A High School DxD FanFic - Part 1 - Stripped...

 … of Home

Rias Gremory came to on hard, rough ground.  Sitting up, she found herself on a highway.  In the midst of complete darkness, she and the concrete around her were side-lit, showing a white line on the far edge near a gravel shoulder. She was parked near the center, her butt on a yellow line with paralleling dashes.  Before she could get her bearings, her ears also picked up on the sound of tires rolling on pavement.  She realized that the light was intensifying, and turned her head toward the source.
Two headlights obscured the vehicle coming right at her with their brightness.
Rias’s heart froze.
Before she could react, the lights moved left, illuminating more of the large shoulder on the side of the road.  The sound of rubber rolling on pavement quickly changed to the crunch of wheels on gravel.  The lights passed, the vehicle slowing to a halt only meters away from Rias, brake lights glowing red.  Based on the outline from the headlights, it was a two-seater pick-up truck.  Its sole occupant was silhouetted on the left hand side, but other than that, she couldn’t make out details in the darkness.  In fact, now that Rias was no longer illuminated, the road around her, and the rest of the world, had turned surprisingly dark. 
Rias quickly looked around for more traffic.  Seeing nothing more than a few stationary overhead lights shining over farm lots nearly a half-kilometer in either direction, she felt a minor touch of relief.  Not wasting time, Rias quickly got up and raced to the side of the road.  She could still make out the white line in the feint light reflected off the road ahead by the truck’s lights.  
The silhouette of the driver was clearly visible as he got out of his pick-up.  Heart still racing, Rias was not in any mood to answer questions, especially when her mind raced with a dozen of her own.  She decided to teleport out and let the event remain a mystery to the poor person that probably was just as frightened as she was about barely avoiding an accident.
Rias summoned a teleportation circle.  Or, she tried to.  But, it failed to manifest.  Something felt fishy about what happened.  However, she was out of time, and couldn’t focus on the details.
“Are you all right?”
Rias jumped, startled.  The man’s tenor had a rich sound to it, like listening to a radio-host between songs.  She could audibly hear the concern in his delivery.  She could not understand why she was so jumpy.  Was it because all of a minute had passed and her heart was still racing?  Maybe it was how quietly he had approached that caught her by surprise.  
But, then she caught on to another detail.  He wasn’t speaking Japanese.  She recognized the language, but couldn’t quite place it at this very instant.  Still, it most likely meant she wasn’t in Japan, which would explain the failure to teleport.
Turning, Rias tried to smile, letting embarrassment seep into her voice.  “I’m fine.”
Instantly, she realized that she had replied in Japanese, and not whatever language the pick-up driver spoke.  Back-lit as he was, she couldn’t make out many details in the darkness, especially colors, which was also baffling.  As a devil, she could see in darkness.  Still she could see enough of his expression to catch the driver’s open confusion.
“Great,” he muttered, drawling the word out.  His look of confusion softened, returning to open concern.  “You don’t happen to speak a lick of English, do you?”
His delivery sounded more like a conclusion than a question.  Rias was wracking her brains for the name of the language.  At the same time, she also wondered why she hadn’t replied appropriately.  As a devil, she was automatically fluent in all languages.  Even so, her father had insisted she learn a few of the more common languages to actually understand them.  With his reply, and that one word - English - all her classroom studies came back to her.  But, while the lessons came back in a rush, her mouth was slow to form the words.
“Ingurisu,” she said, at first.  “English,” Rias said again, getting the Japanese out of her dialect.  “Yes!  I speak English.”
The driver looked relieved.
“I’m fine,” she added.  “I’m not hurt.”
One question came quickly to mind that would help her get home.  Looking around at the eerie, abnormal darkness to emphasize the point, she asked, “Where am I?”
“You don’t remember how you got here?” he asked, puzzled.
“No, I don’t,” Rias answered honestly, shaking her head.
And, that was the truth.  The last Rias remembered was embracing Issei Hyoudou, her prized pawn and bearer of the Red Dragon King’s Sacred Gear.  It had been a tender moment in the office of the Occult Research Club at Kuoh Academy.  He had said something about promising to take over, that everything would be different.  
The pick-up driver studied Rias a moment.  With a sudden smirk, he shrugged his shoulders and pointed back up the road behind Rias, the direction from which he had been driving.  “The turn-off for Olin is up top the hill, there, at the light.”  
Rias followed his gesture and spotted the one in question, next to a dilapidated billboard. 
He threw a thumb over his shoulder.  “This intersection, up here, will take you all the way to Monti, if you’re not going to Center Junction.  And, Wyoming is a few miles down the road.”
Wyoming!  That was the name of one of the United States of North America.  Rias was in America, then.  That helped narrow things down.  Still, the air was too humid for Wyoming, as that state was closer to the arid desert lands.
“But,” he added, his ornery look turning a touch more serious, “I imagine that means jack to you, doesn’t it?”
Rias shook her head, confirming his conclusion.
The driver’s deflation was mild, but apparent.  He slumped his shoulders ever so slightly, his eyes darting to one side in thought.  Then he quirked his brow briefly, cocking his head with a shrug before adopting an ornery smirk again.
“Welcome to BFE-Iowa.  We are smack dab in the heart of the Midwest of the United States of America.  And!  Judging by the language you spoke – I’m guessing Japanese? – you’re a long way from home.”
Rias had what she needed.  Now, it was time to get away so she could work out a proper circle in private.  Darting her eyes toward his truck, out into the dark, she pointed, pretending as if she noticed something.  She put on as much faux alarm as she could when she said, “What was that?” 
The driver turned to look.
Now was her chance.  Preparing to fly up and away, she unfolded her wings – which didn’t come out!  Alarmed, Rias reached behind her mid-back groping to find them.  They weren’t merely numb or entangled, failing to respond like the magic circle.  
They weren’t there at all! 
“My wings!” she blurted involuntarily.  In English. 
The driver turned back to look at her.  “Say that again?”
It was rare for Rias to panic, but the shock of the moment combined with racing questions was overwhelming.  She froze, not knowing where to begin, or if she should be open in front of a stranger.  
Her mind raced, and the details started to piece themselves together into a bigger picture.  As a devil, she was supposed to have wings.  Her wings were gone, as if they never existed.  Her groping at her back revealed no scar tissue or stumps, as if she had been clipped.  Nothing but smooth skin.
As a devil, she should have night vision, able to see details out to the horizon in even the pitchest black night.  Yet, it was dark enough now that she couldn’t see more than what reflected from the running truck’s lights only meters away.  Looking up, she only now noticed how bright the stars were, and how many.  
As a devil she was fluent in all languages.  But she could only rely now on what she had learned thanks to the insistence of her father.  As a devil, she could channel energy and conduct magic.  Was the failure to summon a circle due to her place on the earth?  Or, was she also unable to channel energy?
Out of desperation, Rias raised a hand and tried to summon energy.  Nothing happened.  She didn’t even feel any power rush through her body.
Rias Gremory was human!
“My wings,” she said in a daze, while her mind worked.  “They’re gone.”
“Yeah,” the driver said.  “Looks like the only thing on ya’ is that school uniform.  Were you at a party?”
The first question that came to mind, and kept coming back, was ‘How?’.  
But, the implications were significant.  As a human, she was powerless.  Many could practice magic, but she couldn’t even feel power flow through her.  Could she cast magic at all?  She couldn’t expect to protect herself the way she was used to.
How did this happen?
She was far from home, with only the clothes she wore.  That means she had no money, no immediate way to contact her family to get some.  Without that, she was at the mercy of anyone around her for food, shelter, or travel.
Why did this happen?
Without magic, or even direct contact with her family, even if she met another denizen of the underworld, she had no way to back-up her pedigree.  She had no evidence of who she had been.  Without that, anyone might easily think she was crazy.
Who made this happen?
Shock slowly turned to dread.  How would she get home?  Could she get home?  
“Tell you what,” the driver said after about a minute when she failed to answer his question.  His voice snapped her into the present, forcing the questions to take a back seat in her mind.  “Do you have someone you can call?  My place is just up the road half a mile.  You can use my phone.  I can also give you a lift anywhere you need.  Within reason.”
Like a swimmer drowning in turbulent water, the offer was a lifeline, one that Rias latched onto.  The thoughts and questions ebbed and settled along with the shock and fear.  Tears came to her eyes at the surge of gratitude she felt, and it was all she could do to not break into a sobbing fit.
“Yes,” she stammered.  “Thank you!  That would be great.”
This man, who she had tried to get away from, who had almost run her over, was now her rescuer.  He was her savior, after a fashion.  When  he did a half-turn toward his truck, she got a slightly better view of him.  The Calf-length cargo shorts and unbuttoned work shirt over a dark tee hid the fact he was overweight.  It probably helped him that he was stocky and broad, a thick, strong-looking man.  But, now Rias could see he had a gut and a butt.  The night was still too dark to define proper colors where the reflected headlights didn’t touch.  Yet, in the twilight, she saw open kindness on his square face. 
Her rescuer made a lazy servile gesture toward his truck, indicating her ride awaited.  Once Rias had taken a couple steps, he turned and started sauntering to his truck.  They walked together, side-by-side, their feet crunching on gravel.
“By the way,” he said.  “My name is Ben.  Ben Parker.”
He offered her his right hand.  His position near the road made it kind of awkward.    Rias recognized the American custom of shaking hands as a form of greeting.  Reaching around, she grabbed his hand, making sure her grip was firm, a part of the custom.  He matched her firm grip.  They shook once and let go. 
“My name is Rias,” she said.  “Rias Gremory.”  Quietly she muttered, “Of the house of Gremory.”  She meant it to be ironic, letting a smile touch her lips.  But, grief threatened to overwhelm her, and she frowned while wrestling to keep her emotions in check.
Ben didn’t seem to notice.  Instead, he said, “I’m a Cummings on my mom’s side.”  Rias looked at him to see his ornery look had returned.  “Derived from the Scottish Commyns, who war in line for the Scottish throne somewhere down the list.  So, I guess that makes me partly royalty.  Don’t know where Gremory is from.”
The completely off-the-wall remark caught Rias by surprise.  His delivery, how apt it was as a reply, even though it really had nothing to do with anything, was just bizarre enough that it made her smile.  Waving dismissively, she said, “That’s okay.  Not many do.”
As an American vehicle, the passenger seat was on the right hand side of the truck.  When Rias opened the door, she heard the radio playing a country RnB song.  When she seated herself and closed the door, she picked out some of the lyrics.  The tune sounded familiar.  The line ‘there is a bad moon on the rise’ repeated often.  However, the name of the song, nor the band playing it, never came to mind.
Ben buckled in, and Rias copied him.  
He was about to put the truck in drive, but hesitated, pointing forward.  “There she is.”
Rias looked ahead to see the moon, big and yellow, partially obscured by the horizon.  As Ben started the truck forward, they sped up the road and crested a shallow hill, revealing the moon was full.
Stoically, Rias appreciated the irony of the moment.  A song about a bad moon rising played at the moment she saw the moon.  This happened on a night where she had been transported to a strange land, and transformed into a week, helpless human.  Then, she was rescued.  It was so contrived as to not be coincidence.  
She could almost compare it to some eroge novels she had read.  She cast a glance at Ben.  Usually the rescuer and the rescued ended up in a relationship in such stories. 
“Earlier today,” Ben continued, taking Rias’s mind out of the gutter, “That was a blood moon over the Holy Land; last in a tetrad.  Each one of the four appeared on holy feast days inside the span of a year.”
Rias suddenly started to figure out the mechanics of her situation a little better.  Her transformation and teleportation on the night of a blood moon was fitting, if puzzling.  Her powers weren’t like a lycanthrope’s.  She wasn’t generally subject to the ebb and tide caused by the phases of the moon.  Yet, here she was.  And, Ben had just offered a hint into his character.
“Holy Land?” she asked for clarification.  
Ben’s eyes didn’t waver from the road.  “Israel.  In the Middle East.”
“Ah,” Rias replied.  That’s what she had expected.  While there were other holy lands, usually only the Jewish nation was given that open title.  “Are you Jewish?”
“No.  Christian.  I happen to follow End-times prophecy stuff.  You know, Book of Revelation, and things related.”
“I can’t say I’ve kept up on that kind of thing,” Rias said diplomatically.  As a devil, she couldn’t even hear phrases from the Bible without feeling excruciating pain.  So, she couldn’t begin to study the opposition.  When it came to the bible, she was clueless.
“Well, this is a big sign,” Ben said.  Rias could hear the enthusiasm creep into his voice.  Each time there’s been a tetrad like this in history, something big has happened to Israel.  That’s important because end-times prophecies deal almost exclusively with Israel.   The Jews are his chosen people, after all.”  
He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling in the moon and console light.  “This year is going to be interesting.  Heck, I was expecting something to happen today.  More of a whisking away, departing this world to be with Jesus.  I suppose having a beautiful girl dropped in my lap out of nowhere, instead, is just as eventful.”
He pointed ahead to the far side of the road.  “We’re here.”
When Ben let off the gas, the truck started to slow.  To the left, they passed a fancy farmstead backed by the dark silhouette of a fir tree wind brake.  The trees were lit from behind by a neighboring house, one just out of sight behind the rising hill.  They stopped and turned onto a short drive that led up that hill.  At the crest, the drive leveled out, revealing a small farm lot ringed lightly by trees.  The light was from the front door of a broad, single-story house.  Behind it, across a mowed lawn, stood an old red barn.  Off to her right, Rias caught the metallic glint from a cluster of silos beyond the trees.
A portion of the house was dedicated to a two-stall garage just to one side of the front door.  The headlights of the pick-up lit up the doors in a yellowish light as Ben pulled up and parked the pick-up.  Without a further word, he shut off the truck and got out.
Rias followed.  She watched him reach into the bed of the truck and hoisted out a handful – in number – of plastic bags filled with groceries.  If Rias had to guess, he was carrying at least twenty pounds altogether.  That was in one hand.  The other hand he carried a gallon of milk.  He hefted the load with ease and turned toward the house.
“Would you like help with that?” Rias asked.
“Sure,” he said.  “Could you get the door?  It’s not locked.”
Rias moved to open the door.  “Aren’t you concerned about thieves?” she asked.
“Out here?  Not really.  This is Iowa.”
Rias blinked, accepting the answer without comment.
Inside, a narrow hallway stretched into a large room, which appeared already lit, if dimly.  The air was much drier and cooler, suggesting central air conditioning. 
Ben kicked off his shoes into a small closet to the left of the entrance.  He didn’t seem to have any slippers, instead sauntering down the hall in stocking feet.  Rias glanced at the door on her right, presuming it led into the two-stall garage.  She then turned her attention to carefully pulling her school shoes off, taking a moment to arrange them neatly on the closet floor.  There would be no mistaking who wore what, but she was used to the extra effort.  
At the end of the hall, the place opened up, reminding Rias of a flat, than a country house.  The kitchen and living room were only separated by a railing, which connected to a central fireplace.  On the farthermost wall were three doors that looked like they led into rooms.  The two on either end of the wall were closed.  Ben, laden as he was, strode up the couple of stairs on the far side of the fireplace, leading into the kitchen on the left, passing the middle room.  That door was open, the faint light from the stove in the kitchen reflecting off a toilet and shower.  Just off either end of the wall, attached to adjoining walls, were clear glass sliding doors leading out into the darkness outside.
After unlimbering his groceries on the kitchen table, Ben moved over to the stove, flicking a switch on the wall near the fridge.  Lights over the table blinked on, brightening the kitchen, with new light spilling into the living room.  The place was decorated in a lot of varnished wood.  The only carpet appeared to be in the living room.
Ben pointed to the railing.  “Phone’s on the shelf.  I know smart phones are all the rage, anymore, but I, have yet to get one.  Guess I’m a luddite that way.  Don’t like being found by any- and everyone.”  He started sorting and stowing his groceries.  “I should be able to cover any kind of phone bill, even one or two to Japan.  So, you don’t need to call collect.  Hopefully you can get through.  I’ve never tried calling overseas.”
Rias found built-in shelving on the railing.  Among collections of audio-tapes and CDs, she found the phone.  It was a cordless hand set sitting in a recharge station connected to a land-line. 
Without hesitation, Rias picked up the hand unit.  She tried to recall the Kuoh Academy line.  Spotting a clock over the dark fireplace, she was it was close to ten PM, here.  If she remembered rightly, it was around midday in Japan.  She should be able to get a hold of someone.  Now, if only she could remember the country prefix.
Her heart lifted at the thought of hearing a familiar voice.
“You could always try dialing zero to get the operator,” Ben added.  “They can help you with the prefixes.”
The operator was a good call.  Rias pressed '0' on the phone.  After a couple seconds of ringing, a woman picked up on the other end.
“How may I direct your call?” the operator asked after delivering a scripted greeting. 
“Yes,” Rias said.  “I'd like to place a call to Kuoh Academy in Japan.  I have the number and prefect code.  I just can't remember the country prefix for Japan.”
The operator told Rias the number, which Rias committed to memory.  Then, she added, “Give me the number and I can patch you through.”
“Thanks,” Rias said, then rattled off the number for the Academy's office.
The sound changed as the operator disconnected and switched the lines.  But, instead of the sound of ringing, she got an error tone, followed by an automated message.  Because it was Japan, the message played in Japanese.  Rias listened to the cycle repeat in quiet shock.  
“We're sorry.  The number you have dialed is disconnected or no longer in service.  If this is an error, please hang up and try again.”
Rias felt a pit starting to form in the bottom of her stomach.  To calm herself, she hung up the phone and dialed the number herself.  It was possible she misspoke, or the operator miskeyed.  It was a long sequence of numbers.  This time, she was sure she had it right. 
Yet again, the disconnect message played.
Did something happen to the Academy?  The pit in her stomach grew with increasing dread.  But, she couldn't give up.  Not yet!  Rias had a couple other numbers direct to people she trusted.  She decided to give those a try.
First, she tried the student council president's home.  As a fellow devil enrolled at the Academy, they had an amicable working relationship.  She might even have some info on who made this all happen. 
The same disconnect message played. 
Rias knew she hadn't miskeyed that number.  So, she moved on, dialing Issei's house.  He may not know what to do, but he could find someone who could.
Again, disconnected!
That last one hit hard.  To think that the love of her life was out of reach was not just terrifying, but heart-breaking.  Rias barely reigned in her emotions, blinking away precursor tears and inhaling deeply to steady her shaking hands.  She had one last number to try.  Surely she could get a hold of her brother in the underworld.  
Fingers still shaky, Rias pressed each digit with care, listening to each tone to be sure she didn't overpress.  Visually, she confirmed each number on the handset's digital display.  In haling one more time to steady herself, Rias pressed the call button and held the handset to her ear. 
The recorded message was different, but it was practically the same.  A robotic male voice stated in American English, “The number you have dialed is incorrect.  Hang up, and please try again.”
The tears started rolling, unbidden, blurring Rias’s vision.  Quietly, carefully, she blindly placed the phone in its cradle.  Navigating through the blur on wobbly legs, she collapsed on the nearby couch, leaning against the arm for support.
People she cared about were out of reach.  Everything and everyone Rias knew from the life she came from didn’t seam to exist.  She was truly lost, and practically alone.  The thought that grieved her most, to the point her heart actually ached, was the notion she might never see them again.  Not her brother.  Not her family.  Not Issei.
Rias whimpered.  Putting a heand to her mouth, she tried to mask any sobs, while rivers poured from her eyes, soaking her cheeks.  To keep the sobbing to a minimum, she focused on her breathing.  
In spite of her best efforts, Ben noticed.  She felt his shadow darken the living room.  Stiffening, Rias held her pose, unable to bring herself to look at him.
“No luck, I take it,” he said, voicing a conclusion.
Rias knew she had to answer.  She didn't want to, knowing that she couldn't expect to keep a straight voice if she tried. For a few seconds, she hunkered down in the sofa's cushions.  But, obligation to her host won out over pride, and she answered.  She had to squeeze her breath through her throat, powering past the urge to sob.  The final result was part croak, part wail.
“No.”  Then she inhaled, her breath stuttering audibly like two rapid hiccups back-to-back.  “I don't know what to do,” she whimpered.
Rias could feel Ben's gaze on her.  She could tell that he wanted to do something to help.  That kindness, ray of hope that it was, made her finally sob uncontrollably.  She began to cry in earnest, but refused to wail like she'd seen from others, instead, keeping quiet, the sobs only coming and going with each breath.
Ben, oddly, thankfully, kept his distance.  “I see,” he said, his shadow disappearing, moving back into the kitchen.  “We can talk when you feel up for it.”

