Chapter 11: Is This The Rising of the Glock Hero?

“Tackiness and barbarism make my skin crawl.”

—Gaspard Kitsuneda

In a green leafy bush just outside the Explorers Guild in Beetho, a young man lay in wait, crouched like a predator—stalking its prey.

Meisatsu cupped two hands in a binocular fashion over his eyes. He glanced at the pale blue projection of a clock’s face hovering high above the central part of the town. Its ethereal light accentuating the milky clouds crawling through the sky.

The central part of this town sure does have its perks, huh? A virtual—no, magical clock? The wonders of magic these days...

He then focused his gaze back on his prey—BON APPÉTIT.

“8:00AM. The weather...” He dabbed a finger on his tongue and held it up to the breeze. “...fair.”

Across the dirt road was the rather luxurious looking shop—business was booming to say the least.

The shop looked ripped straight out of Paris, with its perfectly rounded tables spaced out on either side of a doorless entry, decorated with rose petals and—scented candles...? The space enclosed by a low mahogany railing, and above it, stretched a red-and-white canopy fluttering gently in the breeze.

Does this owner think they’re French or something?! Meisatsu wondered.

Scratching an itch—on his butt!—with his Glock, he continued his investigation in earnest.

“The suspect—a middle-aged...” he said, narrowing his eyes through his cupped hands, “...French-looking dude—possibly the owner, is pouring customers some wine”

A man whose entire demeanor screamed—I HAVE CLASS, had been making conversation with the various...

Explorers? Meisatsu thought, marveling at the odd contrast.

The man donned a blood-red beret, cocked at an angle, in a classical manner. A taut plaid vest enveloped his broad chest, and a handlebar mustache curled with such intensity, it looked like it could poke the heavens.

Hold on a sec, is that... gauntlet guy?! He had spotted Seiji—an Explorer he had met at the Guild—getting a refill on his freshly emptied glass.

For a person as well-built as Seiji, he fit into the modest chair with flawless ease. Should be impossible, yet he did it... somehow.

“Delicious as always, my good Sir,” Seiji said while raising his glass.

“Why thank you, Monsieur,” the man replied with a bow. “It is an honor serving such... esteemed guests such as yourself.”

He even sounds French... Meisatsu realized.

As he continued his keen observation—deluding himself that he was some sort of spy—he felt a soft tickle on his wrist.

“Yo,” said a butterfly with a voice so deep, it rattled his bones a little.

It had perched on his arm.

Meisatsu felt his reasoning desert him, for what he noticed next very well justified that.

The butterfly had a face—a human, face—that was spectacularly chiseled, with high cheek bones, and a sharp jawline.

It locked eyes with him, deep blue eyes focused solely on his saying, “There are those who do and those who don’t. You’ve got to know which side you’re on.”

“Huh?” Meisatsu gawked.

“My job here, is done...” the butterfly uttered beautifully, spreading his wings before soaring majestically through the skies.

Yup... I think I might’ve finally lost it... he thought, gravely.

“Mommy look, it’s—GLOCK BACKHAND STRIKE! guy,” a little girl said, striking a pose, pointing at Meisatsu’s self-proclaimed, flawless hiding spot.

Crap, the mission’s been compromised. Abort I repeat, abort!

Stepping quickly out of the bush, he brushed off some leaves that had stuck to him.

“Yes, that’s right.” He puffed out his chest. “It is I, The GUN HERO!”

“Wow!!!” The little girl squealed in excitement. “Mr. Hero, what were you doing in that bush?”

She tilted her head, eyes filled with pure curiosity.

“Sorry kid,” he said, ruffling her hair. “That’s classified.”

“Were you taking a poo?”

Meisatsu’s face caved in on itself at the question, mind firing on all cylinders for an answer that would be both satisfactory, and preserve his dignity as well...

“I would never,” he replied, pointing his Glock to himself. “I was err, butterfly... watching...”

The girl’s mother wore a face of understanding, knowing the feeling of having to answer her child’s continuous questions.

“Mr. Hero, what’s that cool stick called?” she asked, pointing at his Glock, eyes filled with wonder. “It’s shiny and makes loud noises.”

For the first time since he started using a Glock in this world, someone had showed genuine interest in his gun. Well, someone other than Ayame and his parents...

A Few Days Earlier...

It was the night after the Appraisal. The Kanezuka family had gathered round a dinner table for a superb dinner that Leina—in celebration of Meisatsu the Hero—had scrupulously prepared.

“Isn’t it wonderful dear?” she asked, beaming like a star. “Our little boy is all grown up now.”

“They grow up so fast.” Ragan laughed, his voice shaking the plates and food set on the table. “I knew he would shake the world, but the Hero? Who woulda known? Ahahaha!”

“Hmph!” Ayame snorted proudly. “I’ve always known my little Satsu was destined for greatness.”

