There was an issue with being a superhero in Japan. The past few days had made it clear.

It was true he enjoyed the freedom to spin his webs and swoop between buildings. Yet, the lack of crime made his daily patrols feel aimless. Thoughts on the need for a Spider-Man often slunk back into his head.

He slipped his grip on the webbing strand and soared onward.

Defying logic and reason with every swing would never get old, but lack of purpose weighed him down. Having been galvanized by Prism Tower, the lack of leads proved disappointing.

"Congratulations on your birthday..." Hachiman muttered, launching another gossamer strand from his wrist-mounted gadget.

"What was that?" a voice spoke into his ear.

"Nothing, Tobe. Just thinking back to the card and the cake," Hachiman answered. He darted towards a nearby building, sticking his fingertips to its windows. His reflection was awash warm orange.

"Spi-dey! Remember, no using our real names while on the prowl! Call me by my code name, come on!" Tobe whined.

"...I'll do that after you choose something better."

"Hey, what's wrong with Rick Jones?"

"One, not everything has to be a reference. Two, Rick Jones is not even a Spider-Man character."

"Oho! You've been doing your research, I see!" Tobe cheered.

"I Googled the name. Knew it had to be something ridiculous."

"Wow, I didn't know you cared. I'm touched, Spidey," he could practically hear Tobe grinning on the other end. Hachiman rolled his eyes underneath his mask and the lenses on his likeness shifted. In his opinion, motion-sensing eyepieces were an element that presented dubious usefulness. Yet, Echo insisted they were essential, and the suit's most important feature.

"Whatever. Is there anything on the scanner?"

"Police chatter is as uneventful as always, Spidey."

"Might as well head back," Hachiman said. "All I'm doing right now is wasting web fluid."

"With how slick your moves are gettin', can you really call it a waste?"

"When it comes to a resource this precious, yes," Hachiman said. He glanced around, looking for an alleyway to change out of his suit.

Suddenly, the calm, serene ambiance of Chiba was broken by a bloodcurdling scream.

"What the-?!" an alarmed Hachiman jerked his head in the direction of the sound. In one fluid motion, he kicked himself off the structure and dove like a raptor. With a web-line, he closed the distance between his plummeting form and a mid-rise. Still holding onto the web, he ran across the building's wall, his trajectory a rising curve. Reaching the edge, he lunged at the next edifice in his path, clung to the surface and swiftly crawled to the top.

That shout, unmistakably belonging to a woman - it had to be close, that way...!

That rooftop over there!

A male figure loomed menacingly over a schoolgirl lying on her side. He wore a navy blue blazer matching his potential victim's. Had Hachiman taken a moment to process the scene, he would've recognized the uniform.

But Hachiman didn't have the luxury to spare a single second.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

In the blink of an eye, Spider-Man stood between the female and her attacker, lifting him by the collar. The rock-hard fist at the end of an arm poised to strike expressed the vigilante meant business.

"Whoa, whoa! Uncle!" the foreigner at Hachiman's mercy cried. "There's no need to get violent, mate!"

"Give me one good reason," Hachiman's lenses narrowed as he snarled, "I shouldn't clock you. Right. Now."

"...Um, how about a smile?" a feminine voice spoke.

He tore his murderous glare away from his captive. He found his silhouette mirrored on the curvature of a lens trained at him. The girl he'd intervened for had spoken, and she held a Nikon camera. It was the sort of which would belong in the hands of a professional photographer.

He stared back at the blond captive in his iron grip, back at the girl with the camera, then back at the guy. The young man shrugged with a half-cheeky, half-nervous grin. "We-we were just joshin' you!"

"...I can't believe this," a dumbfounded Hachiman said, making the mental connection. He released his prisoner and brought a palm to his masked face. "Of all the stupid, thoughtless things..."

"Come on, we had to get your attention somehow! For the record, I'm Ewan. This here is my special lass, Reiko. Now, you wouldn't mind me asking some questions, would ya?"

"No, I'm the one who's going to ask the questions here," Hachiman pointed a finger accusingly. "Why would you pull this idiotic stunt?!"

"W-we wanted to interview you, ya see, for our..."

Hachiman's index digit jabbed towards the pressured teen's face. "What you did was waste my goddamn time. That's not even the worst part - I could've injured you, very, very badly. Did you stop to think, for a single moment, the danger you were exposing yourself to?"

"Come on, Spidey, Spidey! You're everyone's favorite chap!" The grinning Ewan shrugged dismissively. "You wouldn't shoot first, ask questions later, now would you?"

"Would I?" Hachiman's intense stare forced Ewan to flinch. "No way you could've known for sure."

"W-well, it's a good thing I wasn't wrong!" Ewan added, chuckling nervously. Hachiman huffed in exasperation, turning his head towards the girl with the camera.

"You too. Aren't you supposed to care for this moron? How could you play along?"

The girl's shoulders trembled. "I-I wanted to meet you, too..."

"And you did...making the worst first impression possible. Congratulations. Hope you're happy."

Reiko shrank visibly under the admonishment but nonetheless did her best to press on. "W-what about our interview?"

"Some gall you've got," Hachiman's deep frown creased his mask. "Must be nice, having the free time to make fools out of yourselves. Better hope nobody needed my help while you two kept me held here. Because if someone did? That's all on you."

Before either could get a word edgewise, Hachiman was gone. He swung away furious, his jaw clenched and blood on fire.

"...Can't believe how stupid people can be," Hachiman muttered as landmarks zoomed past.

"...Spidey? You okay over there?" Tobe asked, catching the web-slinger's growling over the mask's microphone. "Don't let them get to you."

Hachiman took a deep breath, releasing his web-line and launching another. "...I'm wondering if aimless swinging is really the best way to make this whole Spider-Man thing work."

Kakeru Tobe's contemplative expression would never be witnessed by anyone. "Aimless, huh..." the youth repeated, words lingering on his lips but also elsewhere.

"Now listen up. This is the most important thing I'm going to be teaching you boys."

Both Tobe and Hachiman pored over the mask lying on the small table.

"Separate the assembly here," Echo removed a ribbon cable from its socket, "and here." With little effort, he released the so-called Chelicerae from the jawline. Next, Echo extracted the lenses, leaving only cobweb-pattern fabric behind.

"And then," Echo finished, "throw it into the wash with the rest of the costume. Don't worry, the soles are safe for machine wash and tumble dry."

"Are you going to try to sell me on Ariel detergent next? Sorry, my family only stocks the laundry cabinet with Attack," Hachiman said.

"Haw haw," Echo lampooned. "Anyways, do the reverse when putting them into your spare mask. And don't forget to fold it properly so it fits in your pocket."

"Yeah, yeah," Hachiman replied, "what about web fluid, though. You're nowhere near close to figuring out how to make it, are you?"

Echo shook his head. "No, nothing so far. Neither I nor my trusted contacts have been able to determine the composition."

"We're running very low," Hachiman added. "and with you leaving soon... don't think a miracle breakthrough is happening."

"Ah, if only vacation time could last forever," Echo lamented. "I was hoping you'd have all the tools you'd need after I was gone, but that's looking pretty unlikely."

"Man, if only we could ask someone how to make it..." Tobe, fingers entwined behind his head, absentmindedly remarked. Silence followed as Echo and Hachiman froze, glancing at each other.

"There's no way that could be it...could it?" Hachiman uttered.

"We don't have many more options...a shot in the dark, but worth a try. At the very least, it could give us an idea of where to start looking," Echo concluded.

Tobe's eyes widened, realizing what he might've sparked. "...No way, you guys aren't thinking what I think you're thinking!"

"Hey, desperate times. Besides, it was your idea. Kinda," Echo said as he produced his smartphone and began typing away.

Meanwhile, Hachiman retrieved a vacuum-sealed plastic bag from a box. "Guess I'll be wearing this sooner than I thought," he tore open the bag. The contents: a second Spider Protector, identical to the one spinning in the wash.

"Don't forget the talcum powder," Echo muttered, eyes glued to his phone screen.

"Better text Komachi and let her know I'll be running a little late."

"...we're really doing this, huh..." Tobe admitted in resignation.

Kamiya Yuusuke plopped down against the backrest of his office chair. If there was one thing the man struggled with, it was paperwork.

He'd always been a man of action. His talents were best suited for lightning-fast decision-making in do-or-die situations. He was also gifted when it came to designing training exercises. Those would provide his men with the tools to operate successfully and safely in the field.

Documenting, archiving and recording data were exceedingly droll tasks in comparison.

Still, it was an important part of his job, and he would complete those duties on time.

...Right after this Youtube video, of course.

After all, he wasn't watching for leisure.

The browser window displayed a grainy cell phone recording from the Siege of Chiba. It was the moment JSDF helicopters arrived and released ordnance within the city.

Captain Kamiya bit the inside of his cheek. Such a deliberate and decisive action couldn't have found approval through proper channels. Even in an unprecedented, catastrophic situation...Japanese bureaucracy would never adapt so quickly. This, he was certain of.

His musings shattered when a knock came from outside - not from the door, but from his window.

One problem. His office was located on the fourth floor.

"What the..." he yelled, turning around, training kicking in. Operating on reflex, he drew his Model 3913 handgun, safety off, aiming down sights in a Weaver stance.

Outside, on the end of the weapon's barrel, a human silhouette hung upside-down. The shadow held a thin strand in their left hand, further secured between their feet.

"Err, hello...Captain Kamiya, was it? Could you put that down?" the figure requested, somewhat meekly.

Kamiya released the breath he held and relaxed his tense muscles, lowering the pistol. "…You almost gave me a heart attack. I never would've thought Spider-Man would visit me." Holstering his trusty service weapon, the man took a few steps forward and pushed the window open. "Although next time, I'd appreciate if you could make an appointment first."

"It's not like I had your number," Spider-Man rebutted, inviting himself in.

"I assume you're not here to exchange business cards. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Spider-Man didn't beat around the bush. "I need a favor."

"Oh?"

"I hear a certain prisoner is under your direct custody. One unique, dangerous prisoner."

Kamiya sighed, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. "How do you know that? ...But yes, you're correct. The whole issue's convoluted, to say the least. There's still arguing whether Tsuchigumo should be under military arrest or police custody."

"It's not like there's even been a criminal like him before," Spider-Man observed.

Kamiya nodded a bit wearily. "For now, the SAT is directly responsible for keeping Tsuchigumo captive. If you'd told me last year we'd be doubling as jailers, I'd have called you crazy. Don't get me started on the paperwork. We've had to file the transfer of so many goons to other prisons across Japan."

"How're you keeping him contained? If he's at least as strong as I am, he could break out of any cell."

"We had to hastily re-purpose an underground shelter into a private prison," Kamiya said. "Even for you, it'd be difficult to get through all the security fail-safes implemented."

"Are you...one hundred percent sure about that?" Spider-Man questioned, one of his lenses arching upward.

"A heavy enough dose of anesthetics works well enough on him," Kamiya answered. "Our mistake last time was trying to bring him down with conventional arms fire. He can dodge bullets, but let's see what he can do when we saturate the area with soporific gas."

Spider-Man crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I wouldn't rely on that too much. I can hold my breath for several minutes. Could be enough time for Tsuchigumo to get away."

"...Noted. There goes any sleep I might have had tonight," Kamiya lamented.

"So, I take he's kept near the city? Is that really okay?" Spider-Man mused out loud.

"Quite frankly, I don't agree either, but I'm pretty sure the government decided to keep him in Chiba for a reason."

"Hoping I can capture him if he breaks loose?" Spider-Man's supposition was obviously correct. "Is this a good moment to point out I was completely outclassed by him, and I only got lucky when he got crushed by debris?"

"Spider-Man, Spider-Man," Kamiya pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to make me an insomniac?"

"Just saying it how it is. Relying on me isn't the best backup plan."

"It's the only one we've got."

"Way to mount the pressure."

Kamiya snorted. "You're a real piece of work, aren't you?"

"Sorry if you were expecting Peter Parker and got Daiso Sangyo Spider-Man instead."

"Come on, kid, don't put yourself down. Daiso carries quality products. Anyways, this favor of yours, let me hazard a guess..."

Spider-Man nodded. "Yeah. I want to speak to Tsuchigumo. Can it be done?"

"Normally, no. But hey, 'normal' went out the window the moment people began clinging to walls," Kamiya answered. He ambled towards his desk and began jotting down on a blank piece of paper. "Tell you what. I'll make the necessary arrangements, but in exchange, I want to ask for a favor of my own."

"What is it?" Spider-Man warily asked. Moments later, Kamiya offered the paper he'd been scribbling on, a time and address written on it.

"Day after tomorrow, we'll hold a memorial for the servicemen lost that day," the captain uttered. "Please be there. Share a few words."

Spider-Man hesitantly took the scrap between his fingers. "I...I'm no good at public speaking. No good at all."

At that moment, in Kamiya's eyes, the unlikely hero looked so little. The man had to resist the urge to place a hand on Spider-Man's shoulder. "You don't have to give a grand speech. Your presence alone will provide solace and reassurance. People are more grateful for you than you may think."

Spider-Man appeared to mull over what he said. "Okay...I'll be there. One last thing, though." Striding over to the desk, Spider-Man took pen in hand. He, too, made a note on another scrap of paper.

"That a phone number? Yours?"

"You call it, I'll be able to answer here," Spider-Man confirmed while tapping at his ear.

"That's some trust you're putting in me," Kamiya said.

"It's not trust. If you were to try and trace it, you'd just waste your time," Spider-Man uttered, handing the number over. "I got my bases covered, thank you very much."

"For a Daiso Sangyo Spider-Man, you seem to know what you're doing," Kimura said. He drew a flat rectangle from his pocket and presented it to Spider-Man.

"And you'd said business cards weren't going to be present," Spider-Man quipped. He accepted the cardboard and held it between his fingers.

"Life is full of surprises," the policeman retorted.

Meanwhile, the vigilante placed a foot on the windowsill.

"Don't I know it."

With that, Spider-Man propelled himself out the open, vanishing against the inky sky. Kamiya's gaze lingered on the open window. His bare fingers rubbed against the scrap in hand, almost as if he was soaking in the paper's texture.

Having Spider-Man confront Keisuke had been a notion he'd entertained before. The prisoner had refused to cooperate thus far. Reports made clear interrogations had gone in nothing but circles. A web-slinging wild card could lead to real progress, he had thought. Yet, it had remained exactly that - an idle thought. How would the police summon Chiba's new defender, anyway? A searchlight atop the station's roof? Besides, he wasn't in charge of questioning in the first place.

How fortunate that opportunity literally came knocking, providing a good excuse to intervene.

Kamiya Yuusuke was now certain - having those two meet would prove beneficial. After all, Keisuke's account of his defeat had been completely different from Spider-Man's.

"Hey, Hach. Isn't this..."

Hachiman had arrived Echo's apartment a scant few minutes prior. With their activities concluded for the night, Tobe browsed the YouTube app on his phone.

A new upload, with a ridiculous amount of views, had caught his attention immediately.

Setting his mask aside, Hachiman peered over Tobe's shoulder. He unwittingly grimaced as he read the video's title.

"Pranking Chiba's Spider-Man Goes HORRIBLY WRONG...Almost Died...and what's with all these hashtags...?"

