Chapter Three

Haruki arrived at the familiar school building. Not one student got the kind of looks he got from the teachers. A few teens gave puzzled looks, assuming he was some problem child, but he just ignored it. His primary goal remained the same: get through high school the same way he’d gotten through elementary school. The presence of superpowers changed things, but he’d done at least enough training to avoid breaking things.

Science continued to be his favorite subject, and he breezed through literature. Even though they never read the kinds of books he enjoyed, it still intrigued him, being exposed to all different genres. It certainly kept him happy before he went into his least favorite subject.

“Math,” he muttered under his breath.

The teacher went over algebraic equations, and he solved as best he could. Simple ones, where finding the value of ‘x’ only required a few steps, didn’t bother him. The ones that bothered him had multiple steps. Intelligence wasn’t a factor. He knew he could do his times tables with little effort. He could do up to thirteen by memory. Someone had come up with the idea of moving the position of letters around, and that confused him to no end. Suddenly, a student was expected to divide both sides by the amount multiplied. It sounded like meaningless drivel. Why did they need to set things up to be so complicated?

The teacher handed out a sheet of problems and told them to work on them while he headed to the office to receive a message. As Haruki picked away at the mountain of an equation before him, he ran through the instructions again and again. If it asked to be added to one side and you needed to get ‘x’ by itself, you had to subtract both sides by the amount.

He changed focus to two shorter, easier-looking equations and solved them in two minutes. Returning to the one above them, he read it as six times x plus ten over three equals fifteen. Intellectually, he knew the straight line meant division, but he found himself lost as to what to do.

“Multiply by three,” a calm voice said over his right shoulder.

Haruki looked up to see a boy with reddish-brown hair, a pair of circular glasses, and a lean swimmer’s build. “Huh?” he uttered, switching focus between the paper and the boy.

“See,” the boy said, drawing parentheses over both sides of the equation and a three next to both parentheses.

“Multiplying removes the division,” Haruki guessed, writing six times x plus ten equals forty-five on the line below.

“Right,” the boy agreed, pointing. “Now what do you do next?”

Haruki thought about it. “Subtract by ten,” he replied.

“Yes,” the boy said.

Haruki wrote down ‘x’ equal to thirty-five over six on the last line. “I can just leave the answer at that, right?”

“You can,” the boy said. He extended his hand. “Oh, by the way, I’m Kenshi Sugawara.”

“Haruki Kawakatsu,” he replied, shaking the hand. He smiled. “Thanks for your help. I can do math just fine, it’s this algebra that gets me.”

Kenshi smiled at the distinction between ‘math’ and ‘algebra,’ but didn’t laugh. He’d made scant few friends in high school, and he didn’t want to let the opportunity go to waste. “You can come to my house after school and I can tutor you, if you want.”

“Really?” Haruki said. He got a nod for a response. “That’s great!”

They got back to work as the teacher returned to the room. Haruki hadn’t hung out at a friend’s house since grade school and he looked forward to the opportunity. Likely his ‘job’ would have a task for him, but he was certain he could get it done relatively quickly. After all, his primary function was disaster recovery and prevention, as well as gathering evidence for the police.

After math came physical education. Gym class had never been a favorite of his. He’d always been outclassed by jocks. In grade school, his scrawny physique had gotten him picked on by nearly everyone. Now, gym class might remain his least favorite class because he had to focus carefully on his powers. In the locker room, he changed out of his uniform and into his gym clothes and shoes, and headed out into the main area of the gym to do warm-up exercises.

“Alright!” cried the coach, blowing his whistle. “First, I want twenty-five pushups to warm up!”

Haruki did them nonchalantly, unbothered by the activity that he used to get tired out by. After the pushups, he did ten sit-ups and waited for the next set of instructions. “I hope we’re doing track,” he heard one of the third years say. He didn’t want to do track. He didn’t want to be here at all.

“We’re doing the weight room this semester!” yelled the coach, ushering them out of the locker room and into the weight room. Machines and free weights each had their station. The coach spent fifteen minutes going over the proper way to use each machine and do each major exercise. Haruki got this spiel from one of the many people hired to train him, so he simply watched and listened, trying to see if he heard anything new.

