"The Chosen Man" stands in the rain. A cold rain which, at any moment, may turn into ice. However, the chill seeping into his skin and the uncomfortable sticking of his wet clothes are irrelevant to him. Each raindrop falls to the ground without a single one touching him, coincidentally avoiding his body entirely. Almost as if there is an invisible umbrella open above him.
"The Chosen Man" stands on a battlefield. The exploding grenades, falling to the ground like a torrential downpour, however, stray from their vertical trajectory before impact, so he is unharmed by the scattering fragments. The stronger the power of the grenade, the further diagonally it strays from above his head. So, what if an atomic bomb was to be dropped above "The Chosen Man?" Even if it glides diagonally away and misses ground zero by a few kilometers, he can no longer escape injury to his body. However, destiny will preserve his safety to the last. As a result, what would happen? Nothing. The bomb will neither fall, nor will it explode. It will continue to exist, paused in mid air still full of its fatal energy, above the invisible umbrella--
The above is a thought experiment called casually, "Umbrella and Bombs." It's an allegory for the Weismann Theory's concept of a probability point. The nature and abilities of the leaders chosen by and who could control destiny were first defined, measured, and theorized in Germany in 1944. Then, the following year the first scientifically defined "King" was born in the middle of conflict. In the midst of death and destruction, a shining sword hung over his head. This is neither an allegory, nor a fairy tale. This is historical truth. But, perhaps-- If thought of as the point in time where the rules of the real world were rewritten, maybe it should be called a certain kind of fairy tale, a myth of creation. They twist, stop, and dominate with their will the laws of nature once controlled by microscopic coincidences and macroscopic certainties--the era of demigods. 201X - In a corner of the world, set on an island in the Far East, the prologue to this myth is still continuing.
†
Casually, they're "superpowered." Said a little more politely, they're "uniquely powered individuals." Scientifically, they're "probability-inclined psychokinetics." Legally, they're "persons retaining abilities caused by a unique phenomenon." In the jargon within the police organization, they call them "supes." When police officer Kusuhara Takeru first saw that, it was his second month as a part of the Metropolitan Police Department Riot Squad. It was his nineteenth summer. The strong rays of the sun reflected off of the asphalt. His protector and helmet were burning him up on both sides, and the sweat forming inside his uniform dripped to his feet and pooled in his boots. "…It's hot," he murmured quietly. Next to him, head patrol officer Tamura Atsushi, still facing forward, said shortly, "Don't lose focus." "Ah… I'm sorry." As he answered, he moved his head slightly to catch a glimpse to see how Tamura was doing. He was six years older than Kusuhara. The younger members of the squad adored him like an older brother because of his more mature calm demeanor and good humored personality. That Tamura was unusually nervous. He couldn't see his expression behind the face shield, but he could feel a strong wariness from his small movements. The robber had taken hold of a bank in the office district--that was how the situation had been explained to Kusuhara. They stood directly in front of the bank with its shutters down, gripping their riot batons and making a blockade line with their riot shields. It was a dangerous mission where they were literally bearing the brunt of the theft, but since Tamura had experience in scenes like this, he always kept a collected composure. To Kusuhara, that was reliable… But what about now? He could overhear bits and pieces of the correspondence a platoon commander in the back row was having with command headquarters. There were two robbers. They had threatened the clerks at the teller window and taken the money, but since emergency communications were prompt and they ran into trouble retreating, they had failed to escape. They took some of the bank staff and customers as hostages and shut themselves inside. It had been two hours since the incident. With communications open with the criminals on one hand and the information gathered from off-duty clerks and customers kept out from the hold, they were able use both to get a grasp on the situation. How the criminals looked, the number of hostages, the facilities within the bank--and most importantly, the weapons the criminals had. Most of the customers witnessed the gun pointed at the teller clerk and testified, "They shot the ceiling as a threat," "One of the fluorescent lights broke." On the other hand, there were others saying, "I didn't hear a gunshot," "It didn't go off," and that contradiction led investigation headquarters to call to mind one possibility. "--Inclination levels have moved from 3.5 to 4. Assuming suspect as a supe." "Understood. Assuming suspect as a supe and guard--" Tamura's mouth stiffened at the overheard exchange coming from behind them. "So it is a supe… Be careful." "…What's a soup?" Kusuhara whispered back. Since Tamura had talked to him, he figured it would be alright to talk just a little bit. Rather, if he dared to open his mouth in a situation like this, then he might have something important to say. "A