Tobe snorted. "Man, talk about clickbait," he said as his eyes wandered over the uploader's channel name. "Wait...waitwaitwait. They're calling themselves 'Screwball Network'? Are they for real?!" Tobe groaned.

Hachiman raised an eyebrow. "I don't follow."

"Screwball, man, Screwball! A minor Spidey villain! Her whole gimmick is live-streaming over the internet!"

"Uh-huh?" Hachiman muttered uninterested.

"Now I feel dirty for trying the whole comic-book-codename thing..." Tobe whimpered.

"...Really? Just now?," Hachiman sighed.

"Should've felt dirty in the first place," Echo said, returning with an ice-cold can of Yebisu in hand. "Take it from someone in the business. If it sounds like a real name, it makes for a terrible codename. So anyway," he made his way towards the boys, "what're you watching?"

"The idiot couple from earlier uploaded the whole thing to YouTube," Hachiman stated.

"From the looks of it, it's going viral," Tobe added. "Oh hey, look, pretty much everyone the comments section's taking your side on this."

Hachiman snorted derisively. "Secret identity has some extra perks. If I wasn't in costume, society would peg me as in the wrong the moment I went against a photogenic blond."

"Or maybe what they did was plain dumb, man," Tobe said. "Seems they admit to this, too - there's a second video. 'Our Apology to Spider-Man'..."

"That's nice," Hachiman said, undoing the invisible zipper running down the back of his neck. The fastener down, he worked at tucking the collar of his suit inwards.

"Aren't you going to watch it?" Tobe asked.

"Not interested. It's bound to be empty platitudes to make themselves look better," Hachiman replied. He slipped into his school shirt in front of a mirror, checking no part of his costume stuck out from underneath. "A defense against further backlash."

"You'd bet money on that, huh?" Echo slyly smirked.

"I'm not a gambler," Hachiman answered, making his way towards the exit, "but that wouldn't be a gamble. Who would say no to free cash?"

"Hah!" Echo chuckled. "Someone's certain. See you later, kid."

A dismissive wave and a door shut later, Hachiman was gone.

"What about you, Tobe?"

Tobe remained silent for a couple of seconds as if contemplating. Then, he shifted away from his chair and pocketing his phone.

"It's true. I...should get going too," he answered hesitantly, collecting his scattered belongings.

"Tobe."

The boy turned around to face Echo, uncharacteristically serious. "You never seem to want to go. Are you having trouble at home?"

Tobe shook his head, and Echo continued: "It's alright, you can tell me. I am a cop, after all."

"Trust me," Tobe uttered. "It's nothin' like that."

"...Alright," Echo ceded. "If you need someplace to stay, though, you know where the key is. At least, so long as I'm still footing the bill."

"Thanks," Tobe answered, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "but it's not what you're thinkin'."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Don't take it the wrong way," Tobe assuaged as he made his way to the exit, "but I'd rather keep to myself this time. Night."

Without waiting for a retort, he was gone. As if sleepwalking, he made his way to the nearest railway station. He got off the train three stations later. Mindless twists and turns past streets and alleys led him to his destination. He made his way inside an unassuming apartment complex.

Home.

It's often said 'home is where the heart is'. Even if this was home, Tobe usually made a conscious effort to avoid it as much as possible.

His hand hung hesitantly over the handle to the residence's entrance. Slowly, quietly, he pulled it down, hoping to prevent disturbing any of the other dwellers.

His worries were unfounded. As soon as he made it past the threshold, a woman with auburn hair cropped short gazed at him with weary eyes.

"Tobe, where have you been?"

"Ma...I've told ya, you don't need to wait up for me."

"I can't help it, sweetie," she said, unfurling arms crossed in front of her chest. She stretched them outwards in an invitation to an embrace. "I can't sleep when I know you're not home."

Tobe returned the gesture, wrapping the shorter woman around the midsection. "Ma...ya got work tomorrow, please get some rest."

"I could say the same, Tobe," Kakeru Mirai breathed into his shoulder. "You shouldn't be up and about so late. The city used to be so safe, but with all the things happening recently..."

"Mama," Tobe broke the embrace to face her, presenting a confident grin, "don't worry about it. As long as Spider-Man's out there, it'll be alright."

"Oh, Tobe..." his mother lamented, "he is but one man. He can't be everywhere at once."

"It's okay, Ma. I'll keep myself out of trouble," Tobe said, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Say...is dad asleep?"

"I think he is," Mirai answered. "You know how hard it can be to tell."

Tobe's expression took a turn for the stoic. "Yeah. I know."

His mother gently patted his cheek. "Go get ready for bed, you hear?" The woman spun on her heel and made her way to her bedroom. It was the first left in the hallway past their tiny living room and open kitchen.

Facing her room was his father's own. Tobe lingered before the door to that chamber.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, in an attempt to get rid of at least a little bit of his ever-present discomfort. He descended the hallway, trying to outrace the shame that reared its ugly head every night.

And like every other time, his attempts at escape failed him.

Showing up to the memorial service in his costume didn't sit well with Hachiman, but he lacked options. Wearing a suit jacket over the form-fitting uniform would be ridiculous. Should he invest in a different costume for formal occasions?

Pushing the thought aside, he slid his backpack under a condenser unit, located atop the roof of the hotel. With web fluid is running this low, swinging around the city was out of the question. Taking the train dressed as Spider-Man wasn't an alternative, either.

Hachiman unfurled the collar of his suit over his neck. Superhero tradition mandated his costume accommodate for concealment under plainclothes. He was nothing if not appreciative for that.

Pulling his mask down, he checked everything kept attached properly. He gave a couple of taps to the left Chelicera. "Mic test, mic test," he muttered.

"Coming in loud and clear, Spidey," Tobe's digitized voice spoke into his ear.

"You're aware you don't have to be present for this, right?" Hachiman said as he gave his web-shooters a once-over. He wouldn't be using these, but preparation costed nothing and rewarded much.

"What, and miss your speech?" Tobe radioed. "No way, man. Not in a million years."

Hachiman grunted. "I'm not looking forward to that..."

"Could've written it down," Tobe said. "I could've read it for you in case you froze or somethin'."

"...I should've thought of that." Hachiman cursed under his breath. As a loner unaccustomed to relying on others, the idea hadn't even crossed his mind.

"You did prepare something, right?"

"I was planning on improvising."

To describe that as his 'plan' was being charitable. Yet, he didn't find himself in the current situation for a lack of trying. Despite previous attempts at committing thought to paper, nothing would come to him. Spontaneity, thus, was his only recourse.

"Don't say anythin' weird to these people, all right?"

"I'm not going to pour salt in their wounds, if that's what you're thinking," Hachiman scoffed. "Who do you take me for?" He depressed a small button underneath his jaw. "Call 'Kamiya Yuusuke'."

At his behest, a ringing tone replaced his connection with Tobe. It ceased as the call picked up: "A private number? You better be who I'm thinking you are," answered Kamiya.

"Yeah, it's me," Hachiman said. "I'm right outside. It's not like I can waltz in through the front door."

"Where are you right now?"

"Rooftop."

"Of course that's where you'd be. Hold on..."

It sounded as if Kamiya was taking long strides. Hachiman then heard a door swing open, followed by some shuffling.

"There, got you a window. Fourteenth floor, right side of the building."

"Gotcha," Hachiman acknowledged. He soon crawled down the sheer surface, scanning for the promised entrance. It didn't take long for him to find it. Without second thought, he swooped in with the grace of an accomplished gymnast.

"Were you trying to show off?" Kamiya, leaning against a wall, grinned. "Sorry, but it's just me in here."

Hachiman shook his head. "I'm not very fond of people who flaunt constantly. These moves come naturally."

"That sounds like a humblebrag. Are you sure you're not trying to impress?"

"Positive."

"Anyways," Kamiya said, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers, "the event is underway. Let's get moving."

Thankfully, the halls were empty. They made their way right outside the conference hall unimpeded by awestruck witnesses. If there were things Hachiman wanted to avoid, they'd be selfies and autographs.

In front of the door closest to the podium, Kamiya turned to face his companion, "You ready for this?"

"No, but this is as ready as I'll ever be."

"You'll do fine," Kamiya reassured, eyeing his phone. "Gotta wait for the go-ahead..."

A few minutes ticked by, and with every passing moment, Hachiman felt his anxiety deepen. To say he was out of his comfort zone was putting it mildly. Little under a month ago he slipped under the radar at best, received scorn for the crime of being born at worst. Now, he was expected to address an entire crowd. If the gods of romantic comedy had been toying with him before, they'd clearly lost interest. Instead, a crueler mistress named 'Irony' had bound him in a tangled web.

In the end, though, it was what it was. Hachiman had been the one bitten by the (presumably) radioactive spider. He'd been the one to manifest comic-book superpowers. He'd achieved spectacular feats previously limited to humanity's wildest imaginings. Like any other little boy had at some point or another, he'd fantasized about being the hero. The chosen one. That special individual who would change the world. But they'd been exactly that - fantasies.

So then, how was he supposed to handle being thrust into this role? He'd decided he wanted to help - but how? Did Chiba actually need a Spider-Man? Japan had one of the lowest crime rates in the world. The services of a superhero would be better served in another nation with far more unrest. Not like he could pack his bags and set up shop elsewhere, though. A high schooler lacked such independent agency.

He was pulled from the depths of his musings by Kamiya. "It's time."

A wave of cold fear washed over Hachiman, forcing him to grit his teeth. He clenched his fists so hard he could feel his fingernails through his gloves. Nonetheless, he stepped forward, walking past the entrance Kamiya held open.

His problems evaporated in an instant.

Solemnity hung thick in the air. Hachiman had never seen so many people dressed in black.

Families stood together, holding framed photographs of men and women remembered. Always a part of their world, yet no longer present.

When they saw him enter...Hachiman heard words unsaid behind watery eyes.

Thank you for being here.

There was no applause when he took to the stage, and that was, he thought, for the best. As his hands tightly gripped the sides of the wooden podium, he became a single desire:

I must do everything I can to help these people.

His voice came to him effortlessly.

"Good day. I'm... well, I think you already know.

"Nothing that I could say would make the situation we've gathered for any less somber. I cannot imagine what any of you are going through. I cannot claim to know your pain."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "I can tell you something else, though. When I was facing the man responsible, I was terrified. I'm not going to pretend I rushed in and took him down with ease. No, he pummeled me to the ground. Badly."

Spider-Man shook his head. "You must be wondering why I'm telling you this. It's simple: I managed to make it through that day," he raised his index finger, "for one reason, and one reason alone."

He closed his eyes again - what he was about to share was a little embarrassing, and difficult to admit. "I kept thinking about the people I care about. People I want to protect, people who would suffer if they lost me that day..."

What a sobering thought.

He could hear some of the audience sobbing. "I managed to stand back up because I had to keep going. For them. You, too, have people who need you. Those you mourn today? They need you more than anyone. You have to press on for their sake. Live on. That's how we honor their memory."

By now, people were wailing. Hachiman persisted undeterred. "I'm just one man. I'm still trying to figure out this whole Spider-Man thing. But I can promise you one thing. I'll be there when you need me. I owe it to them, too."

With a nod towards the audience, Spider-Man muttered a soft "thank you" and stepped down from the stage. There was no clapping this time either. Nonetheless, Hachiman could perceive unspoken gratitude.

"...I never knew..." Tobe's voice came into his ear, "you were capable of saying things like that."

Hachiman's reply was brief yet poignant. "Neither did I."

He took a seat next to Kamiya, becoming a misplaced speck of red in a sea of monochrome.

The captain leaned towards him. "You know, you weren't half-bad. No need to sell yourself short."

"Thanks, I guess."

Others took to the stage. Some tear-stricken families delivered entire eulogies. Others opted to share fewer but no less poignant words in remembrance of the loved lost.

The event was nearing its end when Hachiman caught a glimpse of a familiar face atop the stage.

"I-is that..." Tobe hesitantly uttered as he too recognized the teenager on his screen.

Dispelled were any doubts when the distraught youth tapped at the podium's microphone. "Good afternoon. My name is Yasuda Yamato. Some of you might have known my brother..." he blinked away tears, attempting desperately, bravely to keep a stoic demeanor, "... my best friend, Ya-Yasuda Takuya..."

"Hey kid, what's with the brooding?"

Tobe's face had been resting on his palms for who knows how long. It escaped its voluntary prison to gaze at the newly-arrived Echo. As a policeman involved in the incident, he too had been invited to the service. The officer threw the suit jacket he'd been wearing across the nearby couch.

"Where's Hachiman?" Tobe asked, leaning back on his desk chair, the monitoring terminal in front of him closed shut.

"You weren't watching?" Echo raised an eyebrow.

"I was, at least until I saw someone I knew on the stream."

Echo dragged a dining chair, setting it down next to the distressed boy. He seated himself backward, his arms resting atop the seat. "I'll be here to talk when you're ready."

True to his word, Echo remained static as the minutes ticked by in silence.

"I'm a terrible friend," Tobe finally yielded. "Terrible, terrible friend."

"Now, now, kid," Echo said. "I'm going to need a little context if I'm going to refute that."

"What if I don't want you to?"

"Then you're still going to have to tell me. Only then can I confirm your undeniably correct and entirely objective assessment."

The corner of Tobe's lips betrayed the boy for a split second. "Where do I even start?" he asked no one in particular. his eyes darted around the room as if he were searching for an answer on the walls.

"From the beginning would be good."

"...Couple of nights ago, you asked me if I had some trouble at home," Tobe errant gaze finally settled on the floor.

"You said there wasn't any," Echo crooked his head. "So, was that true, or not?"

"No, no, there isn't...it's not what you may have thought. It's my dad. Before I started high school, he-" Tobe struggled to talk, "-he had an accident."

"...I'm sorry, kid."

"Dad was the greatest, you know? Even when tired, he always made time to play with me. We have a SEGA Saturn at home, you know? Dad got it way before I was born. We used to play it together, like, a lot."

"Tobe..."

"I'm rambling. I'm rambling, aren't I?" Tobe shook his head, struggling with the aching wounds never healed. "What I'm trying to say here is, I know what it's like to lose someone you're really close to."

Tobe reclined further into the chair, setting his hazy eyes on the ceiling above. "Yamato and I weren't truly friends at first, you know? We pretended to be, but we were just mutual friends with Hayato. Then the workplace trip happened, and we started getting along pretty well. I thought, 'yeah, this guy is my pal'. Yet, he's absent for a few weeks and I can't even spare a thought to wonder, 'hey, where's Yamato?'. Heck, Hayato's in the hospital too. Guess who hasn't dropped by to visit? Man, I'm pretty awful."

As much as Echo wanted to interject, he figured Tobe was not yet done venting. Sure enough, Tobe maundered on. "Yamato doesn't talk much, but when he did, it was often 'bout Takuya. Kept telling us he'd introduce us to his cop brother someday; how he was the best brother a guy could have. He must be devastated.

"I know how that feels," Tobe pointed at himself, jabbing at the air with each word. "Losing someone. I wasn't there for him. I'm the absolute worst."

Echo let out a sharp breath before narrowing his eyes. "You done?"

"No, but don't feel like going on, either."

"Okay," Echo begun, leaning in. "I might have a pretty good grasp of the situation now. I stand by my initial thought - you're being too hard on yourself."

"Or maybe you're not being hard enough."

"No, no. Listen to me, kid," Echo countered. "You've been dealing with things, too. Aren't you helping Spider-Man out?"

