Big Sis Hazama is Always Watching

Hoshino wanted to salute these civilians. Like, really. It was so easy to doubt him. He looked like a Victorian maid, after all. But after he told them to get out of here, one of the teachers nodded and asked him where they should go—to which Hoshino replied with anywhere that was far from this building and the fight happening at the front—and encouraged the rest to follow him. They would take Larry with them too.

Today, Hoshino found a deeper sense of respect for the will of these severely underpaid adults.

With them out of the way, Hoshino could now have a more proper standoff against the (at least) two people above. This included the bastard that sniped his ass. Sitting this one out would be a good idea, but he had to play his part. If anything, if the Butterflies above started shooting the hostages, Ishigami might get distracted. Then Satoru would turn him into cheese.

Hoshino closed his eyes. He followed the footsteps of the civilians going down to the first floor. Everything was still okay. The two Butterflies here were still passed out. Dying would be more accurate, but he would rather not think about that right now. Also, there should be no more people on the right wing of this floor—if there were, they would’ve followed the not-so-panicked civilians and bolted them down or something. Though if that happened, Hoshino could jump them.

It had been a while since the person upstairs had cast their scan spell. Very clever of them. Hoshino was close enough to eyeball where the spell was cast and bolt its caster. It would be nice if they did, though.

Fighting at least two people wasn’t too terrible. But… Hoshino cringed at the thought of his recent run-in with Shifu and Nose. The worst part about fighting the people upstairs was that he had to fight them somewhat fairly. But with Hazama’s help…

Hoshino sighed. Now, his working plan was to rush upward through the left staircase like a bumbling idiot and bolt the motherfucker in the security room. Hopefully, the commotion would attract the rest of the motherfuckers, and he could take the fight to the rooftop where he could be backed up by Hazama. How would Hazama help him? He didn’t know.

With the sound of the freed hostages growing weaker, Hoshino snapped into focus and ran to the third floor. The stairs curved out and back into the building, hiding most of what was above from his view. And when he turned—surprise, surprise—three of them were waiting for him.

One had a devil or something tattooed on the right side of his face. Hoshino called him Tattoo. The other one looked so scared, like he had just pissed his pants. Hoshino named him Bitchboy. The third was a woman. Cute, honestly. She had dark hair… and her piercing black eyes gleamed as she showered him with bolts. Not exactly meet cute material.

Hoshino responded with a quick shield, of course. Hoshino would call the girl Black for now. She probably knew that Hoshino needed to take the fight elsewhere for him to win. Clever. Clever girl. Hoshino winked at her—she looked disgusted, ouch—and hopped out of their group’s view by summoning a shield midair and using it to jump back to the second floor.

A scan spell was cast the moment he landed.

Hoshino smiled, remembering the way Satoru fought. He conjured a bolt a meter away from his side while the spell lingered. As expected, they fired at him from above… but it missed him completely. They aimed at the bolt, not him. Hoshino chuckled and commanded his detached bolt to hit whoever put the first hole in the ceiling. Black grunted and presumably thudded to the floor.

So… it was her who shot him in the head. Now, it was personal. But of course, he couldn’t go to the third floor in the same way anymore.

Hoshino fired a couple more bolts, outright spamming them so he would appear scared. He tried willing them to curve, to make them more menacing, but it didn’t work.

Still, he had one more trick up his sleeve. He conjured a delayed bolt and jumped off to the side of the building from the second floor. By the time his delayed bolt fired into the stairs, Hoshino had already conjured a number of shields and used them as stepping stones to get to the rooftop.

His landing was smooth… but too much of his breath left him the moment his feet touched the floor. His head was beating, letting him know about his bleeding, chipped ear and carved cheek. Everything. Everything was heavy. And being reminded that he was human after all made him step back and ring Hazama’s phone.

But for what?

Hoshino didn’t think that far.

Waiting for Hazama to pick up was a luxury Hoshino could not afford. So, he stumbled forward, grasping at the very last of his strength. The rooftop was smaller than the third floor, so there should be an area where he could see his enemies pinned or confused on the stairs leading to the third floor.

And bingo.

Hoshino grinned.

Black had her right arm blown off; that was why she couldn’t cast a scan spell anymore. Tattoo had a shield up, his eyes focused on what would come up from the second floor. Dumbass. Bitchboy was healing Black—well, slowly regenerating her arm. Healing taxed both the healer’s mind and the body of the person being healed. That might have been the generally correct approach, but it was a big mistake right now.

Hoshino waved his wand and bolted Bitchboy’s right arm. The way he screamed in pain somewhat made Hoshino’s heart feel full. In the same motion, Hoshino conjured a bolt at the tip of his wand but didn’t let go. He waited.

Tattoo had time to react. And he chose to shield Black as she scrambled to get Bitchboy’s wand. Another generally correct approach. Sadly, they were up against an asshole. Hoshino bolted Tattoo and sent him down the stairs.

Hoshino would’ve put down Black too, but an attack came at him from the stairs on the right side of the building.