Hours seemed to pass before her tear ducts had dried out and left dried stains on her cheeks.  
The truth was that it had only been maybe fifteen minutes.  She knew this because while Ben rattled around the kitchen, he had put on some music.  It was an interesting playlist.  The first song had been a hyper, if melancholic tune about the end of the world but 'feeling fine'.  The next tune was softer, more sorrowful, its lyrics talking about being sojourners, aliens, ready to leave a strange land.  Those song messages, though she barely noted it, seemed to match her plight, which Rias found oddly comforting.  
The current tune was purely instrumental, though it had to be electronic.  The voices sounded artificial, synthesized, as they tried to weave a sardonic melody.  Those mixed with a flute and harp, making for a very sad tune, which matched her mood.  The music choice was rather insightful on Ben's part.
Rias had picked up a pillow to hug and cry into only a few minutes into her grieving.  She still kept her face pressed to the cloth, even though she was practically done crying.  She felt drained, emotionally as well as physically.  Wanting to zone out a few minutes more, she didn't dwell on any thought for long.
Something small and soft pressed against her shin.  Lifting up her head, Rias looked down at a black statue staring up at her with golden feline eyes.  The white spot on the cat's chest glowed in the soft light thrown from the kitchen.  It didn't budge, its stare focused on her intently.
She immediately felt her heart warm to the cute animal.  This one sat on his haunches regally, not so cute, but seemingly friendly.
“Awe,” she cooed.  “Who are you?”
“That's Noir,” Ben called from the kitchen.  “He's my dad's old cat.  Inherited him along with the place.  Is he staring at you?”
Rias smiled at the black cat who was named 'Black' in French.  “Yes,” she called.
“That's usually his way of asking permission to join you.”
Sitting up, Rias patted the couch, saying, “Come on.  It's okay.”
With the invitation, Noir stood and walked to the edge of the couch by her knee.  He looked over the edge of the cushion.  Rias could see his facial expressions as the cat deliberated.  At first, he appeared to question if he could make it.  He even stood up on his haunches a couple times, taking in the area.  A determined look came over Noir just before he committed to the jump.  Rias heard his hind claws dig into the cloth a the end.  He barely made it up.  
Looking into her eyes, he stepped stiffly up to her, reached out, and touched her on the thigh with a forepaw.  Sitting back regally, he stared hard at her.  His intense gaze radiated the question, “May I?”
“It's okay,” Rias said, patting her lap.
On cue, Noir stood.  Gently, he walked onto her lap and settled down, slowly, stiff.  Rias petted him, noting his dark ears were bald.  She didn't hear his purr, but felt it through her lap and with each caress.  Noir was, indeed, an old cat. 
“What stories do you have to tell, I wonder?” she muttered.
Rias relaxed with Noir on her lap, enjoying his unmoving company.  Then an enticing aroma wafted out of the kitchen.  Was that cocoa?  Her stomach rumbled.  
She listened to the activity on the other side of the chimney, tuning out the music.  The sound of the bottom of a pan being scraped brought to mind contents in the pan pouring into a dish.  Shortly after that, water from the sink faucet ran for a few minutes amidst the din of pan and utensils being cleaned.  
Ben appeared at the stairs leading down into the living room.  “I know it's really late, but I imagine you might be hungry.”
“Yes,” Rias said, her voice clear.  “Thank you.”
She started to move, but hesitated.  While she wanted to eat, she didn't want to disturb the cat.
“Just set him aside.  He'll understand,” Ben suggested.
Rias did.  
Noir voiced a shaky, old-cat complaint, but otherwise didn't fuss or growl. 
It was then that she noticed the make-up stains on the pillow.  “Oh, no.  Your pillow.  I'm sorry.”
Ben waived dismissively.  “It can be washed.”  He turned and walked back into the kitchen, gesturing at the bathroom as he went.  “There's a mirror and sink in the bathroom.  You might want to wash up, first.”

Looking into the mirror, Rias found what she had expected.  She had emptied her tear glands onto her face and into Ben's couch pillow.  All of her facial make-up had watery streaks, making her look like a ghost out of horror series.
“Is there a specific cloth I should use?” she called.
“Pick any one you want off the shelf,” Ben replied.
The shelf was open, with plenty of wash clothes and towels to choose from.  There was a variety of colors on display, but not a white one to be found.

