal dinner. "I am simply being my authentic, polite gentlemanly self."
Peter shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
"Oh really?" the bespectacled teen asked. "Because earlier today, your 'authentic self' was talking about putting people over your knee and I quote, 'putting belt to ass'."
Taka hummed thoughtfully as he shook his head in distaste.
"Ah, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Benjamin, for I would never do anything like that, how ghastly."
What a load of bull.
They reached the front steps of the building. Peter paused, keys already in hand, and looked over at his best friend, who was now standing perfectly straight with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes bright and polite.
Peter glared at him again, heat flaring behind his eyes as Taka's lips curved into a smug little smile, subtle, restrained, but absolutely there.
"Don't think I don't see that," Peter warned.
"I would never presume to deceive you," Taka said warmly with a look that said he could do no wrong.
The front door opened before Peter could respond.
"Taka? Is that you, sweetheart?"
And just like that, Taka became the picture of innocence.
"Yes, ma'am," he said immediately, voice respectful and clear. "Good afternoon. I hope you're doing well today, Mrs. Parker. Is Mr. Parker around? I have a great many things to discuss with him!"
Peter closed his eyes.
He was already bracing himself for the compliments. The praise. The inevitable 'What a nice young man!' that would follow.
And his best friend was completely eating it up.
______
Another day, another fucking grind, as they say, or as Taka likes to say at least.
He and his best bro were currently in their secret bitchin lair… aka an abandoned warehouse that they decided (Taka decided) that now belonged to them. Which was cleaned out and fitted with all the things a future hero needed, such as comfy couches, bean bags, gaming chairs, workout equipment, two computers, and even a microwave.
All thanks to yours truly, who spent countless hours of his youth and his own hard-earned money to get it all started!
"COME ON!!! ONE MORE! GIVE ME ONE MORE PETER, COME ON!!!"
"YOU SAID THAT TEN FUCKING TIMES AGO!!!"
"ONE MOOOOORRRREEEEEE!!!!!"
Despite the clear murder in his eyes, Peter gritted his teeth, sucked in a shaky breath, and pushed.
The bar wobbled.
Peter's arms screamed.
Every muscle in his chest, shoulders, and back protested violently as the weight fought him inch by agonizing inch. One hundred and seventh-five pounds might as well have been a truck sitting on his ribcage, but the brown-haired teen refused to let it win.
"NNNGH—!"
With a strained groan that sounded halfway between pain and spite, Peter locked his elbows and finished the rep, the bar finally clicking into place on the rack.
He lay there for a second, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him.
"…Done," he gasped. "I'm done! I can't do any more. I've seen God, and he told me to stop."
"LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO!"
Taka practically exploded, throwing his hands up as Peter had just won a championship belt. He rushed over, clapping loudly and pointing at the bar like it was sacred evidence.
"That's one seventy-five, baby! Clean rep! No help! No bounce! You just beat your old record!" He grabbed Peter by the shoulders and shook him. "I told you! You're getting better, bitch!"
He tearfully wiped away a fake tear at how far his best friend had come from a skinny little twig who had difficulty lifting the bar alone to someone who could lift one seventy-five.
Oh, how far his little friend has come! Truly, the blood, sweat, and tears were worth it! …Peter's blood, sweat, and tears, that is.
The future greatest hero rolled his head to the side, glaring weakly at him. "If you shake me any harder, I'm going to die and haunt you."
Taka laughed, unapologetic, before finally letting him go and stepping back.
"Alright, alright. Take a Ten-minute break."
Peter sagged in pure relief. "Oh, thank God."
"Hydrate. Stretch. Breathe," Taka continued, already grabbing a towel and tossing it at him. "Then we start combat training."
The relief died instantly as he said that.
The stupid gym rat said what now?!
"Combat training," Taka repeated cheerfully, as though he literally didn't watch Peter nearly die during the last rep. "Gotta keep those reflexes sharp."
His best friendo slowly sat up, a towel draped over his head like a defeated monk.