"If you can call what I've been doing 'helping' while Hach does most of the heavy lifting, sure."

"Stop. Stop right there. Stop being so harsh. Listen, Tobe - I'm not going to be around for much longer. I have to get back to my job, and when I do, it's you and him. He needs you."

"Does he, though? Does he really?"

Echo closed his eyes, inviting contemplation. "Tobe. In my line of work, I've seen things. Things I'm sure you'll have to bear witness to, eventually. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Sooner or later, you two are going to face the worst humanity has to offer. But you already knew that, didn't you? Right from the start, from the moment you said you said you'd help Hachiman."

Tobe averted his gaze from the man. "...I'm not that stupid. This is the real world."

"Yet you didn't think twice to volunteer. Why?" The question Echo raised struck like a bullet piercing armor.

"Because..." Tobe took a deep breath. "...I want to help the guy who risked his life to save mine even before he had superpowers. And I...I want to do something worthwhile for once, you know?" Tobe's voice began to break and his shoulders began to tremble, "Something no one else can do. A reason for me to feel I'm not just stupid ol' Tobe, who can't do nothing right."

A hand found its way onto the boy's shaking shoulder, a gentle request for the quivering to subside. "You guys are young. Give yourself time to figure things out. Don't forget you helped stop the madman laying waste to the city, too. Your friend Yamato would appreciate that."

"...Yeah..." Tobe nodded tentatively. "Yeah, I suppose he would. Not like I'd be able to tell him, though."

"There's another downside you must've seen coming," Echo smirked, albeit warmly. "No way to take credit. Job's going to have to be its own reward, I'm afraid."

A grin all his own came over Tobe's lips. "Yeah, but that's more than enough for me."

"Okay," Echo patted the boy before breaking contact, "Good talk. So what will you do now?"

"Only thing I can," Tobe said as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. "Try ringing up Yamato. But hey, uh, back to my original question - where's Hachiman?"

"Mister Spider-Man...are we going to die?"

The lenses on Hachiman's mask widened. So much, in fact, you'd be forgiven for thinking someone glued a pair of headlights to his face. "What?! No!"

"Um, my brother told me once that if the Avengers come to visit you at the hospital, you're going to die soon..." a little boy, wrapped in blankets and wearing the teal of a hospital gown, said innocently.

'Geez, that's morbid. I never would've said something like that to little Komachi, that's for sure.'

"It's only me here, though. Not the Avengers," he flipped down the colorful book he'd been reading. So far, the tale had delighted his audience, children aged in the single digits. "Okay, yeah, the story is about the Avengers, but don't read too much into it. Now, where was I?" he lifted the book back up. "'Tony, he's going for the Thanos-Copter!' Captain America yelled. 'I'll go after him!' Iron Man said."

"Do you know Iron Man?" Another boy asked sweetly.

"Who, Tony? Yeah, great guy," Hachiman played along. "Want to see something he built for me?"

"Yeah!" A chorus of excited little voices sang in unison.

"Okay..." It was time to sell his fib. The turn of a dial, and the click of a button - that's all it took. Red light projected onto the wall opposing him, displaying the Spider-Signal.

"Cool!" A girl exclaimed with a toothy smile, wonderment swelling within the other children.

Then there was a knock on the door behind him, and an older doctor walked in. Behind square-rimmed glasses hid a pair of kindly eyes. Despite heavy bags hanging underneath, they brimmed with warmth. His finely-trimmed beard, mostly white, matched his receding hairline. Regardless of his age, he carried himself with a dignified bearing and pep to his step.

"Now, children, we've imposed quite a bit on Spider-Man," said Takeda Takeru, Medical Doctor. "Now, say goodbye and 'thank you' to our friend."

"Thank You, Mister Spider-Man!"

"See you, Spidey!"

"Come visit again soon!"

Rather awkwardly, Hachiman flashed a thumbs up as he stood up and set the storybook aside. Following Doctor Takeda, he exited the room, and once he'd set foot on the hallway, the older man gave him a small bow.

"Thank you, Spider-Man. You've done a world of good for these boys and girls."

"R-right, no problem, Director Takeda."

The physician wasn't exactly a stranger to Hachiman. He'd met him before, as a result of the traffic accident where he'd prevented Yui's dog Sablé from being run over. During his stay, the amiable hospital director had visited the convalescing Hachiman. The boy's reticent manner, though, resulted in sparse conversation.

After the memorial had concluded, Doctor Takeda had approached Spider-Man with a peculiar request.

"I know you must be busy, but could you perhaps spare some time to visit the children injured in the incident? They're dealing with a lot. I'm sure they would be delighted to see you. You're their hero, after all". Those had been the director's words.

He did not deliberate for long. Still searching for the best ways Spider-Man could help, Hachiman agreed to drop by immediately.

"I'll visit again," Spider-Man said.

"We'll be looking forward to it, young man," the good doctor replied. "Be seeing you."

With a wave, Hachiman turned the corner. He had spotted a vending machine earlier, and he could go for some MAX Coffee. He'd secure his beverage, gulp it down, and slip back to the hotel to retrieve his belongings.

'It's a good thing I've decided to keep some spare change on the cartridge pocket,' he thought. He gathered the loose coins necessary to claim ownership of sweet caffeine nectar. A few key presses later, a perspiring aluminum can dropped into the compartment.

Refreshment now in hand, Hachiman pulled at the tab on top with that satisfying pop drink cans tend to make. He rolled up his mask just above his lips, and brought the can's aperture to them. Cold liquid soon invaded his throat.

"Yamato?"

A female voice called, interfering with the blissful enjoyment of his favorite concoction. The voice itself... he recognized it from somewhere. Were they addressing him? Why as 'Yamato', though?

He turned around sluggishly.

Standing behind him? Miura Yumiko.

He cocked his head to the side as he felt his eyepieces shift. With the addition of a shrug of his shoulders, he expressed puzzlement.

"...Sorry, I thought you could be...N-nevermind! It's good to see you again, Spider-Man."

He gave her a small nod before taking another swig. In truth, he was evaluating the situation.

'Should I roll my mask down so it muffles my voice? But reaching for it before talking might make her suspicious instead...'

"I wasn't able to thank you properly before."

'Wait, I'm overthinking this. Miura is too apathetic towards me to ever make the Spider-Man connection. She might be relying on me to fulfill her Service Club requests, but she can't be too happy about that. From her perspective, the notion I could be Spider-Man would be insane.'

"Just doing my job," he answered, having made his decision: to play it cool. He took another swig of his MAX Coffee. Had he not, he would've noticed a small twitch between Yumiko's eyebrows.

"So, are you here visiting someone?" Yumiko asked, shifting her head ever so slightly.

"Kids," he said, a small yet sharp sneer creeping onto his lips. "One of them must've thought I was with the Make-A-Wish Foundation or something, asked me if they were dying."

Yumiko frowned. "Damn, that's grim."

"Yeah. Thankfully, they'll be alright. They're in good hands," Spider-Man added before finishing the contents of the can. He dropped the container in the corresponding trash bin nearby.

"Say, Spider-Man?" Yumiko said, uncharacteristically sheepish, as he pulled his mask down. "Could I ask for a favor?"

"I don't do autographs, Yoriko."

"It's Yumiko. Eh, close enough, I guess. Anyway, it's nothing like that. It's about my...friend."

Hachiman sighed. Guess he'd go Service Clubbin' it in a different uniform today. "Let's hear it."

"...Takanawa Minoru's first time in a serious leading role has proven to be a dud, with new drama film 'Student Council Days' under-performing..."

The variety show droned on, but Hayama Hayato could not hear it. He kept staring at his left leg, trapped within heavy cast held aloft by a pulley. It extended from his thigh all the way down, exposing only his toes. His damaged limb was itchy, cramped, and hot, even with air conditioning set as low as it could go.

He'd been in the hospital for days, yet he still kept reliving that moment over and over in his head. Trapped, like his leg in the cast. Bleeding. Dying, or at least it felt like it.

There was a knock on the door. Hayato mouthed "come in" as he flicked the television off, his mind still under that rubble from that day. Let the nurses, or the doctors, or Yumiko come in. It didn't matter. Nobody could rescue him from a coffin fashioned out of debris.

Except for one person, that is.

The vibrant red accompanied by jet black commanded immediate attention. Hayato had to blink once, twice, thrice - and then he lost count.

"Spider...Man?"

"Yo. Yumeka here tells me you're stuck in a funk."

"It's Yumiko," the girl deadpanned displeased.

"What...why...?" Hayato could scarce believe his eyes. Why would Spider-Man be here?

"Seems I'm well on my way into the hospital's payroll," Spider-Man said, "as a grief counselor. Ow!"

"He was around," Yumiko remarked as she withdrew her elbow from Spider-Man's ribs. "I thought it might be good for you to talk about things?"

"...Whatever gave you that idea?" Hayato asked, averting his gaze from the visiting duo.

"Hayato..." he could feel the caring caress in Yumiko's plea.

"...Alright," Hayato conceded, for her sake. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

"I'll leave you two to talk it out, then," Yumiko said as she closed the door behind her. Spider-Man stood there, motionless, for what felt like hours.

"So..." Spider-Man finally killed the silence.

"So," Hayato parroted.

"...How's the leg?" Spider-Man said, crossing his arms. He edged closer to the bed, gesturing with his chin at the immobile extremity.

"It'll manage," Hayato replied.

"It was pretty bad," Spider-Man added.

"Yeah. Thank you for preventing Yumiko from seeing it back then, by the way."

"You care about her, huh," Spider-Man asserted.

"Yeah? I mean...of course I care about Yumiko. Just... not the way she'd want me to."

"Sounds rough."

"Well..." Hayato frowned. "I think..." he exhaled, whatever he was bound to say snuffed out.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing," Hayato shook his head.

"Didn't sound like nothing," Spider-Man commented. Awkward quiet followed. Hayato's eyes shifted away from the visitor. He didn't want Spider-Man to know how callous Hayama Hayato could be. For the first time, his own duplicity filled him with shame.

Once again, it fell on Spider-Man's shoulders to break the ice. "So, when it's coming off? The cast, I mean."

"Still has a way to go. Then there's the physical therapy. I'll walk again, but the doctor warned me to stay away from soccer from here on out. I used to be the club's captain, you know?"

"Sorry to hear that," Spider-Man comforted.

"...Would it be strange to say...I'm relieved?"

The statement earned Hayato a demonstration of how expressive Spider-Man's mask could be. Confusion was plastered on its cobweb-patterned features.

"I don't like soccer," Hayato begun, staring back down at his leg. "Or rather, I did, a long, long time ago. Turns out I was good. Very good. People kept saying it would be a shame if I didn't foster the talent. So I did, and I lost my enthusiasm with it. But now, I'm free of that."

He could tell Spider-Man was scowling at him. His shame grew. "...Sorry. Guess my true colors came out anyways. I'm pretty pathetic, aren't I?"

Spider-Man said nothing. He kept staring instead.

"...When I was a child, I used to watch a lot of Kamen Rider reruns. My favorite was Kamen Rider 2. You know, Ichimonji Hayato? Same name as me; that was enough for me to like him. I wanted to be strong and brave, like that Hayato. Like a hero. But I wasn't. I'm not. Even when she needed me, I looked the other way, and pretended nothing was wrong."

Hayato's gaze was firmly planted in his encased limb. He wouldn't notice Spider-Man's eyes shifting to narrow slits.

"...How do you do it?" the confessor inquired. "Being a superhero, I mean."

"I'd be lying if I told you I knew what I was doing. I don't," Spider-Man admitted, allowing his steely glare to relax. "I'm just a guy who got bitten by a spider-"

"Wait, hold on. You were bitten by a radioactive spider?!" Hayato interrupted. So taken aback was he by the revelation, the question exploded out his mouth.

"...I don't know about the 'radioactive' part, but yes," Spider-Man admitted, shrugging. "Same as Peter Parker."

"Huh. Fact truly is stranger than fiction," Hayato remarked, rubbing at his temple.

"As I was saying," Spider-Man renewed, "I'm just a guy. Don't expect me to impart sage knowledge."

Hayato sighed, plopping back against his pillow, hands entwined behind his head. "I can't help but wonder...where did I go so wrong? Before you rescued me from under that wreckage, I was scared, sure - but more than anything, I felt...regret. Like, there are so many things I wish I'd done differently. So many, I can't even recall all of them, but I can feel them. All my life, I've been doing nothing but conforming to the expectations of others."

"You survived, though. So hey, live your own damn life if you feel you've been wasting it," Spider-Man protested.

"That's the thing," Hayato smiled sadly, bitterly, utterly resigned. "I don't know how."

"Oh, give me a break," Spider-Man pinched where the bridge of his nose should be. "Did you hear anything I said?"

"Eh?"

Spider-Man gestured to himself, exasperated. "I told you I had no idea what the hell I'm doing, but you know what? I'm still doing it. If I can run into burning buildings in nothing but tights, you can at the very least try to get your act together. So spare me the pity party. You're not getting any from me."

Hayato was paralyzed in utter disbelief, absolutely disarmed. Unsure of how to react, he let instinct take over.

Instinct decided to chuckle.

Spider-Man stared on inquisitively.

"Sorry, sorry," Hayato said as his sudden laughter died down. "It's funny; you reminded me of this classmate of mine. He's ruthless, but he's a good guy. I can't stand him, though."

"That so? Guess you might not like me very much, either."

Hayato grinned, the storm within clearing somewhat. "You saved my life, though. Pretty sure it'd be illegal for me to dislike you."

"You do you," Spider-Man said as he slid open a window and placed his foot on the sill. "That's the only advice I'm giving out today."

"...The window? Seriously? Showoff."

"If I walked past the front door, people like Yukako would stop me for some reason or another."

"It's Yumiko," Hayato corrected with a smirk. "Man, some superhero you are."

"Told you I was still figuring this gig out," Spider-Man said. He sat on the windowsill, his back leaning against the jamb. "So, better?"

Hayato nodded, his spirits somewhat lifted. "Better."

"All right then. Let Yukari know my work here is done. I've got an appointment."

Before Hayato could inquire whether his misnaming was on purpose, Spider-Man had vanished.

"...Good talk." Hayato mouthed to himself, and no one else.

After retrieving his belongings, it took Hachiman thirty minutes to reach his destination. Having changed back to his civvies, he entered comfortable, affordable, delicious Saizeriya.

He ordered Spaghetti Carbonara and reviewed his objectives in his head. The mission was simple in concept, complex in execution. Somehow, he'd have to dig for clues in his confrontation with Tsuchigumo. Anything that might give them an idea of how to fabricate web fluid could prove useful.

Such an undertaking would prove a challenge. There wouldn't be any voices speaking into his ear suggesting ideas, either. Kamiya had mentioned there was no cell phone reception in the area. No reception, no transmission. It's a good thing the Chelicera's camera could also record video to onboard memory.

All Hachiman had to do now was kill some time and wait for the appointed hour. He ate slowly, fiddling with his phone between bites. It had become a habit of his to refresh his news app often, ever since the Prism Tower incident.

His thoughts strayed back to when he met Yukino for the first time following the disaster. She'd been sitting on the same chair as always, at the same corner of the table as always, reading like always.

She didn't talk much about the incident. She did speak about how both her father and Haruno were in good health. Her unsentimental delivery had been betrayed by a soft smile hiding at the edge of her lips.

