Chapter 128:
The dusty, sun-baked streets of Puente Antiguo were quiet, save for the dry desert wind that whistled through the gaps in the adobe buildings and the distant, rhythmic thrum of a ceiling fan in the local diner. It was a sleepy town, the kind of place where dogs slept in the middle of the road and the biggest excitement was usually a truck backfiring.
That was, until a golden blur dropped from the sky and landed in the center of Main Street with a heavy, reverberating thud that cracked the asphalt.
– Kunou –
Kunou straightened her posture, puffing out her chest as she surveyed the bewildered town. She tightened her grip on the handle of the heavy, gray metal hammer she had claimed, feeling the hum of divine electricity vibrating against her small palm.
She struck a pose, planting her feet wide and thrusting the hammer high into the air. The magnificent crimson cape she now wore billowed dramatically behind her, whipped up by a sudden, localized gust of wind that she was ninety percent sure she was generating herself.
Or maybe that was just the regular wind…
She took a deep breath, filling her small lungs, and let her voice ring out with all the authority of a Yokai Princess and a newly minted superhero.
"Fear not, citizens of this dusty land! For hope has arrived!" Kunou declared, her voice projecting surprisingly far down the empty street. She flashed a wide, confident grin, showing off her sharp little canines. "Magical Girl Kunou Sparking Lightning–Chan has come to rescue this town from the dastardly villains that plague it!"
She held the pose, waiting for the applause. The awe. The cheering crowds.
Instead, a tumbleweed rolled slowly past her new metal boots…
A few locals who had been sitting on a bench outside the general store stared at her over the tops of their newspapers. A dog barked lazily in the distance.
Kunou's grin faltered just a millimeter. She lowered the hammer slightly, the heavy head resting easily in her grip despite its weight. She looked around, her golden eyes scanning the sidewalks.
Finally, two older women carrying grocery bags stopped on the sidewalk nearby. They looked at Kunou standing in the middle of the street and smiled at her.
"Aww, look at that," one of the women cooed, tilting her head. "Isn't she adorable?"
"She certainly is," the other woman agreed, smiling warmly. "Look at that costume. And those ears look so real! Is there a pageant in town today, sweetie?"
Kunou felt the heat rush instantly to her cheeks. Her ears, traitorous things that they were, twitched violently atop her head in embarrassment. She wasn't supposed to be adorable! She was holding a god-weapon! She was channeling the power of storms! She was fearsome!
"I am not in a pageant!" Kunou insisted, though her voice squeaked slightly, ruining the effect. She stamped her foot. "I am a hero! A magical girl! I vanquish evil!"
The women just chuckled, waving at her as they continued down the street. "You sure do, honey. You go get 'em!"
Kunou slumped, the wind going out of her dramatic cape. She turned around to face her adventuring companions, hoping for a bit more support from her squad.
Tanya-chan stood a few feet away, her arms crossed over her uniform. "That name is dumb," Tanya told her flatly.
Kunou spun around fully, her tails bristling in indignation. "It is not!" she shouted, pointing the hammer accusingly at the small blonde soldier. "It's a great name! It has everything! Magic! Lightning! My name! It's descriptive and cool!"
"It is inefficient and overly verbose," Tanya countered, not even blinking as the hammer waved in her direction. "'Sparking Lightning Chan'? It sounds like a budget battery brand. Also, shouting your full capabilities before engagement relinquishes the element of surprise in battle…"
Kunou puffed out her cheeks, her face turning pink. Tanya was always so... so military about everything! Her sister needed to learn to have more fun!
"...You're just jealous because I have a cape and you don't!" Kunou huffed. She turned her pleading gaze toward the other two members of her party. "Tell her, Mavis-chan! Tell her, Myrcella-chan! It's a good name, right?"
Myrcella Baratheon stood near the curb, looking slightly out of place in the dusty American southwest in her fine, intricate dress. She smoothed her skirt nervously, looking between the pouting fox girl and the stoic soldier. As always, the princess was polite, but she possessed a streak of honesty that Kunou sometimes found inconvenient. "It's... well, it is a pretty long title," Myrcella admitted gently, offering Kunou a sympathetic, apologetic smile . "Perhaps something shorter? 'The Golden Storm'? Or just 'Lady Kunou'?"
Kunou let out a dramatic groan, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the heavy metal armor plates on her chest. Even Myrcella was against her?
She turned her desperate eyes to her last hope. "Mavis-chan?" Kunou asked, widening her eyes to maximum puppy-dog levels. "You like the name, don't you?"
