Old Torches and New Sunrises (Yamamoto, Endeavor)
Atsushi Yamamoto stood against the railway of the building were the billboard was broadcasted. He looked down on the streets.
A heavy sigh came from behind him. He looked back to see an old acquaintance of his: Todoroki Enji. Endeavor. To say they were old acquaintances was the same as saying that salt and meat went well together.
They had worked together for nearly twenty years in this industry; it was impossible for them not to know each other. “I see something is bothering you, Enji-san. Care to share it is?” Yamamoto offered an olive branch to the number one hero.
“The new heroes, they treat it as some kind of… as if we were in a TV show. Sometimes I feel as if they don’t understand what is really at stake here.” Enji spoke as he rubbed his temples. Yamamoto whistled.
Maybe Enji was right. Certainly, he was right… “Don’t put too much blame on Saurus-dono. They are kids. They had no Osaka Rebellion to put down. For all of our efforts, it paid out a thing in the end. We managed to hold up peace, as frail as it was.”
Yamamoto noticed a thing, a very small detail, hidden beneath their feet, his tail swung a little, its bladed tip slowly grazing on the ground, just enough for her to hear the scratches.
“This is the first big threat for Japan in years. We never had an event of the scale of the Osaka Rebellion for many years. It is the new generation’s time to experience despair, and realize that they can’t win all fights.”
Yamamoto looked down the ledge of the building. The smell of smoke, blood, and the echoes of screams were still palpable. Many of those screams and the blood spilled on his and MutPunk’s hands. “It is time for us to guide them in this dark time.”
Yamamoto turned to stare Enji in the eyes. “Have faith in the new generation. This time, they have charted grounds, a map to guide them. They don’t need to figure out stuff like we did in our time.” Yamamoto smiled at his old acquaintance, who held a solemn face.
“You have retired once Saurus started to rise the ranks. You felt as if you had someone to carry your torch for the mutants, Yamamoto.” Enji walked forward, he stood side by side with Yamamoto, as they looked down the streets.
“Do you think you made the right choice? He is all for the showbiz, and clout. I don’t feel as if he places enough seriousness in what we are doing.” Yamamoto could go for a few more years at least, he retired early, and yet Enji felt as if Yamamoto had not grown weaker.
“As I’ve said, they are young. They will mature, this will force them to mature wether they like it or not. This will test their mettle, if they are true heroes, they will shoulder the storm. if they are not,” Yamamoto snarled. “They will end like dear Majestic, a joke.”
Enji took a deep breath. “Let the new take the place of the old, huh? Pass on the torch.” There were many promising young heroes this time around. A new generation was being shaped as they spoke. A new generation of villains, of heroes, of citizens.
Maybe Yamamoto saw things clearly from the get-go, it was the way he chose to retire. ‘Did you see something I didn’t in those younger heroes?’
While they were not close, Enji was forced to respect MutPunk for all the hard work they put in. First into the fray, last to retreat was their motto. They enforced it until the moment they finally disbanded. And yet, Yamamoto was back to work.
To help the new generation, guide them. ‘Maybe is time I finally retire.’ He couldn’t keep his status as number one forever. Find a worthy successor, and let the old night rest into a glorious sunrise. He could accept this.
Yamamoto smiled as if he had read Enji’s thoughts. “Well, it is time for me to go. See ya sometime.” Yamamoto got up on the railway. “And say to our little dear eavesdropper to do a better job next time. She was sloppy.”
Yamamoto threw himself off the building. Enji blinked, but Yamamoto was too fast, he fell too quickly. Yet, before he could hit the ground, a monster truck, somehow driving at a 90-degree angle, caught him.
A giant Tanuki-man held on the sides of the truck, while Yamamoto snuck in by a trapdoor on the truck’s ceiling.
“Fucking MutPunks.” Enji smiled at a sight that was so familiar a good twenty years ago. He looked down to where Yamamoto’s tail was scratching the ground. There was a well-hidden latch there. “You heard the man.” Enji scoffed and walked away.