Hachiman's unwittingly mirrored the expression of the girl captive in his memory.

Having finished his meal, he took a glance at the time on his phone. It would be eight soon. He'd be meeting Kamiya at nine. He groaned, for all that he could do now was wait, and wait he did.

At some point, he recognized a classmate dining a few tables away, next to a little girl he also knew. It was Kawa...Kawakami...Kawa-something?

With Miura, his misnaming had been intentional, but when it came to "Black Lace", he really did forget. This wasn't the first time, either. Maybe he should write it down?

The two eventually departed without taking notice of him. Time kept advancing at a mind-numbing snail's pace. With nothing else to do, Hachiman caught up with a mobile game before its stamina system forced him to stop.

It was still not the appointed hour. To keep himself loitering without ordering anything, he requested another MAX Coffee. Good thing caffeine didn't make him jittery.

It was eight thirty-six. A quick bathroom break later, he was ready to depart towards the meeting point. Hachiman slung his backpack over his shoulder. He pushed the restaurant's door open and was about to cross the threshold.

His Spider-Sense warned him not to take another step.

Thankfully, the danger was as minor as minor could be: a teenage girl almost bumped into him. She was engrossed in her phone, completely unaware of her surroundings. She had short black hair in a pixie cut, two thin barrettes keeping her bangs from falling over her face. He knew her. She was someone who brought back unpleasant memories for Hachiman.

He'd been dragged on a double date by the same guy he'd visited at the hospital hours before. Hayama practically begged him to. Hachiman still refused. Then Yukinoshita Haruno got involved, and Hachiman had to tag along if he wanted to live. Both of them ended up going out with a pair of girls from Kaihin Sougou High School. One was Orimoto Kaori, a former classmate of his and source of memories far more bitter. The other girl was the ambulant texter who had almost smashed into him. Her name eluded Hachiman too, but in this case, he was uninterested in remembering

The date itself was awkward. Both girls had been all over Hayama and put Hachiman down every chance they had. That date concluded with Hayama telling them off for it. It had not been an intervention Hachiman felt particularly thankful for. He'd told Hayama earlier that he wouldn't be getting any pity from him. He didn't want Hayama's pity, either. Besides, Hayama had even admitted he intervened for his own personal reasons.

Perhaps there had been other dimensions to Hayama Hayato's actions. With what he'd learned today, that was a distinct possibility. Too bad Hachiman didn't care at all.

Ducking into a deserted back alley, Hachiman quickly pulled his mask down over his face. He then removed his shoes, throwing them into his backpack. His suit's gloves came on next He already wore his web shooters, devices hidden under his sleeves. Crawling to the top of a building a few stories tall, he removed the rest of his outerwear. First, the scarf, then the overcoat, and ultimately his pants were stowed into his backpack. Making a mental note of the location, he leaped towards another, shorter building. He continued moving like that: high above, always unseen and avoiding notice. After all, his amazing skill, Stealth Hikki, had leveled up in the presence of his new powers. It was now worthy of a new name. Yes, henceforth it would be christened Stealth Spider.

...Yes, his mind had wandered towards naming conventions as he overlooked another back alley. At the bottom, a black Honda SUV would be retrieving him soon. In his defense, his position hardly presented a riveting view to soak in.

Come to think of it, calling out moves could help him entertain the children if - no, when - he visited them again. He could yell something like "Web Swing!" or "Spider Sting!" with enough pizazz to wow them a little. Wait, where did those names come from? Oh, right. Many years ago, he tried an arcade game featuring Spider-Man, and he yelled out those attacks. He'd only have the chance to experiment with it when the arcade was near empty. As a result, he had never gotten to play it much. Fighting game cabinets always had players waiting to clash against one another. Even an old game like that one drew a crowd of challengers. For a loner like Hachiman, that was anathema.

"Incoming call...from...Ka-miya...Yuu-suke," an artificial inflection stuttered into his ear. It belonged to a bare-bones digital assistant. It was a handy feature for his uniform, allowing him to send and receive calls without the need for dialing.

Hachiman tapped a button at the side of the left projection running along his jawline. "Come in."

"I'm almost there, be ready to get in"

Scant few moments later, the alleyway shone under the glow of a set of headlights. Wasting no time at all, Hachiman jumped down from the roof. He stopped his descent by grabbing onto a ledge and let go again. He kicked at another ledge further down, and flipped over the car, landing in a crouch next to the passenger seat.

"Practicing for next year's Olympics?" Kamiya joked as Hachiman opened the door.

"Only a matter of time before I receive an invitation," Spider-Man fired back. He fastened his seatbelt, and the vehicle began to inch forward. They were on their way.

"So, did you hear?" Kamiya began, eyes firmly set on the road. "The memorial's organizational committee uploaded video recordings to the internet. You should check the comments sometime."

Spider-Man's eyes contracted dangerously. "We were being filmed?"

"It's the twenty-first century. Always assume you're in view of a camera."

Hachiman grunted, propping his arm against the window. He rested his cheek on his clenched fist, watching buildings pass them by faster and faster. What Kamiya said was true; hell, he was carrying an active camera on his suit right now. Thankfully, his Spider-Sense interpreted exposure of his identity as a 'threat'. It gave him a measure of certainty he wouldn't unmask in the presence of surveillance.

One of the perks of the loner lifestyle was blending into the background. When he was Spider-Man, however, his presence demanded attention wherever he went. He had to admit: the ability to elude notice had been one the first casualties his double life claimed. Thankfully, it was a consequence restricted exclusively to his alter ego.

Gazing at the masquerading reflection on glass, he lamented the loss of inconspicuousness. The image of a relieved Yukinoshita Yukino reinforced the worth of his sacrifice.

He'd been thinking a lot about her recently. Perhaps Hayama hadn't been the only one affected by his brush with death...

"I didn't ask for this," Hachiman said. "I don't want to be some celebrity or... a sideshow for people to gawk over."

"That's not what it is," Kamiya refuted. "During the attack, when footage of Ke-," he stuttered, "-Tsuchigumo leaked, everything changed. Superpowers are a real thing now. I won't lie to you: it frightens me. One day I might have to lead my boys into a fight with some psycho that can shoot lasers out of their hands, or something. We've lost too many good guys as is."

They were out of Chiba City by now, tall buildings nowhere in sight. Kamiya gripped the steering wheel tighter, Hachiman could tell.

"Listen, I was JSDF before I was police. I'm no stranger to danger. Yet, when I heard we were mobilizing to apprehend a guy who could lug around cars? Yeah, I was more scared than I'd ever been in my life. We weren't heading into combat, but slaughter."

Kamiya's lip tugged upwards. "Then, the craziest thing happened. Our dispatcher started cheering and hollering. I thought he must've lost his mind. But he hadn't. That's when he tried to explain Spider-Man had saved fellow cops from being torn to shreds. After the disbelief wore off, we knew we were going to make it. That's all thanks to you. You did that. You cut off the noose around our necks."

"You make it sound heroic, but I ran away when I first saw what was going on," Hachiman admitted, gesturing with his hand. "I didn't want to be involved."

"Doesn't matter. You came back, didn't you?" Kamiya pointed out.

"I had to."

"Why?"

"I couldn't live with myself otherwise," Hachiman admitted.

"So you're saying, with great power..."

Hachiman pointed at the driver with his finger. "Don't. Don't you say it."

Kamiya's grin grew wider. "Sore spot?"

"Not particularly, but I want to make one thing clear. I might be Spider-Man, but I'm not Peter Parker."

"You said as much the other night."

"It bears repeating."

"I don't think anybody expects you to be," Kamiya said. "Regardless, back to what I was getting at. You're giving Chiba, no, the world something it desperately needed: reassurance. Life may change so quickly it might be overwhelming, but superpowers being real? That's something nobody was ready for. We're entering uncharted waters, here.

"You adopting the identity of 'Spider-Man' is far more important than you might realize. It's a beacon, lighting the way in these turbulent times. Even if people don't know who's behind the mask, that you wear it in the first place makes them believe they can trust you. It's a symbol that means a great deal to so many, and you're adding to that. So, shine on, you crazy diamond."

For a moment, a stillness settled within the vehicle's cabin. The highway continued to spread endlessly in front of them, undeterred. Finally, Hachiman broke the quiet with a snort.

"Did you stay up all night thinking that last bit up? And did you seriously make a JoJo reference at the end there?"

"Hey, I wasn't referring to the Stand...have you never listened to Pink Floyd?"

"Can't say I have."

"That's criminal. I ought to arrest you for that," Kamiya uttered in mock-disappointment. "Let's spare you the trial and move straight to rehabilitation." The policeman pressed at the touchscreen jutting from the dashboard. Soon enough, an ominous melody gradually building up filled the cabin.

"This is an abuse of authority," Hachiman protested. "I demand respect for due process."

"It isn't! We're operating under the 'my car, my tunes' rule. Now listen! This is good stuff!"

An ethereal guitar arose from the melody, its chords as mournful as an elegy, as hopeful as a newborn babe. The music later wound down as another set of strings delivered powerful melancholy. Soon after, the composition regained its energy again, without losing its saturnine quality.

Neither rider said anything as the song played on. After several minutes of a soul-rending instrumental, vocals emerged from the track.

"Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun/

Shine on you crazy diamond/

Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.

Shine on you crazy diamond/

You were caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom, blown on the steel breeze/

Come on you target for faraway laughter, come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!"

The haunting anthem carried on, making for a surreal drive. Kamiya took a right off onto a beaten path, the dirt underneath making the ride a bit bumpier from then on out.

It wasn't long before they reached a boom barrier, blocking the entrance to an enclosure. The perimeter was surrounded in chain-link and topped with barbed wire. A guardhouse flanked the security checkpoint, and its occupant peeked out its side.

"Captain," the sentry acknowledged as the driver's window rolled down. The man's eyes widened. "...and, one visitor?"

"Evening, Kikaoka. Let us through?"

"C-certainly. Oh man, if only I could tell my kids..."

The bar rose, granting passage to the motorized vehicle. An expression of gratitude from Kamiya preceded the vehicle passing through.

They drove a couple hundred meters across plain concrete slab. There were no other landmarks visible sans for a tunnel on a nearby mound. Two heavy steel gates parted from its opening. They revealed asphalt slanting downwards, towards the unknown.

"So, how do you like it?" Kamiya asked, gesturing with his head towards the radio. "They don't make music like they used to."

"It's alright," Hachiman answered dryly.

'I actually kinda like it, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction.'

"Just alright?" Kamiya snorted derisively. "Come on, it's a classic!"

"I'll admit I wish I understood what the lyrics were saying."

"You're hung up about two minutes worth of lyrics in a thirteen-minute song?"

Hachiman shrugged. "I'm nothing if not curious."

They strode past the gates and descended past the maw of the metaphorical beast. Dull orange lights blanketed the young wonder and his escort in an eerie glow. The car's stereo system continued to sing undeterred. The next track on the disc had already replaced Kamiya's former selection. The unrelenting sensory assault made for an otherworldly scene.

Eventually, they reached what appeared to be a parking lot. One would expect military hardware in an installation this secretive. Instead, there resided an assortment of civilian vehicles. The sole exception was a single heavily-armored van, belonging to Chiba's SAT unit.

The SUV came to a complete stop after Kamiya maneuvered it between two other cars. "Follow me."

Hachiman did, tailing behind Kamiya as they advanced towards an enormous blast door. The bottom edge of the barrier displayed a band of yellow and black diagonal stripes, the international motif for caution.

Kamiya placed his hand on a panel to its right, and the steel structure began to ascend into the wall. An identical door revealed itself, and it too began to rise without waiting for the former to finish. Yet another gate followed that one, also rising. A fourth door finally allowed light to escape from a stark hallway behind the array of barriers.

"Best we could do on short notice to lock up a guy with super-strength," Kamiya said, "was confining him in this bunker."

"What is this place?" Hachiman asked, curious from the sheer size of the location so far.

"The growing tensions during the Cold War made the Japanese government nervous. Even if Japan wasn't directly involved, the fear of nuclear warfare was always present. It led the construction of facilities like these in every prefecture," Kamiya affirmed. "A contingency to ensure the chain of command of every local government could persist."

"So, a place to keep their own hides safe, huh?"

Kamiya shrugged. "I suppose there's that too, but preserving hierarchy would prevent confusion during a crisis. In any case, welcome to PIER 12."

"PIER? Is that English?" Hachiman inquired. Recalling his wealth of trivia, he assumed the '12' was for JP-12, which denoted Chiba Prefecture.

"It is, but in this case, it's an acronym. Prefectural Independent Emergency Refuge," Kamiya recited, with the affectation of a native speaker. "but since you probably don't know what that means either, we've taken to calling it 'Jaburo'."

The shifting of his eyepiece indicated Hachiman had cocked an eyebrow underneath. "Jaburo? Really? Are we hiding from Zeon?"

Kamiya smirked. "There's hope for you yet."

The hallway led to a spacious cargo elevator overlooking an angled slope. The platform ramped downwards on rails, descending even deeper underground. It took about an entire minute for the elevator to finish the journey. At the destination awaited a group of armed guards. Eight in total, they stood side-by-side in two parallel files facing each other.

"Sir!" the officers saluted as Hachiman and Kamiya walked by, between both rows. Leaving the officers behind, the duo made their way to an automatic metal door. It split in two, granting them passage. Having crossed, it closed behind them, leaving them alone once more.

"Guess you run a tight ship," Hachiman commented, his gaze lingering over his shoulder at the doors now shut.

"I do," Kamiya admitted, "but not when it comes to greetings."

"Meaning?"

"I wasn't the one they were saluting."

"...Huh," Hachiman scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly.

They kept walking, navigating through hallways and traversing doors. They descended another set of stairs and reached another set of sturdy double doors. This time, Kamiya's input on the side panel did not unlock it - rather, he spoke into a camera.

"Susumu, it's me."

With a mechanical hiss, the path was open.

It led to what Hachiman assumed to be a surveillance room. It was filled with all manner of assorted equipment and grouped monitors. A man with spiky hair sat next to one of the larger screens. He dressed far more casually than the rest of the skeleton crew staffing the facility. A set of crutches leaned against the console he operated. Also, a neck brace jutted out from his t-shirt's collar. These items explained to Hachiman why he'd be clothed lighter. There was also something about the guard he could recognize from somewhere...

After a bit of the shock present in his face wore off, the guard spoke. "When you said you were bringing someone in to aid in interrogation, I didn't imagine it'd be Spider-Man!" He shuffled to his feet with some strain. Taking one of his crutches under his shoulder, he hobbled towards Hachiman.

The man stretched out his free hand and Hachiman hesitantly took it in his own. Now that he stood closer, Hachiman could identify him. The first and only time he'd seen this officer before, Spider-Man had stopped a falling chopper.

"You...you're that wounded cop, from the Cineplex."

"You really saved me back then, Spider-Man," the guard smiled. "I wouldn't be alive if not for you. My name is Kitaoka Susumu. It's a pleasure to finally be able to meet you for real."

"Uh, right..." Hachiman answered a little overwhelmed, unaccustomed to such effervescent introductions. "Glad to see you're doing well."

"How's our prisoner doing?" Kamiya inquired, attempting to steal a glance at one of the monitors.

"Same as always. Sitting there, menacingly," Susumu answered. "By that I mean all he does is watch TV."