When the class was set free to do what they wanted, he diminished his power to human levels. Feeling the chill of the weight room’s air conditioning told him his power was off. No point in lifting weights with super strength, he figured. He grabbed two twenty-five-pound free weights and set down on the angled bench, leaning back at a forty-five-degree angle. One of his trainers taught him that putting a bit of angle into the upward chest press worked extra muscles, so he did as he was told. Even though he’d never thought of himself as muscular, it humbled him immediately to struggle to press twenty-five pounds upward. After two sets of ten reps, he felt like his chest and arms had caught fire. Even his shoulders needled him with pain. He turned his power back on, feeling the air return to normal temperature and his pain vacating his body with the speed of a mist blown away by a strong gust. A few moments passed for him to catch his breath and prepare to go back into pain. He had other muscles to work in the twenty minutes he had left.

When he shut his power off again, his pain did not return.

Huh? he thought, rotating his shoulder, expecting his muscle to twitch and send a searing shot of pain up his neck. As he picked the weights up and got back in position, he put in another two sets of ten reps. I might not have noticed it, but it’s just a little bit easier. He set the weights down and felt a familiar fire in his upper body. His chest burned and his shoulders smoldered with pain. A quick on-off cycling of his power, less than five seconds, and he came back to normal with no pain. His eyes drifted to the clock; not a full minute had passed since he set the weights down. He picked them up and went again. No doubt remained; lifting them felt easier to a noticeable degree.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he cycled his power off and on and came back to normal with no pain. He’d found a cheat code in his powers, a shortcut to exercise. Everything he’d been taught in health class and by his trainers spoke of a whole day of recovery, possibly two or more, between major muscle groups and strenuous weightlifting. By cycling his power, he healed from the damage almost instantly and could go right back into weightlifting. Instead of worrying about those other muscle groups, he focused on his chest, shoulders, and arms. His cycle became two sets of ten, then cycling his power, then going again. By the time class ended, he found twenty-five pound weights to be easy to press overhead with no powers.

Assuming a full day of recovery between sessions for normal folk, he thought, going over it as he finished toweling off from his shower and began changing back into his uniform, that means I’ve done almost three weeks’ worth of this exercise!

As Haruki walked away, a third-year basketball jock turned to a friend and uttered, “did you see the endurance on that kid? Who was that freshman?”

“I think his name was Kawakatsu,” the second-year track athlete replied.

After P.E. was lunch and he discovered he had a special allowance because of his job. The cafeteria workers didn’t so much as pester him when he asked for triple servings of everything. The weightlifting had left him furiously hungry. Other students snickered or stared in disbelief as he devoured three and a half trays of food. He made a mental reminder to inform his bosses about this new trick he learned. They were sure to love it.

The rest of his classes passed by in record time. Being hopefully an intelligent person meant he didn’t have to struggle much. Every student feared underperforming, but Haruki didn’t want to have to deal with the drama that came with remedial classes or spare tutors. If Sugawara-san could get him through algebra with minimal struggle, he’d be satisfied.

He arrived at the base and checked in. “You’re in luck,” Matomaru said, registering that he’d checked in, “you’ve just got a simple mission. We’ve got several organized crime hideouts that we want you to bug.”

He smiled as he set his backpack down and changed into his tactical costume at super speed. “Great, just a hide and run.”

Matomaru pointed to the table. “They’re sticky on one side, so you don’t have to try hard to put them in place. Also, since they transmit, you don’t have to come back for them.”

He tilted his head. “Won’t the bad guys have scanners of some kind?”

The second-in-command gave a gentle head shake at the boy’s question. “No, we’ve managed to develop secure transmission protocols, so there’s no worry there.”

A quick study of the map gave him his targets. Some aspect of the power must have enhanced his memory, because he’d never make his way around Tokyo as the old him. Now, though, he saw the twists and turns on the roads and alleyways and could picture in his mind exactly where to go. Matomaru explained to him where each of the hidden entrances were. Once all the devices sat in a pouch on his belt, he took off.

Shifting into super speed seemed completely alien to him. Each image flashed by incredibly fast, yet he processed each detail as though it were standing still. In movies and cartoons, they always depicted super speed in slow motion. He imagined it would feel like it took an eternity, since his mind had to speed up to perceive where he was going. Instead, it felt like the few moments it was. All the while, though, he could clearly understand each moment in full detail.

Placing the spying devices proved simple. Moving in and out of the enemy lair proved simple when he could move faster than anyone could perceive. Old wooden floorboards moved with ease under his current speed. The devices stuck to the underside of the wood, then he gingerly set the boards down, and retreated. He managed to be in and out between the guy at the door taking puffs of his cigarette.

In his helmet, a beep indicated the line was open. “Yes?” he said.