superpowered. You've heard of them, at least?" "Ah yeah, like, a superhero--" When Kusuhara spoke, Tamura stirred and stood at the ready. The side entrance opened slightly, and a man in a brown beanie poked his face out. In his hand, he held a gun. Once in a while, the robbers would come and look at the outside situation like this. "…But he looks surprisingly normal." "It's weird that he looks normal." "Huh… Ah, okay," Kusuhara nodded. What felt "normal" was, more than the man's appearance, the impression he got from his movements. Whether it be a blade or a gun, the one holding the weapon will move with their consciousness centered on it. Holding it in front of them at the ready in order to use it at any time, or holding it with the muzzle or tip pointed down at the feet in caution--it would be an obvious thing were it a real gun. But were it to be a model gun or some other bluff, then they would most certainly try to deliberately show it as a real one. But this man wasn't showing the characteristics of an armed person. He was treating the gun in his hand carelessly, like a toy. -- Why, in a tense scene of a crime, walking around carrying something like a gun, isn't he treating it like a weapon? If Kusuhara put the "unnatural naturalness" he felt into words, that's what it would be. The answer was-- --Because the criminal had separate weapons for show and use. Then why didn't he show the weapon he used? He could think of two reasons: He didn't want to show his real weapon… Or, that weapon was invisible. "--Look carefully. There's something like a heat haze coming out from around his body, right?" "Ah, you're right." At Tamura's words, Kusuhara nodded. "Kinda, like, waving…" "By gravity or light or whatever, it's warping bit by bit." "Ooh, gravity. I don't really understand, but that's awesome… Do they fly and shoot beams like superheroes in movies?" "Nah, if his power's in the single digits, then he's got the strength of a kid at most." "What," Kusuhara gave a wry smile. "His gun looks like a fake, so why don't we just charge in and hold them back?" "Don't let your guard down," Tamura said with a hardened voice. "I almost died because of that." "What?" "This eye… I've only got half my eyesight in it." With a gloved fingertip, he tapped his face shield. "It'll be four or five years ago now… Had a run in with one of those supes. When we ran in with our shields, an invisible finger stuck me over my shield and into my eye. Like… twisted." "Ew…" "There were some other guys who got their brains smashed. You be careful, too." "…Yes." Kusuhara nodded meekly, and stood on his toes to look over the riot shield. "If that's so, then we should definitely stay as far away as we can… Oh." His movement must have stood out within the group; the man in the beanie, who had been looking around at his surroundings, locked his gaze onto him and gave a light wave with his gun. "…?" Kusuhara leaned forward-- "--Idiot! Don't stick your head out!" Tamura said sharply, and Kusuhara involuntarily shrank back. At that moment, the man in the beanie swung his gun downward. It was almost like he was trying to hit someone in front of him with the grip, but-- Thump. With a hard sound, the top of the riot shield was sliced off diagonally. "Wah!?" Kusuhara threw his head back, and Tamura yelled, "He's in range!" "--Pull back! All men pull back!" The policemen around them withdrew like the receding tide. Kusuhara, who had fallen on his behind, and Tamura, who was grabbing onto his collar and dragging him, were left behind. "Get rid of your shield! It's not gonna help!" "O-Okay… Wah!?" The shield he had just tossed away was split in two in front of him, and a number of cracks ran through the asphalt at his feet. They were long, straight cuts, much like an invisible knife cutting butter. That "power" was surely no more powerful than a child's strength. But at the same time, it had more range and density than Tamura and the others had imagined. The unseen blade the superpowered himself materialized from over twenty meters away passed through the road surface on Kusuhara's sides and arrived at Tamura's feet. Tamura fell with a grunt. The blood from his calf scattered on the asphalt. "Tamura-san!?" The moment he turned around, Kusuhara felt a strange sensation on his back. That omen of the wavering of narrowing space, an echo without a sound. The next attack was closing in on them. His body moved reflexively against that invisible phenomenon. He got himself up, gripping the fallen riot baton by his feet and posing on one knee, he swung. Clang! There was the sound of clashing metal. Then, the asphalt behind Kusuhara's left side cracked open. The wooden baton hit the invisible blade and made it change directions, and hit the road. The man standing in the door at the far end of his sight was looking his way, puzzled. -- That was…? Kusuhara himself was also looking at the baton with wide eyes. Something like a faint haze on his hand and baton wavered, then disappeared. When he looked back at the door, the man in the beanie was raising his gun again. Most likely, he used his attack with swinging his arm down like a sword. Timing it with the instant the man lowered his arm, Kusuhara stood, raising his baton in an uppercut. Clang! Again, he flung away the invisible blade causing a hard and heavy response. -- I can do this…! Keeping his labored breathing under control, Kusuhara held out his 120 centimeter baton at the ready out in front of him, like kendo. He