"...so you're guarding the guy who almost killed you?" Hachiman asked. "Isn't it...difficult?

"I requested it," Susumu answered. "Not like I'm ever going to be fit for active duty again. It's all desk jobs from here. If that's how it is, might as well make sure this bastard doesn't go anywhere. Plus, frankly? I want him to try something. Then, I can see how he fares against an electrified cell and a hearty helping of sleeping gas."

'I suppose being somewhat vindictive is only to be expected,' Hachiman thought.

"Back to business," Kamiya interjected, "Let's have our talk."

Susumu limped back to his chair, typed up some commands on his keyboard, and pressed a button on his left. Immediately, Hachiman realized the walls behind the equipment weren't what he'd thought. No, those were shutters, and they were shifting upwards. On the other side of the shutters, through protective glass, a human silhouette lay.

Sprawled indignantly across hard bedding rested the resident of many of Hachiman's nightmares. His once neatly-slicked hair was now a wild, unkempt, haphazard mess. A shaggy beard matched his savage mop. He wore nothing but some teal pants made of light, breezy fabric, opting once more to forgo a shirt.

His spartan accommodation had been latticed in slick white tiles. The cell's only furnishings were the bed he lied on and the television affixed to the left wall. Near the far-right corner of the room, a showerhead overlooked a waist-high partition. Hachiman assumed the division existed to protect some measure of privacy.

Tsuchigumo clicked the television off with the remote he held. He lazily shifted on his side, facing the surveillance room. "What do you want this ti-oh?!"

As if regaining lost vigor, he was on his feet, and every step Tsuchigumo took closer to the glass made Hachiman's heart hammer in his chest faster and faster...

"STOP!" Susumu ordered, his hand hovering a different button from before. "We can hear you just fine from where you were. Another step and you know what's coming."

"...Okay, okay," Tsuchigumo raised his hands to placate his jailer as he walked backward. "I'm not looking for trouble. I only wanted a closer look."

"And I'm dating Sheena Ringo," Susumu spat.

"She's pretty hot," Tsuchigumo smirked, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "but don't you think she's a bit too old for you?"

"Fine wine gets better with age, and so do women!" Susumu delivered.

'...Yes, hello, Professor Hiratsuka? There's someone I'd like you to meet,' as if to preserve his composure, Hachiman's mind wandered.

"Ahem," Captain Kamiya cleared his throat loudly, bringing an end to that exchange.

"Oh, hey, Yuu. Didn't see you there," Tsuchigumo sneered. "And look what the cat dragged in! Spider-Boy, as I live and breathe! Knew it was only a matter of time 'till you'd visit."

"...Yuu?" Hachiman inquired, facing the officer.

"Oh, he didn't tell you? I go way back with your favorite Chiba cop."

Kamiya sighed. "That was a lifetime ago, back before this guy became a murdering scumbag."

"Yuu! You're tearing me apart, Yuu! That's no way to speak of your former commanding officer!" Tsuchigumo brought both hands to the middle of his chest, in a mocking gesture of hurt.

"...The Kimura Keisuke I knew was an admirable JSDF lieutenant who led by example. He would've never become yakuza trash."

"Wait, so you two do know each other?" Hachiman sputtered in disbelief. "Isn't that a conflict of interest?!"

"Kid, the reason they got him to play warden is precisely because we know each other," Tsuchigumo argued. "A deterrent to keep me from any funny business. Joke's on the brass, I wasn't going to pull any stunts even if an old friend wasn't involved."

"We're not friends," Kamiya angrily glared. "Friends of mine don't kill cops."

Tsuchigumo's shoulders sunk as he sighed. "Yeah, I suppose they don't."

Was that guilt in his voice? Hachiman shook his head. No, no sympathy for the devil. Even so, the moment ordnance struck the Souk Building came back to him. The recollection prompted him to raise a question: "Back then... when the building came down on us both. You pushed me out of the way, to a safer spot. Why?"

Tsuchigumo turned his head to the side, then down towards his bare feet. He shut his eyes, bit his lip, and ran a hand through his restless face. "...I saw. You were just a kid. I don't hurt kids."

Hachiman's apprehension gave way to boundless ire. The children in the hospital came back to him. "...You don't hurt kids?! How rich. Do you know how many children lost parents, brothers, and people they cared about? How many were injured? Cut the bullshit, you've hurt plenty of kids!"

He had to make a conscious effort not to strike something with his clenched, shaking fist.

"...I know that..." Tsuchigumo answered in a voice so small it ill fit such large a man. "This isn't what I wanted. I wanted to be...to be like you. Someone who kept everyone safe."

"Safe from what?!" Hachiman snapped wrathfully, taking a step forward. He was dangerously close to breaking the crystal divide and pummeling the captive. "From you?!"

Such fury led to Hachiman missing the trembling of Tsuchigumo's lower jaw. "...My intentions don't matter anymore. What's done is done, and I can't undo it. The end result is the same. I'll patiently wait for my execution. That's all I can do now."

"Cut the sanctimonious crap, you butcher!" Hachiman cried. A hand fell on his shoulder and forgetting himself, he was about ready to tear apart whoever touched him.

"That's enough, Spider-Man. Cool down a bit; you're here for a reason, aren't you?" Kamiya eased the fuming web-slinger. The explosion of aggression slowly faded into a colder, bitter edge.

"...Yes, if the kid's here," Tsuchigumo interjected, "I'm willing to share the information you need, Yuu. For a price."

"First, don't call me that," Kamiya sternly objected, turning from the boy to the inmate. "Second, you're in no position to make demands."

"You'll find my price agreeable. It's simple, I'll tell you what you need to know. In exchange, you turn off the recording equipment while I share the information. That's all there is to it."

"...What's your game?" Susumu growled.

"Oh, please. If I were to try anything, would it be with Spider-Boy here?" Tsuchigumo rolled his eyes, a semblance of his uppity attitude from before reemerging. "I want a little bit of privacy while saying my piece. That's all."

Kamiya dwelt on the offer for a little while, before reluctantly muttering "Do it". At his command, Susumu let out a sharp breath and began to type, dramatically clacking the enter key at the end.

"It's done," he announced.

"It isn't." Tsuchigumo refuted.

Susumu blinked. "...Say what?"

"You can't fool me. I can feel the surveillance equipment. It's firing up my threat detector, ya see?"

"You're bluffing." Kamiya said, bewildered. "The lights on the cameras are off, see?"

Hachiman groaned. "He's not bluffing. Spider-Sense is a thing we have."

"Wait, for real?" Susumu jerked his head in surprise.

Hachiman nodded. "If he considers 'being recorded' a potential threat, it'll warn him alright."

Kamiya's frown reflected his displeasure. "No choice, then. Susumu, we're forced to comply. Disable audio recording as well."

Susumu was clearly unhappy. "...You're the boss, boss. I'm putting the microphones in pass-through mode."

Once Susumu finished, Tsuchigumo gestured at the occupants of the security room. "Yeah, we're good now. Wasn't so hard, was it?"

Susumu muttered some unflattering expletives under his breath. Hachiman felt tempted to join in.

"Now, talk," Kamiya ordered, his patience also running short.

"Straight to the point, eh, Yuu? No reminiscing about the good old days now that we're off the record?"

"No."

"Figures," Tsuchigumo brought his palms together. "If you're not going to capitalize on it, I will. Time for my real demand."

"Why you-" It was now Kamiya's turn to seethe.

"Let me finish. Kid, I have a pretty good idea why you're here. I said I was expecting you, didn't I?" Tsuchigumo gestured at Spider-Man.

"...That so?" Hachiman replied, growing more frustrated with the prisoner's antics by the minute.

"You're here because you're running low on webs, aren't you? Ah ha! Your face tells me I'm right!"

'Damn it, Echo,' Hachiman mused. 'Your emoting eyepieces are going to force me to practice my poker face.'

"So here's how it's gonna be: a win-win for everyone involved. Yuu, I'm going to give you a location with several physical documents and a portable hard disk. It has all the contacts and incriminating evidence you could want. Enough material to put a lot of people from all across Japan away for a long, long time. Now, there's a flash drive mixed with those. It's red and blue, can't miss it. Drive has what he needs," he pointed at Hachiman. "My asking price is he gets to keep the drive."

Hachiman's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, what? What's in it for you?"

Tsuchigumo's gaze softened. "Listen, kid. I'm not going to ask me to believe me when I say I wasn't myself back then. Road to hell's paved with good intentions, and all that. What I can tell you is this: you won't be able to do this alone. Even Spider-Man's gotta rely on others. I can see you've got some stellar guys on your corner," he waved his hand in Kamiya and Susumu's general direction. "Even so, you might need a hand from a real bastard every once in a while."

A distrusting Hachiman frowned beneath cloth. Tsuchigumo's offer for unconditional aid perturbed him, as it should. Yet, web fluid was the reason he was here in the first place. He had to capitalize. He had to accept, and deal with consequences as they came.

With a sigh, Hachiman addressed Kamiya. "I hate the thought of trusting him, but he's offering what I need. So, can I keep the drive?"

"An item found among incriminating documents should be filed as evidence, but..." a hint of deviousness snuck into Kamiya's kinesics, "if you were to get there first, nothing could be done."

'Guess I'll have to spend webs if I want to get webs.'

Tsuchigumo grinned. "So we have a deal?"

"I accept, despite my better judgment." Kamiya nodded. "Where's the stash?"

"Hotel Makuhari Principessa. There's a hatch on the southwest corner of the roof. It looks like it leads to a service entrance, but it actually contains my collected documents. You'll need a code to unlock it. It's 970801; write it down or something."

"With that out of the way...Prism Tower. Did you hear about what happened?" Hachiman questioned the prisoner.

"Oh, yeah," Tsuchigumo grinned. "I heard alright. Outstanding job, by the way."

Deciding to ignore the compliment, Hachiman pressed on. "It was rigged with C-4. A lot of C-4, from what I could tell. Do you know who would have that many explosives?"

"Aside from me, you mean?" Tsuchigumo stared at his hands. "Yeah, there was another guy who dealt in the stuff. Kisarame Takeshi. Couldn't have been him, though."

"...Why's that?"

"I killed him."

The confession was like a jolt of electricity, crawling across his back. He never forgot he was dealing with a murderer, but the admission made it all the more real.

"...Regardless," Kamiya stepped in, "it's a lead. Kisarame's underworld connections were not unknown. His trafficking of plastic explosives is new information, though. It's worth looking into, provided you're telling the truth."

"Why would I lie, Yuu? It's not like I have anything to gain by screwing you over. I'm willing to play nice." Tsuchigumo raised his arms, "As long as our conversations remain private, I can be an informant. We can settle some form of 'payment' later."

"Don't hold your breath. I'm not meant to be involved in any active investigations," Kamiya's voice dropped an octave. "I'll be forwarding this information to the people in charge of the Prism Tower case."

"Yuu, we both know the state Chiba's police force is in right now. You can't afford the luxury of respecting jurisdictions and that crap," Tsuchigumo argued.

If glares could kill, Kamiya Yuusuke would've been charged with homicide. "I wonder who's responsible for that," His locution dripped with venom.

Tsuchigumo's face fell, shackled in a facsimile of remorse.

"We're done here, Spider-Man," It hadn't been a question, but an order from a captain turning his back on the prisoner. "Susumu, take care."

"Be seeing you, boss." Susumu delivered his farewell with an informal two-finger salute. "You too, Spidey."

Hachiman, too, made his way to exit the guardroom. A voice unnatural for an individual so imposing gave his step pause.

"Hey, kid..."

He glanced over his shoulder. The shutters were rolling down, isolating Tsuchigumo in his own dreary world.

"...come visit again sometime."

"Hey, Dad, it's me."

It was a door he'd always dread to open. On the other side, a room composed of dissonant cheer reminded him of all he'd lost. Family photographs affixed to the walls painted stories of joyous times past. In one, he blew the candles on a cake emblazoned with Doraemon's round head for his seventh birthday. In another, he rode a bike without safety wheels for the very first time. In yet another, he saw himself as an infant, hoisted atop his father's shoulders. The sight of the pictures made his eyes sting.

Something unlikely sunk him further in that bittersweet cocktail of fondness and despondency. A game console resided on a wooden stand below the television. The system belonged to the previous century, seeing release in the mid-nineties. Despite its age, the boy had spent many hours enjoying what it offered, together with his old man. Jewel cases holding compact discs were arranged neatly on shelving right above it. It was his dad's collection, and he had a sizable library, having adopted the platform in its heyday.

"I know...I don't visit much."

He couldn't bear to look at him. An unrecognizable bald man confined to an electric bed, a prisoner in his own body. He couldn't fend for himself. He couldn't even speak. The accident ruined his cognition, twisted his limbs, and damaged his brain. Things could never go back to the way they were.

"...A friend of mine lost someone close to him, and I wasn't there. It reminded me of how it felt when...when I lost you. I should have known what he was going through, but I didn't. I was absent...and it reminded me of how I'm always avoiding you, Dad."

Even then, as he pored his heart out, Tobe avoided the sight of his broken father.

"...Because...it's all my fault..."

What would've been cause for celebration led instead to tragedy.

His name displayed on the list of admitted applicants. A pumped fist, and a howl of victory at hard work paying off. His phone, hastily retrieved. A quick dial, and an answer at the other end. News that couldn't wait excitedly delivered. Shouts of jubilation, now belonging to the man behind the wheel.

The earsplitting blaring of a horn. The screeching of tires. The joyful yell replaced by a terrified cry.

The sickening crunch of impact.

The realization of his mistake.

His phone, shattering against the ground.

The overcast sky above, heralding the coming of rain.

Tobe shook, straining to dispel the horrific recollection. He'd come here to speak to his father, even if the battered man proved unable to process any of what he'd come to express. If he plunged once more into that unfathomable murk, he'd be unable to withstand it. His wounds already ached unbearably.

"I haven't been a good friend, nor have I been a good son," Tobe spoke, hugging himself in an attempting to stop trembling. "...I want to be better."

Mustering every fiber of courage in his being, Tobe willed his vision to confront his father.

What he witnessed was just as heart-wrenching as it had been almost two years ago.

This time, however, he did not turn away from the scene, blurry as it may be through tears.

"I'm trying...to be good, dad," he sobbed, slumping down on his knees next to the bed. Feebly, he propped himself against the railing. "There's this guy...Saved my life. Saved...so many lives," Tobe's body trembled some more. "Even if people often look down on him," he blinked away some of the stinging in his eyeballs, "he keeps doing his best. I want...I want to be that strong."

The youth exhaled deeply, his eyes shut in agonizing grief. "I...I don't know if he and I are friends, but I want to believe we can be. And I-I don't want to let him down."

The child within him almost expected a large hand to rest atop of his head. It was a sign of affection his father had used a lot. It had calmed Tobe and reassured him whenever he'd been distraught.

But...it was impossible for such simple comfort to manifest. His father body may be present, but he wasn't there. All that remained was the memory of him, encased in a husk of flesh.

"Dad, how do I reach out? How do I show someone like that I care?"

Once, he believed his father held the answer to everything. Was he hoping his father would show him the way? Give him a sign?

Instead, his father bobbed his head in repetitive, janky motions, mouth frozen half-open. They were nonsensical, unnatural movements with no rhyme or reason. They were proof he lived, and proof he'd died.