“I uhh... don’t know what to say, heh heh,” he said bashfully. “It’s not like I chose it or anything.”

Actually, in a way... I kinda did!

“Well no matter,” Ragan added. “You’re this world’s only hope, and that’s what matters.”

“Hey Satsu, tell us about your weapon. I’ve never seen one like yours before.” Ayame insisted, leaning in closer to Meisatsu.

He took in a long, deep, breath. Then he blurted...

“The Glock 17 Gen5 is a personal favorite of mine,” he said, rising from his chair, like he was about to give some sort of Glock sermon...

“From its timeless design to its firing mechanics—where do I even begin?!” A light blush flashed on his face as he gazed intently at his Glock...

“The polymer frame, the GMB, even the ambidextrous slide stop lever.” He raised the gun to the ceiling as he spoke. “It’s nothing short of a marvel. The way it’s easily customizable—though personally, I prefer the stock version. And its improved trigger mechanisms—it's pure genius.”

“Its Safety Action System is nothing to sneeze about either. Oh! and the flared magazine allows for faster...”

“Umm dear...?” Leina whispered to Ragan, “...you’re a blacksmith, surely you can understand wh—”

“Not one bit honey. Just smile and nod,” he whispered back. “Can’t interrupt his moment now, can we?” He smiled.

“...aren’t Glocks just amazing everyone?” Meisatsu asked overjoyed, his face almost radiating with light.

“T-they really are something...” Ayame quickly responded, applauding lightly, visible beads of sweat making their way down her forehead.”

“That’s not all...”

Why does everyone look so confused? I know guns don’t exist here and all but, why do they look like I’m speaking some alien language, he thought.

“... I... really, love Glocks.” he said weakly.

Ayame’s ear twitched at the last part of his sentence.

So, it seems I have yet another rival for Meisatsu’s affection, huh? I will not yield! she declared in her mind as she glared at his Glock.

Back to the present...

I better keep this nice and simple...

“I pull this thing right here...” he said, moving the gun closer to the girl, pointing at the trigger, “...and it goes bang!”

The girl happily giggled at his explanation. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” she repeated. Her mother observing the conversation, smiled warmly.

“N-no please,” a young boy’s voice cried in a corner.

“Just give us the bag and we’ll let ya go. Right guys?” asked another boy who didn’t look much older than Meisatsu, to two others blocking the view.

“My father, he said I shou—oof!” he pleaded as he was kicked in the gut, dropping the bag with a light—

CHRRK-CLNNK!

A mugging...? Meisatsu quickly broke into a run toward the scene.

“Look I’m trying to be nice here,” he said, forming a fist as he spoke, “but I think it’s time to use some good ol’ forc—”

“GUN MARTIAL ARTS: GLOCK CROSS STRIKE!” Meisatsu yelled, throwing a cross punch, with his Glock, into one of the boys sternum, who was blocking the left. He tumbled across the street, landing in a basket of oranges.

“Huh?” the boy murmured, looking over his shoulder to see his partner lying headfirst in an orange filled basket.

“Why you little punk!” shouted the other boy who was beside the one sent flying.

“Look who’s talking,” Meisatsu clapped back.

The boy winded up a big punch—

“Aaaaaaaargh,” he screamed, hitting nothing but air.

Meisatsu had easily evaded his punch with a quick duck and a brisk step-in, appearing behind him.

“GUN MARTIAL ARTS: GLOCK CHOP!” Meisatsu landed a swift karate chop—with his Glock—to the boy’s neck, instantly knocking him out cold as he dropped with a heavy—

THUD!

Meisatsu stood triumphantly over the unconscious body, taking a sly glance at a small gathering that caught his attention...

A bunch of smoking-hot girls!!! Happy—slightly perverted thoughts began to fill his mind...

Finally, I get to look cool in front of the ladi—

BAM!

With a triple spin, Meisatsu slammed flat onto the ground.

As expected, my strength due to my role—SOLDIER—is more than enough for this idiot, he thought.

“You think you can just walk into our business and get away with it?!” the enraged boy, apparently their leader, shouted. Veins bulging on his forehead.

“Wait... isn’t that the kid who fought Umare?” A young man—a shop owner, stepped out. Taking a quick look at the body now occupying his orange basket, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

Ignoring the body, he continued, “I believe he called himself the Gun Hero, or something like that.”

“Huh? Umare...? Hero...?” he muttered to himself. Then it dawned on him...

“Oh Fu—”

BLEEP!

This guy’s the nut job that fought Umare? The one everyone’s been talking about?!

“Mommy look, the Hero... He fell...” The little girl from earlier cried out.

“No honey.” The mother grabbing her daughter’s hand said, “Look...”

DUMP!

Slamming a fist in the ground, Meisatsu  started  to slowly push himself up.

Then the mother spoke, “... The hero...”

“He’s...” whispered a female passerby.

“He’s...” exclaimed a random bald man, the sun reflecting on his scalp with a mighty shine...

