CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Rio closed the room door behind him and let out a sigh of relief. He had gone out and managed to sneak back in, with everyone none the wiser.
"Maybe I'm really cut out for this spy business," Rio said with smug satisfaction.
"Welcome back."
"AHHH!" Rio exclaimed in shock as he stared at his bed. There, smiling genially at him, was Father Lance, who sat calmly on the mattress, scribbling something in a notebook.
Rio quickly composed himself. "So, what brings you to my room, Father? How've you been?"
Father Lance couldn't possibly know he had been out—so, he decided to play it cool for now.
"So, how was your little trip, Rio? Learn anything insightful?"
"Guggh." A critical hit. It seemed he'd been seen through immediately.
"Well, what'd you expect, blatantly running past me like that? I'm old, not dead. Oh—and your friend isn't very good at keeping secrets," Father Lance added with narrowed eyes.
Hayato, you little shit!
"Now don't blame your friend, Rio. You aren't exactly subtle either. So, come on…" Father Lance rose to his full height of 5'10".
"Were you reporting our movements to Re-Destro?"
"Now why ever would you think that?"
It seemed he had been found out—on the second day of reaching the objective, no less. Apparently, he wasn't as capable as he made himself out to be.
Tension thickened in the room as the two locked eyes, a silent confrontation crackling between them.
With a sigh, Father Lance visibly deflated and sat back down on the bed.
"Gideon always did complain that Re-Destro wasn't the most trusting person," he said with a chuckle.
"And don't be too hard on yourself—I didn't know when you left. It's just always been obvious you're here to spy on Gideon."
Rio didn't quite know how to react. Is this the part where I'm supposed to silence the witness or something?
"I don't like it," Lance continued, "but Gideon says you're someone he can trust. I'll take his word for it—for now."
That was enough to dispel any ideas of confrontation. Rio hadn't been very stealthy in his approach, but this would do. For now.
"So, what did Re-Destro tell you? Any new insights?"
"I'd like to say I have some, but I didn't even see the man. I dropped off the information at the rendezvous point and he wasn't even there."
If Re-Destro insists on constant updates and keeping tabs on Gideon 24/7, the least he could do is pick up the damn reports himself.
Father Lance closed the notebook he was holding with a soft snap.
"You seem annoyed."
"You think?"
"You're not wrong to be angry. It hurts when you're not taken seriously by someone you respect."
Rio thought of the image of Re-Destro smiling like a lackey while being evasive. What I feel toward the man isn't admiration—it's closer to respect.
Father Lance said, "But be careful where you aim that anger."
Rio narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The priest stood once more, slowly this time, setting the notebook aside.
"I've been privileged to witness many people with immense power in my life. Some saved lives. Some ruined nations. The one thing they all had in common was a strong sense of purpose."
Rio scoffed. "You think I lack purpose?"
"I think you haven't chosen one," Father Lance replied evenly. "And until you do, all that power of yours will stay chained to someone else's orders—someone else's vision."
He walked toward the door. Rio stepped aside to let him pass.
Just before leaving, Lance paused in the hallway.
"A great quirk needs an even greater will to bear it. If you don't build one of your own, you'll be crushed under its weight."
And then, as if nothing heavy had just been said:
"Oh, and I can't reach Gideon or Ash."
He tore a page out of his notebook and handed it to Rio.
"Please go check out these locations."
Rio stood there, more confused than when he came in.
Why's he assuming I know the city well enough to figure out what the hell these locations even are?
He sighed, picked up his phone, and opened Google Maps.
"La Sala dell'Ananas."
Rio read aloud as he eyed the flickering neon sign. Only the word Sala was lit—the rest buzzed in varying states of disrepair.
The Pineapple Lounge.
This was the third location on the list. Rio just hoped he'd find them here so he could be done with this charade.
It was a low-end bar with high-end delusions. The muffled thump of bass-heavy music vibrated through the sidewalk like a second heartbeat.
Not that it was bothering anyone. This was a deserted commercial street—the bar nestled between a pawn shop and a kebab stand.
He pushed open the door.
The sound hit him like a sledgehammer. Blaring synths, shrieking laughter, and the haze of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume clung to the air like fog. Somewhere near the front, a dancer made lazy turns on a pole shaped like a pineapple stem.
Rio winced. "Of course it's this kind of place."
The music assaulted his ears, but he pressed forward, threading between the drunken crowd and the occasional degenerate making out on the dance floor. His eyes swept the room.
At the top, in an open-air VIP section, was Ash.
He sat at a gambling table, reclined in a plush chair, wearing a pair of sunglasses—indoors, no less. A stack of chips was in one hand, the other loosely slung around two abstract jelly-like blobs with vaguely feminine curves and glowing eyes. One burbled something that might've been laughter while the other rippled affectionately against his arm like a living lava lamp.
Ash was grinning widely.
Rio took one more step forward until he was right beside him.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Ash glanced up, caught his eye, and somehow grinned wider.
