"Hey…" Saji looked at Gasper as they both stood in front of a house with a small gate. His face a bit red with embarrassment. "Thanks for helping me out... again."
Gasper waved it off. "It's no problem, but man, keep yourself safe. Like, seriously—" He paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "If I had a nickel for every time I've saved you… well, I'd have two nickels, but my point still stands."
Saji let out a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah, I'll try."
A small smile tugged at his lips, but then his expression shifted. He became more serious as he pulled out the card Crowley had given them.
"So... what do you think I should do?" He stared at the card. "Should I go to him? Figure out how to use my Sacred Gear? I mean, I'm stuck with it now, right? Wouldn't it be better if I actually learned how to use it?"
Gasper crossed his arms. "I mean, yeah, it would be good to learn how to use it." He paused. "But you don't know that guy. Neither do I, so I can't really recommend him to you. Not to mention, he seemed a bit shady."
He pulled out a piece of paper and started writing.
"But..." He handed Saji the paper with his number on it. "Give me a call and tell me what you decided. And if you say yes, I'll come with you. Just to make sure he's not trying to sell you off to slavery or something."
Saji's eyes widened. "SLAVERY?!"
Gasper put a finger to his lips. "Shh~Be quiet. People are trying to sleep."
"Sorry..." Saji whispered.
Gasper's expression turned serious. "It's all good, but either way, whether you go to him or not, you should probably get some training in with that Gear of yours." He looked Saji in the eyes. "Having it means you're gonna be integrated into the supernatural world anyway, whether you like it or not."
Saji nodded slowly, the weight of those words settling on his shoulders.
He turned and opened the gate, then looked back at Gasper one more time. "Again… thanks, really."
He walked up to the door, opened it and disappeared inside.
Gasper stood in the street alone for a moment, staring at the closed door.
Then he looked around to make sure no one was watching.
His wings unfurled.
And he took off into the night sky.
*****
If this were any other night, Gasper would have probably just flown home, gone to sleep in his coffin, and gotten ready to train hard the next morning, like normal.
After all, who was going to carry the boats?
But tonight was not that type of night.
On top of his favorite mountain, Gasper stood in the snow, the moon hanging high in the sky.
He took a deep breath.
"[KING CRIMSON]!!" he shouted with a mad look on his face.
Except nothing happened.
So he tried once more
"[THE WORLD]!"
Silence…
"[STAR PLATINUM]!"
Still nothing.
"[DIRTY DEEDS DONE DIRT CH-]!"
Before he could finish, blue energy gathered in front of him.
His Stand materialized!
And with a swiftness that caught him completely off guard, it karate chopped him right in the head!
WHACK!
"GAH!"
Gasper face-planted into the snow, ass up in the air.
He could only grumble, a bump forming on his head. "What was that for..."
He stood up slowly, holding his head as he stared at his Stand.
It had a tick mark on its forehead.
And somehow, it also had a bump on its head now.
Gasper's eyes lit up like he'd reached enlightenment. He dropped his fist into his palm. "Ah, I got it! You don't like the names, huh?"
The Stand nodded.
"Alright then, I'll give you your own name." He stroked his chin, thinking so hard steam might as well have been coming out of his ears.
Then his eyes lit up.
"Ah, I got it!" He struck a dramatic pose. "How about 'The Heavenly Divine God-Swallowing Beast of the Heavenly Sword'!"
Truly, he had created a name that no one under the heavens could rival.
His Stand stared at him.
Then it raised its fist.
"MUDA!"
WHAM!
"HURK?!"
Gasper doubled over as his own Stand punched him square in the gut, dropping him to his knees.
He wheezed, clutching his stomach. "Ok... Maybe we'll... take a rain check... on the name..."
But I'm definitely writing that one down.
After catching his breath, he got to his feet and walked closer to the Stand.
"So what can you do?" he asked
The Stand raised its hand and brought its middle finger and thumb together.
SNAP!
Pixels exploded across Gasper's vision.
For a split second, everything was static.
Then it cleared.
The Stand was still there, but... further away?
No. Wait.
Was that... him?
He was looking at his own back. The same purple shirt, the same hat, the same posture.
A perfect copy, frozen mid-step as if taking a stride that would never be completed.
But then he realized something.
It wasn't the Stand that was further away.
It was that he was back to where he'd been kneeling just a second ago.
"Hmm, let me try something..."
Instead of walking up to the Stand again, he ran at it and jumped over it.
'Again,' he thought.
SNAP!
Pixels flashed.
He appeared right in front of the Stand, still in that jumping motion. His momentum carried him forward until his feet touched the floor.
He looked up.
Sure enough, there he was—floating in the air, fully suspended mid-jump.
He turned back to where the first copy had been.
It was still there too.
'So more than one can be made.'
He looked at the Stand. "So it looks like I'm just going back to where I was... but how much am I going back? Better yet, can I control how far I go back?" He muttered excitedly, like a kid playing with a new toy. "Actually, can I only go back?"