was able to block the "invisible attacks," which had been able to slice in two with no problem a thick polycarbonate shield, with a wooden baton - as irrational as that guess was, he had an intuitive belief. The feeling of the hit from just a moment ago still remained in his hands. "Don't move!" The voice from the speaker he heard from above him was directed at the man in the beanie. Behind him, using the personnel transport vehicles as shield, a number of troops held submachine guns at the ready, pointing them at the man. This was no longer an average crime, and the response had changed to that of dealing with an armed terrorist attack. "Put down your weapon and come forward, slowly!" In this case, he didn't know how much meaning there was in making him throw away his "visible weapon." Were the man able to use his power unarmed, then wouldn't taking away his weapon be impossible? But in any case, in this situation it seemed that his side would settle it in their advantage. With all the guns pointed in his direction, the man was no longer able to move. Were he to try to cut Kusuhara and the other troops, he would be showered with tens of bullets in the next instant. He had no choice but to obediently step down. When Kusuhara let his guard down just a little, another man appeared from within the side entrance. It was the second man of the two criminals. His clothes were similar to that of the first man, but he was a bit taller, and his beanie was black. From his demeanor, he looked to be the leader. He seemed to be saying to the first man, "What's taking so long!?" In one hand, he was holding a simple gun. "You two, throw down your weapons!" At that voice, it seemed as though the man in the black hat realized the situation for the first time. Or he may have put on such an act on purpose. He looked around, and gave a shrug of his shoulders at the number of guns facing them. Then, the man tossed his gun as he was told. He let it go with a big, slow movement, as though it was a display to Kusuhara and the troops. Then--he swiftly swung his arm to the side. Boo- boo- boom! Suddenly, three personnel transport vehicles behind Kusuhara exploded. The mass of heat and impact from the inside of the vehicles ripped the frames off, and scattered iron scraps at high speed with the blast. His colleagues were blown away like splinters and hit the ground. "Wha…!?" Kusuhara winced, and at his feet Tamura groaned. "Beta Class…!" "Beta…?" When he tried to ask, the blast, delayed by a few seconds, hit his back, and he fell forward a step. Clonk!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prologue: sword of damocles ( pt 1 )
"The Chosen Man" stands in the rain.
A cold rain which, at any moment, may turn into ice. However, the chill seeping into his skin and the uncomfortable sticking of his wet clothes are irrelevant to him. Each raindrop falls to the ground without a single one touching him, coincidentally avoiding his body entirely. Almost as if there is an invisible umbrella open above him.
"The Chosen Man" stands on a battlefield.
The exploding grenades, falling to the ground like a torrential downpour, however, stray from their vertical trajectory before impact, so he is unharmed by the scattering fragments. The stronger the power of the grenade, the further diagonally it strays from above his head.
So, what if an atomic bomb was to be dropped above "The Chosen Man?" Even if it glides diagonally away and misses ground zero by a few kilometers, he can no longer escape injury to his body.
However, destiny will preserve his safety to the last. As a result, what would happen?
Nothing.
The bomb will neither fall, nor will it explode. It will continue to exist, paused in mid air still full of its fatal energy, above the invisible umbrella--
The above is a thought experiment called casually, "Umbrella and Bombs." It's an allegory for the Weismann Theory's concept of a probability point. The nature and abilities of the leaders chosen by and who could control destiny were first defined, measured, and theorized in Germany in 1944. Then, the following year the first scientifically defined "King" was born in the middle of conflict. In the midst of death and destruction, a shining sword hung over his head. This is neither an allegory, nor a fairy tale. This is historical truth.
But, perhaps--
If thought of as the point in time where the rules of the real world were rewritten, maybe it should be called a certain kind of fairy tale, a myth of creation. They twist, stop, and dominate with their will the laws of nature once controlled by microscopic coincidences and macroscopic certainties--the era of demigods.
201X - In a corner of the world, set on an island in the Far East, the prologue to this myth is still continuing.
†
Casually, they're "superpowered."
Said a little more politely, they're "uniquely powered individuals."
Scientifically, they're "probability-inclined psychokinetics."
Legally, they're "persons retaining abilities caused by a unique phenomenon."
In the jargon within the police organization, they call them "supes."
When police officer Kusuhara Takeru first saw that, it was his second month as a part of the Metropolitan Police Department Riot Squad. It was his nineteenth summer. The strong rays of the sun reflected off of the asphalt. His protector and helmet were burning him up on both sides, and the sweat forming inside his uniform dripped to his feet and pooled in his boots.
"…It's hot," he murmured quietly.
