(Thousands of Years Ago)
The office hums with its usual low-grade chaos. Stanley is doing a crossword puzzle. Phyllis is on the phone with a client. Kevin is staring intently at a vending machine.
---------------------------
Jim (Commentary): So, Aaden Yerges started about two months ago. Temp from the corporate agency. And… he's quiet. Like, really quiet.
The camera pans to a desk in the corner. Aaden Yerges, a man with strikingly platinum hair, sits perfectly still.
He's staring at his computer screen, which is displaying a spreadsheet. He hasn't moved or blinked for a solid forty-five seconds
Jim (Commentary): We're not talking "Jim-hiding-from-Michael" quiet. We're talking "witness-protection-program" or "maybe-he's-an-android" quiet. The most exciting thing he's done so far was when he fixed the copier just by looking at it. Creed tried to sell him something one day, I still don't know what
-------------------------
Suddenly, the main office door opens. Two soldiers in full combat fatigues march in. They look utterly out of place amidst the beige cubicles. Pam looks up from the reception desk, her eyes wide.
"Ma'am. We're looking for an Aaden Yerges" Soldier #1 said
Pam, too stunned to speak, just points a trembling finger towards Aaden's desk.
The soldiers stride purposefully through the bullpen.
Everyone has stopped working. Stanley has even looked up from his crossword. Aaden turns his head slowly, as if he'd been expecting them.
"Colonel" He states. He stands up. He's taller than he seemed sitting down. He turns to Michael, who just burst out of his office, carrying a small American Flag on his hand and waving it "May I use the conference room for a moment?"
"Is this a drill? A fire drill? A… freedom drill? Of course! Use the big table! That's what she said! Go, go, go! Support our troops!" Michael nervously stated while waving his small American Flag
Aaden and the soldiers disappear into the conference room, closing the blinds
----------------------
Jim (Commentary): So… turns out Aaden isn't in witness protection. Unless the witness he's protecting is the President. Or an alien. My money's on alien.
----------------------
Back to the bullpen, everyone is staring at the conference room
"Based on their insignia, that's a Colonel from Joint Special Operations Command. That's… significantly above our pay grade" Oscar commented
"Do you think they have those cool night-vision goggles?" Kevin asked
After a few minutes, the soldiers emerge, looking even more serious, if that's possible. The Colonel claps Aaden on the shoulder "Just think about it, son. The country needs you"
The soldiers march out. Silence hangs in the air.
Aaden walks back to his desk and sits down. He turns to everyone in the office and states "My apologies for the interruption. I will return to my work now"
He turns back to his spreadsheet. Of course, now one could take the image of a high ranking member of the military entering the office and asking specifically for him
-------------------------------------
(The Next Day)
Michael is holding a piece of paper, his face a mixture of awe and confusion.
"People! People! Aaden has… submitted a formal request for two days of personal leave. Approved! Obviously approved!"
Aaden stands beside Michael, carrying a simple backpack. He's wearing a dark jacket instead of his usual shirt and tie.
"Thank you, Michael. I have some personal matters to attend to. I will see you all on Monday"
He gives a slight, formal nod to the room and walks out.
----------------------------------
(Two Days Later)
The entire office is crowded around the breakroom TV. A news report is on.
{…in a stunning covert operation, a joint special forces team has captured the infamous terrorist leader, codenamed 'Anvil,' from his heavily fortified compound in the mountains. Officials are calling it a textbook example of military precision…}
The news footage shows grainy, helmet-cam style video of soldiers moving with impossible speed and coordination.
Jim (Commentary): The news report didn't show any faces. But I'd bet my yearly commission that one of those blurry, super-fast guys was really good at excel.
-------------------------------------------
(Present)
(Kageyama Shigeo's POV)
The yellow glow of the streetlamp painted the empty park in a lonely light.
Shigeo shifted his weight from foot to foot, the events of the last hour a surreal whirlwind in his mind.
The bath, the explosion of water, the... nakedness. His cheeks burned again, a furious blush that refused to fade.
Beside him, Lala, the pink-haired alien girl, as she'd introduced herself, stood cheerfully.