His Stand pointed to his side.
Gasper raised a brow. "Do you... want me to go..." He pointed in the same direction. "Over there?"
It nodded.
Gasper moved.
SNAP!
Pixels engulfed his vision once more.
When they cleared, he looked forward, expecting to see another clone.
There was none.
In fact, it seemed like he was exactly where his Stand had pointed.
He turned around.
His Stand was floating behind him, not too far away. And in front of it stood another clone, frozen with the same expression he'd worn when taking that first step.
"OH!" Gasper's eyes sparkled. "That's badass!" He ran back to it. "You sure you're not King Crimson?"
To that the Stand just blew condensation out of the holes in its face.
Gasper clenched his fists and brought them in front of him, eyes sparkling. "So was the sword thing you did back at the alley the same thing?"
In response, the Stand got low and picked up a bit of snow. It palmed it into a ball and threw it.
The snowball stopped mid-air.
Then as if snapping forward, it appeared embedded in a tree, leaving a frozen clone where it had been before.
Gasper nodded at the display.
"So if I'm able to go back and forward..." Gasper crossed his arms. "Would that mean the objects you touch can do the same? Or does only forward apply?"
The Stand raised two fingers.
"Alright then, not bad." Gasper put his hands out exaggeratedly. "But I really thought you might be able to do more, you know." He sighed dramatically. "But oh well, I guess you really are just nerfed King Crimson."
The Stand didn't react.
Why, you may be asking?
Well, simply put, ragebait of that level doesn't work on it.
But jokes aside, Gasper knew damn well it was no King Crimson. After all, time wasn't being messed with… at least, he thinks it isn't.
Gasper walked up to a fallen tree trunk and sat down on it; he hunched forward, right elbow on his right thigh, the back of his right hand pressed under his chin, left arm draped across his left knee.
'What should I call it?'
He thought.
'It can move objects through space well… Actually, now that I think about it, when it does it it kinda looks like the object is lagging, like in a video game.'
"Hmm."
'So maybe a lag theme… [Lag Over Heaven]? Nah, that sounds stupid. [King Lagsin]? That makes no sense. [Made in Lagsville]… yeah, no.'
He frowned.
'This isn't working. What else does it do...'
He looked at the frozen clones scattered around.
'I guess in a way, it connects two points in space-time and flings you through them. Kinda like...'
His eyes widened.
"Kinda like a train..."
He stood up.
"Excelsior!"
He pointed at the Stand. "Your name shall beeeee… hold on, give me a moment… [LAGTRAIN]!"
He paused.
'Waaaait, doesn't that sound too much like [Love Train]?'
He shrugged.
'WELL, whatever. It's not like Valentine is here ready to hit me with a copyright strike anyway.'
LAGTRAIN crossed its arms and looked up at the sky.
Then it nodded, accepting the name.
"Alright then! I have to add you to the training regimen..." He started pacing around, crunching the numbers. "I'll probably have to cut time on something though..."
He stopped and looked at his watch.
23:46 (11:46 PM)
He winced.
"Ah crap, my sleep schedule..."
LAGTRAIN dissipated into him.
He pulled out his wings and took off in the direction of Kuoh Academy
*****
MEANWHILE - Kuoh Old School Building
*****
Pit-pat!
Pit-pat!
Inside the main room of the old school building, Shiro crept along the floor, head swiveling left and right.
'I think she's gone.'
He finally let his body relax for the first time today.
Koneko had been on his case lately, not letting him out of her sight for even a second. And every time he managed to slip away, The next day she'd be twenty times worse, practically glued to him like he might vanish if she blinked.
So he'd had to wait for moments like these—where she'd let her guard down or go do a contract.
She was probably doing one right now, actually.
Well, that meant there's only one thing left to do.
Shiro crouched low, preparing his legs.
JUMP!
He launched himself through the air, tail streaming behind him as he sailed toward the open window.
Freedom!
He made his quick escape, padding along the outer ledge of the building with practiced ease.
The truth was, she'd never catch him in the act. He was just too sneaky.
As this was going on, a figure crouched low in the bushes below, white hair shifting slightly in the breeze.
'This ends tonight.'
The truth was, she'd never actually left.
Koneko had started noticing it months ago—every single time she turned her back, every time she left for a contract or stepped into another room, Shiro would vanish within minutes.
For the past three months, he'd been doing it like clockwork. Disappearing at the exact same time every day and taking longer to come back each time.
At the beginning, she'd thought maybe it was nothing. Bathroom breaks, hunting instinct, normal cat stuff.
But as the pattern continued, week after week, month after month, she couldn't ignore it anymore.
Something was going on.
At this point? He was practically begging her to follow him.
So today, she did.
Was this wrong in doing this? Most likely.
But she deserved to know. After all, he was her familiar.