"Hermes! What are you doing here? Come to join in on the fun?" he said in heavily accented Japanese.
Rio looked from the blobs… to Ash… to the half-naked dealer raking in chips with her mechanical arms… then back to Ash.
"Father Lance couldn't reach either of you. I thought you'd been captured. Or worse—killed."
Ash blinked. "Huh. Did he really?"
"Yes," Rio said sharply. "And this is where you've been? Cuddling at a gambling table with genderless jelly spirits?"
"Hey, don't say that about Blueberry and Natasha! They're very sensitive females."
Blueberry jiggled in greeting.
Ash leaned forward, lowering his sunglasses just enough to reveal tired eyes beneath. "Look, man, I'm tired. Gideon's off meeting some informant, and I've been stuck waiting around like some backup dancer. I just needed a little stress relief."
Rio pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Seriously."
"I'm telling you! I should've put it all on red! Red, I say! We'd be rich. I could buy a bull. And maybe a cow. I could've been rich," Ash drawled as he made his way tipsily down the stairs.
"Yeah, sure thing. You'll definitely win next time," Rio replied, voice dry as he escorted him.
They were halfway down when a gunshot rang out.
CRACK!
Rio and Ash froze.
For a beat, neither spoke. Then came the sound of startled screams and scraping chairs. The music cut off mid-bassline.
The Pineapple Lounge had gone quiet.
Ash turned his head slowly, his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. The drunken gleam had vanished from his eyes.
"Well… that can't be good."
They doubled back upstairs.
By the time they slipped into the VIP balcony again, the scene below had shifted dramatically.
A group of men in heavy black coats had stepped into the bar—six, maybe seven. They didn't look like local thugs. They moved with the cold, calculating grace of seasoned hunters.
The crowd below huddled by the walls, pale-faced. The dancers had retreated into the shadows like startled birds.
One of the men stepped out from the group and climbed onto the central table. In his hands, he held up a printed photograph.
The image wasn't high quality—but that was unmistakably Ash.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the man began, his voice dripping with faux politeness, "I apologize for the interruption, but I'm looking for someone. This gentleman in the image—white hair, sun-kissed skin, and that stupid grin. Surely you must have seen someone as distinctive as him."
He waved the photo in the air with exaggerated flair.
Ash and Rio had already ducked behind the bar counter on the balcony.
Ash glanced at Rio and gave a tiny shrug. "Seems I've made myself some fans. Maybe they'll soon become devout worshippers."
Rio kept his voice low. "You recognize any of them?"
"It's quite obvious who they are now, isn't it?"
Rio cursed under his breath. The Donati family again.
"You planning to talk it out?"
Ash grinned. "Nah."
He rose with fluid grace, stepping over the railing like a cat on a ledge.
Rio watched as he dropped into the scene below with a loud thud and a theatrical flourish.
All seven men immediately trained their weapons and quirks on him.
Ash straightened his coat and, with that same devilish grin, cleared his throat loudly.
"Come on. I thought you were looking for me. I'm right here."
The leader charged forward—only for Ash's boot to slam into his chest, launching him backward into the gambling table. Chips and cards exploded into the air like confetti.
The room erupted into chaos.
Gunmen turned, quirks ignited—plumes of flame, arcs of static, and one man with chains snaking from his palms like living metal whips.
Ash bulldozed through them like a raging rhino, his quirk generating invisible shockwaves that flung enemies off their feet and into walls.
Whitebeard rip-off, Rio mused from the balcony, plucking a mostly full cocktail from a nearby table and taking a casual sip.
PFFFT.
He immediately scrunched up his face and held the glass away from him like it had insulted his ancestors.
"God. What is this? Perfume?"
A soft whimper bubbled beside him.
Blueberry and Natasha—Ash's jelly-blob companions—had slithered back upstairs. Their translucent bodies were now pale and ghostly. They quivered behind the table, wide-eyed.
Rio glanced down at them, raised an eyebrow, and sighed.
"You two don't need to worry. He may not look like much, but he's surprisingly strong."
One of the blobs turned bright red.
"I'm not a girl. I am man," Blueberry said in an unexpectedly deep voice.
"…Huh."
"The stupid white-haired man keeps calling me a woman, but I'm a man. My sister's the one who's female."
"What?"
Rio blinked, glancing between Blueberry and Natasha.
So… does that make Ash… gay? And also—since when could they talk?
He decided not to open that can of worms and turned his attention back to the chaos unfolding below.
Then his eyes narrowed.
One of the men—one who hadn't engaged in the fight—was quietly slipping toward the exit, speaking rapidly into a comm, one hand pressed to his ear.
Rio's expression flattened.
He set the drink down.
"I'm not about to let them call in backup."
A blur of motion.
In the blink of an eye, Rio was beside him.
Author's notes: I think I keep doing this all the time, but I'll say it again. Sorry for the late updates, please don't kill me.