Tobe felt the pit of his stomach grow deeper. He let go of the railing, allowing himself to flop all the way to the floor. His temple propped up against the mattress, he stared ahead listlessly.

Within his heart, under the leaden sky he saw that wretched day, time had frozen forever.

Stuck in his numb languishing, he eventually regarded the white game console.

"All right! My win, Dad!"

"Hahaha! You're really into it, aren't you, Tobe?"

"Yeah! The mechs are so cool! Hey, maybe I can pilot one when I grow up!"

A hand ruffled his soft hair. "I don't know about that, champ, but how about we play this game at the arcade. It's the next best thing!"

"Aw yeah! You're the best, dad!"

He'd found himself crawling towards the stand where the boxy system resided. His father had carefully maintained it throughout the years. As a result, it was still in a remarkably good condition.

Tobe ran a hand over its outer shell. Absentmindedly, his finger lingered over the SEGA Saturn's power button.

To push it down would be an invitation to further painful recollection.

He pressed it anyway.

Turning the television on as well, a familiar, crescendoing boot-up sound greeted him. It had been years since he'd heard it last.

He hadn't checked the disc drive for its contents, but there had been a game sitting within. A perennial favorite of his for as long as he could remember: Cyber Troopers Virtual-On.

His hands held the gamepad, its shape comfortably fitting between his palms. Prompted by the command on the screen, his thumb pushed down on the start button.

"SELECT YOUR MACHINE," a robotic voice instructed.

The default option had always been Tobe's favorite. He made his selection with no hesitation.

"TEMJIN," the voice announced.

A short animation played, depicting his blue mech skimming seawater and splashing waves. Afterward, the game was poised to begin.

"GET READY."

An energetic background tune struck Tobe mercilessly with nostalgia for his halcyon days. Those days where things were simple and straightforward. Days he would dream about what the future held with excitement and delight. Days where he wouldn't stay past dusk in school in a vain attempt at running away. Days he wouldn't evade the crushing reality of his father's condition. Days he wouldn't try to escape his own culpability.

Tears streaked down his cheeks like so much rain.

Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was juvenile, but this old system held great significance to Tobe. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. There was something absent. Playing by himself just wasn't the same as having a partner by his side.

...He'd wanted to reach out. Perhaps the best way to do so would be sharing something of importance to him. He wasn't ready to open up about the why, but it would be a good first step.

"Dad..." Tobe vocalized through a choked sob. "do you mind if I borrow this for a bit?"

As he entered the living room of Echo's apartment, Tobe couldn't help but grin a little. He'd spotted a the messy bundle of fabric with a black-clad foot sticking out.

The bundle began to stir. The noise caused by Tobe's entry must've disturbed the other boy's slumber. Flopping ungainly out of the duvet, Hachiman sat up on the futon, heavy-lidded eyes leveled at Tobe.

"That your costume, or did you get a set of Spidey pajamas? Cause honestly, I can't tell."

"Wuh?" the groggy Hachiman blinked, then groaned and finally asked a question: "...wha' time is it?"

"Half past ten. Seems you were conked out for a while, Hach."

"Finished so late the damn trains stopped running..." Hachiman recounted as if to himself. He rolled his shoulders and stretched an arm over his head, joints popping.

"You sure got the goods, though!" Echo spoke as he emerged from his room. "Talk about mining for copper and striking gold instead."

"Yeah, yeah..." Hachiman stifled a yawn.

"You look like you're ready to head out," Tobe noted. Echo wore a blue puffer jacket, full-fingered gloves, and jeans. He'd also slung a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Huh?" Hachiman twisted his body towards Echo. "Oh. Before you leave: can I borrow your shower?"

"What, not going to ask where I'm going?"

"Why, should I care?"

"Oh, you should. I have an appointment in Akihabara with a supplier that's going to keep you stocked with web fluid." Echo pulled a red and blue USB drive from his jacket's pocket. "Everything we needed really was in here!"

Hachiman frowned. Echo took notice. "Don't worry. I know what you're thinking," the adult added. "They guarantee discretion. I know for a fact they're reliable."

"How can you be sure of that?" Hachiman's eyebrows knitted together.

"My friend referred me."

Hachiman scoffed. "You're not exactly inspiring much confidence."

"Said friend's the one who worked the tech magic in your communication equipment. She vouches for them professionally, so yes: reliable. Besides, what were you expecting? Someone has to make the fluid, not to mention the cartridges themselves."

The boy groaned. "Gotta love logistics..."

"I should get going," Echo pocketed the drive again. "Help yourself to the bath, Hachiman. You can use a towel from the top rack."

With Echo gone and Hachiman freshening up, Tobe set his backpack down and zipped it open. Inside the bag resided the SEGA Saturn he'd taken from his home. He also carried an upscaling device for proper display in modern television sets. Of course, he also held a collection of assorted two-player games and a pair of controllers.

He set the system up, hooking cables and plugging outlets where they belonged. With Hachiman still washing, he retrieved his copy of Virtual-On and set aside his other games. The jewel cases sat atop the couch, next to a coat.

Eventually, Hachiman emerged from the bathroom, toweling his moist hair with one hand. In the other, he bundled the costume he'd been wearing, having changed into his clean spare. He took a glance at the game Tobe was playing, saying nothing. Instead, he grabbed his overcoat strewn across the couch.

"Hach?" Tobe, cross-legged in front of the television, turned towards him. "You're leaving?"

"No point staying here," Hachiman answered. "It might be a while before Echo gets back."

"Hey, c'mon. Stay. Let's hang out."

Hachiman narrowed his eyes at the other teen. "...I'm hungry."

Tobe made his counteroffer. "Let's order a pizza! My treat!"

Hachiman grunted, neither accepting nor refusing. The cover art of one of Tobe's games caught his attention. He picked it up and studied it.

"Marvel Super Heroes..." Hachiman muttered. "The one I was thinking of had Street Fighter characters in it too, though..."

"You wanna play it?" Tobe beamed.

"...No tomatoes."

"Huh?"

"No tomatoes. On the pizza," Hachiman said, letting his coat flop down atop the couch. "I can't say no to free food."

"Hach...pizza has tomato sauce. It's kind of its thing."

"No tomato slices," Hachiman cleared. Game in hand, he positioned himself next to Tobe on the floor. "Pizza itself is fine."

Tobe turned the system off and popped the disc tray open. "Any toppings in mind?"

"Nah."

"The works, then!"

A phone call later, Tobe's order was placed. Marvel Super Heroes went into the Saturn, and a fierce set of games followed. As expected, Hachiman selected Spider-Man. Tobe opted to face him as Captain America. Their gamepads clacked with their rapid button presses and directional inputs.

"Your reactions..." Tobe uttered as Spider-Man punished his overextended kick with a low sweep, "...are insane!"

He wasn't out of the game yet, though. He might be rusty, but he had something Hach didn't: experience. Spider-Man jumped at the floored Captain America, and Tobe saw his chance. An attack was incoming! Forward, down, down-forward; his thumb danced on the directional pad. The press of the 'heavy punch' button accompanied his inputs. Captain America rose to meet the leaping adversary with a flying shoulder tackle. "Stars and Stripes!" Captain America shouted.

The anti-air attack struck true. Now Tobe was in the offensive. Both combatants were low on health. Whoever got the next hit in would win the round, and the match.

"Shield Slash!" Tobe's character yelled, throwing his discus shield as a projectile across the screen. It forced Spider-Man to block. The shield bounced off his guard and returned to its owner. Tobe willed Captain America to jump and threw his shield again in the air. "Shield Slash!" Captain America repeated, his buckler flying down at a sharp angle. Spider-Man guarded again, as he'd expected. Captain America's feet landed on the ground, both characters a hair's breadth apart. It was time.

He locked Spider-Man in a grab. With a throw, it was all over. Tobe pumped his fist in satisfaction.

Hachiman said nothing, opting instead to return them to the Character Select screen. Without saying a word, he requested a rematch, and Tobe complied.

They played more matches, both winning some and losing some. At some point, the sound of the doorbell interrupted their games, forcing them to pause. "I'll get it," Tobe said as he stood up, and a little later he came back with a pizza box in hand. He set it down next to them, lifted the lid, and basked in the fragrance.

"Smells so good..." Tobe's mouth watered. Without further ado, they began to scarf down the pie.

"Didn't picture you as someone who'd own a retro console," Hachiman said eventually.

"Hm?" A strand of cheese connected Tobe's mouth and the slice he held. He chewed on it, cutting it, before speaking: "Oh, yeah. It belongs to my Dad. Used to play it a lot with him. Heck, as a kid, my dream was becomin' a game designer."

"Dream, huh..." Hachiman muttered.

Wanting to transition the conversation away from his father, Tobe posed a question. "What about you, Hach? Any dreams?"

Hachiman appeared to ponder. "...No," he shrugged. "I've never really had any," a tinge of unease painted his voice.

"I would've thought a smart guy like you had everything figured out," Tobe blurted honestly. "At least before the bite threw a curveball."

"Smart?" Hachiman seemed puzzled at the compliment.

"Heck yeah dude, you're one of the smartest guys I know!" A small grin grew on Tobe's face. "I realized it when you helped me back during the school trip. Man, you sure saved my hide back then."

Hachiman's expression softened. "Ah. Thanks, I guess." It was evident he was taken aback by the sincere praise.

"Hey, I call 'em how I see 'em, Hach."

"...This pizza is good," Hachiman hastily tried to change the subject. Tobe caught on but decided to play along. He'd give him his space and take things one step at a time.

"Pizza's always great, no matter what! Hey, did you know? I heard the other day, Americans love to argue whether pineapple goes on pizza."

"That's an actual debate?" Hachiman said, capitalizing on the exit Tobe had left open.

Tobe nodded. "Seems silly, don't it? Some call having pineapple as a topping a crime against humanity!"

"...That big of a deal?" Hachiman expressed in slight befuddlement. "To be looked down upon for your choice of toppings...Western society is as cutthroat as ours."

"I'm telling ya, man, they'd have a heart attack if they saw some of the pizza we have here. Hello, Domino's Mayo Jaga?" Tobe reached into his pocket for his phone. "Here, let me show you a video about it." He pressed the icon for the Youtube app.

When the application is opened, it lists viewing recommendations tailored to each user. The second suggested video displayed on the screen froze both boys to the core.

"The hell...?" Hachiman muttered. "Tobe, open it!"

Filled with dread, Tobe pressed on the latest video posted by Screwball Network.

Its thumbnail?

An invitation. A card, as frilly, as pink, as sickening as the one from before.

The video was but a 30-second clip, with the invitation never leaving the frame.

"Spider-Man,

You are cordially invited

to a most gracious celebration.

I look forward to our fated encounter.

With Much Love,

-R"

The comments section was abuzz with puzzlement, consternation, and excitement:

"Hey, the link on the description needs a password."

"Is this an ARG?"

"Man, some people will do anything for views."

"These leeches need to leave Spidey alone already!"

"Someone has to say it. The stationary is super cute."

"We regret to inform you the Screwballs are at it again wwwwwwwwwww."

"No doubt about it," Hachiman slid his gloves over his fingers, agitation oozing from his every pore. "It's identical to the one from Prism Tower."

Without delay, Tobe leaped for his bag and retrieved the terminal Echo had entrusted to him. He popped the top open and quickly opened its web browser. He surfed to Youtube, located the video, and opened the link below the player.

It led to a web page containing a replica of the invite, down to the last character. However, there was an additional element: a line underneath the text. Hovering his pointer atop the line, Tobe realized he could type into it.

Hachiman frown grew deeper as he pored over the screen. "Great. What are we supposed to do now, wait for another invitation?"

"Maybe not..." Tobe mouthed, booting one of the terminal's installed programs. He navigated through a catalog of video files and located the footage he'd been searching for. It was a first-person feed originating from the camera in the Spider Protector's mask.

By manipulating the scrubber, he managed to stop the video at the moment he'd needed. "Hach, aren't these numbers?"

"Yeah. Seems we missed them earlier because of how blurry they are."

"Let's try this," Tobe said, as he tapped on the right arrow key. Frame by frame, they studied the recording. A portion of the numbers was legible in some frames. In others, they were ruined by compression artifacts. Thankfully, they managed to obtain a full string after inspecting several frames.

"82921771", Tobe uttered every number as he typed it down on the web page. His finger hovered over the Enter key. "You ready for this?"

Hachiman, frowning and intensely glaring at the screen, nodded.

His finger met the key with a 'clack'.

They both cursed.

There were two things behind that password. One, an interactive map with a marker, directing them to a location in the Port of Chiba. Below the map, the words "Queen's Gambit" were emblazoned.

The second element was far more unsettling. It was a live stream, or so did the bold white letters beside the red circle claim. The dark, grainy video feed displayed two bound hostages. They were the two Kaihin Sougou students Spider-Man had blown off some days before.

They weren't even screaming. They were sobbing. Resigned to their fate. That fear wasn't fake.

Surrounding them, dots on brick-like blocks blinked green.

There was no need for words between the two boys. There wasn't even a need for Tobe to turn around. He simply reached for his headset and donned it.

The distinct 'thwip!' of a web-line shot had said everything he needed to hear.

It took exactly twenty-three minutes for Hachiman to reach the designated location. Perched high above a latticed metal structure, he checked his wrists.

His left shooter's cartridge was empty. He'd also used quite a bit of the cartridge on his right - and it was the last one he had left. He ejected the empty casing and inserted one of the fire-retardant cartridges instead. No point in leaving one of his shooters empty.

"Spidey," Tobe radioed, "That yacht over there, that's the Queen's Gambit. I managed to pull up some information on it from JCI records. Lessee here... Registered under one Kisarame Takeshi..."

"I've heard that name before," Hachiman remarked.

"...Fifty meters in length, four decks total. The rest of the info here is either irrelevant or some legalese I can't make out. There is a layout diagram, though."

"Okay, I'm going to go in through there," Hachiman pointed at an entrance on the rear end of the yacht. It opened to a flat, ample surface he could easily land on. While he could certainly cling to the outside of the boat, that posed the peril of falling into the water. With the air as chilly as it was, he'd rather avoid the added risk of hypothermia. "What can you tell me about it?"

"That's the swim platform," Tobe said. "It shouldn't be open regularly, though."

"Whoever's behind this, they're expecting me."

"The swim platform leads to the lower deck, but only the engine room can be accessed from that side. There are some stairs at the port side that connect to the main and upper decks, right next to the lifeboat."

"What was the port side, again? I always get them mixed up," Hachiman admitted.

"From your vantage, the left. And don't worry, me too."

"Copy. What about the rest of the lower deck?"

"Two ways in: there's a hatch at the fore of the main deck, it leads to the lower deck's main hallway. The other's a stairwell connecting it to the main and upper decks. That's located near the middle of the ship," Tobe said.

"Most likely, the hostages are somewhere on the bottom deck," Hachiman deduced.

"Yeah, it's by far the hardest section of the yacht to access."

"Couple that with the lack of natural lighting in the live feed. I can see large enough windows on the other decks from here."

"Good call," Tobe whistled. "The crew cabins are located there, too. Might be a good place to check."

Hachiman weighed his options.

'This is a trap. That much is obvious. The fore hatch to the lower deck is either locked, booby-trapped, or both. Entering through the swim platform would be walking into an ambush.'

"That other stairwell. What would be the best way to reach it?" Hachiman asked.

