"Richard! Richard!"
His dad, well, his mom in male form, practically tackled Rich Rice to the ground, clutching him like a precious, fragile thing. The police had covered Mom's body with a blanket. Red bloodstains marred the pristine white; he tried not to look too closely.
Seeing his mother's features cast in a man's face did nothing to diminish Richard's love and tenderness for this person who should be a stranger to him. The mind didn't recognize, but the body remembered.
Oscar Ramirez-Rice had straight black hair, long for a man, fine features, a petite body with narrow shoulders, olive skin that evidenced his Mexican-American heritage, and kind, intelligent hazel eyes, eyes he gave his son Richard. Rich stared back with those same eyes, watching his father try to hold it together for the sake of his children.
Children. Plural.
His mother, er, father now, had never been tall. At seventeen years old, Richard towered over him and could see his sibling, his sister, off to the side. Sister, god, that was a strange word to him. Strange, yes, in more ways than one.
Expecting a genderbent mirror of himself, the same as his parents had been, Rich was almost excited to meet Rebecca. How much would they have in common? Did she play football? Did girls play football in this world? Maybe they could even work out together!
Rebecca...didn't look like she worked out. That high school glow up he experienced in his first life must've passed her by on butterfly's wings. To be brutally honest, she was chubby, sloppy, and disheveled, hiding herself in a baggy hoodie and shrinking into the background. Her messy brown hair hung limp over her face, and dirty glasses she hadn't bothered to wipe off sat low on her nose.
What happened to you, sis?
Rich wanted to hug her, comfort her, do something for her. Sibling affection bubbled up like a spring in his heart.
No. He couldn't. Her eyes were moist with unshed tears; her body language was tense, vibrating with borderline tremors.
She doesn't want to cry in public, he realized. Showing vulnerability like that would be embarrassing for a girl in a reverse world. One hug would set off a chain reaction, and she'd be sobbing instantly. Rich would spare her that, at least until they were safely in the privacy of their dad's car.
In the chaos after the fight with the Stinger soldiers, Future Hero had been able to slip away and dispel the Endram Armor without incident. Nobody even thought to ask Richard about it, not the police, not the EMTs, not anyone. It was like people were avoiding the topic. Did the power of the ring protect his secret identity, preventing people from being too curious about why he turned back up just after Future Hero disappeared? That would be convenient, but Rich wasn't about to count on it. Stinger was willing to kill people over nothing. If they found out about his family, they'd be in danger. Caution would be his watchword.
A policewoman took one final statement from the family and told them they were free to go.
"Okay, kids," Dad said, "let's..." his breath caught, "let's get Richard's things out of Karen's car and go home." The word "Karen", his mom's name, came out tremulously, like saying it out loud took the last of Dad's strength.
Rich's possessions fit into two large suitcases in the back of Mom's car. Rebecca chivalrously offered to carry them for Rich, which he accepted with good grace. Let her feel useful, he supposed. She even offered him the shotgun seat in Dad's car.
"I have a better idea," Rich said, sliding into the back and patting the seat next to him invitingly. Rebecca's eyebrows shot up behind her bangs, but she didn't refuse.
Brother and sister held each other and cried softly all the way home.
I'll remember this, Rich vowed silently. The sadness and pain of this night would be fuel for Future Hero. Stinger would pay!
***
That night, the family didn't bother with dinner or unpacking. They hugged, and cried, and once it got late, Richard slipped off to his childhood bedroom, dropped his suitcases at the foot of the bed, and went to sleep in the same clothes he'd been wearing all day.
Waking the next morning proved disorienting. Was it a dream? he wondered. Rich got up and looked at his reflection in a little makeup mirror that was perched on his desk. It looked new; Dad must've bought it for him in anticipation of the family getting back together.
Nope, still young, he realized. The Pureheart ring was on his finger. It was all real. He noticed his unopened suitcases behind him and decided to unpack.
"Let's see here...jeans, t-shirts, gym shorts, mostly the same stuff I used to wear as a teenager," Rich muttered. Subtle differences could still be spotted. His t-shirts were tighter and cut more like women's t-shirts in his old world, same for the jeans. A guy wearing a shirt that tight would seem like a douchebag in his first life, but he supposed it was normal here.
Peeling off the clothes he slept in like a snake shedding its skin, Rich dressed for the day. While fishing for a shirt he liked, he noticed something hard under his clothes.
"Sweet! A Nintendo 64 and a Gamecube! I wonder what Rebecca has!" With that thought in mind, Rich left his room and walked to the next bedroom over and knocked softly. "Rebecca~, are you up?" he asked gently in case she was still asleep.
"Go away," replied a sulky, rough voice.
Was she embarrassed after crying in front of him the other night? "Rebecca, please! Are you dressed?"
"I said, go away!" his sister barked harshly.