Once Rias had finished cleaning her face, she stepped out into the kitchen.  Ben stood next to the counter that connected the fridge to the stove.  More countertop extended along to the outer wall, where it wrapped around to end at the sink, next to the silding door to the outside.  On the corner counter sat three bowls. 
“You're not lactose intolerant, I hope,” Ben said.  “This chocolate pudding uses a lot of milk.  Supposedly, people from Asia have a reputation for being sensitive to dairy.”
“Chocolate pudding?” Rias muttered, excited.  To his question, she said, “Honestly, I don't know.”
Ben inhaled.  “Alright, then.  I wasn't sure what the case was.  I also don't know what kind of portion sizes you're used to either.  So, I split it into three servings.  I've found that seems to be just about right.”  He gestured.  “Have a seat.”  
As she pulled out a chair and sat, he brought a bowl over to Rias along with a spoon.  Then, he fished a couple tall glasses from the overhead cupboard by the fridge and set them on the round table.  From the fridge, he grabbed the gallon of milk and filled each glass before returning the jug to the fridge's cold interior. 
“It's skim,” Ben said with a gesture.  “So, if you do have any problems, it shouldn't be as bad as if it were whole.”  He grabbed a bowl for himself and sat down across from Rias.  “But, I can't think of a better way to wash this down.”
Before he dove in, Ben gestured to the bowl, then to the ceiling.  “Thank you, Lord Jesus, for this snack.”
Rias braced herself, but the pain she would have felt as a devil in the presence of praise to God never came.  She marvelled a moment, both at the lack of pain, and at Ben's rather casual prayer, if one could call it that.
“You don't have to wait for me,” he said after noting her hesitation.
“Aren't you going to bless the food?” Rias asked, puzzled.
“Why would I need to do that?”
Rias shrugged.
Ben smirked.  “Jesus and his angels already watch over me.  He's already provided the ingredients.  What have I to fear?”
With that, he scooped out a spoonful of pudding and put it in his mouth.
Rias looked at her own bowl.  
His comment about God and angels reminded her about her own past, and the truth of her world.  She refrained from commenting about God.  This wasn't the time to announce that God was dead.  With her current situation, it was entirely possible that what was true for her might not be true for him.  
Now that she had time to come to terms, most of the details pointed to the fact that she might be in another world.
“Thanks, God, for the food,” she said, pausing again to marvel at no sudden pain.
Then she inserted pure, rich, chocolaty bliss into her mouth.  It was smooth, warm, not too sweet, but not bland.  She reached the bottom of the bowl and wanted more.  But, it was very rich.  Rias knew that she might actually get sick if she tried even one more spoonful out of the other bowl.  Washing it down with skim milk, to her surprise, actually cleared any aftertaste that lingered at the back of her throat.  
“Where did you learn to make this?” she asked when finished.
“Grandma's recipe,” Ben said while taking the used dishes to the sink.  “It's also good chilled.”  He wasted no time washing out the glasses and bowls by hand.  While working, he asked, “You allergic to peanuts?”
“Not that I'm aware,” Rias replied.
“Next time, I'll mix in some peanut butter.”
Rias smiled contemplating the flavor of peanut butter and chocolate.
After washing the dishes and putting them in the drainer next to the sink, Ben put the third bowl in the fridge.
“You can have that, later, if you want,” he said, then took his seat.
For the first time, Rias truly studied Ben's face.  He had typically Caucasian square features.  His hairline centered on a tiny little widow's peak high on his forehead.  Cropped as short as it was, his hair had a hint of wave to it along the front, where it was longest.  Streaks of gold, from sun-bleaching, glinted amid the dominant sandy brown.  Even with the weight rounding his neck below the chin, Rias thought he was a handsome enough man.
With the better lighting, the gray dappling his blue eyes was much more distinct.  Ben didn't look at her directly, but Rias could still feel his intense focus.  His gaze was merely in her direction, like at the table in front of her, or off to one side by her shoulder. 
“So,” He said, “you didn't get through.”  He flicked a glimpse directly into her eyes.  
“No,” Rias answered.
“Was nobody there?” he asked casually.  “Do you need to try again?”
“That's not it,” she said.  “It's midday in Japan, right now.  Someone should be there.”  As the moment of truth slowly approached, Rias felt a tightening in her chest.  Anticipation and anxiety threatened her composure.  But, she pressed on.  “No.  The numbers were disconnected.  All of them.  Every single one.”
Ben continued to stare at the table, looking thoughtful.  He nodded.  “I thought I heard the disconnect tone.”
Rias hesitated, impressed.  Ben had been busy at the time, making noise.  For him to hear that meant he had some sharp hearing.  
“And, I take it you didn't misdial,” he added. 
Rias was, again, impressed.  Ben was obviously intelligent and showed signs of understanding her situation already.  She puzzled at why he had started with the question he did if he was this far along in his conclusions.  She started to feel a little less anxious.
“No,” Rias said, affirming his thought.  “I know those numbers by heart.  They should have worked. It's like they don't exist.”
Her voice caught, sorrow welling in her chest, threatening a new round of crying.  Taking a breath to steady herself, it didn't take much to regain composure this time.
“If you want, I can take you to the police station,” Ben offered.  “Maybe the authorities might have better luck getting you home.  It'd have to be in the morning, though.”
Anxiety returned at the thought of being put into the hands of yet more strangers.  While Ben was also a stranger, he had been kind and understanding, thus far.  Rias had no idea what would happen once she got embroiled in a bureaucratic system.  Her fate would depend a great deal on how hidebound the people were that got assigned her case.  She knew a thing or two about bureaucracies, and that was a nightmare she wanted to avoid.  Especially if it turned out she didn't rightfully exist in their system. 
“I don't think anyone can help me,” Rias muttered, sad.
“Why is that?” Ben asked, remaining casual.
Rias sighed.  Moment of truth.  “Not only am I not in Japan, I don't think I'm on my own Earth.”
Ben looked into her eyes again, but it lingered for a few seconds.  “You figure this from the phone numbers?”
“It's more than that,” Rias explained. The anxiety and anticipation tightened her chest again, making her voice shaky, at first. But, once the words poured out, she committed, firming her delivery.  “See, I'm not human.  Or, I wasn't before I ended up here.  I'm a devil.  At least, I was.  I am Rias Gremory, of the Gremory household in the underworld.  My father holds the title of Satan.”
“Title,” Ben muttered, quirking a brow.  He had resumed looking at the table.
“Of course, I have no proof of any of this,” Rias concluded.  “The number to Kuoh Academy, where I'm enrolled as an exchange student, doesn't work.  Neither do the numbers to friends and colleagues who know me.  And, one of those was to my brother in the underworld.”
Ben smirked, muttering, “a hotline to hell.”
“And, I no longer have any of the traits I would normally have as a devil.  No powers.”
“No wings,” Ben added.
Rias paused, hopeful.  “You believe me?”
Between the anxiety and anticipation, her breathing turned shallow as she waited for his answer.
After a second of carefully studying the table, deep in thought, Ben's eyebrows shot up briefly, and he shrugged.  “I do.” 
Even though he didn't look directly at her, Rias could tell his response was genuine.
“How?” she started to ask, but trailed off.  Part of her wanted to know his reasoning.  Prudence suggested that it might be unwise to critique the decision of a stranger, one whose help and support she desperately needed.  Rias hoped Ben had a solid reason and wasn't blindly accepting her story.
“It has the ring of truth to it,” Ben replied with a quick glance in her eyes.  “For Christians, the Holy Spirit helps us discern between truth and lies, good and evil.  When we're paying attention.  Your story didn't raise any red flags.”
He adopted a light smile.  “Then, there's the fact you really did appear out of nowhere on the highway.  One moment, the road was clear.  The next,” he snapped his fingers, “there you were, already laid out.”
“Oh,” was all Rias could say while she processed that information.
“There's no doubt in my mind that this isn't a coincidence.  Here you are, on the night of a blood moon, at the end of a tetrad.” Ben said.  He shook his head slightly and smirked.  “It'll still take some getting used to.  Stuff like this only seems to happen in fiction.  It's one thing to see it in a love or horror story.  It's another to actually live it.”
“Tell me about it,” Rias muttered.
“Well,” Ben said, sounding more lively.  “I'll pray for confirmation.  And, I'll pray God gets you back home after you do whatever you're here to do.”  He stood.  “In the meantime, it's getting late.  You obviously need a place to stay.  Come with me.”
He didn't lead her far.  The door was next to the entrance hall, leading to a room behind the fridge and stove.  Ben flicked on the light, revealing a sparsely furnished bedroom with yet another set of sliding doors leading out next to the driveway.
“This was my dad's master bedroom when he had the place,” Ben said.  He moved around the bed to what Rias thought was a closet.  Opening the door, he gestured for Rias to have a look. “I use it as a guest bedroom, now, because it has a private bathroom.”
He got out of her way, allowing her to inspect the facilities.
“I don't know what you're generally used to, but, it'll have to do.  Towels are in the cupboard on the right.”  Ben walked back to the door and paused.  “We'll see about getting you some clothes tomorrow.”  He looked like he wanted to say more.  Whatever it was, he appeared to decide against it.  “Would you like me to close the door behind me?”
“Yes, please,” Rias said.  “And!  Thank you.”
Ben smirked pleasantly.  “No problem.  Good night.”
With that, he closed the bedroom door, leaving Rias on her own.

The shower was nice.  It felt refreshing to wash the grime of the day down the drain, even if it was probably just from the last half-hour.  Once she was dry, Rias felt tired enough to lie down.  However, she looked at her school uniform, specifically her undergarments.  She generally preferred sleeping in the nude, so donning them again wasn't an issue.  But, the idea of putting the back on, used, repulsed her, even when it would be as late as tomorrow morning.  Rias was not about to run around commando, even for a few brief hours.
She could rinse and wash them by hand in the sink, hanging them to dry overnight.  Or, she could suck up her pride and ask to use Ben's washing machine and drier.  Hopefully he had those appliances.  Of the two possible options, the idea of soap and cleanliness put her decision firmly in favor of the washing machine. 
Wrapping herself in a towel, she gathered up her clothes and went to the door.  She hesitated, hit with the sudden thought of him creepily waiting on the other side.  Normally, in the same way Ben described Christian discernment, devils had an evil sense.  Rias wasn't sure she still had that.  
Even without it, she thought herself a generally good judge of character.  During their conversation, nothing about Ben suggested he was evil, or merely a pervy creeper.  When he was only looking in her general direction, not once did he glance at one of her prominent features.
Rias was aware that she was a beautiful girl by most standards.  She was amply endowed, which was hard for most men not to notice.  What this meant of Ben, the fact he managed to avert his gaze away from her bosom the whole time, she didn't know.  
He was either shy, or very respectful and well disciplined.  Maybe both.  Was it a matter of taste?  He wasn't stiff, talking with her easily.  He didn't seem repulsed.  So, he was odd, but not creepy.
Regardless, Rias quietly turned the door handle and peered out through a sliver opening.  To her relief, she saw Ben on the couch watching television, the living room lit softly be a lamp behind the TV set.  He chuckled at a joke, echoing audience laughter from the show.
Opening the door further, she called out, “Ben?  Do you have a washing machine?  I'd like to wash my clothes.”
“Sure.  That closet right in front of you, next to the door.”
Rias noted the folding doors to her left, along the wall between the bedroom door and the fridge.  They looked like typical closet doors with latted slits.  Pulling one open, she saw the drier.  The other door revealed the washer and hot water heater.
“Do you need me to show you how it works?” he asked.
Rias was about to say 'no'.  His washer looked like any other classic top-loader she had seen, just in English.  But, she suddenly had a devilish inclination.  Rias wanted to see just how much of a perv Ben might actually be.  Suppressing a mischievous smile, she answered as casually as she could, “Yeah.  That sounds like a good idea.” 
“Really?” Ben muttered, sounding surprised.  Standing, he worked his way around the fireplace, up the stairs, over to the appliance closet.  She spotted his cursory glance, giving her a quick once-over.  
That was all she got. 
He turned his focus on the washer, explaining the controls.  Reaching overhead, he pulled down a purple bottle of laundry soap.  He poured out only a tablespoon into the yellow cap.
“With such a small load, you'll only need about that much,” he concluded.
With a simple gesture, he indicated Rias deposit her clothes in the washer.  She complied robotically, her mind still trying to make out what was happening.  Ben was unreadable.  No stammer.  No tripping.  No blushing.  No cleared throat.
He simply poured the soap in onto her clothes, screwed the cap back onto the bottle before depositing it on the overhead shelf.  Then he closed the washer and started it up.  As soon as the sound of pouring water started, he turned away to head back to the living room.  
“If you want,” he said, “I'll make sure they get put into the drier.  Wash time's only half an hour.”
“Okay,” Rias agreed, absently.  She quickly decided to be direct.  “Y'know.   Most boys I know would be tripping over themselves and stammering, being so close to a nearly naked girl like myself.”
Ben paused, turning to look back.  His eyes didn't come near her, though, focusing instead on the closet next to her.  She could tell he was deep in thought.  Finally, he flash-quirked a brow.
“Good night, young Miss Gremory.”
Rias latched onto that detail.  “I can't be much younger than you.  You're in your twenties, right?”
Ben smirked goodnaturedly.  “I'm flattered you think I look that good.  But, I'll be thirty-five this December.  I'm guessing you're almost half my age.  Sixteen?  Seventeen?  So, I supposed I'm almost old enough to be your father.  Especially if I had gotten busy in high school.”
“Oh,” Rias muttered.
“Look.  The answer you're looking for is difficult for me to explain without some introspection.  It all boils down to one thing.  I try not to think about it, or dwell on it.  There's more to it than that, but that's for another time.  So, good night.”
“Actually, I'm eighteen,” Rias said, trying just a little harder.  “I do believe that makes me legal in the U.S.”
“Good night, Miss Gremory.”
“Good night,” Rias echoed, smiling as she gave in to defeat.
Gracefully, she retreated into the guest bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Rias had a hard time getting to sleep.  Her mind was over active, at first working at the mystery of Ben.  He was single and in his mid-thirties.  The ease with which he maintained composure around her near nudity spoke of experiences.  She could only guess at how many and what kind.  She amused herself with some ideas, but, she soon grew bored, and finally dozed off.  
She quickly woke to some random noise from outside.  More than once.  Being in a foreign room exacerbated her unease, along with her missing wings.  Then there was the missing presence of Issei.  She had grown accustomed to sleeping by his side, sometimes joined by others of her household.  
“Issei,” she murmured, “where are you?”
This room felt abnormally cold without them.  Part of that could also have been the air conditioning.  Ben seemed to prefer things a little cold.  Once she pulled a thin sheet over herself, she started to feel comfortable.  Eventually, she did doze off into a deep slumber.

It was still dark out when Rias woke one more time.  This time, a dream, about her friends from the Kuoh Academy's Occult Research Club.  Issei, Kiba, Akeno, all of them were in the dream.  She couldn't recall where they were, the background a swirling morass of colors.  All she knew was that they were calling out to her.  As Rias tried to recall their words, they all slipped away the more she grew awake. 
As she stared at the ceiling, she was left with only a couple phrases, from Akeno.  “Rias has got to come!  We’ll see her.  No doubt!”  And, later, “Rias! Is that really you?”
Not knowing what it meant specifically, it still gave Rias hope.  They were looking for her.  
“Careful,” she warned herself.  “It could all be in your head, Rias Gremory, manifesting your subconscious desires.”
She ran what she could over and over in her mind until she finally fell back  asleep.

The sun was shining bright when Rias woke.  Sitting up, she looked for the clock.  It wasn't where Issei normally kept it.  When she did find it, it didn't look right.  When she noted the time, Rias came fully awake in alarm.
It was ten AM!  She was woefully late!  Flinging the sheet off her, she was quickly on her feet.  Then, Rias noticed the room details.  The events of the night came back to her, and she realized there would be no school for her today.
Peaking out the bedroom door, Rias saw Ben in the living room, occupied with the television, again.  She wondered if he had slept at all, last night.  The smell of eggs and bacon hit her nose.  It smelled good.  He had made breakfast and she couldn't wait to try it.
Looking to the washing machine and drier, Rias spotted her school uniform, neatly folded up on the drier.  It was within arm's reach of the door.  Quickly and quietly, Rias slid the door open enough to grab the garments, then closed the door behind her.  She didn't believe Ben had noticed.
Her clothes were dry.  They didn't smell flowery.  They didn't smell at all.  And, they felt clean.  After slipping on all but the jacket, she went out into the kitchen.  
This time, Ben did notice, but Rias hadn't been trying to be stealthy.  
“Breakfast is on the counter,” he said.  “I hope you're not a vegetarian or something like that.”
Rias found a plate covered over by a skillet lid.  Lifting the cover, a cloud of steam wafted up to reveal a fairly large helping or scrambled eggs and a quartet of bacon strips.  They looked as good as they smelled.  Picking up the plate and the fork next to it, she went to the table.
“I think I'll be fine,” she said.
Taking a bite of the eggs, she found them already lightly salted.  They had some leafy spices sprinkled in, and the hint of some other flavor she couldn't identify.  A couple of the bacon slices were crisp, while the other two were soft.  Both were not too salty, and a touch greasy, but still tasty.  It was all good, and before Rias knew, her plate was as clean as a mere fork would allow.  
She thought she understood why he was overweight.
“The man can cook,” she muttered.
When she stood, Ben called out, “Just rinse your dishes and leave them in the sink.  I'll take care of them in a bit.”
Quietly complying, Rias still felt a little embarrassed seeing that hers were the only dishes in the sink.  But, he obviously had a method, and it would be prudent not to mess with that.
She joined him in the living room, seating herself in the only stuffed chair.  “What do you put in your eggs?” She asked.
Ben turned off the morning news from his spot on the couch by remote.  “Chives, cilantro, garlic, and a little salt,” he listed off slowly.  
“Garlic,” Rias echoed.  “That's what I tasted.”
“What? Was it too much?” Ben asked.
Rias waved, placating.  “Oh, no.  I just couldn't place it.”
Ben nodded, accepting her answer.  “So, down to business.  I have to head out on a job, tomorrow, and I'll be gone for four days.  In spite of the circumstances, I can't back out.”
Rias felt her heart skip a beat.  Questions immediately flooded her mind about where she would stay, what she would do if a problem came up, and so on.
“What do you do?” she asked.
Ben smirked.  “I'm in logistics.”  When Rias failed to get it, he added, “I drive truck.  Semi?”
She nodded once she understood.
“Anyway,” he continued, “we need to figure out what to do with you.  You could stay here, but I don't like that.  We are very remote.  If anything were to happen, you'd be practically on your own.  We'd also have to make some introductions to some of my family and friends so they wouldn't be confused if I left you their numbers.”
He shrugged, not committed to the idea.  “You could always stay at my mom's.  I have to take Noir there, anyway.”  He stroked the old cat, which lay up against his thigh, but not on his lap. 
“Or, there's one final option.  You can be a ride-along.  I'm running the route solo, anyway, so there'll be room, and I'm sure they won't object.”
He looked directly into her eyes for a brief second.  “I'm leaving this up to you.  Which would you like to do?”
 * * *

The Anime Man-counter

The Anime Man-counter

A Fanfic Regarding a YouTuber

By Benjamin R Parker

   Al sat up and took in his surroundings.  He found himself in an alley next to one of a couple dumpsters.  Short and narrow, it was barely big enough for a single car or service truck.  The place was mostly clean, aside from any trash overflow.  Each door had its own dumpster or set of trash cans with varying levels of fill.  The buildings were tall, their shadows casting the alley into a twilight, even though bright sunlight flooded in from either end.  Al  guessed they were between three to five stories tall, even though their walls were mostly featureless.  