Tch. Hoshino shielded himself and retreated. This was fine. His opponent right now was a girl barely keeping herself awake and another guy on the right wing of the third floor… who had shit aim. At this point, they couldn’t afford to point their wands at the hostages. Hoshino also had a better position. If anything, he could just go back down and—”

“Murmur in despair… Gary.”

Malevolent mana swelled from Hoshino’s back and, in a slow, ink-like wave, consumed the space beneath his feet. A second. For a moment. Hoshino forgot that he was on the rooftop. Instead, with the droning chant of crickets, he sat on the veranda of a stranger’s home. He was a child. He admired the warmth of the golden sun, smiling wide… listening to the nostalgic song of wind chimes nearby.

Hoshino woke up to reality. He was turning his body, aiming to put a hole in the caster’s head. But the feeling—the control he had over his left leg—disappeared and was replaced by a general sense of stiffness, then incredible pain that sent him to the floor.

“Motherfucker—”

Hoshino grimaced at the pain gnawing at his flesh. It spread to his hips, making it incredibly hard to turn his body. It was as if he had been given the back and knees of a 35-year-old corporate worker with 70-year-old back problems. Still… he was not out of the fight yet.

As long as the Butterflies were focused on him, the hostages would be safe.

“Stop it,” the Butterfly said with a pained, heavy voice. The way he squeezed the juice out of the lemon in his right hand made the entire interaction even weirder. “Looking at you makes me remember how this curse felt.”

“You know…” Hoshino grunted, shifting his head to face the person who cursed him. “I thought curses would be cool, but I never really thought someone would Ed Sheeran me.”

The Butterfly licked his lips. “Thinking Out Loud.” He chuckled and kicked Hoshino in the gut. “Good one. Good one. But stupid. I know you’re buying time. You had a good plan. But we were better. We simply had more cards up our sleeves. Satoru-san knew that the Afro Fucker would not—never—work alone. So, we just needed to flush the other ‘exorcist’ out. Both of you came here in such… ridiculous outfits that we thought you were escapees from a mental hospital or some random roleplayers looking to talk to high schoolers. In fact, we were also expecting Hazama to be here.”

There was a bit of fear in his voice. But only for a moment. Hoshino forced out a laugh, ignoring the taste of blood on his lips. “It would be very different if Hazama-san was here—”

“The difference would be that both of them would be dead,” the Butterfly interrupted. He threw the squeezed lemon away and licked the juice from his fingertips. “But thank you for confirming that Hazama wasn’t here. Because with that… I am free to act. But do tell me. What do you think would happen if I walked into the right range… near both the Afro Fucker and Satoru-san… and squeezed another lemon of mine?”

“You…” Hoshino tilted his head as he watched the man walk toward the edge of the rooftop. He grinned like an idiot. “You’d waste a perfectly good lemon. Squeezing a fruit doesn’t make you menacing as a villain, you idiot. What is that? A metaphor? Does the lemon represent my balls? Do you like to squeeze balls—”

The Butterfly’s lips twitched. “It’s a stupid curse from a stupid malevolent spirit that has an equally stupid requirement. But…” He faced Hoshino, wearing the face of a rage-baited, stupid motherfucker. “But its power is potent. Imagine this. Imagine the mighty Afro Fucker himself—in the middle of battle—was afflicted suddenly with osteoarthritis and gets grated by a rain of bolts from Satoru—”

There was a pulse of mana. It was rather faint. But, its range covered not just the building, the entire school, or the block… it covered the entire city… It was cast somewhere in the horizon. And it seemed to infer a message. Hoshino swallowed his spit. The pulse was telling them to sit the fuck down.

The Butterfly stopped, stepped back, shook his head, and turned toward the cityscape of towering buildings in the distance. His jaws trembled. He threw his lemon away and grabbed his wand—he was slammed by a bolt that didn’t explode but bent his body in ways that broke his right arm and leg… and possibly everything in between.

Hoshino couldn’t help but chuckle. Before he could fully react, three more bolts were fired in the distance and into the building. Black grunted below. The attack must’ve hit the other Butterfly he had planned to chase. The final bolt was for someone he didn’t see…

With that… it was over. Satoru and Ishigami’s fight would end soon.

Hoshino pulled up his phone. Feeling like holding his phone to the side of his chipped ear would be too much for his frail body, he put Hazama on speaker.

“Hazama-san…” Hoshino mumbled. “Thank you for helping me… the hostages have escaped. I think. I’m also good now. Please help Ishigami-san as well. Please—”

“Hallo, hallo, Hoshino-san, welcome back…” Hazama replied with her usual tone. Though she sounded a bit more tired. “Ishigami is going to be fine. Also, good job… You’ve stepped up.”

Ouch. She sounded surprised… but… Hoshino smiled like an idiot as he laid his back on the floor. That felt too fucking good. How could he not? But a thought came to mind. “Wait, Hazama-san… Where are you? Aren’t you supposed to—”

“Oh, y’know…” Hazama replied with a sheepish laugh. She yawned too.

There was a faint sound of multiple screaming and exploding in the background. Something was roaring. There was the crack of a shield breaking the moment it was cast and numerous bolts being fired. Chaos... Hoshino gazed at the buildings in the distance.

“Around,” Hazama continued.