“We’re picking up a signal,” Kensuke said, a cheery note to his voice. “Good job. Report back and then the day is yours.”

“Sir,” he replied, “when I get there, I’d like to show you something.”

Appearing in the equipment room, he dropped his uniform in the wash hamper and returned his helmet to the charging stand. He went up to his bosses and signaled for them to go to the weight room. “What’s this about?” Matomaru asked.

“At school,” Haruki explained, “we went over the weight room. I powered down to train at normal person levels. It hurt. When I powered back up, I didn’t hurt anymore, but when I powered back down to work my legs, I discovered I was healed.”

Kensuke stared at the shirtless boy in his gym shorts. He stuck his hand out and Matomaru placed a tablet computer in it. He glanced at a picture from just days ago. “Well, I’ll be!” he cried. The second-in-command stared at the picture before his eyes went wide. The muscle tone on the boy hadn’t dramatically increased, but between then and now a distinct change could be seen.

“That’s months of training in an hour,” Matomaru uttered, dumbfounded.

“Twenty minutes, actually,” Haruki corrected.

The two men exchanged a glance.

Three minutes later, a crate of protein bars ordered by the facility’s dietician sat in the middle of the weight room. “We go for an hour!” Kensuke shouted. “At four-thirty, you’re done, okay?”

“Got it,” Haruki agreed.

Matomaru stood by with a shaker cup, pouring milk and protein powder into it and shaking vigorously.

Haruki powered down and got to work right away. He worked each of the machines, working muscle groups in tandem. Minutes later, he’d worked out his entire body and his muscles screamed at him. A quick power cycling brought him back to full health. He felt a vigorous hunger overtake him and he tore open packets and shoveled protein bars in his mouth, chewing and swallowing, ignoring the chewy texture and faux-chocolate taste. Matomaru handed him the shaker cup and he gulped down the protein mix in three huge gulps. As an experiment, he tried to shift into super speed without running. Sure enough, the room slowed to a crawl.

Must be some form of time aspect to super speed, he realized. Also, he could use super speed by itself.

The two men watched as a blur zoomed between weight machines and appeared in front of them. He panted and sat, mouth-breathing as his body shouted at him again. Once more he devoured a handful of protein bars and downed protein shakes.

It was then that he discovered another side effect of eating and shifting into super speed: he disappeared and a few minutes later, they heard the toilet flush. “Good?” Kensuke asked him.

“I’m good,” Haruki said, powering down and getting back into the weight machines.

By utilizing super speed to weight lift, powering up and down to heal his torn muscles, and repeatedly digesting protein and excreting waste to be ready to eat again, he did over four hundred cycles of weight training and recovery.

“If my math is right,” Matomaru thought out loud, as the clock hit four-thirty and Haruki grabbed a towel to head to the showers, “if a cycle of exercise and recovery is two days, you’ve done over six and a half months’ worth of weight training in an hour.”

Kensuke took a photo of the boy with the tablet. “Look at his tone,” he said.

The second-in-command gave the boy a once-over. “Holy crap,” he exclaimed.

“I’d say he’s put on two and a half kilos of muscle,” Kensuke commented.

“He’s got abs,” Matomaru replied. He tilted his head and squinted. “And his face lost some of its soft baby fat.”

“See ya later!” Haruki exclaimed, hitting the showers.

Letting the hot water wash his anxiety and sweat away, he thought of how the powers affected his body as well as his mind. The fact that the super speed allowed him to digest food faster had happened because he wanted it to happen. It was the only idea that made sense. He’d used his powers for several days now, and in none of those cases, had he suddenly needed to use the bathroom. In this case, however, he knew he had to eat protein and use it to build muscle. His super speed responded. The implications were staggering to him.

How else can I use my powers? he thought.

He would have to experiment.

In the meantime, after a text to Kenshi, he got a smiling face emoji and an address. A quick change into civilian clothes and a jaunt outside later, and he found his way to the subdivision on the outskirts of town where the address was listed.

He found himself staring at a line of giant mansions. He found himself dwarfed by the huge stone walls and iron fences that separated each home from the other. The buildings stood multiple stories tall and sprawled out to twice the area of his parents’ house. At the end of a road, he saw a stone wall and an iron gate and a doorbell with a camera and the nameplate “Sugawara” above it. His finger touched the button.

“Oh!” Kenshi cried. “Kawakatsu-san!” A buzzer sounded and the gate pulled open. He walked up the asphalt driveway and found himself standing before an ornate oak door, stained a deep lacquer brown. “Was it hard to find?”