She was now dressed in a cute costume that looked just like cosplay , courtesy of Peke, the living, botton-like device on her head that could apparently fabricate clothes. It didn't make the situation any less bizarre.
"What are we waiting for, Shigeo-kun?" Lala asked, her voice bright and naive.
"U-um, we're waiting for my sensei," Shigeo stammered, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the path ahead. "Yeah. He's an adult. And very strong. He'll know what to do."
After the initial shock of finding her in his tub, his only coherent thought had been to bundle her into his room, throw a blanket at her, and frantically call the one person who might understand: Yoshioka-sensei.
"Oh, he is strong?" Lala's curiosity was palpable.
"Yeah, he is," Shigeo said, with more confidence than he felt. He turned around, scanning the darkness. "Where could he be?"
"I'm here."
Shigeo jumped. Sensei was just there, leaning against the lamppost as if he'd been part of the scenery all along.
How did he do that?
"Sensei!" Shigeo rushed over, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "She-she appeared in my bath! She's an alien! From a planet called Deviluke! She says she's a princess and she's running away from—"
"Calm down," Sensei stated, his flat, calm voice cutting through Shigeo's panic like a knife. He turned his crimson eyes to Lala, who smiled and waved.
"Hello, Sensei! I'm Lala, and this is Peke!" she said, pointing to the device on her head.
Sensei simply gave a slight nod, then looked back at Shigeo. "Who would have thought" he mused, a hint of something that might have been dry amusement in his tone, "That you, of all people, would have gotten into this mess?"
"Sensei..." Shigeo whined, his shoulders slumping.
"Stop right there, Lala-sama!"
They all turned. Two men in intimidating black suits had emerged from the shadows. They moved with a predatory grace and locked-on on Lala
"You must cease this childish behavior and return home," One of them said, his voice stern.
Shigeo looked at Lala in confusion. "Wait, you're running away from home? I thought you were being chased by... by bad guys!"
Lala ignored him, planting her hands on her hips. "I've had enough! I don't care if I'm the successor or whatever! I'm tired of meeting future husband candidates every single day!"
Shigeo deadpanned. His brain, already overloaded, stuttered to a halt. "....Huh?!"
The lead suit-man replied, "Lala-sama, this is your father's will. It is for the stability of the galaxy"
"I don't care about Daddy's will!" She declared, pulling out a device that looked like a flip-phone.
But before she could press a button, Sensei's hand shot out, gently but firmly grasping her wrist.
"Wha—?" Lala looked up, surprised by his speed.
"Shigeo," Sensei stated, his voice cutting through the tension and making everyone focus on him. "Right now, you have two choices. We can leave, allowing Lala to deal with her own personal, intergalactic problems. Or you can stay and help her. The decision is yours."
Sensei's crimson eyes held his, offering no judgment, only the weight of the choice itself.
Shigeo froze.
His instinct was to run, to hide, to let the adults handle it.
He looked at Lala.
She was watching him, her big, ruby eyes wide with a mixture of defiance and a silent, hopeful plea.
He looked at the stern men in black, who represented a life she clearly didn't want.
Then he looked back at Sensei, who had given him the power to control his own life.
He took a deep breath.
The fear was still there, a cold knot in his stomach. But beneath it, something else stirred.
A resolve he'd been learning to nurture.
"I..." he began, his voice quiet but firm. "I can't just leave her. It wouldn't be right. She's scared, and she came to me for help. Even if it's complicated... even if it's scary... I want to help"
Sensei gave a barely perceptible nod and released Lala's wrist.
The lead suit-man sighed. "A noble sentiment, earthling. But a foolish one. You should have walked away." In a flash, both men lunged forward, their movements superhumanly fast.
"Shigeo-kun!" Lala cried out, certain he was about to be hurt.
But the men stopped dead, frozen in mid-air a foot from Shigeo. Their faces were masks of shock and strain, as if pressed against an invisible wall.
Lala gasped.
From the sidelines, she heard Sensei's calm voice. "Deviluke-san. Shigeo has never been weak. He has simply spent his whole life being careful. He just needed to find a reason to stop holding back."