Nonplussed, Rich considered leaving her be, but thought better of it. "It's not good for you to be alone right now, sis, you've got thirty seconds to get decent, then I'm coming in!" he threatened her.
Rapid movement and the rustling of fabric could be heard through to door. "I'm really going to do this," Rich said softly, smiling a secret smile. "I'm going to be the energetic big sister brightening up the day of her gloomy little brother!" Well, the reverse world equivalent of that, anyway.
After giving Rebecca a reasonable head start, Richard entered her room and looked under the TV. "Hell yes! You've got PlayStation, while I've got Nintendo! That's all we need, Becca!"
His sister's face was still red and puffy from crying all night, but she was smiling. "What about Xbox?"
Rich waved a hand dismissively. "That's for lames."
Becca snorted. "You are such a mollygirl, Rich. I'd forgotten. You like games even more than I do."
"Do you want to play together?" he asked hopefully, sitting down at the foot of her bed. "It could take our minds off...you know."
Her face fell. The whole atmosphere in the room went cold instantly. "I'm...not really in the mood, Rich. I'm sorry."
Richard frowned thoughtfully and leaned his shoulder against hers. Rebecca didn't budge under his weight; she was sturdy. "I understand," he said quietly. They just sat there like that for a while. No words were spoken. No words needed to be spoken. "Hey, how about I cook you and Dad breakfast?" Rich offered.
"You can cook?" Becca sounded like that was the most absurd thing she had ever heard. "A mollygirl like you can cook?"
"I used to cook for Mom all the time," Rich lied easily. In truth, he'd been a grown ass man in his past life. He knew his way around a YouTube tutorial. Friends, family, girlfriends, his ex-wife, not one had ever complained about his cooking.
"I don't believe it." Becca held her ground.
Suddenly fired up, Rich rose to his feet. "You're about to eat those words, sister of mine. Come to the kitchen in thirty minutes."
The kitchen didn't have a lot, but it had enough. Rich settled on super easy bacon and eggs, with the bacon done in the oven and the eggs done low and slow with the salt added at the very end, all too easy. Toast would round things out. They didn't have what he would need for pancakes or waffles.
"What smells so good?" Dad walked in while he was stirring the eggs.
"Breakfast," Rich explained, not taking his eyes off of what he was doing. It was important to cook the eggs gradually to get them just right.
"Is that a ring on your finger?" Dad asked slyly. Richard felt rather than heard his father approach. He held up a hand and let Dad take a closer look.
Dark fingers ran gently over his white ones. Not being the same color as one of your parents was weird sometimes. "It's beautiful," Dad said softly. "Did a girl give it to you?"
Rich wanted to laugh, if only to keep from crying. "That's what Mom asked."
"I see." Dad let Rich's hand fall from his grasp. "We were wondering when you would turn into a real boy," he said fondly. Sniffing the air, he continued, "That really smells good, son. Look at you, wearing jewellery, cooking, pretty soon you'll bring a girl home, I know it."
"Maybe," Rich said noncommitally. Legally, he was seventeen. Ethically, he had the mind of a thirty-seven-year-old man. Dating was not something he would entertain for a while. Besides, he had Stinger to deal with. "Why don't you sit down? I'll serve you and Rebecca."
"Please," Dad said. Rebecca wandered in a few minutes later.
"Jesus Christ, you can cook!" she blurted out, almost rudely.
Rich smirked. "Don't sound so surprised, sis. Have you ever known me to be a liar?" He loaded up their four-slot toaster and started plating out bacon and eggs, finishing with the salt dead last, the technique that made the dish.
Dad and Rebecca ate ravenously. The family missed dinner, after all. Once the toast was done, Rich joined them.
No one spoke for a while. The sound of silverware on plates was enough.
"What do you want to do today?" Dad asked, munching on the toast he saved for last. "I have to take care of some legal business, but you two are on spring break, starting today. Technically, you don't have to do anything."
That's right. Mom and Dad were planning to move back in together during spring break so the family would have time to adjust. Today was Saturday, so they had a full week. It was good that he didn't have to show up at a new school on Monday. That would suck.
"How about we head to the park?" Rich suggested, eying Rebecca. "Fresh air, sunshine, a brisk walk in the place we played together as kids. We can be back in time for lunch. How about it?"
Rebecca looked like she might refuse, but caught Dad's eye. "Sure, Rich," she agreed.
***
They walked side by side, wearing jackets against the morning chill. March in Texas got colder than you might expect.
"Oh, there's our neighbor, Mr. Fekete," Becca pointed out.
"Who?" Rich asked. Must've been after his time.
"He's the husband of my school, our school's AP physics teacher, and the den father for the Boy Scouts troop. See? They're selling cookies at a little table."
Sure enough, there was a small group of little boys in cute scarves selling cookies. Rich checked his wallet, and he had twenty dollars in cash. "Want to go say hi? I'll buy you a box of cookies," he offered.
