I walked out of the building.
At that moment, I didn't know what to think about. I didn't know what to feel.
...I didn't even know what joke to say anymore.
Usually, any pun would do. Just a little one. Something dumb enough to loosen the atmosphere.
But...
I couldn't. I just couldn't.
I always thought funny things beat sad things. I was wrong.
So, so wrong.
Maybe walking home would help. So I did.
A hundred steps. One thousand.
There was this black car that kept offering me a ride every thirty-seven seconds, but I ignored it every single time. I just kept walking and walking.
Then I saw them.
Rows of The Naoki Show posters plastered across the walls.
I groaned.
Then more followed.
Flyers, posters, even billboards.
After letting everyone down, seeing my own face suddenly felt disgusting.
Just think about it. Seeing yourself smiling like an idiot, doing the dumbest things imaginable for people to laugh at... only to lose the very reason you started doing all of it in the first place.
I grabbed one of the flyers and stared at it for a while.
And right there, I realized how much of a joke I actually was.
So I crumpled it up and threw it away.
Then I tried to think about what to do next.
Well, what am I gonna do next?
I... didn't know.
I didn't know if I should change the show. Or maybe... just give it up too.
Maybe that would be easier.
So, I ran home.
And there was mom. She was grabbing something she probably forgot from the living room. She smiled at me.
"Are you coming later, son?"
I smiled, desperately. "Yes, mom!"
She chuckled. "I know you would. Don't be late, alright."
"Okay, mom!"
She left the house.
I rushed straight into my bedroom and cried.
And even now...
After everything that happened...
It still hurts remembering it.
But...
What Naoki didn't know was that something phenomenal had just happened.
A tiny meteor-like object crashed into a pile of trash bags somewhere nearby. It wasn't bigger than a human hand, leaving behind only a faint burning trail in the night sky.
Nobody noticed.
Moments later, the molten rock cracked apart.
Something was inside.
A strange metallic polygon. Smooth. Polished. Cold-looking.
At its center floated a bright red orb protected by some kind of invisible force.
Ticking sounds echoed from within it.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Suddenly, the orb released a crimson holographic scan across the area.
"Hmmmm. Strange. Really, really strange."
***
Anyway.
The restaurant was completely packed.
Not just because of the food.
But because tonight was the premiere of The Naoki Show.
"Come in! Come in!"
Almost every seat was already taken, though a few tables remained reserved.
Reserved for the special guests.
And honestly, you already know who they are.
"Sumiko! Ryusei! How are you?"
That was Aiko, Saitou's mom.
"Great! How about you?"
"Nothing much. Right, Hiro?"
"Yeah, nothing much. Just living the best life as always. You should ask my son."
That was Hiro, Saitou's dad.
"Nothing much, uncle and auntie," Saitou replied calmly. "Living the best life as well." Hiro leaned closer and whispered something to Ryusei.
"How about...?" Mom asked carefully.
Neither Hiro nor Aiko answered immediately.
"Living the best too, auntie," Saitou finally said. "He'll be watching. Don't worry."
"We're sure of it."
A while later, Yuta arrived.
"Hi there, uncle and auntie."
"Hello, Yuta. Where are your parents?"
"Oh, business meeting abroad. They'll watch online, don't worry."
"We're sure of it."
Without hesitation, Yuta grabbed Saitou by the sleeve and dragged him toward a table.
"Come on, let's go."
Then he lazily leaned back in his chair, resting one foot over the other.
"Where's that little helper anyway?"
"I was about to ask that too," Saitou replied. "If you didn't drag me here first. The audacity, seriously."
"We're running out of seats. Look at all the rushing people around!"
"Look at the sign. RESERVED."
"Hmph. Whatever."
Yuta placed the menu over his face and leaned back further.
"Boys! Eat some curry. You two need dinner."
"Thanks, auntie," Yuta and Saitou replied together.
"Hey auntie, have you seen him?" Yuta asked.
"Oh, Naoki? He's home preparing."
"He always does."
"I'm actually going to pick him up."
"Wait, I'm gonna do it."
I pushed my curry bowl aside.