Shigeo stood his ground, his expression serious.
A faint, invisible aura of energy shimmered around him.
With a simple flick of his will, he threw the two men backwards. They landed in a heap several yards away, groaning and unconscious
Shigeo turned to Lala, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Lala-chan. I will protect you."
A single tear traced a path down Lala's cheek. Then, a brilliant, joyful smile broke out across her face. "Shigeo-kun!" she cried, launching herself at him and wrapping him in a tight hug. "You're so kind and strong! I accept!"
Shigeo, his face turning scarlet again, awkwardly returned the hug. "U-um... accept what?"
From the side, Yoshioka Akira watched the scene, his arms crossed. A rare, quiet huff of amusement escaped his lips.
It was going to be an interesting year
Godspeed, Shigeo….
-----------------------------------------
(Next Day – Morning)
The morning sun felt different on Shigeo's skin.
Or perhaps it was just the weight of the stares.
His new height and sharper features had already drawn glances, but they were nothing compared to the attention he was receiving now.
Walking beside him, her arm linked comfortably with his, was Lala. After the chaos of her arrival last night, they left and Lala decided to stay in Shigeo's bedroom.
He managed to sneak her in through the window, and he sleep in a futon on the ground while she sleeps in his bed.
Only to the next morning wake up with the alien girl holding his arm…
Naked…...
Again….
Shigeo couldn't help but blush thinking of the memory.
And now, she is walking by his side on her strange outfit and holding his arm on the way to school.
To Shigeo, she still looked like she'd stepped out of an anime convention, but the other students on the path to school clearly just saw a stunningly beautiful, pink-haired girl glued to the side of the once-invisible Kageyama Shigeo.
'Who thought this could've happened'? he mused
He remembered his teacher's words from the night before when she asked to stay in his room
"You chose this path, Kageyama. Now deal with its consequences."
Well, now he was doing so.
The consequence, apparently, was becoming the most talked-about student on the walk to school.
He was so focused on the feeling of Lala's grip and the surrounding whispers that he almost didn't notice the trio of girls ahead until they called out to him.
"Kageyama-san! Good morning!"
Yotsuya Miko's voice cut through his daze. She, along with Hana and Yuria, were walking to school as well, their usual dynamic momentarily paused as they took in the scene.
Their eyes, wide with curiosity, flicked from him to the girl attached to his arm.
Hana, never one for subtlety, was the first to break the silence after their initial greeting.
A wide, mischievous grin spread across her face as she leaned forward, pointing a finger at Lala "Hey now~! She is cute!" She chirped, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Who's your new friend, Kageyama-kun? You've been holding out on us!"
Yuria's gaze was more analytical, her head tilted as she scrutinized Lala's unique fashion and cheerful, unbothered expression. "Yeah, seriously," Yuria added, her tone a mix of blunt curiosity and surprise. "Who is that?"
Lala, completely oblivious to the social tension, beamed at the new faces. She gave a small, happy wave with her free hand. "Hello!"
Shigeo felt his ears grow hot. This was it.
He took a shallow breath, ready to explain the night after they separated.
-----------------------------------
(Third Person POV)
Yoshioka Akira entered the staff room with his customary silence, the early morning's quiet gave a familiar comfort.
He made his way to his desk, a clean, orderly space that reflected its owner.
His crimson eyes, however, immediately landed on an anomaly: a small, elegantly wrapped bag of pink chocolates placed squarely in the centre of his blotter.
He raised a single, impassive eyebrow. He picked it up and turned it over once, his expression unreadable.
"Don't eat just whatever appears on your desk, it could be poisonous."
The voice came from behind him.
A hand snaked past his shoulder and plucked the bag from his fingers. He turned to see Shizuka, holding a steaming cup of tea in her other hand.
She examined the chocolates with a suspicious squint before tucking them into her own pocket.
Akira simply looked at her, his eyebrow still slightly elevated.
"Sure," he stated, his voice flat. He turned back to arrange his desk, sliding a stack of papers into perfect alignment. Without looking up, he commented, "You look chipper."