Mavis blinked slowly, her green eyes unfocused. She let out a small, jaw-cracking yawn, stretching her arms over her head. "Can we get some coffee?" Mavis asked, her voice raspy. She pointed a small, trembling finger toward a diner with a neon sign buzzing in the window nearby. "There is a cafe right there. I smell caffeine. And sugar. My body requires fuel if we are to continue this... whatever this is."
Kunou stared at them. Not a single one of them wanted to strike a pose. Not one of them wanted to patrol for evil-doers.
"Awe," Kunou whined out loud, letting the head of Mjolnir drop to the pavement with a heavy clank. "None of you want to play superheroes with me!"
She kicked at a crack in the road, her tails drooping low, sweeping the dust. She had the costume, she had the powers, she even had the catchphrase! "I should have gone and got Milim," Kunou grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest plate. "She would be playing superheroes with me! She'd probably have a cool costume too, and I could test my new powers with her! Maybe I should just go get her…?"
– Coulson –
Phil Coulson stood on the cracked sidewalk of Puente Antiguo, squinting against the harsh New Mexico sun as he observed the most surreal argument he had ever witnessed in his long career with S.H.I.E.L.D. He kept a respectful distance—about ten feet back—giving the four young blonde girls space.
But obviously, he couldn't just let any of them wander off...
His eyes drifted to the smallest of the group, the one with the golden fox ears and tails—Kunou, as she called herself. In her small hand, resting casually against her hip, was the object that had baffled S.H.I.E.L.D.'s brightest minds for days. The 0-8-4. The hammer. They had tried cranes, trucks, and high-tensile cables to move that thing from the crater, and it hadn't budged a millimeter.
And yet, this non-human child had plucked it from the earth as if it were made of styrofoam.
And then it gave her super powers…
Well, she probably already had super powers considering how fast he saw her run, but the hammer still gave her MORE super powers!
Coulson adjusted his sunglasses, his mind racing as he processed the implications. He couldn't let these three mysterious girls just leave his base after Kunou had simply walked off with the most powerful object the science division was currently studying. The implications were terrifying, especially considering what the shortest girl in the frilly white dress—Mavis—had casually mentioned earlier.
According to her, that hammer was the weapon of a god.
A headache began to throb behind Coulson's eyes. He thought back to the interrogation room a few hours ago, to the large, blond man they had detained. The man who had screamed at the sky, fought through a dozen highly trained agents, and claimed to be Thor. Coulson had let him go, writing him off as a delusionary mercenary with impressive combat skills but a broken mind.
Now, Coulson was feeling kind of dumb.
Was that guy actually a god? The pieces were fitting together in a way Coulson didn't like. Maybe the man was some kind of de-powered deity who had lost all his abilities when he lost his hammer.
If that was the case, Coulson had just released a Norse god into the wild with zero supervision, while a fox-girl cosplaying as a superhero had hijacked his divine weapon.
Coulson sighed, the sound lost in the dry desert wind. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he joined S.H.I.E.L.D. decades ago. He had signed up for the weird. He had signed up for the unexplained. But this? This was one of the most blatantly supernatural cases their organization had ever come across. And Coulson was even counting that incident in the 90s involving the shapeshifting aliens and the spaceships. That had been science fiction. This felt like a Saturday morning cartoon gone rogue.
"I should have gone and got Milim," Kunou grumbled loudly, her voice carrying over the wind. She crossed her arms over the metal chest plate she was now wearing. "She would be playing superheroes with me! She'd probably have a cool costume too, and I could test my new powers with her! Maybe I should just go get her…?"
The reaction from her companions was strange after that comment. Of course, he was listening in and analyzing everything they all said for information.
Coulson watched Tanya—the one in the military uniform, the one he had internally flagged as the most responsible-looking of the group, despite the fact that she was a child carrying a very real, very illegal rifle—suddenly go a bit paler.
"No!" Tanya barked, her voice cracking slightly. She immediately looked panicked, her stoic facade shattering instantly. She stepped toward Kunou, hands raised in a placating gesture. "That is—that is not necessary! We apologize, Kunou! We promise we will play with you! There is absolutely no need to go get Milim-chan!"
Coulson raised an eyebrow. Whoever this "Milim" was, her name was obviously worth remembering if she caused that kind of reaction.
Kunou's stomach suddenly let out a loud, audible growl, cutting through the tension. The fox girl blinked. "That's fine," she chirped, her mood swinging like a pendulum. "I'm hungry anyway. Should we go back to my nii-chan's restaurant?"