"Don't you dare eat this one."
***
Should I go?
...Nah.
I'll just stay here. I'm tired. I'm so tired.
Maybe I just need some sleep.
I'll just close my eyes like nothing happened.
Just close them.
Like that.
Just like—
Knock knock.
My eyes snapped open.
Must be Mom. She forgets things a lot.
Then footsteps climbed the stairs.
Right.
The show was starting.
She was probably here to drag me to the restaurant.
Two knocks hit the door again.
"Almost done, Mom!"
"Yo. They're waiting. What's the matter?"
"...Oh. Saitou."
I stayed staring at the ceiling.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing."
Saitou closed the door behind him, turned on the lamp, and sat beside me on the bed.
"That ain't you, brother."
"..."
"Normally, a human species named Naoki Toriyama would say 'a light bulb.'"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I rolled sideways and buried my face into the pillow.
"Are you really doing this?" he asked quietly.
"Your show's about to start."
"I don't care," I mumbled.
"I know you do."
Saitou grabbed my laptop and opened it.
Then he opened the streaming app and clicked on my show.
Fifteen seconds remained before it started.
Meanwhile, the excitement from the restaurant downstairs echoed all the way to our house. People were already cheering before the actual episode even started.
Then the countdown ended.
The show began.
The first shot focused on a Middle Eastern terrorist speaking in front of a camera.
"Camera is now rolling," the videographer said in Middle Eastern.
"We have gathered here today to tell you that our wishes are close to being granted. Soon, our people will finally be free from this government. Women will be free. Children will be free. The sick will be cured. Everyone will-"
The camera suddenly clicked.
The terrorist froze.
"...Who keeps doing that?"
Everyone around him shook their heads.
"Tell me right now or I'm gonna shoot all of you like RATATATATAT!"
"None of us," one armed guard answered nervously.
"None of you?! Then why do I keep hearing stupid sound effects in this room?!"
"We don't know. Maybe it's the camera."
"The camera?! I told you to buy from the expensive store!"
"But they ran out of stock."
"I don't care! You! Throw this camera away!"
The moment someone grabbed the camera, the videographer suddenly pulled out two pistols and opened fire.
The guards reacted immediately.
Then the man tore off his robe, revealing a stealth combat outfit underneath.
Kunais and ninja stars flew through the air, knocking down armed men one after another while the mysterious figure flipped across the room acrobatically.
A kunai with a glowing green tip flew straight toward the terrorist and pierced his leg.
"Correction," Naoki said casually. "Women enslaved in dungeons, children begging in the streets, sick people everywhere, while your butt sits comfortably in a palace."
"You... you're a spy?!"
"Not really. I mean, not THAT kind of spy.
Meh, you'll get it."
The terrorist groaned in pain.
"But seriously, you'll benefit from a little... career change."
Naoki tilted his head dramatically.
"Like acting."
"Stop with your nonsense!"
"Nonsense? My guy, I work hard every single day and THIS is what I get?"
Naoki gasped dramatically.
"Tsk tsk tsk."
Then he checked an imaginary watch.
"Anyway, I'm late for math tutoring. So you stay here and die from the poison."
Then he jumped out the window screaming like a goat.
A dirt bike slid through the desert below as heroic music blasted in the background.
The vehicle accelerated harder and harder until the front wheels lifted into a wheelie. Sand exploded behind it, forming the title:
THE NAOKI SHOW
The restaurant erupted in cheers.
The camera's next focus was a cup of coffee resting quietly on a table.
Steam rose from it dramatically for no reason whatsoever.
Then a voice suddenly shouted from off-screen.
"Toriyama?"
The camera slowly panned toward Naoki.
He was sitting completely still with a pencil in his hand, staring into space.
"Toriyama!"
"Sir!"
Naoki nearly jumped out of his seat.
"This is the fourth time this session," the tutor sighed. "What exactly is bothering you today?"
Naoki blinked twice.
"…Dirt bikes."
The tutor lowered his glasses slightly.
"And how do dirt bikes connect to learning angles?"
Naoki straightened up immediately like he had been waiting years for this question.