A genuine smile touched Shizuka's lips. "Well, thanks to someone, my job became infinitely easier. We now have more than enough budget to arrange everything for the festival, and I don't have that thorn in my side called the Vice-Principal anymore." She took a sip of her tea, her eyes glinting with amusement over the rim of the cup. "I still wonder how you managed it."
Akira's response was delivered with serene finality as he opened a drawer. "I have no recollection of what you are talking about."
Shizuka chuckled softly. "Sure, keep your secrets."
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft knock and the door sliding open. "Pardon the intrusion," a gentle voice said
Shizuka looked over and smiled. "Shiromeguri-san, how are you?" She gestured towards the girl accompanying the teacher. "Yoshioka-sensei, this is Shiromeguri Meguri, our newly elected student council president. She's new to the job"
The girl, Meguri, offered a deep, formal bow. Her cheeks held a faint, becoming blush. "Nice to meet you, Yoshioka-sensei."
Akira gave a slight, acknowledging nod in return
"Something wrong?" Shizuka asked, her tone shifting to one of business.
Meguri's expression turned worried. "I'm afraid so. The band we hired to play at the festival's main event had to cancel at the last moment. Their vocalist suffered an injury. We now have a significant slot to fill."
Shizuka released a frustrated "Tch" and scratched her head. "Of all the times… What are we going to do now?" She thought for a moment, then her eyes inevitably drifted back to the man arranging his desk "Hey, you seem to be able to solve everything. Think you could help us with this?"
Akira finished aligning a pen parallel to the desk's edge before turning his head to meet Shizuka's hopeful gaze.
He gave a single, slow nod.
"I may have an idea. We shall see if it works."
"That's good enough for me," Shizuka said, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. She turned back to the student council president "In the meantime, Shiromeguri-chan, we need to look for other options. Let's draft an announcement for the bulletin board"
As Shizuka and Meguri began to discuss contingency plans, Akira's gaze drifted to the window, looking out at the school grounds.
A single, quiet thought crossed his mind, a perfect summary of the chaotic, interconnected world he now inhabited.
'A missing band, hmm? I wonder if a certain shy girl and her band also exist in this world'
--------------------------------
(?'s POV)
The drumming of rain on the live house roof was a frantic, nervous rhythm that matched the one in her chest.
This bad feeling… it had been right.
The weather had scared everyone away.
To make things worse, Ryou-san, in a fit of what she called "traditional meteorological science," had hung crude versions of Umibozu on the dressing room's wall, hoping to scare the rain away.
It just made the cramped room feel eerier.
Nijika-chan checked her phone, her brow furrowing for a second before smoothing over with her usual sunny resolve "Ahh, looks like my friends won't be coming either. That's a shame." She sighed, but the defeat lasted only a moment. "Well, less than half the people are here. There is nothing we can do about it. Let's move forward!"
She was always so cheerful. She remembered how Nijika's unwavering energy had pulled her out of her shell during their first live.
Y-yeah! It was her turn to liven things up too! She had to be the rock, for once!
"Bocchi-chan, this is a serious performance, take those off too!" Nijika said, pointing at the pink balaclava she hadn't even realized she'd started to pull over her head.
----------------------------------------
The performance started, and everything felt… wrong.
Their energy was sapped, soaked away by the dismal weather and the almost empty live house.
Nijika-chan's drumming was uncharacteristically slow, Kita-san's fingers fumbled on the strings, their timing completely out of sync.
The music was a limp, disjointed thing.
She could hear the faint, disappointed whispers from the small audience, and she felt a familiar nausea rising.
But then she saw them. The two girls who had sincerely bought her a ticket, who had looked at her with genuine excitement.
They were still there, watching, hoping.
She couldn't let them down.
Gripping her guitar until her knuckles turned white, she launched into the next riff with a force she didn't know she possessed.
It was sharper, louder, filled with a desperate, determined energy.
Her bandmates turned to her, surprised. She met their gazes, her own eyes wide but unwavering, a silent command passing between them.