“Where’d I end up, now?” He asked aloud while standing up

Looking both ways, Al noted that one end of the alley opened up onto a cramped-looking back street.  The other end cast intermittent shadows when folks passed by while on whatever errand occupied them.  It was that direction toward which Al strolled once he had beat off as much dirt and filth as he could from his vest, shirt sleeves and trousers.

Once out on the walk, he stopped dead in his tracks and let his eyes adjust to the light out in the open.  The plaza he found himself at seemed normal enough.  Shop and business signs lavishly or profusely decorated the buildings around the periphery.  Al instantly recognized Japanese kanji, though it had been so long since he had read any with proper understanding that many meanings currently escaped him.  But Al quickly realized he was in a truly exotic place by what he saw of the people. 

Amidst the park-like decorations, he saw animal-folk.  The plaza was crowded with humans that had minor key physical traits of certain animals.  The way tails wagged, or ears twitched and perked, he knew they weren’t just costume pieces.  There were a variety of animals in the mix.  Dogs, squirrels, sheep, and birds.  However, those were rare compared to all the cat-folk that milled about.  

Even more than the pointy or droopy ears, tails, and sometimes muzzle noses, were the hair colors.  Many of the cat-folk and some of the dogs had spotted or mottled hair colors typical of special breeds he was used to for pets back home.  The hair was limited to the top of the head, as on a normal human.  Everyone was dressed like a human, so he had no idea just how far the coloration went, but if they were like the different animal breeds he was used to, he didn’t have to imagine real hard.

He heard a pair come to a stop a mere meter from him and wasn’t surprised when someone addressed him.  The voice was male, the language Japanese.

“You aren’t from around here, are you?”

Al turned to see a cute cat-folk couple.  Both were stylishly dressed in casual clothes fit for a stroll around town.  The tom was a tall guy with white hair and ears, his white tail curled and waved around lazily behind him.  His partner, a pretty, curvy young maiden, was practically curled around his right arm.  She was Asian with glossy black hair and cat ears.  He didn’t see a tail on her, making Al wonder whether she was some sort of bobcat or manx breed.  Her black skirt was short enough that he couldn’t fathom it  hiding a proportionate feline tail.  

Both smiled at him.

Returning the smile, Al answered, “That obvious?”

Thankfully, Al had been in Japan many times in his travels.  Hopping back into something basic wasn't too hard.  He wouldn't be able to make refined conversation right away.  

“You were staring at everything like you were lost,” the cat-girl said. 

“Do you know where you are?” the tom asked.

Al opted for honesty, though some details were unnecessary and he left them out.  Looking around at the plaza again, he said, “Actually, I just got here.  All I really know from the style of writing is that I’m in Japan.”

The couple’s smiles turned strained.  Al caught a hint of confusion in their eyes.  Something he had said didn’t register.  Before Al could formulate an investigative question, the tom changed tack. 

“I’ve met many an ape visiting our country, but none with your kind of accent.  Where’re you from?”

The cat-girl’s eyes brightened with sudden insight.  “Oooh.  He’s not from the states.”  She turned inquisitive.  “Are you?”

“You mean the United States of America?” Al asked, trying to confirm what he hoped she meant. 

Again, he caught a minor surprised reaction from the two.  Their exchanged glances and raised eyebrows were not subtle, however. 

“I think she was talking the United States of South Aperica,” the tom replied.  “Most apes hale from that part of the Giraffrican continent.  But most of them, if you’ll pardon me for being blunt, are generally dark complexioned.  You’re really pale for an ape.”

Al’s smirk softened with humor as he caught on.  Apes from Africa.  So, this wasn’t Japan per se.  It went under a different name.

“No,” she corrected.  “I'm from America, too.  We're  known for being a melting pot.”  She studied Al a moment.  “Where from?”  

“I’m from a small place in the Midwest called Iowa.”

The cat-girl seemed to deflate a little.  

The tom smiled, understanding.  “Well, whatever you call it where you’re from, here, we call this the city of Tokymeow, in the country of Nekon.”

Al nodded, getting it now.  The term for cat in Japanese happened to be Neko.  So, Nekon was a country of cats.  If it was anything like regular Japan, it wasn’t just founded by a cat, the population was also mostly feline.  He recalled another world of sapient animals, prompting him to comment aloud.  “So, is Equestria more east or west from here?”

Again, the Nekonese couple exchanged confused glances.  

His humor dampened only lightly, Al added, “Okay.  So, no Manehattan or Canterlot.”

“Are those restaurants where you’re from?” the cat-girl asked.

Al’s renewed mirth was so strong he couldn’t help smiling again.  “Sure.”

“If you’d like,” the tom said, “we can show you around.”

And there it was.  Providence made itself evident.  Al decided to take the sign for what it was.  “Why not?“  He took a stab at what he hoped was the right terminology.  “I apologize early.  My Nekonese is a bit rusty.”

No more confused looks.  A good sign.

“Judging from our conversation, it might not be anything like they taught you in Iowa,” the tom said. 

“Yes,” Al replied.

“My name’s Joey,” the tom added.  “This is my Aki-dearest.”  He patted his cat-girlfriend’s arm with surprisingly open affection.  

Alius Cadver - his first name pronounced like Elias - caught on quickly, offering up an alias he acquired from his many travels.  “I’m Hikaru.  Nishihara Hikaru.”  Japanese usually put surname before birth name.  Why would Nekonese be any different?  “My friends call me Hik.”

The couple looked surprised again.  

“An interesting name for a foreigner,” Joey commented, openly dubious. 

“Named after a favorite sci-fi character,” Hick explained.  He needed to start thinking of himself as Hikaru, now.  It was an old name he hadn’t used in a while, but it wouldn’t take long to get comfortable with it again. 

This seemed to make sense to Joey, who nodded.  

Aki simply shrugged.

“Aki and I were on our way to find some food,” Joey said.  “We had a particular restaurant in mind, but we could show you to some of our favorite spots.  How are you for money, bro?”

“Honestly, what I have is all foreign.  I doubt the nearest exchange will convert what I got,” Hik said. 

“Let me see,” Joey said.

It was very much the truth.  So many things were different about this place, and Hik was absolutely certain now that the money from the places he’d been, especially his home in America, did not exist.  But there was the faint possibility that some of it might pass off as local.  Reaching into one of his vest pockets, he fished out the cash and change he had collected in his travels.  Among coins from other countries, current and otherwise exotic, were a couple Japanese yen.  He quickly picked out the couple of cred sticks and a data-wafer before handing the paper and coinage over to Joey.

The tom looked through the collection with growing incredulity.  “Damn, boy,” he drawled.  “What kind of funny money is this?  I ain’t seen anything like this!  Is this some kind of joke?”

“A bad one,” Hik deadpanned.  “But, honestly, that’s all I got.”

Aki plucked the assemblage from Joey’s hands, rifling through it with what Hick felt was typical feline curiosity.  “No credit or charge cards?” Aki asked.

Hick smirked.  “My home’s a little too backwards for that kind of fancy, new-fangled stuff.”  It was mostly true.  Iowa was slow to catch up with the bigger cities on the coasts.  But that had more to do with infrastructure and an agrarian economy more than being technologically backward.  By the time he had left, credit card readers were in practically every store, with only a few small businesses in small towns being the exceptions. 

“Oh, boy,” Joey continued to drawl in what Hik assumed was a style of slang.  “Ape boy is in a real tight bind.”

“How do you plan to get back home?” Aki asked, genuinely concerned. 

Hik turned serious before saying, “I don’t.”

This appeared to sober the couple up.  The concern written on Aki's face deepened.  Joey was unreadable.

“I’m gonna level with you.  Be honest.  Do you even have a place to stay?” Joey asked.

“Not really.  As I said, I just got here,” Hik answered.

“Wow.  Not often we run across one of those,” Aki said.

“But, oddly enough, it does happen,” Joey said.  He continued, his voice tinted with a touch of long-suffering, or maybe derision.  Hik wasn’t quite sure which.  “A common enough tale.  Foreigner decides to come to Nekon, wanting to fulfill some dream, but with nothing more than the clothes on their back.“  He gave Hik a brightly demeanored look.  “Well, best of luck.”

Joey started to turn, but Aki smacked him on the shoulder.  “Joey!” 

The tom looked down at her in confusion.  “What?  He’s obviously a weeb. “

She reached up and started whispering in Joey’s ear.  Hik barely made out what she said.  “Maybe we can introduce him to Tentacle-sama.”

He looked at her directly and asked in a hushed tone, “Are you sure?”

Aki nodded enthusiastically, staring at Joey with pleading kitten eyes.  

“Look,” Hikaru said.  “If you’re not one for charity cases, I’ll be fine.”

“No!”  Both cats had replied in unison.  Aki’s reply was a protest, while Joey’s was a relenting sigh. 

“Okay, hon,” Joey said, patting Aki on the head.  

She beamed.

Turning to Hikaru, Joey said, “Change of plans.  We’ll take you on that tour we offered.  Meal will be our treat.  Then we’ll introduce you to some people who can help you start to find a job and a place to stay.  Until then, we’ll let you stay with us.”

Hik couldn’t help raising his eyebrows at the sudden change in attitude.  He felt really humbled at their generosity.  “I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough.  If there’s anything I can do to repay you, let me know.”

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Joey said with a quick mischievous smile.  “This way.”

Joey continued walking the direction the pair had been going, deftly skirting around Hik.  Hikaru followed.  He wasn’t sure what a ‘weeb’ was.  The idea of meeting a human octopus or cuttlefish was intriguing.  Though, the notion that Tentacle-sama might be an eldritch horror did make Him chuckle. 

“So, this Tentacle-sama.  Is he a cephalopod?” Hik asked.

Aki looked back at him.  “You’ll see.”

* * *

Joey and Aki were to meet up with some other AniTubers for lunch before working on a collaboration project.  Having run into the odd Nishihara didn't really change their plans.  They simply slowed down and pointed out businesses and places of interest to tourists along the way.  

As they went, Joey studied the stranger when he felt he could.  Nishihara was an odd specimen.  His hair was a sandy brown, which contrasted to his pale pink skin.  His face was darkened in places that caught a lot of sunlight.  More orange-ish tan than pale pink, the coloration indicated sun damage found on other fair-skinned non-apes.  His hair also showed a golden sheen when hit by the sun at the right angle.  He had heard of sun-bleaching in some animals, but had never really seen it in person. 

Nishihara's blue eyes seemed to reflect the sky, twinkling brightly as he took in the world around him.  He would pause to look where Joey or Aki pointed when they saw something of potential interest.  Even though his face was generally blank, Joey could still feel a sense of open wonder radiating from the ape.  

As they interacted, Joey concluded that Nishihara's Nekonese wasn't as rusty as he claimed.  He used some strange terms, which Joey chalked up to learning from foreign teachers.  Once corrected, however, the 'stray' seemed to adapt quickly.  

  The restaurant they were headed to was relatively new.  Specializing in mainland South Asian cuisine, it was called 'The Elephant in the Room'.  The exterior was only as flamboyant as the signs.  The windows and architecture matched the surrounding modern shops.

Joey was glad to see his friends and colleagues, Connor and Garnt, were waiting outside.  Garnt, a tall monkey from the Asian mainland waved one of his long lanky arms.  Connor was the first to vocally greet them in their shared secondary tongue.  

Stroking his ruddy Lion's mane, he nodded at Nishihara.  “So, who's the stray?”

Joey smiled mischievously.  “An honest weeb, lost and alone.”

“You speak English?”  Nishihara intoned it as a statement, but his question was strongly implied.

Realizing the strange foreigner could understand them, Joey's heart froze.  He turned to observe  the pale ape.  To his surprise, he found hints of hopeful anticipation on Nishihara's expressive features.  The guy's blue eyes seemed to twinkle.

“Do you mean 'Baahnglish'?” Garnt asked.

The hope vanished as Nishihara's eyes shifted downward slightly.  It wasn't a big shift, but Joey could tell a moment of deep reflection when he saw it.  After a second, Nishihara nodded, coming alive again. The twinkle returned to his eyes, but now, Joey sensed hidden mirth.

“Right,” Nishihara continued in Baahnglish.  “Sheep country.”

“No, good sir,” Conner interjected, his Imperial Leonine inflected bass a little thicker than normal.  “That's 'Ram country'.”

Nishihara smirked, leaving Joey to wonder what the ape found so funny.

“Like the pick-up?” Nishihara asked.

Connor started to reply, but hesitated.  Then he nodded concession.  “Yes.  Like the 'lorry'.”

“Right,” Nishihara acknowledged, still looking amused.  “Anyway, Baahnglish will certainly make things easier for me, if none of you object.”

Joey could see that Nishihara was more relaxed, comfortably using the modern trade language.  In fact, he sounded very much like the American he claimed to be.  His accent was clean of inflection, much like Aki's.  

Garnt and Connor both gave signs of indifference.

“Fine by me,” Aki said in Baahnglish.

“I don't mind,” Joey said with a shrug.

“The girls are inside,” Garnt said once the matter seemed decided. 

“Yeah,” Connor said.  “We should go in.”  As the group turned toward the restaurant door, he cast a glance at Nishihara.  “So, weeb.  What's your name?”

The inside of The Elephant in the Room wasn't much to speak of in regard to decoration.  Of moderate size, it had a fair number of tables and booths.  Sydney and Meilyne had monopolized a corner for nine people.  That happened to be them, the three boys, Aki, and three camera operators.  When Nishihara trailed in behind Joey, Meilyne's perky canine ears drooped a little, her wagging tail coming to a slow standstill.

“I didn't plan for any extras,” she said, her tiny, high-pitched voice controlled in spite of open concern.  Her eyes drifted from Connor, Garnt, and Joey.  Eventually, all eyes were on Joey as the rest of the group looked to him for a solution.”

“You're the one who invited him,” Garnt said.

“A spur-of-the-moment charity case,” Joey said with a passing glance at Aki.  “Don't worry.  I'll cover him.”

