"Have you ever heard of a Mardi Gras waist drum?!"
Jovian looked at the green-haired pint-sized menace in front of him—Tatsumaki—and asked.
"A Mardi Gras waist drum?"
"I've heard of a waist drum, sure."
Tatsumaki raised an eyebrow. She didn't understand why Jovian was asking something so random, but if he meant a drum you strap around your waist and smack while you move, then yeah—she knew what that was.
"Perfect."
Jovian gave a small nod, and in the next instant he was already behind her.
"So fast!"
Tatsumaki hadn't expected him to be that quick—his speed had already blown past her ability to track movement.
"As long as you know what a waist drum is."
As he spoke, Jovian lifted a knife-hand and lightly tapped the back of Tatsumaki's neck.
"Uh…"
Her eyes rolled back, and she immediately lost consciousness.
In the final second before her awareness vanished, she vaguely saw that newly promoted S-Class hero in the white skintight suit… smiling at her like he'd just had the best idea of his life.
Time passed—she didn't know how long.
"My head… hurts…"
Tatsumaki groggily opened her eyes. Her brain felt foggy, like she'd stayed up all night binge-watching a show, then woke up and realized it was Monday and she still had to drag herself to work—dizzy, throbbing, and so tired her eyelids barely wanted to cooperate.
"Why is it so warm…? It feels like I'm wrapped in a blanket… I wanna go back to sleep…"
The warmth around her made her eyes keep drooping, heavier and heavier.
"Is that Tatsumaki?"
"No way—yeah! That's the Tornado of Terror, the S-Class Rank 2 hero!"
"Why is she tied around someone's waist?"
"No idea!"
"Stop asking questions—take a picture!"
Right as Tatsumaki was about to drift off again, noisy voices erupted all around her.
"Huh?!"
"Why is it so damn loud?!"
Already annoyed, Tatsumaki's tiny brows knitted together. She hated being bothered while she slept.
"Shut up!"
She snapped her eyes open and looked around.
The moment she did, she froze.
A crowd of civilians stood all around her, phones out, constantly snapping photos while whispering excitedly.
"What the hell is going on?!"
Tatsumaki shouted at the people taking pictures of her, furious, trying to lift her hand to warn them—
And then she realized her hands weren't moving.
Not just her hands.
Her entire body was wrapped up in thick red cloth, tight as hell, with only her head left exposed. No wonder she'd felt warm.
"So! What is this?!"
Tatsumaki's face flushed with humiliation. Rage boiled in her chest, but shame surged right alongside it.
She—the strongest esper on Earth, the Hero Association's ace, S-Class Rank 2—was wrapped up like some kind of display prop and shown off in public?!
"Yo. You're awake."
A low, magnetic voice spoke near her ear.
"It's you. What did you do to me?!"
Tatsumaki recognized that voice instantly—because she'd just been talking to him.
"I asked you, didn't I?"
"I said, have you heard of a Mardi Gras waist drum?"
"You said you had."
The voice didn't answer her directly. Instead, it tossed the question back at her.
"I said I knew what a waist drum was! What does that have to do with THIS?!"
Tatsumaki genuinely couldn't follow his logic. Jovian's brain didn't just jump tracks—it launched off the rails.
"Everything."
"It's a festive day. I'm gonna show everyone a real trick—play the waist drum!"
As Jovian spoke, he slapped the "drum" right at the spot behind his waist that didn't need explaining if you had even a shred of imagination.
SMACK.
The sound was crisp as hell.
"..."
Silence.
For a moment, nobody spoke—not the people filming, not the guy "playing" the drum, and definitely not the red-bodied, green-faced "waist drum" itself.
"You…!"
"What the hell are you doing?!"
The "drum" finally screamed, yapping nonstop.
Tatsumaki could not believe it.
The waist drum… was her.
"A marching drum—also called a parade drum—is meant to be played while you move forward!"
Without waiting for the "drum" to say more, the man's voice began explaining like he was teaching a class.
"SMACK—SMACK—SMACK…"
And with that steady beat, he started moving down the street.
"You—you—you look at what you've done!"
Tatsumaki's face wasn't just red anymore. She was basically a tomato.
"This is only the warm-up! Now's the part where I show the real skill!"
Jovian sounded thrilled.
"SMACK—SMACK—SMACK…"
"Wrap tight, wrap wide, wrap-through, squat bounce, hop-step, drum-shot jump, side kick, front kick, X-step, star step, run-hop, hustle step, walk step, grapevine…"
While he rattled off the moves, he delivered a smooth, flowing combo to match—rapid, clean, and horrifyingly practiced.
"..."
Tatsumaki had no words left. She tried to force her powers out, planning to rip free with brute telekinesis—
But her esper power, usually as natural as breathing, suddenly refused to respond.
She could feel the massive energy inside her… and still couldn't use it, like someone had cut the signal between her and her ability.
"W-what is this?! What's happening?!"
Tatsumaki shouted, a raw helplessness crawling up her spine. The feeling dragged up an old fear she'd buried deep in her memory.
"You think that cloth is just there to keep you warm?"
Jovian looked down at the "Mardi Gras waist drum" at his waist with a disdainful gaze.
"This fabric was made specifically to limit your psychic powers."
And as if to prove the point, he gave the drum another light, "gentle" smack.
"No way. In this short amount of time, you developed something that suppresses my powers? No—don't tell me you planned this from the start?!"
The more Tatsumaki thought about it, the more terrifying it felt—like an invisible hand had been guiding everything she did.
"You're overthinking it."
Jovian didn't bother explaining further.
"Then how did you make it so fast?!"
Tatsumaki demanded.
"You ask way too many questions…"
"But fine. That one, I'll answer."
"Because…"
"You've been out cold for three days."
Tatsumaki's eyes widened.
"No…"
"So who the hell gave you the illusion that I only knocked you out a second ago?"
Jovian sighed like she was a kid who still didn't get how the world worked.
"…So when are you going to let me go?"
Tatsumaki asked pitifully.
"Whenever I feel like it."
Jovian said it flatly, then placed a warm palm against the cloth-wrapped "drum" at his waist—continuing to "massage" her like he was doing her a favor while he walked.
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