And they did.
Nijika's sticks found their rhythm again, a powerful backbeat.
Kita's chords locked in, her voice gaining strength.
It was like a circuit had been completed.
A smile, tentative at first, then brilliant, broke out on Kita's face. They were finally in sync.
This was it!
They poured everything into the song.
The two girls in the audience were beaming, their joy a spectacle on its own
The audience that were whispered heavily now turned and nodded with their song
As the final chord rang out, her heart pounding, she turned to Nijika and gave a shaky, nervous thumbs-up. Nijika grinned and shot one right back.
CLAP
A single, sharp, clear clap cut through the fading echo of the guitar.
Everyone froze. She turned, along with the rest of the band, towards the source of the sound.
Standing near the back, was a man.
He was tall, impossibly so, towering over the handful of other spectators.
He had the kind of handsome, sharp-featured face she'd only seen in fashion magazines, with platinum-white hair cropped neatly above his ears.
But it was his eyes that held her captive: a deep, piercing crimson, visible even behind the lenses of his simple glasses.
They seemed to glow in the dim light of the live house, regarding the stage with an unnerving stillness.
She had never seen him before.
But his presence, and the deliberate clap that had broken the awkward silence, ignited a small, brave fire in her chest.
He continued clapping, slow and steady.
And then, like an infection of the best kind, the dozen or so other spectators, who had been hesitant, followed his lead.
A smattering of applause grew, filling the Starry live house with genuine, warm sound.
Kita-chan, visibly buoyed by the sudden energy, leaned into the microphone with renewed bravado. "This next song," She announced, her voice clear and confident, "is our last!"
--------------------------------------
(Third Person POV)
The back room of the live house was warm and loud with celebration.
Steam from various plates of food rose into the air, mingling with the lively chatter of Kessoku Band and Seika, who had joined them to mark their successful, if rain-soaked, live.
Hiroi was there of course, already drunk and playing around the table.
Nijika was animatedly recounting the moment the crowd finally got into it, while Ryo stoically attempted to pilfer a piece of fried chicken from Kita's plate.
Hitori, meanwhile, was happily melting into her chair, the warmth of the food and her friends' presence making her feel pleasantly invisible
A knock on the door, firm and out of place, cut through the noise.
Seika frowned, setting down her beer. "Who could that be?" She got up and went to the door, sliding it open
The group turned to look. Standing in the hallway was the tall, white-haired man from the live house.
The ambient light from the live house's hallway seemed to outline his sharp silhouette. Up close, his presence was even more striking.
"Can I help you?" Seika asked, a faint blush dusting her cheeks as she took in his appearance.
"Are you the owner of this establishment?" He asked, his voice a deep, calm baritone that reverberated in the room
Seika nodded, her professional demeanour returning. "I am. Is there a problem?"
"None at all," he assured her. "I was wondering if you could facilitate communication with a member of the band that performed tonight. I have a proposition for them."
Nijika, ever eager, instantly shot up from her seat. "Here we are!" She shouted, waving.
"Nijika!" Seika chided, shooting her sister a look. She turned back to the man, her protective instincts kicking in. She stepped forward, partially blocking the doorway. "What do you want with them?" She asked, her tone firm.
She has heard of this type of people, recruits that tell young girls with dreams about job opportunity, only to turn into chains that keep them and made them offer some sort of "favours" for their chances at fame
The man gave a slight, polite bow of his head, understanding her preoccupation "My apologies. I haven't presented myself. I am Yoshioka Akira, a teacher at Soubu High." His crimson eyes scanned the room, briefly resting on each band member before returning to Seika. "I was wondering if Kessoku Band would be interested in playing at our school's cultural festival this Friday."
Hearing he was a teacher, Seika visibly relaxed, her shoulders loosening. She moved aside to let him enter the room. But her protective stare stayed "I see. Come in"
As he stepped into the warm light, Hiroi, emboldened by a few sips of sake, leaned forward with a giggle, her already thin dressed falling more showing more hint of cleavage "Whoah, you are quite handsome, sensei! Are you single?"