Next to him, head patrol officer Tamura Atsushi, still facing forward, said shortly, "Don't lose focus."
"Ah… I'm sorry." As he answered, he moved his head slightly to catch a glimpse to see how Tamura was doing. He was six years older than Kusuhara. The younger members of the squad adored him like an older brother because of his more mature calm demeanor and good humored personality. That Tamura was unusually nervous. He couldn't see his expression behind the face shield, but he could feel a strong wariness from his small movements.
The robber had taken hold of a bank in the office district--that was how the situation had been explained to Kusuhara. They stood directly in front of the bank with its shutters down, gripping their riot batons and making a blockade line with their riot shields. It was a dangerous mission where they were literally bearing the brunt of the theft, but since Tamura had experience in scenes like this, he always kept a collected composure. To Kusuhara, that was reliable… But what about now?
He could overhear bits and pieces of the correspondence a platoon commander in the back row was having with command headquarters. There were two robbers. They had threatened the clerks at the teller window and taken the money, but since emergency communications were prompt and they ran into trouble retreating, they had failed to escape. They took some of the bank staff and customers as hostages and shut themselves inside.
It had been two hours since the incident. With communications open with the criminals on one hand and the information gathered from off-duty clerks and customers kept out from the hold, they were able use both to get a grasp on the situation. How the criminals looked, the number of hostages, the facilities within the bank--and most importantly, the weapons the criminals had. Most of the customers witnessed the gun pointed at the teller clerk and testified, "They shot the ceiling as a threat," "One of the fluorescent lights broke." On the other hand, there were others saying, "I didn't hear a gunshot," "It didn't go off," and that contradiction led investigation headquarters to call to mind one possibility.
"--Inclination levels have moved from 3.5 to 4. Assuming suspect as a supe."
"Understood. Assuming suspect as a supe and guard--"
Tamura's mouth stiffened at the overheard exchange coming from behind them.
"So it is a supe… Be careful."
"…What's a soup?" Kusuhara whispered back. Since Tamura had talked to him, he figured it would be alright to talk just a little bit. Rather, if he dared to open his mouth in a situation like this, then he might have something important to say.
"A superpowered. You've heard of them, at least?"
"Ah yeah, like, a superhero--" When Kusuhara spoke, Tamura stirred and stood at the ready. The side entrance opened slightly, and a man in a brown beanie poked his face out. In his hand, he held a gun. Once in a while, the robbers would come and look at the outside situation like this. "…But he looks surprisingly normal."
"It's weird that he looks normal."
"Huh… Ah, okay," Kusuhara nodded. What felt "normal" was, more than the man's appearance, the impression he got from his movements. Whether it be a blade or a gun, the one holding the weapon will move with their consciousness centered on it. Holding it in front of them at the ready in order to use it at any time, or holding it with the muzzle or tip pointed down at the feet in caution--it would be an obvious thing were it a real gun. But were it to be a model gun or some other bluff, then they would most certainly try to deliberately show it as a real one. But this man wasn't showing the characteristics of an armed person. He was treating the gun in his hand carelessly, like a toy.
-- Why, in a tense scene of a crime, walking around carrying something like a gun, isn't he treating it like a weapon?
If Kusuhara put the "unnatural naturalness" he felt into words, that's what it would be. The answer was--
--Because the criminal had separate weapons for show and use. Then why didn't he show the weapon he used? He could think of two reasons: He didn't want to show his real weapon… Or, that weapon was invisible.
"--Look carefully. There's something like a heat haze coming out from around his body, right?"
"Ah, you're right." At Tamura's words, Kusuhara nodded. "Kinda, like, waving…"
"By gravity or light or whatever, it's warping bit by bit."
"Ooh, gravity. I don't really understand, but that's awesome… Do they fly and shoot beams like superheroes in movies?"
"Nah, if his power's in the single digits, then he's got the strength of a kid at most."
"What," Kusuhara gave a wry smile. "His gun looks like a fake, so why don't we just charge in and hold them back?"
"Don't let your guard down," Tamura said with a hardened voice. "I almost died because of that."
"What?"
"This eye… I've only got half my eyesight in it." With a gloved fingertip, he tapped his face shield. "It'll be four or five years ago now… Had a run in with one of those supes. When we ran in with our shields, an invisible finger stuck me over my shield and into my eye. Like… twisted."
"Ew…"
"There were some other guys who got their brains smashed. You be careful, too."
"…Yes." Kusuhara nodded meekly, and stood on his toes to look over the riot shield. "If that's so, then we should definitely stay as far away as we can… Oh." His movement must have stood out within the group; the man in the beanie, who had been looking around at his surroundings, locked his gaze onto him and gave a light wave with his gun.