"Well, my dirt bike did a wheelie earlier."
"A wheelie."
"Yes. A very cool one."
The tutor stared at him silently.
"The front wheels lifted at around seventy degrees," Naoki continued proudly.
"And what type of angle is seventy degrees?"
"Acute angle."
"Explain."
Naoki pointed dramatically at absolutely nothing.
"An acute angle is any angle less than ninety degrees. Since seventy is lower than ninety-"
He paused.
"—mathematically speaking, my driving skills are incredible."
The tutor closed his eyes slowly.
"Toriyama."
"Yes, sir?"
"Please stop turning mathematics into vehicle propaganda."
"That sounds wheelie bad."
A student somewhere in the room laughed.
The tutor ignored it.
"Let me ask again. Why were you even thinking about dirt bikes during class?"
Naoki looked genuinely confused by the question.
"Because they exist."
"…That is not what I meant."
"Well, they're hard to ignore, sir. Especially when they jump over hills dramatically."
The tutor pinched the bridge of his nose.
A longer silence filled the room.
Then the tutor sighed the sigh of a man who have always wanted to give up.
"Very well, Toriyama."
Victory.
"But next time, try focusing on topics actually related to the lesson."
Naoki nodded respectfully.
"Maybe."
A pause.
"I mean yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
The students stood up and bowed politely as the session ended.
***
The camera focused on Naoki sitting alone on a bench, one hand under his chin.
"Hmmm…"
"Hmmm…"
"Hmmm…"
"How am I supposed to do this? How do people even become heroes?"
Naoki groaned dramatically before suddenly turning toward the camera.
"Being a daydreamer like me isn't easy. Your brain just keeps running twenty-four hours a day. One second you're thinking about homework, then suddenly you're imagining yourself jumping off buildings with exploding motorcycles behind you."
He pointed at himself proudly.
"And if your brain has the maturity level of an eleven-year-old child like mine, then congratulations. You have definitely imagined yourself as a superhero before."
Naoki stood up from the bench.
"Think about it. Flying shields. Giant hammers. Cool masks. Dramatic entrances. Capes that realistically get caught in airplane spinny thingies."
He suddenly dragged a blackboard into frame alongside a ruler.
"So after years of scientific research, and watching superhero movies…"
He smacked the ruler against the board.
"I have concluded that becoming a superhero requires three very important Cs."
He wrote aggressively.
COSTUME
CAPABILITY
COURAGE
"Costume. Because who would fear a small teenager in a chicken suit, right?"
He pointed at the second word.
"Capability. Which includes combat skills, gadgets, weapons, and the ability to leap through cars and run on scaffoldings."
Then the third.
"And courage."
Naoki crossed his arms dramatically.
"Because if you're scared of explosions, then honestly, this career path might not be for you."
A short silence followed.
"…Too much?"
***
Back upstairs, I buried my face deeper into the pillow.
"Turn that off," I mumbled.
"I won't," Saitou replied calmly. "Not unless you stop acting like a wuss and start talking."
I groaned.
"Really?"
"You've known me long enough to know I don't do things the easy way...."
"..."
"...You know me, buddy."
As the show continued playing, I felt even worse listening to my own voice.
Then I finally said it.
"I resigned."
Saitou froze for a moment.
"What?"
"I gave up my job in exchange for the premiere."
"That's fucking stupid."
"Everything I do is stupid."
"..."
"From the very start, I've just been a dumb idiot making jokes no matter the situation. Even during operations. You were right, Saitou."
"That's—"
"Not true?" I interrupted. "You're gonna lie to me now?"
"I won't lie."
He looked at the screen again.
My voice continued speaking from the show.
"Costume, check. Capability consists of two branches—"
Saitou slowly closed the laptop.
The room finally went quiet.
Then he grabbed my shoulder and sighed.
"Remember when you said you never wanted to see Mr. Watanabe again four years ago?"
"..."
"There you go."
Suddenly, my phone vibrated. Saitou grabbed it and checked. It was a message.
He checked the message.
"Be at my office, 10 PM sharp..."
"..."
"... Tomorrow."