Yoshioka-sensei ignored the question completely, his gaze sweeping over the band members "You all performed exceptionally today. I quite enjoyed your music."
Nijika blushed, scratching the back of her head. "Ah, it was nothing, really! We were pretty shaky at the start..."
Ryo, who had been observing him quietly, nodded in agreement. "We should be thanking you. It was your clapping that gave us the courage to keep playing."
Yoshioka shook his head slightly "No. You found that courage before my clapping. It was thanks to your guitarist's own determination that the band took flight in the middle of the concert." He turned his gaze fully towards Hitori.
Hitori felt her soul try to exit her body. She attempted to make herself as small as possible, sliding down in her chair, desperately avoiding his enchanting, deep crimson eyes. 'Is this the power of handsome men? To make you want to spontaneously combust?'
"But pleasantries aside" He continued, turning his attention back to the group. "My offer stands. There is a performance slot available at our festival, and after watching your performance, I believe your group would be an excellent fit. What do you say?"
Nijika looked at her bandmates. Ryo gave a slow, considering nod. Kita was already vibrating with excitement, giving two enthusiastic thumbs-up. Hitori, from her partially liquefied state on the chair, managed a tiny, terrified squeak that Nijika interpreted as a 'yes'.
Nijika turned back to Yoshioka-sensei, her expression serious but hopeful. "We'll think about it!"
He nodded. "The festival is this Friday. I will leave my contact number with the owner." He placed a simple business card on the table near Seika. "Please call me before tomorrow evening so we can explore other options if necessary. Goodbye, and thank you again for the concert. It was quite pleasant."
With a final nod, he turned and left as quietly as he had arrived, the door sliding shut behind him.
The room was silent for a moment, processing his visit. Then, the reality of the offer sank in.
A concert. At a high school. In front of hundreds of people their own age.
A high-pitched, strangled noise emanated from Hitori's chair.
"Ooooh..." she whimpered, the single sound containing multitudes of both terror and a tiny, flickering spark of excitement
--------------------------
The evening air was cool against his skin as Akira walked away from the lively live house
The faint sounds of celebration faded behind him, replaced by the quiet hum of the city at night.
His mind, ever-active, replayed the interaction with the band.
'Huh'Hhe mused, the thought clear and precise in the stillness of his mind. 'It seems my hunch was right. They exist here, too.'
A small, almost imperceptible nod to himself.
The crossovers of this world continued to reveal itself in fascinating ways.
A faint smirk touched his lips, there and gone in an instant.
'What else does this particular world have to offer?'
As if the universe itself had decided to answer his silent query, his gaze drifted absently to a poster plastered on a nearby utility pole.
It featured three young girls posing with exaggerated, cutesy expressions, dressed in frilly, idol-style uniforms that seemed several shades too bright.
But he instantly knew they were not normal girls…... or girls at all
In bold, bubbly letters at the top, it proclaimed: Gokudolls. And in smaller text at the bottom: "First Live Show! Your Support Means Everything!"
Akira's smirk vanished.
His eyes, usually so perceptive, simply blinked.
Once. Twice. He processed the image, the name, the sheer, overwhelming aura of chaotic nonsense it projected
Mechanically, without a single change in his expression, he turned his head forward and continued walking, his pace unchanged.
'Nope' his inner monologue stated, flat and final. 'Not touching that one'
Some mysteries were not worth solving.
Some doors were best left unopened.
He had seen enough multiverses to know when to get away to a safe distance.
He was retired, after all.
----------------------------------------
The moon casted it's light across the river creek where Shigeo and Lala stood.
Shigeo's face was a canvas of pure, unadulterated panic.
"Lala-chan," he stammered, his voice tight with anxiety. "What do you mean we are married?"
Lala blinked her large, emerald eyes, a bright, innocent smile on her face. "Well, of course! Didn't you promise you would protect me? That means you want to marry me, right?"
"I didn't mean it like that!" Shigeo protested, his hands waving frantically. "I meant, like, protect you from whoever wants to take you away! It's different! I haven't even dated anyone before!"