Haruki shook his head. “No, not at all,” he replied.

Kenshi led him into the spacious entryway. The boy stared up at the chandelier hanging high above them. To his left a hallway led to several rooms, a large bedroom at the end. To his right sat a living room with as much space as his parents’ entire house. A child of seven sat on the couch playing a Nintendo Switch. “Mom,” the small child cried, “his boyfriend is here!”

Kenshi went beet red. In from the dining room walked an elegant woman in a glittery green dress with silken dark brown hair. She gave the younger child a disapproving look. “Oh, is this your friend?” she asked Kenshi.

“Mom,” Kenshi replied, “this is Kawakatsu-san, like I told you.”

She regarded the blue-haired boy. “Kawakatsu-san, we take our son’s future very seriously. No doubt you will keep our son out of trouble?”

It struck Haruki as the oddest of questions. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, not knowing what other answer to give.

“We’re going to use the media room,” Kenshi said.

He led Haruki up the stairs and into a room marked “Media Room.” Inside, Kenshi went to flick the light and as the room came into view, Haruki gasped at the grandeur of the place. It had a massive OLED television and surround sound system, as well as a full entertainment system. Shelves lined the back of the enormous room and all manner of movies and games sat there. “Holy crap,” Haruki gasped.

“I figured we’d study a bit,” Kenshi explained, “and then we’ll watch something or listen to something.”

Haruki nodded. “Sounds great to me.”

They went over math. At least, from Kenshi’s perspective, that’s what happened. From Haruki’s perspective, what happened was the boy reminded him of his shortcomings in math by dragging his brain kicking and screaming over the threshold from one percent understanding the material, to ten percent understanding the material. After a grueling forty minutes, the boy needed superhuman restraint not to pitch his algebra textbook into space. Still, by the time Kenshi realized he’d drilled enough knowledge into his fellow student that he could pass the test, they both put their textbooks away and were ready to have fun.

They watched a horror anime that both had heard about but neither had seen. In the middle of the scariest part, Kenshi shrieked and grabbed his fellow student’s hand, holding it tight. Haruki was too engrossed in the happenings on screen to notice. After that, they watched an HD remaster of a mech anime from the early nineties.

After watching for a while, Haruki asked about music and Kenshi admitted he hadn’t listened to much outside of anime soundtracks.

“That won’t do,” Haruki said, grabbing the remote and loading a streaming service on the entertainment system. “Listened to any progressive rock?”

Kenshi let out a sheepish chuckle. “Honestly,” he admitted, “I don’t know what that is.”

Haruki gave a look of mock offense and put on Land of Confusion by Genesis.

Kenshi, having only ever listened to classical music from his parents or anime soundtracks, found himself blown away by the powerful drums, rhythmic drive of the guitars, and forceful lyrics of Phil Collins, Tony Banks, and Mike Rutherford. He found it difficult to describe the feeling of impact as the song landed somewhere in his gut. His English wasn’t great, but he could make out enough of the words that he knew the song had political implications.

“That was…different,” he uttered, blinking.

“I’m a fan of heavy metal and progressive rock,” Haruki said. “I can give you a whole list of songs you should listen to.”

Kenshi paused to think. “Do you have…anything more playful?”

Haruki regarded his friend’s question. Then he smiled and put on Sledgehammer by Peter Gabriel. The song began with a gentle shakuhachi melody before launching head-first into a funk-inspired horn rhythm. Once more the drums gave a significant impact. Kenshi found himself tapping his foot subconsciously. Haruki marveled at how big it sounded on these fancy speakers and large subwoofer. Peter Gabriel had a rich, deep voice, and his lyrics sang poetically of love, even if only Kenshi picked up on most of it.

Haruki watched as his new friend got swept up in the feeling of the music. He’d amassed a huge music collection from the pirate websites, and listening to it always made him happy. Sharing it with others hadn’t been an option. Throughout most of his school career he’d had few friends. It put a warm feeling in his spirit to know he could share his love of music with the boy.

They spent the next half hour listening to music and going over suggestions. Kenshi hadn’t made such a complicated playlist before, so he made notes on his phone about what to listen to. Haruki checked the time. “Oh, crap!” he exclaimed. “I gotta go!”

“Want to hang out again soon?” Kenshi asked.

Haruki nodded with a big grin. “Sure!” he replied. “I’ll have to get in touch once I got my schedule together.”

He headed out and Kenshi waved from the front door. I finally got a real friend, he thought as he walked out of sight and zoomed away at super speed.