"Taka, I can barely lift my arms. I'm exhausted. I have homework, actual schoolwork. You know, academics? The thing that will keep me from becoming broke and homeless?"
Taka tilted his head, considering this very carefully.
Then he reached behind him, grabbed a pair of boxing gloves, and lobbed them at Peter's chest.
Peter barely caught them, nearly dropping one.
"Counterpoint," Taka said with a grin. "If you can dodge and take punches, then you won't get bullied, mugged, or flattened by life in general. It's called preventative care."
The madman finished cheerfully as he went to do his own set of warm-up reps of five hundred pounds with ease.
While he idly did his reps, he was deep in thought, thinking about his future plans and what Aunt May was cooking for dinner.
[Daily Chaos Gacha is now Rolling…]
His daily cheat system decided to make itself known.
Taka hummed as he waited to see what he got, his arms pushing up with ease despite the impressive amount of weight he was currently benching. Most of the time, he got garbage items from the gacha, like a rusty knife or some shit, but sometimes it did give him some useful items.
[Rare Four-Star Dragon Ball]
[2/7 Dragon Balls have now been collected]
The chaotic boy rolled his eyes as he finished reading the message.
Sure, he was happy that he got a second item needed for him to be able to make a wish, but the fact that he got two out of seven dragon balls needed after years of waiting and rolling did a lot to hamper the happiness he would have felt.
Ten minutes flew by in a painfully fast blink, for Peter at least.
"This is not preventative care," Peter groaned, peeling the towel off his face and glaring at the gloves in his hands as if they'd personally betrayed him. "This is you trying to turn me into a human punching bag."
He laughed at that, the sound rough and fond, his mind drifting back to the countless beatings the future superhero had already endured, hits that would have left most people, hell, even most heroes, flat on their backs, knocked the fuck out. Peter had taken them, gritted his teeth through them, and gotten back up every single time.
Not that Taka ever intended to let that be the end of it.
He'd be damned if he allowed his best friend to take a beating without giving one back. Anyone stupid enough to put hands on Peter was going to learn, very quickly and painfully, that they didn't get him without getting a Taka ass whooping in return.
Harder, meaner, and with fucking interest!
That was just how it worked.
No one hurts his best friend and simply walks away unscathed.
"Correction," Taka said, already slipping on his own gloves and bouncing lightly on his feet. "A durable human punching bag that punches back!"
Peter pushed himself off the bench with a wince, legs wobbling as he stood.
"I hate that you made this sound even remotely reasonable to seven-year-old me."
"You love that I make it sound reasonable."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do," Taka replied smugly. "Otherwise you wouldn't still be here."
Peter opened his mouth to argue, then paused.
He scowled, tightening the straps on the gloves with far more force than necessary.
"Thirty minutes," he said firmly. "Thirty minutes, then I'm doing homework."
Taka grinned as if he'd just won the lottery. "Bitchin!"
Peter narrowed his eyes. "That was too easy. I don't trust that."
"You wound me," Taka said, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "When have I ever done anything for you to distrust me?"
Peter deadpanned as he got into a comfortable stance.
"You bribed a teacher yesterday."
"Allegedly."
They squared up in the center of the warehouse, the concrete floor scuffed and marked from years of "training." Taka rolled his shoulders, posture relaxed but alert, eyes sharp in a way that always made Peter and his many victims feel like prey.
"Alright," Taka said, tone shifting just enough to be serious. "Light spar, focus on footwork. Don't overthink it."
"I only ever overthink," Peter muttered.
That was what they were working on.
"Then think faster!"
Before Peter could even respond, Taka stepped in quickly, controlled, and flicked a jab toward his face.
Peter yelped and stumbled back, barely managing to raise his guard in time as he saved himself from a bloody nose. "HEY! I wasn't ready!"
"You're never ready in a fight!" Taka replied, already circling. "That's the point!"
Another punch was thrown, this one far more powerful than the first one.
Peter blocked it this time, barely, his arms screaming in protest.