"…?" Kusuhara leaned forward--
"--Idiot! Don't stick your head out!" Tamura said sharply, and Kusuhara involuntarily shrank back. At that moment, the man in the beanie swung his gun downward. It was almost like he was trying to hit someone in front of him with the grip, but--
Thump.
With a hard sound, the top of the riot shield was sliced off diagonally.
"Wah!?"
Kusuhara threw his head back, and Tamura yelled, "He's in range!"
"--Pull back! All men pull back!"
The policemen around them withdrew like the receding tide. Kusuhara, who had fallen on his behind, and Tamura, who was grabbing onto his collar and dragging him, were left behind.
"Get rid of your shield! It's not gonna help!"
"O-Okay… Wah!?" The shield he had just tossed away was split in two in front of him, and a number of cracks ran through the asphalt at his feet. They were long, straight cuts, much like an invisible knife cutting butter. That "power" was surely no more powerful than a child's strength. But at the same time, it had more range and density than Tamura and the others had imagined. The unseen blade the superpowered himself materialized from over twenty meters away passed through the road surface on Kusuhara's sides and arrived at Tamura's feet.
Tamura fell with a grunt. The blood from his calf scattered on the asphalt.
"Tamura-san!?"
The moment he turned around, Kusuhara felt a strange sensation on his back. That omen of the wavering of narrowing space, an echo without a sound. The next attack was closing in on them.
His body moved reflexively against that invisible phenomenon. He got himself up, gripping the fallen riot baton by his feet and posing on one knee, he swung.
Clang! There was the sound of clashing metal. Then, the asphalt behind Kusuhara's left side cracked open. The wooden baton hit the invisible blade and made it change directions, and hit the road.
The man standing in the door at the far end of his sight was looking his way, puzzled.
-- That was…?
Kusuhara himself was also looking at the baton with wide eyes. Something like a faint haze on his hand and baton wavered, then disappeared. When he looked back at the door, the man in the beanie was raising his gun again. Most likely, he used his attack with swinging his arm down like a sword. Timing it with the instant the man lowered his arm, Kusuhara stood, raising his baton in an uppercut.
Clang! Again, he flung away the invisible blade causing a hard and heavy response.
-- I can do this…!
Keeping his labored breathing under control, Kusuhara held out his 120 centimeter baton at the ready out in front of him, like kendo. He was able to block the "invisible attacks," which had been able to slice in two with no problem a thick polycarbonate shield, with a wooden baton - as irrational as that guess was, he had an intuitive belief. The feeling of the hit from just a moment ago still remained in his hands.
"Don't move!" The voice from the speaker he heard from above him was directed at the man in the beanie. Behind him, using the personnel transport vehicles as shield, a number of troops held submachine guns at the ready, pointing them at the man. This was no longer an average crime, and the response had changed to that of dealing with an armed terrorist attack.
"Put down your weapon and come forward, slowly!"
In this case, he didn't know how much meaning there was in making him throw away his "visible weapon." Were the man able to use his power unarmed, then wouldn't taking away his weapon be impossible? But in any case, in this situation it seemed that his side would settle it in their advantage. With all the guns pointed in his direction, the man was no longer able to move. Were he to try to cut Kusuhara and the other troops, he would be showered with tens of bullets in the next instant. He had no choice but to obediently step down.
When Kusuhara let his guard down just a little, another man appeared from within the side entrance. It was the second man of the two criminals. His clothes were similar to that of the first man, but he was a bit taller, and his beanie was black. From his demeanor, he looked to be the leader. He seemed to be saying to the first man, "What's taking so long!?" In one hand, he was holding a simple gun.
"You two, throw down your weapons!"
At that voice, it seemed as though the man in the black hat realized the situation for the first time. Or he may have put on such an act on purpose. He looked around, and gave a shrug of his shoulders at the number of guns facing them. Then, the man tossed his gun as he was told. He let it go with a big, slow movement, as though it was a display to Kusuhara and the troops. Then--he swiftly swung his arm to the side.
Boo- boo- boom!
Suddenly, three personnel transport vehicles behind Kusuhara exploded. The mass of heat and impact from the inside of the vehicles ripped the frames off, and scattered iron scraps at high speed with the blast. His colleagues were blown away like splinters and hit the ground.
"Wha…!?" Kusuhara winced, and at his feet Tamura groaned.
"Beta Class…!"
"Beta…?" When he tried to ask, the blast, delayed by a few seconds, hit his back, and he fell forward a step.
Clonk!