"Then we can start dating right now, Shigeo-kun!" Lala declared, beaming as if she'd just solved all his problems.
"That isn't the point! There's… there's a girl I already like, and I don't know what to do with you!" The confession about Tsubomi spilled out in a rush of helpless honesty.
"It's okay" Lala said, undeterred. "I will just have to win you over!"
The hat shaped device on her head, Peke, whirred softly. "Lala-sama, I think I know what you are trying to do" it commented
"Be quiet, Peke!" Lala whispered, swatting at it.
"Eh? What does he mean?" Shigeo asked, his confusion deepening.
Before Lala could concoct another explanation, a stern voice cut through the air. "That is quite enough, Lala-sama!"
They turned to see Zastin, the commander of the Deviluke royal guard, standing rigidly at attention, his cape fluttering dramatically despite the lack of wind. "This childish behavior must cease. You are the heir to the throne. You must return to Deviluke at once."
Lala planted her hands on her hips. "I won't go back, Zastin! I've fallen in love with Shigeo and I plan to stay on Earth and marry him!"
A flash of insight cut through Shigeo's panic. 'She's using me as an excuse. She just doesn't want to go back' He glanced at Zastin, a seasoned warrior of the royal guard. 'Surely someone like him wouldn't fall for such a transparent lie'
Zastin stroked his chin, his expression turning solemn. "I see… so that's how it is."
Shigeo's hand met his forehead with a soft smack. 'Yeah. He's an idiot'
"However," Zastin continued, his voice grave "It is not that simple. I cannot face King Gid if I return home having merely approved a marriage with a… suspicious Earthling." His eyes narrowed at Shigeo. "I must ascertain if you are a fitting partner for Lala-sama!"
With a battle cry, Zastin drew his massive energy sword and launched himself at Shigeo, a blur of righteous fury.
Shigeo sighed.
A flicker of energy shimmered in the air. Zastin froze mid-lunge, suspended a foot off the ground, his face a mask of shock.
With another quiet thought from Shigeo, the warrior was hurled sideways, landing with a large splash in the nearby river.
"Oh yeah," Lala commented cheerfully. "Shigeo is super strong."
Zastin emerged from the water, sputtering. "Your tricks won't work twice, Earthling!" He leaped out, only to be caught in the same invisible force and thrown back into the river with another splash.
This sequence repeated several times.
Leap, freeze, splash. Leap, freeze, splash.
Finally, Zastin crawled out of the riverbank, his armour dripping, his hair plastered to his face, and his body shuddering with comical coughs.
Shigeo walked over and knelt, a look of genuine concern on his face. "Are you okay?"
Zastin tried to stand tall, water pouring from his joints. "I… I admit defeat!" he declared, striking a pose that was considerably less impressive while sopping wet. "It was a great fight!"
"He says that after being thrown around like a ragdoll and soaked like a sponge," Peke deadpanned.
Ignoring the device, Zastin looked at Shigeo, his expression now one of grudging respect. "But tell me, warrior. Why do you protect Lala-sama so fiercely?"
Shigeo looked at Lala, then back at Zastin, his voice quiet but firm. "Because no one should be forced to marry someone if they don't want to. Everyone should be able to live the life they choose!"
Lala, who had initially planned to use Shigeo as a convenient excuse, felt her heart skip a beat.
The sincerity in his words, the simple, powerful kindness behind them, struck a chord deep within her.
The playful lie suddenly felt complicated, tangled with a new, genuine flutter of affection.
Zastin was visibly moved. He stood up straighter, water still cascading from him. "Such a noble soul… Very well, Earthling warrior! I shall inform King Deviluke of this… arrangement. I entrust Lala-sama to your care!" He then added, almost as an afterthought, "Though I doubt her other suitors will be pleased."
Shigeo's eyes widened. "Other suitors—?"
But before he could finish the question, Lala launched herself at him, wrapping him in a tight, grateful hug that squeezed the air from his lungs and any further questions from his mind.
"Thank you, Shigeo-kun!" She whispered, her cheek pressed against his chest, a blush on her face that was now true to her feelings