  Meilyne's concern vanished.  She studied him and Nishihara a few more seconds.  Though she was unreadable, Joey imagined the heat of anger radiating out from her compact form.  He worried for a bit.  Compared to most of the people in the group, Meilyne was short.  But, as the manager for the Podcast they all worked under, she was a defacto mother.  That came with both the motherly concern, and the occasional motherly anger.  Her bark was damn sharp.  Joey had never experienced her bite, and never wanted to.    

After a couple strenuous heartbeats, she perked up, her raised brown ears and tail rigid.  The heat of determination was palpable in her Asiatic features.  

“No,” she stated.  “I arranged this.  I'll cover him.”

Joey felt his lips purse while his eyebrows shot up dubiously.  “Okay.”  He waited a second, knowing he had to ask a new question, but didn't look forward to any of the potential fallout he imagined might come from the asking.  “Do you mind a brief change of plans?”

Meilyne turned wary.  “What did you have in mind?”

Joey quietly gulped to get some moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth.  “I wanted to do a brief interview.  Right here seemed a good time and place as any.”

“What's so special about your stray?” She asked.

“He's a true, blue weeb.  Came here with next to nothing, and doesn't plan on going home.  I can't pass this up.”

“How long?”

Joey made a mock frown while he considered.  “Maybe twenty, thirty minutes.  I only have a couple questions.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Meilyne mused.  “Do you want me to ask the owner if it's okay to film in here?  I can do it while I place the group's orders.”

“Hang on,” Joey said, holding up a paw to forestall her.  Turning to Nishihara, he asked, “Do you mind being filmed for an interview?”

Nishihara paused from rubber-necking, taking in the surroundings.  Studying Joey a brief second, his eyes started to twinkle again when he answered.  “Sure.  I don't mind.”

Joey returned his attention to Meilyne, who didn't look at all impressed.   “That would be great.  Thanks so much.”

Aki indicated the spot next to her that had been reserved for him, which Joey took.  Nishihara waited for everyone else to get seated.  Once he had an idea of an opening, he pilfered a chair from an empty table nearby.

The restaurant was the kind where orders were placed at the counter, paid for up front at the register, and retrieved by the customer once their order number was called.  Joey wasn't exactly sure how long this kind of arrangement would last, considering how private a lot of Nekonjin were.  Meilyne would certainly be putting it to the test today.  

Most of the group had already looked through the menu, or were familiar with it from prior visits.  When Meilyne started asking what they wanted, everyone quickly had a choice ready to go.  Joey saw the Tuna in Cream entry, which spoke to him, making his pick pretty easy.  The last to order was Nishihara, who still studied the menu.

“The meat's cooked, right?” he asked idly.  He looked up from the menu when nobody answered right away.

Joey realized he was staring.  But he wasn't alone.  

“Wait,” Connor said, the first to break the silence.  “You're a carnivore?”

“Yeah,” Joey chimed in.  “I had you pegged as an herbivore.  You are an ape after all.”

Nishihara glanced around the group.  “Omnivore, actually.”

“How?  You have no canines,” Connor demanded, exasperated.  “At least people can expect a lion such as myself  or a neko like Joey to be a carnivore because it's obvious.” 

“It almost goes without saying that monkeys and apes are herbivores,” Garnt added.  “I don't eat meat.”

Joey watched Nishihara's mirth return.  “Really,” the pale ape replied, dubious.  “I'll bet you've eaten the occasional bug.”

Garnt glanced around, looking embarrassed.  “Okay!  So, I've eaten a few bugs in my life.  It's still not meat.”

“To answer your question,” Joey said in order to keep the argument from going in circles, “yes.  The meat is generally cooked.  You'd have to specify 'raw' in your order.  Right?”  He looked at Meilyne, who confirmed his query with a nod. 

“Then, I'll have a chicken curry.”  Nishihara racked the menu in the stand at the center of the table.  “I noticed no carbonated drinks in the menu, so I'll take a raspberry tea, as well, please.”

Meilyne returned from the counter with an okay from the shop owner.  Knowing it would be many minutes before someone had to go get the order, Joey fished out his little go-pro camera and its small tripod.  Even though he didn't need it today, he usually brought it along for that odd eventuality it might come in handy.  With a litle rearrangement, he had it set up and centered on a wary Nishihara.

“What's this for, anyway?”  Nishihara asked, openly curious, while Joey set up.

“We're AniTubers,” Joey answered idly.  “Can you slide left a little?”

Nishihara complied, the chair legs making a deep scraping noise with the motion.

“Good,” Joey said.  “Right there.”

AniTube, huh?” Nishihara turned introspective.

“No, no,” Garnt interjected.  “We post videos to MewTube.  Most of us, here, watch and review Animu.  Hence, 'AniTuber'.”

Nishihara nodded, shifting, yet again, from wide-eyed observance to his twinkle-eyed low-key mirth.

Something about that little exchange didn't feel right to Joey.  He didn't expect a true weeb would be ignorant of the terminology.  Regardless, he expected some great video fodder if it happened to be true.

“Alright,” he said to forestall any further questioning and commentary.  After he hit record and he was satisfied everything was functioning properly, he stepped over to Nishihara's side and knelt to face his camera.  The red eye of recording was bright on the little black device.  Looking into the deep black of the glass eye, Joey started improvising an opening speech for the video.

“Hey, everyone!  It's your boy, Joey, the Animu Man.  And I'm here, today, with a surprising guest.  I will be interviewing a rare specimen.  We joke about them, but never expect to find them.  But today it appears I've found a 'Weeaboo' in the truest sense of the word.”

Joey stood up, feeling pleased that he didn't have to do multiple takes on that little off-the-cuff spiel.  He quickly returned to behind his camera before starting his battery of questions.  Taking a moment to calm himself, he started asking the questions that came to mind, keeping his tone conversational.

“So!  What's your name?”

“Nishihara Hikaru,” his pale-skinned subject answered.  Looking directly into the camera, Nishihara added, “For all you non-Nekonjin out there, that means my last name is Nishihara, and my first name is Hikaru.  And I'm okay with folks calling me by my first name.”

“But that's not your real name, is it?” Joey asked.

Though Nishihara turned reserved, his blue eyes retained their twinkle.  “No, it's not.”

“Mind telling us your real name?” Joey tried asking as pleasant as possible.

The twinkle went away when Nishihara turned introspective.  “That version of myself died a long time ago.  So, I see no point.”

“No way,” Joey heard Garnt mutter.

“Is he serious?” Sydney whispered to someone else.

“He's the real thing,” Connor stated quietly, the surprise audible.

Unlike his friends, Joey felt the heat of exultation fill his being.  There it was, his assumption confirmed.  Feeling the boost in confidence, Joey started to ask his next question. 

“If you don't mind me asking, Joey,” Connor interrupted.  

Joey shot a questioning look at his friend.  Connor raised his ruddy brows.  Deciding to be nice, Joey nodded.  This interrupted the flow of the discourse he wanted to follow, but it might prove to be interesting.  With a shrug, he turned the camera to focus on the Welsh Lion.

When Joey gave his thumbs-up, Connor speared Nishihara with his intense Leonin gaze.  “Where are you from, Nishihara?”

Holding up his hand to Nishihara, Joey reoriented the camera back to the interviewee.  Joey gave his thumbs-up, after which Nishihara answered.

“The states,” he said plainly.  “America,” he added after a second's hesitation.

“Thought so,”  Connor said with a nod.  

Joey shot Connor a glare.  Turning his camera back on Connor, he silently prompted his friend to say more.  

Connor took on a regal air.  “You sound like a colonial, as I suspected.”

From further away, Sydney brightened up at hearing the answer.  She grunted to get Joey's attention.  With an inward sigh, Joey reoriented his camera on her.  Sydney leaned forward onto her ample udders so she could be better seen.  

“So, from where in the states are you from?” she asked, putting on a flirtatious act.

“Iowa,” Nishihara answered once the camera was back on him.

One of the camera guys stepped up to Joey holding a secondary camera of his own.  “Don't worry.  I got any b-roll, for you.”  

Joey noted the American dairy girl holding her disappointed, droopy-eyed gaze.  When Ashley pointed the camera at Sydney, kept the look, but slowly smiled.  

“Poor little ape,” she said in mock derision.  “Raised among those backwards, Oinkowan swine.”

Garnt's eyes widened.  He turned an accusatory look at her.  “I don't know how it can be any worse than being raised among Milskonsin dairy herds,” he countered.

“It's okay,” Nishihara said.

Joey returned his focus on his interviewee.  He still had the camera centered, so he didn't have to worry about Nishihara responding in a more natural way.  

At the moment, Nishihara was focused on Sydney, the ornery twinkle back in his eyes.  “My state is generally the butt of a lot of jokes from the ones around it.  'It's flat.'  'There's nothing to see but corn.'  The list goes on.”  He brightened suddenly.  “Here's one!  How do you get a stuck Oinkowan out of a tree?”  He waited barely a second before giving the answer.  “You wave.” 

Everyone chuckled.  Syd's laugh sounded a little force, a little louder than normal.

Once everyone settled down, Garnt raised his own question.  “If you don't mind me asking, what's your lineage?  You're an ape.  Not one I recognize, and I haven't heard of any native to the North American continent.”

“Never heard of Sasquatch?” Nishihara asked.  “There were a lot of critters displaced as the Old World colonizers expanded in from the coasts.”  He paused to take a sip of his tea.  “But, I'm not that exotic.  My family is descended from immigrants, plain and simple.”  

“So you're an albino,” Garnt offered a guess.

“After a fashion,” Nishihara said after a contemplative pause.  Joey listened to the quiet noises of conversation this prompted out of his friends.  

Nishihara took this opportunity to get in his own question, which surprised Joey.  “So!  If you don't mind, I have a question of my own.  He looked straight at Joey.  “What's a 'weeaboo'?  I assume 'weeb' is the short-hand version of the word.  But what does it mean?”

Joey marvelled at the fact that he wasn't surprised by Nishihara's question.  The ape had already expressed ignorance about many things already.  He had mistaken AniTube to be the name of MewTube.  He used place-names that Joey had never heard of before.  What was one more?

“You don't really know?” Joey asked, letting bemusement slip into his voice.

Sydney snorted.  “That's an Oinkowan farm boy for you.  Grew up in the tail end of nowhere.  Of course he wouldn't know.”

Nishihara smirked lightly.  “More or less.”

Blinking, Joey accepted the remark.  “A Weeaboo is someone who obsesses over Nekonese culture, often to the point where they see it as superior to their own western culture.  It can often manifest in a large collection of Nekonese artifacts.  The rarest expression comes in the form of coming to Nekon to live.”

Hikaru's smirk took on a sad quality while he went into deep thought.  “Sorry to disappoint, but I don't hate America.  He looked at the camera with a wistful expression.  “In fact, I was quite proud of what my country was before I was forced to leave.  I even volunteered for a,” he halted for heartbeat, visibly searching for a word, “program to help in a time of national pride.”  Returning his gaze to the camera, he added, “I'd go back if I could.”  Again his gaze drifted to the side.  “But I can't.”

Listening to the little ramble, Joey felt a growing sense of unease.  His whole 'natural weeb' concept was quickly unraveling.  At the same time, he was witnessing something that could be much more fascinating, but far more dangerous.  

“Hold on,” Joey said.  “Forced to leave?  Before we go any further, is it safe to be talking to you about your past?”

“Yeah.  You're not a criminal, are you?” Meilyne asked.

Nishihara shot her her an unreadable glance.  “Nothing so mundane.”  

“So, why can't you go back?” Joey decided to pursue the current thread of reasoning.  

Nishihara pondered quietly for a handful of seconds.  “Let's just say it has everything to do with the nature of my departure, and my arrival here in Jap - excuse me  - Nekon.”  He became more alert.  “The program I volunteered for changed me.  Then, life pulled a practical joke.  Now, here I am with nothing more than what you see on me.”

“Is that it?” Joey asked.  “Can you spare some more hints?  Maybe on how you were forced to leave?”

“Yeah,” Connor concurred.  “Nobody's hunting after you, are they?”

Nishihara blinked.  Casually, he replied.  “Oh, yeah!  It's fine.  Nobody's hunting after me.  Anyone involved with the program thinks I'm dead.”

“How do you know?”  Joey asked.

“I'll give you a hint,” Nishihara said, turning mischievous.  He visibly pondered for a few seconds.  “There was a growing trend in animeeew -”  He drawled out the last part of the word, seemingly not used to it.  “- before I got caught up in the program.  I think the term was 'Isekai'.”  Again, he drawled out the word in a questioning tone, sounding uncertain.

Joey knew the term well.  Indeed, it had become a sudden staple for anime in the last few years.  The thought of looking at a man who had been transported from another reality had a strange duality in Joey's mind.  Part of him found it too hard to believe.  It was all made up.  It shouldn't be real.  But all the strange pieces to the puzzle of one Hikaru Nishihara suddenly fit.  All his odd mannerisms, all the odd place-names and references, the odd gaps in his knowledge, the fact that he didn't resemble any ape lineage Joey had ever seen, all of it suddenly made sense with that bit of information in the mix.  

The group was silent for a heartbeat too many. 

“You're from another reality?” Meilyne whispered into the silence.

Another second passed before Connor muttered, “No way.”  Then louder, his voice firm with doubt, he said, “No way.  That can't be real!  I call 'bullshit'!”

Nishihara chuckled.  The mild mirth had returned to his face.  However, Joey noticed the lack of ornery twinkle that normally glittered in his eyes.  This reaction didn't feel genuine.  

“Yeah,” Nishihara said.  “I suppose that sounded a bit too far-fetched.”

Connor gestured in Nishihara's direction.  “See?  You can tell he made it all up.  Isn't that right?”

This time, the mirth became genuine, the twinkle returning to Nishihara's eyes.  His smirk quickly expanded into a grin.

“I knew it!” Connor cried, exultant.

With that confirmation, the rest of the group relaxed.

Joey?  While he did relax as well, he had his doubts about the claim.  In the back of his mind, the math added up too much in favor of Nishihara's story, as vague as it was.  Now that he reflected on it, Joey found Nishihara's perpetual amusement curious.  What did the foreign ape find so funny?  His being that much more of a foreigner, to the world entirely, would give him insights that only he might find amusing.  One more piece of the puzzle.  

Then, there was the fact that Nishihara hadn't really confirmed anything of Connor's accusation.  Joey momentarily imagined suddenly being transplanted to a world full of apes.  How would he feel if he explained himself and none of them found his story real?  Joey quietly admitted he would find the dichotomy between truth and belief quite funny.  