“RISING!!!” roared everyone on the road as Meisatsu sprung to his feet, marching coldly to the guy who punched him.

“W-we got off on the wrong foot,” the boy nervously blurted. “Maybe we coul—”

“GUN MARTIAL ARTS: GLOCK UPPERCUT!!!”

Meisatsu in a powerful swing, delivered an uppercut—with his Glock filled fist—lifting the boy high off the floor, landing with a dramatic—

THUD!

Take that jerk-face Meisatsu scoffed inwardly.

“Kyaa!” screamed the group of girls Meisatsu spotted earlier as they ran in his direction.

“Ladies, ladies...” He turned to face them. “I’m only doing my job as a Her—”

They ran right past him...

“Are you okay,” asked one of the girls, carefully helping the boy, who Meisatsu had just saved, to his feet.”

“You poor thing...” added another, stroking the boy’s hair lovingly as she spoke.

The boy had scruffy hazel colored hair, with green eyes that shimmered like emeralds. And a delicate face—one could easily mistake him for a woman.

Dammit kid! Agony flooding his mind. You just had to steal my moment...

Quickly picking up the dropped bag, he squeezed his way through the doting ladies.

“T-thank you for saving me Mr... Hero” he said, drawing circles with his feet.

“Please, call me Meisatsu.” He tried flashing what he felt was a Heroic Smile.

“Meisatsu,” the boy echoed as he stepped in closer, his nose almost touching Meisatsu’s, a deep shade of crimson spreading across his cheeks...

“My name is Kaito,” he said sheepishly, “M-my father gave me this bag of gold coins to deliver to my grandparents who live further down.”

The boy’s face flushed an even deeper red...

Is this kid having a fever? Meisatsu thought.

“Satsuuuuuu!” called Ayame who had stepped out of the Guild, running towards them.

“What the heck happened here?” she asked, looking around. “And who’s he?” She pointed angrily at the boy—still flustered.

“He’s Kaito, and the dudes I knocked out tried to mug him,” Meisatsu responded.

Ayame tilted to the right, peeking behind him. Then she saw a familiar face.

“Oh, it’s just Akito,” she replied, indifferent. “He’s just some guy who thinks he can be a gang leader. What a joke! Umare’s been trying to convince him to join the Guild.”

“He mentioned something about his job being Soldier as well.” She rolled her eyes. “Normally he’d apply for the Royal Army, since Soldiers are tough and have some useful abilities.”

“So why is he out here mugging people?” Meisatsu questioned.

“Something about giving it back to the people—those who really need it.”

“We’re so sorry!!!” the members of the gang apologized as they kowtowed together.

“I thought he was some spoiled brat, with that face of his,” said Akito, his voice shaky with remorse. “Please forgive us, Mr. Hero.”

Somehow Akito kowtowed even harder—physics be damned.

“Well, no one was seriously hurt so... it’s all good.” Meisatsu replied reassuringly. “On one condition—join the Guild.”

“B-but I...”

“Or would you rather I tell Umare what you did?”

“I’ll join!!!” he immediately responded.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Hero,” greeted a voice saturated with a French accent. “My name is Gaspard Kitsuneda. I’ve heard so much about you and now, I finally have the pleasure of meeting you.”

It’s French dude! Even his name—half of it anyway...

He was holding a dark-green-colored bottle filled with a liquid—definitely some sort of grape based drink.

“This is but a humble gift I had prepared for you,” he said, stretching out his arms, presenting the bottle like it was a priceless artifact.

“Sorry, I’m fifteen. I don’t drink,” Meisatsu responded, palm outstretched.

“Oh, but Monsieur, it is only grape wine.” As if to ease Meisatsu’s concern, he gestured toward his shop. Some children were seen leaning on the railing.

They sipped from little mugs while holding what looked like, pretzel bread...

“A bakery owner and I both work together. And to sell more, I cater to people from all walks of life and all age brackets,” he said, voice eloquent, twirling with the bottle in hand.

“If it’s only grape juice, I guess I could accept... Thanks!” Meisatsu flashed a smile.

“Adieu!” Gaspard called out as he made way back to his shop.

Alright, where did he learn to speak French?! Ain’t this another world?!

“I better be going too,” Kaito chimed in. “Thank you once again, for saving me.”

He cast one last look over his shoulder before continuing down the road.

“And as for you.” Meisatsu pointed at Akito. “From now on, you’re an Explorer too.”

“I’ll talk with Umare about letting you into his party.”

Akito, who had been kotowing all this while, finally got up with an exasperated sigh.

Meisatsu concluded his investigation of BON APPÉTIT, saying...

“There’s no way that French guy’s any trouble.” He looked at his reflection on the bottle.

“Now I just gotta tell old guy...” He took a lengthy pause, deep in thought. “How do I find old guy...?”

Ayame watching Meisatsu talking to himself wondered, Who’s old guy...?