"Main deck, end of the starboard hallway. There should be a door to the left."

'Perfect.'

"Main deck it is," Hachiman rose to his feet and took a deep breath. "Here goes."

He jumped, harsh wind buffeting him as he descended. His middle and ring fingers tapped at his right palm twice. Webbing stuck to the aft of the upper deck, and Spider-Man pulled his body on the strand. It changed his trajectory, allowing him to grab onto a railing. With his momentum, he vaulted onto the main deck, landing on a forceful low crouch.

"Time for Stealth Spider to pull its weight," Hachiman uttered.

"What was that?"

"N-nothing," he glanced to his left and spotted curved stairs heading down. Staying low, he approached them. "I'm going to check the swim deck from the rear. Get an idea of what we're dealing with."

Sticking close to the wall, he peeked out the corner of the bottom level. There was nothing there.

"No lifeboat..." Tobe uttered.

"No welcoming committee, either." Hachiman frowned. The walkways were clear, and the entrance he opted to avoid presented no hazards to speak of. There wasn't the smallest inkling of danger, and that unsettled him far more than actual peril. He doubled back up the stairs, emerging once more to the main deck.

His trek through the starboard hallway presented no obstacles, either. He reached the doors Tobe mentioned, revealing the ingress to the rest of the lower deck.

'I would've expected some company by now...' Nonetheless, his Spider-Sense remained silent.

He placed a foot on a hallway with little space to maneuver in. It was lined with doors, stretching all the way down to a set of small steps. Cautiously, he opened the first door to his right. It led to a comfortable-looking room, the sorts you'd see in a fancy hotel. A king-sized bed took up most of the room's real estate.

The rest of the floor space was almost monopolized by olive crates, stacked one on top of another. Squeezing between the crates, he lifted the cover to one of the smaller boxes.

"...Guns," he muttered. "Kisarame must've run his arms dealings from this boat."

"Those are...assault weapons. Is there really a market for that much heat here in Japan?"

"Who said they're meant for Japan?" Hachiman retorted, shutting the lid back down. Theories began to swirl around his mind, but he pushed them aside. Speculation would prove distracting, and diversions he couldn't afford.

Stepping back out into the hallway, he checked the door facing it. That room, too, was chock-full of weapon crates. Every room he checked, even the crew quarters, had boxes stacked wherever possible.

All except for the largest cabin. There were no containers filled to the brim with munitions within. Instead, there was but a single rectangular box. Its wooden construction was of exquisite quality and impeccable varnish. Its lid was split in half across the narrower side. One of the halves was held open and lined in a soft, pillowy material...

It was a casket, and it held an occupant.

Both Spider-Man and his operator remained silent at the bizarre sight. The former scanned the room and found nothing before heading back to the hallway. The latter confirmed their suspicions. "I managed to pull up a photograph of Kisarame Takeshi. That was him."

A creeping sensation settled on the back of Hachiman's neck. Nonetheless, he soldiered on and made for the hatch. The handle turned with barely any effort. He emerged once again on the main deck, this time near the bow of the yacht.

A sweep of the main deck revealed little else. The rooms were lavisher if emptier, devoid of murderous merchandise. The more he explored, the more agitated he felt. His Spider-Sense continued in its unsettling absence...

He was back where he'd first set foot on the boat. This time, he took the stairs up, reaching the stern of the upper deck. A set of translucent sliding doors stood before him. Hachiman took notice of petals light purple, scattered on the ground, leading inside. Crouching, he took one of the petals between his thumb and index finger. It was...an ordinary rose petal, nothing amiss.

'You are cordially invited to a most gracious celebration...'

Whoever summoned him here had to be on the other side of those doors. Rising, he stepped towards the doors as they parted.

He crossed the threshold, entering a luxurious lounge with a majestic grand piano. There was a faint scent of sweet lavender perfume and a muffled melody of romantic saxophone.

The backrest of a regal love seat faced him, alongside light brown tresses. As he drew closer, he heard the gentle clattering of china set down on a table.

The lady turned to face him. "Ah, you're finally here, my dearly beloved!"

"...What?!"

She was like a doll, and her silhouette was about as petite. She wasn't very tall; if anything, she barely reached Hachiman's chin. Her sweet smile was as decadent. An ornate bow sat above her flawlessly straight fringe. The strands of her hair flowed like wavy caramel waterfalls. Pastel ribbons decorated her matching jumper skirt. She wore a gorgeous white blouse underneath. It had puffy sleeves and a peter-pan collar lined with ruffled lace. Ruffled lace adorned her wrists in cuffs, too. Ruffled lace also circled her thighs, her long stockings ending in dainty mary janes. So much ruffled lace...

Her large, lively hazel eyes shone with glee, admiring her guest.

Frilly. Pink. Sickening.

With a graceful step towards him, she grabbed hold of his hand. She brought his palm to her cheek and basked in its touch. "I've been waiting for so long, my love..."

Hachiman was reeling with a thousand questions. Who was this strange girl? How was she involved in the hostage situation? Was she the culprit behind Prism Tower? That seemed likely. She must've been who invited him here...

Coupled to his confusion was her inappropriate proximity. So close was she, he could feel the heat of her body. His heart jackhammered as a result. In conclusion, you had one dazed Hachiman.

He meant to ask "who are you?" but all that came from his mouth was inelegant, incoherent blubbering.

Her giggle was as decadent as the finest dessert and just as intoxicating. "Come again, darling?"

"Buh...whreyuu...Who...arr you?"

"Oh!" her eyes widened. "Apologies, I tend to get carried away." Even as she said this, she nuzzled his hand more. "I'm Kisarame Reina, and I'm your bride to be."

Bride to be?

Inexplicably, the image of Yukinoshita Yukino in a wedding dress flashed in his mind.

That memory of a Service Club request long since fulfilled snapped him back to reality. He pulled his hand brusquely with a yelp, flinching. Reina pouted adorably, upset at the termination of their physical contact.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Oh!" she brought her hands together delicately. "Of course. Your bride needs an appropriate appellation for your dramatic lifestyle, does she not?"

"Lady, what...?"

Hands behind her back, she stood on her tiptoes, closing the distance between them even more. It forced Hachiman to lean back a little.

"I've been thinking about it, I really have!" She cutely wagged her index finger next to her cheek. "So, do you like Bombshell?"

"Bomb...shell?" Hachiman repeated dumbly. The girl didn't look like a 'bombshell'. She was more a delicate beauty carved out of porcelain.

Yet, any doubt that could've endured regarding her ties to the Prism Tower bombing had been laid to rest. The confirmation was as sobering as being splashed by a bucket of cold water.

"Where are the hostages?" he growled, tilting his head at her and glaring ferociously.

"Ahh, so intense...!" Bombshell didn't seem intimidated at all. If anything, she was completely awestruck.

"I don't want to get rough, lady. The hostages. Now."

"Rough? ...Oh my! Here I thought we'd consummate during our wedding night."

His glare grew more vicious. Her arms wrapped around his neck and snuggled close.

This had been the closest Hikigaya Hachiman had ever physically been to a woman. Yet, he wasn't enjoying it at all, despite the alluring company. No, it was so revolting it made him want to puke.

"Why concern yourself with those disrespectful boors? Let's enjoy this moment all to ourselves," her voice was honeyed poison. "I'm all yours, my love. Ravish me."

"Hands. Off."

A mix of unbound anger, shameful arousal, and unbridled revulsion flowed his veins. He placed a hand on her arm, struggling with the temptation to clamp down and snap her humerus in two.

"I don't want to hurt you. Tell me where they are."

"They're not here, they won't bother us."

He squeezed her arm tight enough to restrain. "Then you've got a date with the police."

Her face fell. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this..."

His Spider-Sense exploded.

Click.

As soon as it had come, the sensation dissipated. Slowly, he shifted his head within the embrace, and then he saw it.

In her hand, she grasped some manner of device. A black shaft gave way to a red button she held down with her thumb. His eyes widened.

"You..." panic began to drown him as he broke away from her clasp. "What did you do?!"

"Um, nothing yet..." she answered, holding her hands, and the device, close to her chest. "...but if I let go of this button, my house will explode..."

Goosebumps trailed his body. "...and the hostages along with it," he finished.

"I didn't want to resort to this. I knew it'd spoil the mood..."

"Spidey!" Tobe, quiet until now, yelled. "Keep her distracted! Whatever you do, don't let her release that switch!"

The rush of adrenaline propelled Tobe off his chair and on his feet. His pulse pounded at his head, his breathing agitated. The situation had become so dire so quickly, it was difficult to keep a clear head.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. He balled his hands into fists and tried to regain control over his frayed nerves. He was Spider-Man's one-man support crew. His guy in the chair. He had to make good of that and do something constructive.

She had mentioned her house. The captives were held there. The sooner they could be rescued, the better. Should he call the police? ...An anonymous tip would be too vague. He couldn't call 110 and say something like 'I'm friends with Spider-Man', either. No, he needed to notify someone directly, someone who's dealt with Spider-Man.

He disabled his audio connection with Hachiman. He knew exactly who he could reach out to.

"Computer, audio command. Call: Kamiya Yuusuke."

To make hands-free phone calls from the Spider Protector's comms, a contact list was needed. Phone numbers would be added to a program that ran from Tobe's terminal. The list would then sync over the network with the mask's electronic equipment. In the end, that meant Hachiman could make calls independently at any moment. It also meant Tobe had access to the same contact list as he did.

The young man paced around the living room, dial tone ringing on his wireless headset. Four tones felt like an eternity until thankfully there was an answer on the other end of the line.

"...Who is this?"

"Is-is this Captain Kamiya Yuusuke?" Tobe stammered.

"How do you have this number?"

"I'm friends with Spider-Man, and he needs help!"

"...Is this a prank call? This sounds like a prank call," the man Tobe assumed to be Kamiya was understandably reticent.

"Sir, this is no joke. I can prove it: I know how you helped him out yesterday. You led him to an interview with Tsuchigumo."

"...Okay, color me intrigued. I'm listening."

Tobe pumped a fist and let out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding.

"What should I call you then, mystery caller?" Kamiya continued.

Oh damn. He needed to answer something, anything, fast. His line of sight caught the games he'd left atop the couch. On top of the pile, Virtual-On, with his favorite mech plastered on its cover art.

How come he hadn't thought of it sooner?

He made his choice with startling clarity. It didn't feel like a split-second decision. No, instead, it felt perfectly right. It would be, after all, a tribute to his father, a celebration of what had once been.

A sliver of blue broke through the gray skies cast over his heart.

"Call me...Temjin."

Bombshell led him by the hand to the bridge of the yacht. Her right hand clasped his own, while her left continued to hold down the dead man's switch. Stepping atop a raised platform and releasing her grip of him, she reached for the controls. Despite the encumbrance of the detonator, she deftly operated the equipment.

"What are you doing?" Hachiman grimaced. As if on cue, a low buzzing emerged in the back of his head. Then, he heard the engines roar to life.

"This boat has the best autopilot money can buy," she said. "It shall be the captain for our little getaway."

The vibrations underneath them indicated the ship had begun to move.

"Well, then, shall we head up to the sun deck?" she asked, and he grunted.

"Spidey, I'm with Kamiya on the other line right now. They're sending units to the Kisarame Residence. Keep her distracted!" Tobe's voice rang in his ear.

"...Sun deck it is," Hachiman answered, uncertain of who he'd responded to.

She turned back to him, looking down from the apex of the platform's steps. "Hey, darling?"

He made a noncommittal, guttural sound.

She ignored his lack of enthusiasm. "Carry me!"

"Whoa!"

She'd thrown herself at him, and he reacted immediately. He caught the falling pile of ribbons and lace in his arms.

"Are you out of your mind?! ...Wait, don't answer that."

"Ehehehehe..." She nestled her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around her neck for the second time that day. "I'm crazy for you, after all."

He took a deep breath. His urgency and indignation were in peril of replacement by deep, DEEP exasperation.

He had to remind himself: he was dealing with a very dangerous criminal. A dangerous, frilly, annoying criminal.

"Say, you know what they call this? A bridal carry," she blushed. "Are you...going to carry me over the threshold?"

"The only reason I don't drop you right now is that I don't want you to get your finger off that button."

She giggled effusively, kicking at the air with the legs held up by Spider-Man's grip. "You're so funny, darling!"

"I'm not joking."

"Oh, please," she moved her lips mere inches to his ear. "As if you could ever let anybody down."

Hachiman sighed. "If you say so. So, sun deck, was it?"

"Right, right!" She shifted her body back, and Hachiman was so glad he'd regained at least some distance.

'You guys better hurry and get the hostages out safely. I don't know how much more of this I can take,' he thought.

"Temjin, we're moving out. How's our web-head doing?"

"He has a beautiful woman in his arms, and he's hating every second of it," Tobe reported. "Bombshell's enjoying herself too much to notice."

"Wait. Bombshell?"

"Her name, not ours."

On the other end of the call, Kamiya sighed. "A self-styled supervillain, huh?"

Tobe shrugged. "She's more of a self-styled super-groupie."

"Still a serious threat. Have Spider-Man buy us as much time as he can."

"Trust me, he's working on it."

This girl REALLY didn't know the meaning of personal space, did she?

They were now out in the chilly air, sat atop a circular couch surrounding a good chunk of the sun deck. Of course, she'd decided to wrap her arms around his, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Ah, this is bliss!"

'...Speak for yourself, lady.'

The cold breeze, the gentle vibrations, and the beautiful ocean were undeniably enchanting. If he could forget the crisis he was involved in, and if it had been someone else at his side, he could've enjoyed himself. Unfortunately, reality was often disappointing. He was out here dealing with a bomb threat, and the woman beside him wasn't Yuki-

'Why am I thinking about her in a situation like this?! Get your head in the game, Hachiman!'

His body must've tensed, for his unwanted company stirred. "Say, darling, how about a drink? Does wine strike your fancy?"

"I'm not old enough for alcohol," he deflected honestly.

"Ehh, really? I figured you'd be older than me. I turned twenty-one last month!"

"Huh. I guess I would've thought you younger, too," he admitted.

"I don't mind marrying a younger man..." she grinned a little nervously. "...You are a man, aren't you?"

"I'm old enough," he lied. He was one year short, but if he disappointed her now, he didn't know how she'd react.

"You worried me for a moment there, my love!" She placed her free hand on his chest. "Say, how about you pour some of Cabernet Sauvignon for me, then?" She began to twirl her finger on the spider emblem emblazoned on his chest. Alarm bells rang in his head. "The minibar's right over there..."

"I'd rather not," he said. Quickly concocting a strategy, he took her hand in his as a gentleman would.

"Um, why is that?"

In truth, all he cared for was the effect insobriety could mean for her ability to keep the switch held down. Still, he had to sell it, and sell it he would.

His thumb caressed the back of her hand. "I'd like to get to know you. The real you, no liquor involved."

"Ooooooooooooooooooooooohhhh~!" she swooned, her eyes sparkled with elation.

"Haha, WHAT?!" the voice in his ear exploded, taken aback. Hachiman cringed a little at the sudden noise.

"So, I'm curious," he began, recovering from the blow his eardrum had taken. "Why would you have me as your groom?" he modulated his voice in the way he imagined a real heartthrob would. It sounded off even to his ears, but by her dumbstruck expression, it appeared to have the desired effect.