However, it all could really be a clever act.  Some weebs were known for taking on a persona, complete with backstory.  They would stick to that persona, inhabit it and try to live it, to the point that their old personality no longer existed in their mind.  That could be what Nishihara meant when he talked about his old self 'having died a long time ago'.

Joey decided to ask one more question.  “Are you ever gonna give us the truth?”

Nishihara, still visibly amused, studied Joey for a moment.  “Let me have my fun,” he said at length.  

“Fucking weeb,” Connor muttered.

If he truly was that kind of weeb, he seemed fully self-aware.  At least he didn't seem crazy.  It remained to be seen whether that fact would hold true.

Joey gave Nishihara an understanding nod before stopping the camera.

Meilyne came back with the food, helped by Garnt and Sydney.  While they handed out the orders, Connor pulled out his phone and turned it toward Nishihara.  It was obvious he was going to film their omnivore stray.

“All right, Nishihara.  I want to show the world how an omnivore with no pronounced incisors eats meat.”  

“Seriously?” Joey asked pointedly.

“Garnt has sharper canines, and he is an herbivore,” Connor reasoned.  

Garnt nodded in agreement. 

“It's all right,” Nishihara said.  Looking directly at Connor's phone. “A refresher for your audience.”  He opened his mouth in a wide, toothy grin.  On display were flat teeth akin to something seen in the mouths of deer and horses, or cows, in Sydney's case.  They even transitioned into grinding molars toward the back, though his were smaller and more numerous than most herbivores. 

Meilyne interrupted the jocularity.  “Everyone ready to eat?”

The whole group paused long enough to say the customary Nekonese prayer of thanks before digging in.  Only one person said something different.  Joey caught Nishihara's voice intoning a  Baahnglish prayer to a 'Heavenly Father'.  One more sign that Nishihara's weeb card might need to be rescinded.

“Oh!  Are you a follower of 'the Lamb'?” Garnt asked, having caught the prayer, as well.

Nishihara hesitated in taking his first bite.  “The Lamb of God?  Who sacrificed himself so the rest of us won't burn in hell-fire at the end of the world?”

“That sounds about right,” Joey said, echoing his thoughts aloud. 

Garnt nodded.

Nishihara's smirk was feint.  “After a fashion.  I also believe he resurrected three days after his death, ascended to be by his father's side in heaven, and waits to one day come back and round up his flock.”

Once again, Joey caught the twinkle in Nishihara's eye and wondered if he wasn't laughing at their expense.

Nishihara forestalled any further commentary by presenting his fork to Connor's phone camera.  On it, prominently displayed in curry sauce amidst some vegetables was a large piece of chicken.  He flamboyantly shoved it in his mouth, pulled out the fork, chewed and swallowed.  

While the rest of the group ate, the intermittently watched in fascination while Hikaru quickly and methodically dismantled and consumed the entire plate with no problems or aftereffects.

The party gathered outside the restaurant when everyone had finished eating.  “This collab is a challenge,” Meilyne explained.  “The goal is to be guided back to the Trash Taste Studio.  But!  You can only ask for help in English.  No maps!  And you can't hint or make suggestions about where to go.  It falls completely on the people who choose to help you.”

She started handing out little note cards.  As she did so, she continued her explanation.  “Each of you will have a separate starting point.  Call me once you're in place.”

Joey received his card, and read the address.  The intersection was a fair ways to the south.  A straight shot to the studio.  He felt confidenct.

Nishihara sidled up to Joey.  “Where do you want me in all this?” he asked quietly.

The girls, Aki and Sydney, wouldn't be involved in this.  Joey was about to suggest he stay with them.  However, after a look at Nishihara, Joey had a sudden idea.

“Meilyne,” he called.

She looked at him expectantly.

“Mind if I bring Nishihara along to front this one?”

She turned dubious.  

“Hey, now,” Connor protested.  “That doesn't sound fair at all.”

“Think about it.  He looks more like a foreigner than I do,” Joey reasoned.  He twitched his ears in emphasis.“  Granted, Joey knew his height and coloration were strong signs of his half-breed heritage.  But he was still feline, compared to Nishihara's pale apish features.  “Besides.  I'll be thereto tag along.  My success will be all up to him.”

Joey imagined Connor's wheels spinning, machinations hatching while his Leonine friend pondered for a moment.  Finally, he retracted his objection.

Meilyne's tail started to wag slowly, getting faster as she warmed up to the idea.  “All right.  Get good footage,” she said with a smile.

Once at their intersection, Joey checked in with Meilyne as instructed.  He was instructed to wait until they got the 'Go' text.  While waiting, Joey pondered how to tackle asking people to be filmed.  He looked over at their dedicated cameraman.  Ashley had a harness set-up, but the camera was small and subtle.  It would be easy for Nishihara to point back at the cameraman when asking.

But it might go easier if they thought Nishihara would be filming, too.  On a whim, Joey pulled out his little Go-Pro.  Getting Nishihara's attention, he handed it over.

“A prop for when you ask about filming,” Joey said.  “Be careful.  I'd rather it not get broken.”

Nishihara took it, carefully looking it over, before securing it in his right hand.  He looked up and gave Joey a nod.

Once they got the text to begin, the pale ape went to work.  It wasn't a wide corner, but there was enough traffic that they didn't have to wait long for a new person or group to pass by.  The next hour, however, was a montage of Nekonese giving the excuse 'No Baahnglish' in many forms and gestures.  The few who expressed interest in helping quickly declined when asked about being filmed.  They had made zero progress when Meilyne made the first check-in.

“What's your progress?” she asked.

“Well, my brialliant plan to use the local desire to help a lost foreigner seems to have back-fired.“

“So, none?”  She sounded amused.

“Pretty much.  Nishihara's handling it like a trooper.  He's already asked a few dozen passers-by already.  I don't see any signs of fatigue or frustration on his part.”

“Well.  I hate to tell you this-,” Meilyne said. 

She said more, but Joey's attention was torn away from the conversation by the sound of shouting.  Joey heard something from her about Connor and Garnt, but his focus was on a tabby, ears laid back, giving a quiet Nishihara a tongue-lashing.  The cat's Nekonese was rapid-fire, making Joey wonder if Nishihara could follow the insults being thrown at him.    

“Hang on,” Joey said into the phone, interrupting Meilyne's update.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“A local is going on a tirade about foreigners filming indiscriminately.”

From his vantage, Joey caught Nishihara's bored expression.  The Go-Pro in his right hand was 

held high.  Joey guessed Nishihara had inquired about filming, which sparked this little kerfluffle.

The tabby said something to the effect of 'Go back home and leave us alone'.  That's when the irate feline chose to lunge at Nishihara.  His paw shot straight for Joey's camera.  In a surprising move, Nishihara bowed, snapping his hands to his side so quick the tabby missed his target.  

Nishihara made a mid-formal appollogy.

The tabby didn't look impressed.  The cat's irate expression turned into an open snarl.

“Oh no,” Joey said. 

“What!  What's happening?” Meilyne demanded.

“I sense violence,” Joey replied, letting worry creep into his voice.

He started to move to help Nishihara, but knew he wouldn't be there in time.

The tabby swiped.

Nishihara surprised everyone by how quickly he moved, standing upright and backing away a step.  

The tabby blinked at his failure to connect.  

Joey slowed down to take in the ongoing fight, slowly realizing that Nishihara might not need any help.

Recovering from his shock, the tabby swiped again with his other paw.

Moving the camera behind his back and securing his grip with both hands, Nishihara leaned casually out of the way of the strike, taking another step back.  

The tabby tried three more times.

Each time, Nishihara leaned away with a backward step.

It almost looked like a dance.  To Joey, Nishihara appeared to have this fight well in hand.  The pleased feeling was tainted by a growing lament.  Footage of this impressive display would have been great for the final video.  

Then an eerie thought crept into Joey's mind.  Nishihara had mentioned a program that had changed him.   Could this have been what the ape meant?

The tabby hesitated when he failed to connect after a rapid flurry of swipes.

In that moment of hesitation, Nishihara spoke.  His look of boredom was replaced by one of smug mirth.  “So!  You meant to do all that, right?”

He delivered it in his janky Nekonese, but the meaning was clear enough.

The tabby looked around.  The scuffle had attracted a lot of attention.  In the lull, Joey also became aware of all the eyes on them.  He then noticed a couple uniforms in the mix of observers.

“Oh, shit,” he exhaled when the officers started to approach.

Phone still next to his ear, he heard Meilyne's panicked demand.  “What now?  What's happening?”

“Fuzz,” Joey replied.

“The Popo?” she asked after a second, sounding quite serious.

“Yes,” Joey confirmed.

During the silence on the phone, Joey studied the angry tabby that had started the fight.  The Nekonjin also saw the approaching policemen.  With one last glare at Nishihara, he gave a huff and stormed away.  Once he was gone, Joey finished his approach to the once beleaguered Nishihara.

After a couple steps, Meilyne broke the silence on the other end of the phone.  “Okay.  Your part of the challenge is over.  Once you get things squared away with the police, get back to the studio right away.”

“Understood,” Joey said.  “See you soon.”

Hanging up, Joey reached Nishihara.  The officers arrived about the same time, stopping a meter shy of both Nishihara and Joey.  One was of local canine pedigree.  The other was the more common tuxedo breed of feline.  

“You certainly handled yourself well, young man,” the canine said to Nishihara.  “Mind telling me what you're doing out here?”

“Have you heard of 'Jay Walking'? Nishihara asked, using his janky Nekonese.  

Joey's heart froze.  Even though this intersection had a lot of pedestrian traffic, NekoPolice had a reputation for not fooling around about infractions of any kind.  Casting a wary eye on the shorter ape, he wanted to say something to placate them.  But they simply stared.  It felt like they were letting the foreigner dig his grave that much deeper.

Nishihara seemed all too willing to oblige by explaining further.  “It's a famous form of raw street interviews where I'm from.  The guy who the phrase was coined after, a comedian, would ask random people on the street some basic questions and see what kind of answers he got.  Some of the answers were hilarious, but not very flattering to the interviewee.”

Joey's worry turned to sudden recollection.  He heard of this, and seen many examples.  The name momentarily escaped him, until he recalled what Nishihara had called it.  “Right,” he said.  “That American Comedian, Jay something.”

“Leno,” Nishihara finished Joey's thought.

“Right.”  Joey turned to the officers.  “But, in this instance, we had a challenge.  We were to find our way back to the studio solely with the help of strangers, using only Baahnglish to ask for their aid.”

“Have you a lot of footage?”  Officer Canine indicated Joey's Go-Pro with a wave of his hand.

“Not on this,” Nishihara said, handing it over to Joey.

“Yeah,” Joey added.  “We used my camera as a prop to aid in communication when we asked if we could film our helper.”

Looking around, Joey searched for Ashley.  Joey found their cameraman keeping a healthy distance of nearly ten meters.  Ashley tried to look as inconspicuous as his filming harness and larger camera would allow.   

“All our footage would be on that one,” Joey said.

The officers both looked in the direction Joey indicated.  Officer Canine beckoned the Cameraman over.  Concerned, Ashley looked at the officer, then at Joey.

“Get over here, Ashley,” Joey called, bemused.

Reluctantly, Ashley complied.

“Did you happen to catch the disturbance on film?” Officer Canine asked.

With a sigh, Ashley said, “Yes.  I happened to catch most of it.”

With a nod, Officer Canine turned serious.  “First off, give me your names.”

All three answered.  When Nishihara gave his name, both officers studied him a moment longer than necessary.  “From out of town, I take it,” Canine muttered.

“Correct,” Nishihara replied.

Officer Canine studied the group a moment.  “Normally, causing a public disturbance is a serious offense.  By all rights, I can detain you at the precinct.  But!”  His serious facade lightened.  “Violence was not reciprocated.”  He nodded at Nishihara.  “You tired everything in your power to resolve the disturbance.  For that, I'm letting you go under the condition that you stop your little challenge immediately and head straight back to your studio.  I am still required to write you up for citation, before you go.”

He turned to his feline partner.  “Sato!  Is this 'The Animu Man'?”

The feline looked up from the form pad he was writing on, gave Joey a once-over, and nodded.  “Hai.”

Canine studied Joey a moment.  “Joey, the Animu Man,” he said.  “Sato, here is a big fan.”

The tux briefly glanced at Joey before bobbing his head in a brief little bow.

“You're sure he can be trusted with the footage they've collected?” Officer Canine asked.

Sato nodded.  “Hai.”

“Very well.  Normally, we would have every right to confiscate your footage.  But I'm gonna trust my partner's judgment and let you keep it.  I only have one condition, that you send a copy to me at the precinct.”  

He paused, reached into a belt pocket, and pulled out a card.  He handed it to Joey in the customary business manner, and Joey received it accordingly.  Studying it, Joey found the official seal of the Tokymeow Police Department.  Joey saw the officer's name and smiled.  Ichiro Kiba was effectively Ichiro 'Canine'.  The irony that Joey had been mentally referring to him as 'Officer Canine' was too rich.

“If you're intending to track down the cat that assaulted me and prosecute, you might not have to,” Nishihara said once the exchange was over.  “I don't think he was in full control of his faculties.  I smelled alcohol on his breath.”

Joey wasn't surprised by that detail.  The two officers didn't react at the fact, either.

“Then, you don't intend to press any charges?”  Officer Kiba asked.

“No.”

“Very well.  We have some paperwork to finish up, and you're free to go.”

* * *

The Trash Taste Studio was, quite frankly, a cramped mess.  They had converted an upper story apartment into their work space.  The 'sound stage' occupied the main living room at the end of a hall leading from the entrance.  Under the table and the adjacent forest of lights lay a root bed of wires.  A line of computer stations fully occupied the wall to the left of the room entrance in the remaining space.   Clutter and paper covered most of the two fold-out tables holding the computers.   

At a rough quarter shy of one hundred and seventy three centimeters, most everyone else had a few inches over Hik's five foot eight.  Unlike him, though, they were like slim dryads, slipping around the light poles and stepping over any foot traps in the wire maze with instinctual ease.  Broad-shouldered and thick-trunked with limbs proportioned to his muscly build, He felt very much the ape they accused him of being.  As everyone crowded near the computers, Hik hung back at the stage door, not wanting to risk being the bull in a china shop.  Not only did he see the obstacle course, but he would have to wiggle his way into a crowded forest of ears, fuzzy arms and waving tails.

At the door, he cast a quick glance at the lewd anime art.  

'Animu', he mentally corrected himself.

Leaning against the door frame, he listened to Joey explain what happened.  Their cameraman, Ashley, promptly presented the footage.  Having experienced it all, Hik didn't feel the need to watch.  Slowly, he let his eyes close, merely listening to the exchange.