And Shiro not telling her something? That was almost unheard of. They weren't even talking about the same cat at that point. He told her pretty much everything—what he ate, where he went, every stray cat he chased.
Which meant he was in some type of trouble. The kind he couldn't talk about.
That was the conclusion Koneko had reached, anyway.
She stayed low, moving quietly through the bushes as Shiro made his way along the building's edge.
Then he jumped through another window.
Koneko's eyes narrowed.
'Isn't that Gaspy's room?'
She slipped out of the bushes and leaped up to the window after him.
And froze.
But not because Shiro saw her.
'What the balls…?'
The room was completely different from what she remembered.
Gone was the pink everything—the curtains, the carpet, the furniture. In its place was dark wood, deep purples and blacks, chains holding up a coffin that looked like it contained some ancient evil. The letters G.A.S.P. emblazoned on the front of it.
But that wasn't what made her freeze.
IT WAS SO DAMN MESSY!
Papers were scattered across the floor, covered in complex drawings of anatomy. Whiteboards were propped up everywhere, inscribed with phrases like "BELIEVE IN THE SPIN" and "PAY YOUR RESPECTS TO IT" in bold letters.
AND DON'T GET HER STARTED ON THE CLOTHES!
Bizarre articles of clothing were scattered everywhere. Some were hung up like decorations, especially one with a golden chain. And for some reason, there were women's clothes mixed in too.
But she ignored that.
After all, it was Gasper.
She carefully stepped through the mess, avoiding papers and discarded shirts, until her eyes landed on something on the wall.
Pictures.
Lots of them.
People she had never seen before, all posed... weirdly.
One had blue hair with strange shoulder pads, arms crossed dramatically. Another showed a man with brown hair and a headband, posed like he was mid-battle cry. The third was a man in a black trench coat with two belts and a gold chain, pointing directly at the camera.
She kept looking.
One even had a horseshoe on his hat. Another was dressed in a sailor outfit, complete with an anchor motif.
'Who the hell are these people?'
Even though it was hard to ignore, she tore her gaze away from the pictures and kept searching.
And there he was.
Shiro.
Walking out of the kitchen.
On his hind legs.
Like some kind of tiny thief.
His front paws carefully clutched a container of cooked chicken.
Koneko's eyes narrowed.
They both froze.
Neither moved a muscle.
Then Shiro, finally registering what was happening, dropped the chicken!
THUD.
His eyes and mouth both went wide.
"IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!!!" he said desperately through their telepathic link.
Koneko's expression didn't change. She just stared at him.
Then at the dropped container of chicken.
Then back at him.
Her eyes gained a disgusted look.
"It's exactly what it looks lik—"
Before she could even finish that thought, a sound came from the window.
"AYAYA~YAIIIII~♪"
Music?
They both turned toward the sound.
And there he was.
Gasper!
Entering through the window.
Doing APPROXIMATELY 37 FRONT FLIPS!
He landed low—one foot planted firmly on the ground, his other leg bent with knee touching the floor. Papers scattered around him, dispersing in the wind he'd generated from the landing.
He quickly rose to his feet in a fluid motion, tilting his face toward the ceiling.
Then he snapped his head forward, looking straight ahead!
ゴゴゴゴゴゴゴ
Though for some strange reason, his eyes were closed throughout this entire process.
He placed a hand on his hip and began walking toward a mirror.
As he looked at himself in the reflection, he let out a long, satisfied yawn.
Golden grills gleamed in the light, his name engraved across them in bold letters: G-A-S-P-E-R-!
He ran his tongue over them casually as he removed his hat with one hand and pulled out his phone with the other, turning off his alarm. Making the music stop.
Silence filled the room.
He just kept looking at himself in the mirror.
And since he thought no one was around, he began posing.
Not just one pose.
Multiple poses.
In rapid succession!
A dramatic point. A hand through his hair. Arms crossed, looking over his shoulder
Each one more extra than the last.
Koneko just stared from behind in utter bewilderment.
Shiro merely sighed. "There Gasper goes with the poses again…"
Then he froze.
He'd forgotten to cut the telepathic link.
Didn't he?
Koneko's eyes widened.
'Did he just say... Gasper?'
She looked back at the muscular figure posing like he was in a photo shoot.
That was Gasper?
Shiro let out a meow of exasperation.
Gasper slowly turned. "Where the hell have you b—"
And saw them.
Stare~
….
….
….
His eyes went wide.
His face flushed red with embarrassment.
He jumped into the air, arms spread wide, pupils glowing a fierce yellow.
"ZA WARUDO!!!!"
BOOOOM!!!
TICK! TOCK!
←–TO BE CONTINUED—
*****
Okay, now that we've truly started to get to the meat and potatoes of the story, it's time to ask the hard question: who the hell is going to be the love interest? After all this no-harem, single-pairing, and I have to admit… I have no clue.
But I do have some candidates in mind.
I will say this though, it wont be Koneko.
Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed the chapter. :)