"So that's how you're going to play it, huh?" Tobe transmitted. "Godspeed, you crazy Don Juan. God-freakin'-speed!"

"O-oh!" the star-struck woman regained some of her composure. "R-Right, of course. Well, how was I supposed to feel? You appeared out of nowhere and saved my papa's life, like a knight in shining armor."

His face became stone-like, and he hoped the mask wouldn't show it too much. "Your father...he's Kisarame Takeshi, no?"

"You know him? Isn't papa a wonderful man? He is, isn't he? The most wonderful man in the world!"

"Spidey, what..." Tobe sounded flabbergasted. Honestly, Hachiman was too, but the game was afoot, and he took note of what she'd said.

"I've yet to meet him, but I've heard much," his faux-charming affectation persisted. "I suppose, if he's to become my father-in-law, I should be introduced to him. Is he on board?"

A small twitch at the corner of her mouth. Then, the usual smile. "N-no, he's on a business trip at the moment. Oh, but I cannot wait for you to meet him!"

"I look forward to it, Reina. Next question. What were your intentions with Prism Tower?"

"Oh, you mean the fireworks with the card? I only meant for them to catch your eye," she flashed a smile so innocent, so cruel. "It was just a little display of affection, nobody would get hurt!"

"Someone did get hurt."

Widening of the eyes. A glazy look in her pupils. Quivering eyebrow. "I-I didn't mean for anyone to be hurt. They, they told me everyone would be in the hall, and it'd be safe there!"

"...They? Who's this 'they'?" Tobe gave voice to Hachiman's thoughts.

Regardless, he had to keep pressing, for this wasn't a situation Spider-Man could punch his way out of.

No, this was a battle where only Hikigaya Hachiman's keen mind could seize victory.

"The boy who was injured will be fine," he gave her hand a squeeze. He couldn't tell if it was part of the act or genuine sympathy anymore. "I visited him at the hospital. A little rest, and he'll be good as new."

"Oh, thank goodness. I don't...I don't think I would've been able to live with myself otherwise. I don't think I would've been able to face you."

"...Tell me something else. There was a tiny toy with the card and cake. What did it mean?"

"Toy? I didn't add any toys to the package..."

That clinched it. There was a third party involved. Common sense dictated as much - how could a young girl rig an entire building full of explosives by herself? The Spider-Man figurine with the crossed-out eyes had to be an addition from this third party.

"I do like giant stuffed teddy bears, though. Like, a lot..." she said in a soft voice.

Was she trying to stray away from the topic?

"Spidey: update! Bomb squad's movin' into the residence. I'll keep you posted."

Of course she was. Her expression wasn't the same. It was desperately trying to keep up appearances.

As he weaved a web of observations and evidence in his mind, he decided he could use her tangent to his advantage.

"Do you own any?" he asked.

Small smile. It's forced, there's sorrow behind that smile. "Yes, my room is filled with them! I love them so much! They're my best friends!"

'So then, why do you look so sad?'

"Hostages have been located! They're workin' on gettin' them out now!"

The next question could very well tie everything together.

It was time for the final blow.

"...are they your only friends?"

Jackpot.

The color drained from her face, her mouth hung open. It all told him he was right on the money.

The web had been weaved.

"Hostages secured!"

He'd tied it all together.

The girl, daughter of a crime lord. Sheltered from the outside world; a princess held captive in a spire too tall to reach. A spire of denial and perhaps, co-dependency.

The crime lord, his corpse held on the lower deck. The yacht, the storefront he used to peddle his merchandise.

The incident at Prism Tower, far too massive to be the work of an individual. Instead, a concerted effort.

The hostages, particularly chosen. After their public altercation with Spider-Man, a prime target for his attention.

The lifeboat, conspicuously missing.

The buzzing on the back of his head, present since the moment the boat began to move.

And finally, the dead man's switch in her left hand, which had to be out of reach by now, so far at sea.

He let go of her hand and stood up. It was time for the denouement.

"Spidey! The bomb squad! They checked the explosives in the video, and...!"

Hachiman cut him off. "I know."

He extended his hand and gestured for her to relinquish her collateral. Realizing he'd figured it out, she had no option but to comply.

"This isn't a dead man's switch," he asserted. Casually, he flicked it overboard. "No, it was a paper tiger."

"How...did you know?" the girl's eyes welled up with tears. Her dream was about to end before it had even begun.

"A person that horrified over having caused a single injury," he explained, "wouldn't have it in them. You were adamant about the Prism Tower guests safety, too. Too naive, but it told me what I needed."

"...You should go," she said, bringing her legs up on the couch and hugging them. "It's not safe here."

"Oh, I'm aware. The moment this boat started moving, I felt it," he took a step forward. Instead of welcoming it, she flinched. "Reina...you came here to die, didn't you?"

"You should really, really go!" she screamed, shutting her eyes.

"Well, where am hell I supposed to go? In case you haven't noticed, we're in high water!"

"I thought... you could..."

"You expected me to be invincible, didn't you?" he wouldn't relent. "You didn't want to die alone, and superheroes can survive anything, you think. Well, news flash: this is the real world!"

"I...I didn't mean to..."

"I know what you're trying to do. Everything that clashes with your worldview of your father? His remains? It'll go up in flames, along with you. A burial at sea, for both of you. Isn't. That. Right?"

"Stop! STOP!" she desperately pleaded, bringing her hands to her head in anguish.

"No! I'm NOT STOPPING. Do you know WHY?!"

He grasped her forearms and forced her to look at him.

He knew what he was here for.

He knew what Spider-Man had to do.

"...Because I'm here to rescue you."

He let go. Her arms fell limply to her sides. Her eyes, vacant.

She pulled her head back and let out the most heart-splitting sob Hachiman had ever heard. She then buried her face against his chest, and his suit became damp with tears.

Just this once, he'd make an exception, and allow her to be close.

She cried, and cried, and cried. She'd become a blubbering, inelegant mess. A blubbering, inelegant, authentic mess.

Frilly. Pink. Human.

"Spi...n, I'm lo...ng yo..." the abruptly cutting noise was supposed to be Tobe's voice. Hachiman was losing signal. They were on their own.

"Reina," he said, bringing his hands to her shoulders. Despite her being older, she was so vulnerable, his big brother instincts had kicked in. "I need you to do something for me."

"We're pulling out, Temjin," Kamiya said. "What's your status?"

"I've lost connection with Spider-Man. Last I heard, they were talkin' about actual live explosives onboard the yacht."

"...That's bad. All we can hope is he finds a way out."

"He will. I'm sure of it. He's the smartest guy I know."

"Yeah, of course he will," Kamiya said. "We're heading to the port now. Can you lead us to where the yacht was docked?"

"I'm sending the coordinates to your phone."

"Oh, hey, you can do that?"

"Don't get too excited," Tobe said. "It's the standard map you'd find on any messaging app these days."

"Still useful. Also, can you tell us a bit more about what happened in the Queen's Gambit while we ride?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem. I'm here to help, too."

"Good to know. How reassuring. Chiba has not one, but two superheroes."

"...Thanks," Tobe's eyes watered. He blinked away the moisture and resolved to recount the events he'd witnessed best he could.

"Here."

Reina pointed at a device rigged with wires. Some were curly, some were straight, all were tangled and intimidating. Hidden behind a dark corner of the engine room, Hachiman would've only found it if he'd known to look.

Red numbers were displayed on an LCD panel on the device. Zero-nine-five-two, zero-nine-five-one, zero-nine-five-zero, zero-nine-four-nine.

Could be worse, Hachiman thought as he flicked his Spider-Signal on. In movies, it always came down to the last handful of seconds. At least, they still had some time to work.

"You find a wire cutter yet?" he asked, as the girl dug through a toolbox they'd retrieved near the entrance to the engine room.

"Got it!"

Hachiman snatched the offered tool. Deep breath, deep breath.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked Reina, although, in all honesty, he might also be asking himself.

"If we don't make it, will you marry me in the afterlife?"

He snorted. That took some of the edge off. "No promises."

'I'm one crazy bastard,' he thought as he hovered the jaws of the pliers over one of the cables. He then moved to another, and finally over another wire before making his decision.

'One crazy diamond.'

He made his cut.

The police had already arrived at the scene and set up a perimeter. Hachiman was still missing. With every second that ticked past, Tobe's anxiety grew.

He couldn't bear to lose anyone else. He'd already lost enough.

He wanted to know more about Hachiman. He wanted to understand him; why he was the person he was, and what person he would become.

Tobe really wanted to call himself his friend someday.

"...ey, d...ou re...d?"

The noise perked him up. He glanced at his screen. A distorted image began to clear.

"Spidey! Spidey! Do you read me?"

"...an you...e?"

"Signal's spotty, still!" but that didn't matter. He was alright!

"I heard you fine just now," Spider-Man radioed. "How about you?"

"Crystal clear! I'm so glad you're okay!"

"Anyways, Tobe, guess what?"

In his screen, Tobe saw a device with a staggering amount of snipped wires leading from it. Its LCD panel was frozen at zero-one-zero-six.

"...Turns out you can use Spider-Sense to disarm bombs. Who knew?"

Kisarame Reina sat on the steps that connected the upper and main decks. She'd set the auto-pilot for slower cruising speed, wishing to enjoy the cold breeze a little longer. In the distance, against the overcast sky, she could spot blue and red twinkling lights. They announced the end of her fantasy, and the end to her freedom.

Despite all that, there was a small, gentle smile adorning her lips.

"You seem calm."

She glanced over her shoulder, and her smile grew wider. Walking down the stairs was Spider-Man, a brown trenchcoat over his costume.

"Thanks for letting me borrow this, by the way."

He had almost no web-fluid to speak of, nor did he have a change of clothes handy. Concealing his costume had become his best option for traversing Chiba discretely.

"I like the look," she complimented, and he took a seat next to her.

"So, tell me."

"Hm?" She cocked her head.

"What was the deal with the whole marriage thing?" he asked.

She hugged her knees. "There's not much to it. I...wanted to experience it before...you know."

"There wasn't anybody on board to pronounce husband and wife, though."

She shook her head. "No, not marriage. I meant love. I...wanted to be loved. Is there anyone out there who doesn't?"

"...It wouldn't have been the real deal," he said.

"No. It would've been a beautiful lie."

"You don't need one of those. I'm sure you'll find someone."

Her eyes, puffy and red from crying, were indeed beautiful.

"Stop it. You keep that up, and I'll fall for you for real."

"It's better if you don't," he said.

"Is there somebody?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," he said, staring longingly into the distance. "I hope there is."

THE SPLENDID SPIDER-MAN

Issue #3 - Concurrently, The Two Search for their Paths

Echo came into his apartment to find both his proteges huddled in front of the television. They each held onto a gamepads and appeared to be having a good time.

"Hey, that's a SEGA Saturn? Man, that takes me back," he said.

The boys greeted him as he made his way for the couch. He set aside two coats, taking a seat next to a stack of games.

"You guys stay in all day?"

Hachiman grunted. "If only. Crazy day."

"That so? Let's get some good news out of the way first, then: the vendor was a perfect fit. You should have new web cartridges in a couple of days."

"Color me surprised," Hachiman said. "Those are good news."

"Yeah, and they'll be providing you with monthly drops, too. If you need extra? They're a phone call away."

The man pulled out his wallet, retrieved a business card, and handed it off to Tobe. "There. Add it to the contact list."

Tobe read the contents of the card. "Future Gadget Laboratory...Akihabara, Tokyo."

"Ever heard of them?"

Tobe shook his head. "Not in my life."

"They seem to be pretty famous in some circles," Echo said, "but I couldn't begin to tell you which. So," he inclined his body towards them conspiratorially. "Tell me about this day of yours."

"Oh, not much," Tobe said. "Hach here almost gets hitched, is all."

"...What?!"

[THE LETTERS COLUMN]:

Nothing much to say other than HOLY CRAP IS THIS UPDATE LATE. SORRY FOR THE DELAY. I'll keep this section succinct because the more I type in this here section, the more delayed the update is. And hey! It only took me almost six months!

Why did it take so long? I work full time, and work was being difficult!

What will I do? If monthly updates are not realistic, I'll aim for bimonthly at the least!

Why not make the updates shorter? Because I believe in telling complete stories! Cliffhangers are fine, but I don't want to make updates that are but a single scene.

Anything else? Yes! Oregairu is a very referential work. so I'll try to reflect that without bogging down the narrative! I'll try to write them in a way you can figure them out from context if I can! But even so, I think I'll add a "references" section at the end, for your convenience. I won't number them, though. I feel that would affect the readability of any story. Instead, use Ctrl + F if you feel like you need to know what it is!

Do you feel this new section is necessary? Or would you like me to tone down the references?

Oh: the suit in the trailers for Spider-Man: Far From Home resembles the Spider Protector I designed for this story. I think it's simply because they take the same inspiration (Ditko's original design having meant to be black instead of blue).

Once again, sorry for the delay, and thank you for reading! Drop a review if you can, those really push me on!

[REFERENCES]:

Ariel/Attack: Yup, they're detergent alright.

Daiso Sangyo: A 100-Yen store chain in Japan. In context, Hachiman's essentially calling himself a dollar store Spider-Man.

SEGA Saturn: A game console that released in 1994 in Japan, 1995 worldwide. While SEGA's most successful system in Japan, it floundered in other regions. Its 3D capabilities were inferior to its contemporaries, the Sony PlayStation and Nintendo 64, but its 2D capabilities were on a whole new level. Tobe owns the Model 2 revision, which has round buttons and white casing.

Iron Man & Captain America: You know who these are. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers? Yeah, you know who they are.

Thanos-Copter: The Mad Titan's most secret, most powerful asset. Who needs the Infinity Gauntlet when you have this?

Shine On, You Crazy Diamond: A nine-part composition by the London-based rock band Pink Floyd, released in 1975, as a tribute to former band member Syd Barrett. You should be listening to this instead of reading about it, really.

JoJo/Stand: "Hold on, is that a JoJo reference?". Crazy Diamond is the 'Stand' of the protagonist of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure fourth part. The author, Hirohiko Araki, loves naming characters and 'Stands' after rock music bands and songs. A 'Stand' is an often-humanoid representation of one's inner power, and manifest the most outlandish abilities you can imagine.

Jaburo: In the original Mobile Suit Gundam anime, this was the massive hidden underground headquarters of the Earth Federation.

Zeon: Once again from Gundam, this was the enemy faction that waged war against the Earth Federation. Its politics are very, very messy. Has a tendency to rise again after a few in-universe years, addition of more "Neo" qualifiers optional.

Doraemon: Popular Japanese children's character debuting in 1969. He's a time-traveling cat robot from the 22nd Century, and his adventures involve the crazy gadgets he holds in his 'four-dimensional pocket'.

Cyber Troopers Virtual-On: Seminal high-speed mech combat arcade game released by SEGA for the arcades in 1996. Its all-rounder character is 'Temjin', who is one of the most recognizable robots from the franchise.

Mayo Jaga: A pizza pie served by Domino's Japan. Features mayonnaise as a topping. People crusade against pineapple on pizza when this exists, somehow.

JCI: Japan Craft Inspection Organization. Watercraft are registered under them.

110: The number you call if you need to get in touch with the police in Japan, similar to 911 in the West.

Future Gadget Laboratory: El Psy Kongroo.