Not physically tired, he felt emotionally drained.  During the fight and the following public police debrief, he had been on edge.  The post-combat drain had started merely minutes after they had completed the paperwork and started their journey to the studio.  The stroll was only a handful of city blocks, lasting only a dozen or so minutes.  That hadn't been long enough for him to stabilize into something feeling normal.

As he tried to destress, he heard a lot of comments.  One of the ladies asked if the cat was drunk.  Then came the gasps when the fight started.  

“At least he tried to ask forgiveness,” Garnt mused.

Connor sounded the most impressed.  “He makes it look so easy.  Look at that.  He looks bored.  He looked like that under the shouting, too.  That takes training.”

“And experience,” Garnt added.

“Or talent,” Joey said.

“Either way, it's impressive,” Conner concluded.  “And the final appeal to vanity.”

The conversation flow stopped.  Hik could almost feel the intensity from at least one person staring in his direction.  Opening his eyes he found the whole group looking in his direction.

“Hey, Nishihara,” Joey said.  “Don't you want to see this?”

“I was there,” Hik said.  “I don't need to see it.”

“Dude!  Have you seen yourself?” Connor rebutted.  “You're fucking amazing!”

Hik's lips twitched at the sentiment, but didn't even come close to a smile.  He let his gaze drift down among the cables while he replied.  “I don't think I'd fit.  Looks pretty crowded over there.”

“I can move out of the way,” Joey offered.

“Nah,” Hik said with a weak wave.  “I probably shouldn't be in among a large group, anyway.  I'm coming off a combat high.  It might have been for all of a minute, twenty minutes ago, but it's still an adrenaline dump.  I'm feeling drained.”  

He contemplated saying more, maybe giving the excuse of being on edge.  That didn't fit his explanation of 'being drained', though.  He wasn't ready to go into details.  Hik decided to just continue his appeal.  “So, if you don't mind, is there a place I can get out of the way and relax?”

Hik noted the mixed reactions among the Trash Taste crew.  Almost everyone expressed confusion, though a couple reacted with different looks.  He caught some looks of disappointment or concern.  Some were guarded, but Hik caught little signs that implied one or more of the three emotions.  

“You're sure?” Meilyne asked, one of the openly concerned.

“If you don't mind,” Hik said, letting the weariness slip into his voice.

“He's your stray,” she said to Joey.

“Sure,” Joey said.

After Joey worked his way over, Hikaru got the three dollar tour.  The short hall had doors leading to other small rooms.  Most were dedicated to the necessities of life, like the narrow kitchen, a tiny tub of a bath, and the water closet.  There was one room left that could act as something of a break room.

Hik guessed it was meant to be a proper bedroom.  However, that room was uncomfortably cluttered.  Every room in the apartment had its own chaos.  Shirts on hangers hung from the tub's curtain rail.  A few dishes and a large number of alcohol bottles lined the kitchen counters.  The break room had a couch hidden under papers, boxes, and a few cloth-like things Hik couldn't identify until he moved them.

    Only the toilet was free of trash.

If he had to guess, the folks of Trash Taste didn't have the funds to hire a cleaner.  Being creative-minded, they all probably got so engrossed in their work to tackle the chores themselves.  Having seen their stage's delicate arrangement, Hik suspected they might not trust anyone else not to make things worse.

The tour ended in the break room after a second stop by the fridge for a bottle of water.  They had other options, but Hik wasn't fond of whole milk and didn't drink alcohol for reasons of safety.

“Feel free to make room for yourself,” Joey said.  Looking directly at Hikaru, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“It's as I said,” Hik replied.  “Besides, I'm not really a crowd person by nature.”  He refrained from adding how his augmentation exacerbated that issue.

Joey nodded and turned to leave.  At the door, he stopped.  Looking back over his shoulder, he studied Hik one more time.  “I'm curious.  You avoided that cat's attacks easily.  Could you have retaliated as easily?”

“From the outset,” Hik said idly while plucking detritus from the 'L' extension of the couch.  Then, he considered what this crowd thought of his story.  “Of course, talk is easy,” he added, looking up at Joey's eyes for a brief second.  “If you ever want a demonstration, just say so.”

He hadn't intended it as a threat.  However, Joey's white main and tail bristled voluminously.

“That's okay,” the cat replied good-naturedly.  “You rest up.”

And with that, the Animu Man retreated down the hall.

Once settled on the couch, Hikaru sipped at his water while he listened to the crew talk business.  Subjects shifted between deciding what footage to use and how to arrange it.  The footage of his fight, sadly, was to be largely unused, with only a small clip to show why the Animu Man's part of the challenge was a complete failure.  Each of the three boys hammered out what kind of story they wanted to portray for their portion, and collaboratively came up with a decent ark.

About what felt like half an hour, he heard movement in the hall, and some feminine whispering.  Aki and the blonde Milskonsin native, Sydney, poked their heads in the door.

“Oh!  He's awake,” Syd mumbled when he looked their way.

“Let's leave him alone, then,” Aki said, quietly. 

The two raced passed the door with quick strides.  But Aki backed up and looked at Hik with an amused expression.  

“Hey, Hik.  Were you fluid, like water?”

Hik blinked.  That was an anime reference.  Surprisingly, in spite of not having seen Cowboy Beebop in ages, he still remembered the line and the show it was from.  Assuming his own amused look, he decided to use a different line from a western Sci-fi movie.

“Actually, I was a 'leaf on the wind'.”

Aki frowned for a moment.  Hik worried that the Serenity reference didn't exist or that she was unfamiliar with it.  But the second lapsed when recognition flooded her features with a smile.  She gave him a thumbs-up, and disappeared toward the exit.

After a while, the talk shifted into details which Hik didn't understand.  Tuning them out, he started to review what he had learned of the world.  The nationalities of some of the people he talked with were apparent in their accent.  

Joey was easily an Aussie.  Was Australia still called that here?  So many other names were animalized, taking after a major species.  United States of South Aprica on the continent of Giraffrica.   The city of Tokymeow in the country of Nekon.  The Japan of his home had once been known by the locals as Nippon.  

How America managed to get that name was an intriguing mystery.  One he hoped to explore, if he was allowed.

He  found the animal association with the different regions and countries amusing.  His home state of Iowa was best known for its hog industry.  Here, it was named Oinkowa and largely populated by 'swine'.  Wisconsin was best know for dairy and alcohol.  Here, it was named Milskonsin and largely populated by cattle.  Apes from South Aprica.

The oddity was Connor and Garnt being obvious Brits.  Garnt never offered what his true lineage was, and Hik hadn't asked.  Connor, however, had proudly declared himself a lion during the meal.  But when Hik made the sheep association with the English language with 'sheep country', Connor had countered with 'ram country'. 

The British crown was symbolized by a lion, a species that, in his world, didn't naturally occur on the British Isles.  The population being more sheep and goats made sense.  The curious question of pigeons being British flitted through his mind.  But he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out the Leonid royalty were actual felinoids.  England was one of the first places where immigration and imperial expansion would bring a widely diverse population.

The same was very true of his America.  Colonial expansion by all empires, as well as early middle-European settlers played a large part in shaping the nation.  But the accents didn't really diverges until expansion inward.  And that didn't happen until the states on the east coast won their independence. 

With the way Connor called him a colonial, Hik wondered if that revolution hadn't happened on this Earth.  But his accent was identifiable and matched two people claiming to be from America.  Hik expected a continued Imperial presence to still have a heavier impact on accents.  The coastal states still harbored inflections and nomenclature matching the British origin, especially in the south.  

Without any way to research and confirm some of his suppositions, Hikaru drifted into daydreaming about suppositions.  Were the Russians bears?  Maybe camels occupied the Sahara.  Did tigers rule India or China?  What about elephants?  And what about the Americas?  

His imagination ran wild with the possibilities, and he couldn’t wait to find out. 

He wasn't sure when he had dozed off.

The background noise was a perpetual thrum that Hikaru felt aware of the whole time, making for light sleep.  However, it only seemed like minutes before he detected movement in the hall and came fully alert.

Looking up at the door, he was just in time to see Joey pop his head in.

“Oh, good.  You're awake,” Joey said, looking guarded but relieved.  “Work day's done.  Time to go home.”

Standing, Hikaru asked the prominent question on his mind.  “So, who's taking me in for the night?  Or, am I on my own?”

Joey flicked an ear.  “Come on, man.  I wouldn't do you dirty like that.  You'll be staying with me and Aki.  We found you.  For now, you're our problem.”

                                                                                            

The trip to the Animu Man's  crib included a long train ride followed by a decent, half-hour hike. This was the umpteenth in a countless number of such train rides over what was, effectively, lifetimes.  Traveling on a crowded train was as arduous as any Hik had ridden before.  When he was much younger, he could tune out the crowd and focus on other things to ride out the time.  Now, his conditioning made that nearly impossible.  

Out on the streets, with only small, avoidable collections of pedestrians, his senses were on passive mode.  As soon as he reached the platform, they cranked up to full active ping, being squeezed in among other critters alongside Joey.  His body actively anticipated all the incoming touches, treating them all as potential physical assaults.  It didn't matter whether it was a body check, elbow nudge, tail slap or unidentified caress.  To the subliminal instincts fused into him by the program, each individual stimuli needed to be proactively and lethally intercepted. 

Hikaru had to dedicate a great deal of his attention inward to reign back the deadly impulses. 

With enough travel, He had long since learned to split his focus, allowing his eyes to observe the passing scenery, or to catalogue the variety and types of animal-folk in the sea of hair and ears.  He was even able to deal with a situation that required more attention than normal.

A salary cat slowly lay his head on Hik's shoulder.  

“Seriously,” Hikaru muttered, bemused.

Hik was mildly disappointed that the neko wasn't one of the many cute calicoes.  Regardless, he wasn't sure whether to be flattered or disturbed.  How the black and white tuxedo found the rough fabric and lumpy shape of the epaulet strap on his vest at all comfortable was equally baffling.        

Wriggling his shoulder woke the exhausted wage slave.

“Not that kind of bro, bro,” Hik said in an attempt at Nekonese.

The tux blinked, unreadable.  With a yawn, he turned away and promptly dozed off, dangling from the handhold with admirable skill.

Hik mirrored the Nekojin and gripped his own handhold with both hands.  Both arms raised meant nobody would have room to use his shoulder as a pillow.

Returning to the idle observations, Hik barely remembered a lot of what he saw beyond general impressions.  He was fully aware of each rock and bump and how it effected the folk around him.  By the time he followed Joey out into the wider world, an hour that could have been a short blur felt at least three times as long.

Aki greeted them from her office near the entrance.  Seeing Hikaru, she joked, “Oh! Do we get to keep him?”  In spite of her sarcastic joy, Hik didn't sense any animosity off her. 

“Looks like,” Joey said.

“Yay!”  She disappeared back into the room for a brief second.  When she appeared again, she held a band with a fan on it.  She offered it to Hikaru.  “Would you like a thermally powered head fan?  I don't plan on keeping it.”

Hikaru took it, studying the device thoroughly.  “How do I use it?”

“You put it on your head, like a headband.”

Hikaru quickly figured out what she meant.  He put it on with the fan high over his head.  As soon as two metal studs made contact with his skin, the fan slowly started to rotate.  After a few seconds, it was up to full speed.  The air flowing through his hair felt nice on the scalp.

After a few seconds of marveling about the rig, Hik pulled it off.  Handing it back to Aki, he said, “Nifty.  But I don't have a place to carry it.”

Aki frowned.  “You sure?”

“Yeah.  I'll pass.  Thanks.”

“Oh, well. Guess it's going in the trash.”  Turning, Aki strolled down the hall to the big open space at the far end. 

Joey had already slipped off his shoes.  Hik had to kneel and undo his heavy boots before laboriously sliding them off.  While he did this, Joey waited.

“Now that you're at my place, I guess it's appropriate that I start calling you by your first name.  You don't mind, do you, Hikaru?”

Hik glanced up at Joey to see an amused smirk.  There was a joke in that statement.  A lot of anime made a big deal about lovers taking a first step with calling each other by first names.  

Adopting his own smirk, he said.  “I think we're still a long ways from holding hands.  But,” he paused to stand up, “My friends call me 'Hik'.”

“As in 'country hick',” Joey stated sounding bemused, though he still smirked.

“Yup,” Hik glanced directly at Joey's eyes.  “And, after today, I'd say we're battle brothers.”

Joey reflected on the idea, then made a noncommittal nod.  “So, is that nickname the reason you decided on 'Hikaru' for your first name?”

“Partly,” Hik replied.

“And the other reason?”  Joey looked curious.

“Do you know what 'Hikaru' means?”

“Haven't really paid attention to it,” Joey admitted.

“Then I won't spoil it for you.  When you have a moment, look up the meaning of both my first and last name, and make a phrase out of it.”

Joey nodded.  “Huh.  Okay.  Any other reasons?”

“Hikaru was also the name of a starship helmsman in an old space opera I liked as a kid.”

“Any others?” Joey asked again, looking impish.

“That's it,” Hikaru said.

“You're sure?”

Hik smirked.  “Pretty sure.”

“Okay.  Then, I guess, it's time for the tour.”

Aki's and Joey's apartment had a similar layout to the podcast studio.  However, this apartment was much more spacious.  It had a couple more rooms, each of which were bigger than the small break room.  Hik was given a glimpse of Aki's and Joey's personal offices.  Joey looked a little disappointed that  Hikaru didn't show more excitement at the collections of figures, dolls, manga, anime, and other associated merchandise.  

Hikaru couldn't really help it.  While the collections were impressive, his life of perpetual travel meant he didn't have the same materialist mindset that drove people to collect.  Not that he didn't understand the bug.  He had seen many a series of items where he would want to acquire the whole lot, not settling for just one.  He was into toys as a kid, and never really grew out of them.  But his collection of possessions didn't survive the end of the program.  And he really couldn't justify starting anything new.  Invariably, he would have to move on and leave any collections behind.

Hik would never pass up a chance to binge an anime collection, or any TV series that caught his fancy.  He read his fair share of manga, as well.  But, like toys and games, he couldn't justify keeping the physical media. 

Looking at Joey, in his office, with all the stuff a weeb should like, Hik knew he should be excited.  Explaining why he wasn't required details, context which the cat would find confusing.  Hik had failed to catch the Animu Man's impression of his Isekai story.  Until he had a better read, he didn't want to deal with any potential drama that came with unbelief.  

Hik decided on something vague, though truthful.  “Sorry, man.  I've only been a moderate fan of anything.  Kind of a 'jack of all trades'.  The collections are impressive.  But seeing it's not the same as owning it.”

Joey nodded before leading Hikaru through the rest of the tour.  