Becca laughed. "Sure, Rich." They walked over. "Hey, Mr. Fekete!" she greeted.
"Rebecca, hi!" The man waved at them. His voice was melodic and cheerful, like he'd never been sad in his life, kind of a funny contrast considering their last twenty-four hours. "And this must be your brother, back from Louisiana. You're a pretty one!" He held out his hand. "Brad Fekete, nice to meet you."
Rich shook it. "Richard Rice." It wasn't a firm handshake, more like the way two girls might clasp hands. Reverse world, he reminded himself.
"Rebecca." His tone shifted to disappointment. "What's this I hear about you not taking AP physics next year? Reka told me you weren't registered for her class!"
Becca scratched the back of her head uncomfortably. "Er, well...I'm a little burned out."
"We'll both take it." Rich decided for them. "Now is not the time to go easy, Becca. We need to challenge ourselves before college."
Mr. Fekete clapped his hands. "That's the spirit, boy! Now, how about some cookies?"
The cute Boy Scouts offered them several different choices. Rich had plenty of money, so he bought three boxes: thin mints, tagalongs, and caramel chocolate chip.
"Thank you so much!" Mr. Fekete said brightly. "Now how about..."
"It looks like somebody forgot to pay the Stinger tax when they set up their little cookie booth!" A woman cut Mr. Fekete off.
Four of them, from around the corner, were walking around like they owned the place. They wore the same nazi biker outfits as before, leather, with peaked caps and red armbands. In the morning light, Rich noticed the one who was talking had sergeant stripes on her arm.
A paramilitary organization? Rich wondered.
"Please, don't hurt the children!" Mr. Fekete stepped in front of his Boy Scout troop, holding out his hands.
One of the Stinger soldiers kicked over the table, sending cookies flying. The little boys all looked terrified. Half were already in tears.
Rebecca took his hand. "Rich, run!" She dragged him away. Sadly, Becca was huffing and puffing within twenty seconds, and they had to hide behind a tree. "Keep running, Rich!" she wheezed, her breathing labored. "We lost Mom to Stinger; we can't lose you, too!"
Rich knew what he had to do. "Do you trust me, Becca?"
"Of course, Rich!" She held a stitch in her side. "But you have to run!"
"I'm not running," Rich said stoutly. He held out the Pureheart ring. It was glowing. "Watch this." Rich struck a pose and said the words, right in front of his sister:
"From a future dark
To a post not set,
Stinger hasn't won just yet,
With Pureheart Power, a noble mission,
Come forth! Future Hero! Henshin!"
It was easier this time. Rich understood how emotions fueled the ring, what he needed to feel to summon the Endram Armor.
"Oh my god...you're him!" Becca sounded stunned.
"I've always been him. Time to teach Stinger a lesson." As Future Hero, his voice sounded a bit deeper, more resonant.
Future Hero approached casually. Mr. Fekete was still trying to protect the boys while the Stinger soldiers laughed it up and toyed with him.
"Threatening little boys is low, even for you!" Future Hero taunted.
The nazi biker chicks stopped smiling. "It's him!" the sergeant shouted. The others took out their combat knives right away. "You've read the reports. He's strong, go all out!"
Future Hero sank into his fighting stance and gestured with his fingers for them to come get some. He wasn't disappointed.
At first, they kept their distance, circling him like sharks. The leader tossed her knife from hand to hand. Richard's eye followed it as the morning sun glinted off the steel. At a non-verbal signal, they charged him from all sides.
Of course, it wasn't the one in front he had to worry about, but the one behind. The leader was trying to distract him by playing with her knife. Thankfully, the Endram Armor heightened his senses, and Future Hero was able to side-step the attempted stabbing, directing the Stinger soldier into her friend. They both screamed in pain.
Fuck, they stabbed each other!
Suddenly wary, the other two were more careful and stopped holding their knives right in front of their bodies. One circled, trying to get into his blind spot, but it was Future Hero's turn to go on the offensive! He leaped forward, planting a vicious kick right in her sternum. The impact of it jolted even his enhanced body. It sounded like a gunshot. The woman was dashed to the ground, tumbling head over heels before the momentum spent itself, and she stilled. Only the sergeant remained.
"You won't get away with this, boy!" she threatened.
"You won't be around to find out," Future Hero replied evenly.
They rushed each other. She tried to stab him before his punch connected, but the Stinger sergeant was just too slow. A heroic fist cracked her villainous jaw, and Future Hero triumphed again.
The little Boy Scouts gathered around, praising him with high-pitched cheers. "Boy power!" they chanted.
Before the police arrived, Rich spotted a gorgeous woman, fashionably dressed, with black hair and glasses running towards them.
"Brad!"
"Reka!"
The couple embraced with tears in their eyes. Future Hero was done here.