After a brief view of the toilet, they ended up in the giant combination kitchen and living room at the end of the hall.  The kitchen to the left was big enough to have a table amid the counters, stove and fridge.  The living room to the right was partitioned by a large L-shaped couch facing the far wall.  There, in the middle of some shelves and bedecked with more themed items from games and anime sat a large flat-screen television.

Aki already had some bags out on the table.  To Hik, they appeared to hold food brought in from a diner.  All three sat at the table and shared a nice grilled chicken supper.  Hik mostly listened while they intermittently joked and told stories between bites.

Afterward, Joey and Aki decided to unwind by playing a video game.  It was a free-range time-sink all about side quests and in-game busy-work.  They each spent time filling in collections, redecorating their in-game abodes as new furniture got unlocked, and mingling with the NPCs.  The fact that the game was called 'Animal Crossing' presented an irony that Hik enjoyed due to his unique perspective.  

Unlike the studio, where Hik got bored and dozed off, he kept awake here.  Watching the two play around with the game kept Hikaru engaged.  By the time the couple announced they were ready for bed, he was wide awake.  Practically wired, he knew that it would be a while before he could properly fall asleep. 

“We have a bed you can use,” Aki said.  “You don't have to sleep out here.”

“That's probably wise,” Hik said, not liking the idea of a rude awakening and the fallout that could come after.  

As he stood, Hik looked around for any signs of pets.  He didn't want to ruin his visit with a late night encounter.  Having not seen any children or pets, even now, he decided to be thorough.

“I didn't see any kids.  You wouldn't happen to have any pets, by chance, would you?”

“Only Tentacle Sama,” Aki replied, echoed by Joey.

That named sounded familiar.  Hik heard Aki mention it earlier in the day.  He had surmised more of a contact or friend than a pet.  Was that what they had in mind, to hire him as a pet-sitter?  Both cats yawned, prompting Hik to inquire sometime tomorrow.

“Okay,” Hik replied.  “I'll close the door, then.  I highly recommend you knock to wake me.  It might get messy, otherwise.”

“Sure,” Joey replied.

“This way,” Aki said.

She led him to back to her office.  There, she uncovered a kind of sofa from under a heap of stuffed animals.  While she worked, Hik glanced around the room, looking for signs of a 'Tentacle Sama'.  He found none.  

His gaze ran across the multi-screen computer for a second time.  The temptation to use it for research on the wider world was strong.  In the end, he felt confident a better chance would come later, and deigned not to ask.

“Tentacle Sama isn't in here, is he,” Hikaru asked, instead.

Aki looked around, digging through the animals she hadn't moved from the couch.  Once finished, she shook her head.  “He's good at hiding when he doesn't want to be found.”

“Well, thanks,” Hik said.

“No problem.  Good night.”

Al woke into a weird dream where he was hunting for a place to pee while being stalked by an elusive enemy at the same time.  The limbo state of half-asleep transitioned to half-awake the moment he felt himself sit up.  As he became more alert, he felt his arm snap out, snatching something out of the air of its own accord.  His eyes saw the thing that had launched at him, though his conscious mind didn't quite register what he saw in the twilight offered from the window behind the computer desk.

It was long and snake-like, whatever it was, evoking memories of sci-fi horror shows.  Half a dozen movies sprung to mind which featured alien invasions by worm-like creatures that took control of people.  Most of the time, it required some sort of insertion into a person's body.  This fueled a sudden panic.

The thing wriggled and writhed like a freshly caught fish.  He didn't want it to escape and try again.  His grip automatically tightened to keep it secure.

In the next instant, finally fully awake and alert, Hikaru took a closer look.  The shape prompted a name to come to mind.  Tentacle Sama.  

“Tentacle Sama?” he breathed.

A foreign voice, sounding strangled, managed to gasp two words.  “Can't breath!”

Hikaru quickly let go.

Like a giant caterpillar, the worm-thing quickly crawled to the door, disappearing through the slight gap underneath.  Hik guessed that was the elusive 'Mr. Tentacle'.  About a minute later, that suspicion was confirmed when he heard Aki's cry of alarm from the couple's room across the hall.  

“Tentacle Sama!  No!”

Standing up, Hikaru knew where this was going and prepared to leave.

* * *

Joey saw the limp form of Tentacle Sama in Aki's arms.  After she had cried out, he had gotten up, switched on the light and worked around to her side of the bed to see what the matter was.  From what he could see, Tentacle Sama showed no signs of life.  There was a portion of his length that looked extensively deformed, like it had been crushed.  It was starting to pinken from bruising.

Joey had been alarmed.  That flashed into anger.  However, his anger was nothing compared to the mask of psychotic murder on Aki's face.  Seeing that, Joey knew he would have to be the one to confront Hikaru.

“I'll deal with this,” he said.   

Donning his robe, he stormed out into the hall and practically flung open Aki's office door.  Flicking on the room light, he discovered Hikaru on his feet, completely dressed except for his boots.  

“Did you hurt Tentacle Sama?” Joey demanded.  He felt he already knew the answer, but Joey was hoping for some reason to be angry at the strange ape.  Maybe he would try to lie.

Hikaru finished blinking in the sudden light.  “So that was Mister Tentacle?”  He turned grim.  “Yup.  It was me.”

While the play on Tentacle Sama's name made Joey balk,  Hik's open honesty caught Joey by surprise.  His flame of anger cooled a bit.  He could tell Aki was listening in.  As much as Joey might be willing to hear Hikaru's explanation, this was not the time.  There was only one way to defuse this, right this moment.  

Stepping back from the office door, he pointed toward the apartment entrance.  “Nobody hurts Tentacle Sama and stays.  Go.  Get out.”

Hikaru complied without word.  He didn't even bother to try to look Joey in the eye.  Stopping long enough to pick up his boots, Nishihara quickly unlocked the door and stepped out into the night.

When the door clicked shut, Joey's anger turned down to a simmer.  There was too much wrong with what just happened, and he wanted to find out.  First, he stepped over to his room door.

Neither Aki nor Tentacle Sama had moved in the couple minutes after Joey had left.  While Aki's fair skin was pale, Tentacle Sama showed signs of color.  Joey couldn't be sure, but he guessed Tentacle Sama might be alive.  It would take minutes of observation to know for sure.

However, if Joey didn't act now, Hikaru was sure to disappear, leaving many questions unanswered.  He hastened to the door, quickly slipped on his sneakers, and followed Hikaru outdoors.  To his relief, Hikaru was still busy donning and fastening his boots out on the balcony walkway.

The pale ape shot his blue eyes up, studying Joey for a brief second before returning focus on his immediate task.  He didn't say anything.  They stood in growing silence.  Joey decided it was up to him to take the initiative.

“I was gonna ask Tentacle Sama to help you out, y'know,” Joey said, breaking the silence.  “He has connections.  He could've helped you find a job, and even hook you up with your own place to stay.”  He shook his head.  “But you had to do something like this.”

“So he's sapient,” Hik said.  “Is he okay?”  

“I don't know,” Joey admitted.  “He wasn't moving, last I saw.”  He paused, watching Hikaru stand up.  “You didn't do it on purpose, did you?”

“No.”

Exasperated by the simple reply, Joey came up with a more pointed question.  “Then, why didn't you say anything?  Why did you just walk out?”

Hikaru kept his gaze low, only glancing up at Joey's face intermittently.  “You didn't look in the mood.  Besides!”  He became more expressive, taking on an ironic expression.  “This invariably happens in my travels.”

Joey noted the odd turn of phrase for a later question.  First, he asked, “So, what happened? Did  he attack you?”

Hikaru turned contemplative.  “I can't say.  But it wouldn't matter whether it was an honest attack or a prank.”  He shot a glance into Joey's eyes.  “See, my body has been conditioned to react to external stimuli as if it's being attacked.  When that Pandora's Box was opened, it caused all kinds of complications, since my subconscious couldn't identify friend or foe.  I had to learn how to keep those impulses in check so I can walk around in public.  However, if I'm not conscious, like when I'm asleep, the subconscious reverts to those instincts.”

“That program you mentioned,” Joey concluded, nodding his understanding.

“Yeah,” Hikaru agreed.  He shot Joey a curious look.  “There's more to it than that, of course. But that was what came into play here.”  His gaze drifted to the apartment wall.  “I thought I had been thorough.  But I didn't know what I was looking for.  I thought Mister Tentacle was a pet.  I hadn't expected a sapient dismembered limb from a cephalopod.”

“Yeah, Joey said.  “He's more like family.  The weird uncle of the house.  He can be a bit of a dick at times.  But he doesn't deserve whatever you did to him.”

“I snatched him out of the air when he leapt in my direction.  I admit, he had me thinking of a body-snatcher style alien.  So, when he tried to escape, I did squeeze a little hard.”  Hik sighed in disgust.  “I was trying to avoid all that.”

Joey looked out at the night scenery while trying to collect his thoughts.  Trees and street corners were lit with street lights.  They were all spread apart so much that large swaths of the city were shrouded in darkness.  He now had a conundrum.  Leaning back against the door, he lightly banged his head while he thought.  

“Fuck,” he drawled.  To Hikaru, he said, “You're dangerous,”   

“Yup.” 

“But that came from the program in your story.  If that's real, then it's safe to assume your claim of being Isekaied is real, too.”

“Would you like proof?” Hik asked.  “You've seen it already.”  Fishing in his vest pocket, he pulled out his stash of 'funny money'.  He plucked one item out that looked ridiculously futuristic.  Then he handed Joey the rest.  “You can keep those.  But I can't let you have this one.”

Taking the other coins and bills, Joey studied them briefly.  In the balcony's spaced lights, he noted heads on coins that matched Hikaru's general facial structure, complete with the ape-like ears and tall necks.  He knew he would be studying these later that night.

At the same time, he indicated what looked like a fancy memory stick that Hik had kept for himself.  “What's on it?”

“It's just a cred stick,” Hikaru said, casually putting it back in his pocket.  “I'm sure it won't interface with any of your tech.  As it was explained to me, it's built for a quantum trinary-bit data system designed around a base-10 bus.  If your tech is anything like what I had at home, you're still using a binary-bit system in hexadecimal through a base-8 bus.  If you were to plug the cred stick into a properly arranged port, none of your computers would read anything more than corrupted data.”  He smirked.  “Besides, it's still got two hundred million C-bills on it.”

“That sounds like a lot,” Joey said.

“It is.  Practically enough to buy a used spaceship, or invest in a war robot and join the ranks of mercenaries.” Hikaru pointed at the wad he had given Joey.  “While that's not much, it can get me into trouble if I'm not careful.  My travels aren't bound by time.  So, I have to be careful of mint dates.”

“Wait! What?” 

Hikaru glanced at Joey, curious.  “What?  My travels?  This isn't my first 'new world.”  Joey noted the twinkle of joy in Hik's eyes in the faint outdoor light.  “I've seen a lot of Isekai and shows of a similar nature.  The problem a lot of anime has is that few, if any, take the next step and ask 'Why stop at one world?' “  Hik looked over the balcony toward the night sky.  “After the program, I've been jumping from universe to universe.  The program simply was preparation for what I would potentially come across.  It's a gift, wish fulfillment from a creator of universes to one of his called out children.  Not reincarnated.  Not summoned, though that will probably happen eventually.  Just deposit, adventure, and extraction.  Wash, rinse, repeat.”

Joey found this fascinating.  “How many worlds?”

Hikaru pulled his gaze back to the balcony, flashing a glance at Joey.  With a shrug, he said, “I lost track.   It feels like eons.  I don't even know how old I am anymore. Each sojourn is different.  One could last a decade.  Another could last a day.”

“And everything in between,” Joey said, guessing.

Hikaru nodded. 

Joey relaxed.  “For a moment, I was concerned about leaving you stranded in a new world.  But the trauma is just too fresh.  I can't let you stay here.”

“I'll be fine,” Hik said.  It sounded like a statement of fact.

Joey studied the foreigner, seeing him in a new light.  “Where will you go?  What will you do?”

Hik smirked wistfully.  “I'll go where events take me.  And when my creator deems I've experienced enough, he'll send me to the next reality.”  Looking Joey in the eyes momentarily.  “Thanks.  For taking a chance on me.  I hope Mister Tentacle recovers.”

With that, Hikaru pole-vaulted over the balcony railing.  Joey stepped up to the partition in time to see Hik hit the ground on his feet.  In the blink of an eye, Hik dove into a roll.  Traveling a couple meters, he jumped to his feet at a run.  After a few steps, Hik had slowed to a stroll, heading out into the Nekon night.

“Is he all right?” Joey asked Aki as soon as he was back inside.

“He seems to be,” Aki answered quietly from her place on the bed.  

She had Tentacle Sama stretched out across the bed.  Cross-legged, she sat next to him.  From Joey's vantage, he saw breathing motion Tentacle Sama's cylindrical form.

“Has he said anything about what happened?” Joey asked.

Aki looked up with concern. “I hadn't asked.  It might be too early for him to talk.”

“It's okay, Aki,” Tentacle Sama said, his deep voice a little week, his words labored from strained breathing.  “I can talk.”

“Then, will you tell us what happened?” Aki asked.  “What did he do to you?”

“Honestly, it's mostly my fault,” Tentacle Sama said.  “I only meant to have some harmless fun.  Give the new guy a bit of a scare.  

“After everyone had gone to sleep, I snuck into your office and pounced.”

Tentacle Sama went silent for a moment.  “He sounded asleep.  But the speed with which he sat up and caught me, it was so fast.  I struggled to escape, but he tightened his grip so hard, I couldn't breath.  I managed to choke out 'Can't breath',  and he let me go.

“The scariest part was his eyes.  He didn't look conscious when he grabbed me.  He only looked awake the moment he let me go.”

Tentacle Sama's tip lifted up toward Aki.  “I got away as fast as I could, and passed out when I got here.”  He shuddered.  “He's dangerous, Aki.  He can't be allowed to stay here.”

Joey watched Aki's concern shift to horror, then to ruddy anger while Tentacle Sama related his tale.  Her ears slowly drooped sideways before sliding back and stiffening.  Once he was done, she gave him a thump, prompting a cry of confused pain from the sapient appendage.

“Tentacle Sama!  You jerk,” Aki snapped.  “You're telling me this all happened over a prank?”

“One that backfired, no less,” Joey added, humorlessly.

After a moment of composure, she turned to Joey with renewed concern.  “He didn't mean to do this, did he?  Why else would he ask about pets or request a knock on the door to wake him?”

“Yup.  He knew what might happen,” Joey said.  “He admitted it, himself.  But Tentacle Sama is right.  Hikaru Nishihara is dangerous.  Perhaps this is for the best.”