Coulson felt a fresh wave of confusion wash over him. This fox girl's brother had a restaurant nearby? They were in the middle of the New Mexico desert. The nearest civilization was hours away, save for this one-horse town.
Myrcella, the girl in the fancy dress who looked like she should be attending a royal gala rather than standing in a dustbowl, spoke up. "We would have to drive all the way back to the base that Mr. Coulson just drove us here from," she pointed out. "The Fox Hole is all the way back there, unless Lady Ranni moves the door for us…"
Coulson's eyes widened behind his shades. There was a restaurant—door?—next to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base they just came from!?
How? He had perimeter drones. He had satellite surveillance. He had agents stationed every fifty yards. How could a restaurant exist inside or directly adjacent to a secure containment zone without him knowing about it? Was it camouflaged?
Coulson tapped his communicator subtly. "Barton? Is there some kind of door outside the perimeter of our base? Check the direction the girls came from, where 'Donald Blake' put a hole in the fence."
Barton's voice came in his ear piece a second later. "Huh? Yeah boss, there's like—a random floating wooden door in the middle of the desert nearby. It's literally floating off the ground and the front of the door is carved with a symbol that kind of looks like a ten-tailed fox?"
That was the kind of thing that Coulson really wanted to know more about, but before he could ask Barton the girls were already moving and he needed to keep up with them.
"Let's just eat here, Kunou," Tanya suggested quickly, pointing toward the small town's diner, a fading establishment with a flickering neon sign. "You've probably never tried classic american food have you, Kunou? And that slop fast food from Brockton Bay Vicky tried to give us doesn't count…"
Kunou looked at the diner, wrinkled her nose, and whined. "But it wouldn't be as good as my brother's food!"
"I like trying new things!" Myrcella added.
"I just want some coffee," Mavis grumbled from the back of the group.
That made it three against one.
"Fine, I guess we can eat here, but afterwards you have to play superheroes with me, Tanya-chan!" Kunou demanded and Tanya let out a sigh but nodded.
Coulson saw his opening. He quickened his pace, falling into step beside the girl in the white dress.
"Excuse me," Coulson said, keeping his voice low and casual. He opened the diner door for her, ushering the group inside. He decided to ask Mavis some questions since she seemed tired and might let more information slip out. "Who is Milim-chan?" Coulson asked quietly. "And who is Kunou's big brother?"
Mavis paused in the doorway. She looked up at him with tired, green eyes that seemed far too old for her youthful face. She didn't blink. "They're both very powerful Demon Lords," Mavis said simply.
Demon Lords? He took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, and followed the four girls into the diner. He also decided that he needed coffee. A lot of it.
The air inside the diner was cool, smelling of stale coffee, lemon polish, and frying grease—a welcome reprieve from the oppressive New Mexico heat.
He followed the four girls inside, his eyes sweeping the room in a practiced arc. However, his gaze snagged immediately on a booth near the windows. Sitting there, looking like a linebacker squeezed into a compact car, was the large blonde man S.H.I.E.L.D. had released only hours ago.
'Donald Blake,' as the fake ID claimed. Or Thor, as the man claimed.
He was sitting with Jane Foster, her assistant Darcy Lewis, and Dr. Erik Selvig.
Things went wrong immediately. The girls were heading toward an empty booth adjacent to Foster's table. It was inevitable. A group consisting of a girl in a frilly dress, a child soldier, a princess, and a fox-girl wearing Asgardian armor was hard to miss.
Thor looked up from a plate of pancakes, his fork halfway to his mouth. His blue eyes widened, locking instantly onto the small, golden-haired figure of Kunou. More specifically, his gaze zeroed in on the gray metal war hammer hanging casually from her hip, and the familiar crimson cape draped over her small shoulders.
The fork clattered onto the ceramic plate with a violence that made the nearby patrons jump.
Thor surged to his feet, his massive frame casting a shadow over the table. He pointed a thick finger at Kunou, his voice booming like a cannon shot in the enclosed space. "MJOLNIR!" Thor roared, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief. "You demon girl! Return to me my hammer! That is not yours!".
The diner went dead silent. The waitress behind the counter froze, a pot of coffee hovering over a mug.
Coulson watched Kunou flinch, her shoulders hiking up in a startled jerk. She was a kid, supernatural or not, and having a six-foot-plus wall of muscle screaming at her would startle anyone.
But the fear lasted less than a second.
Coulson saw the shift. The fox ears atop her head flattened against her skull, and the nine golden tails behind her puffed out, bristling like a threatened cat. She spun on her heel to face the thunder god, her small hands balling into fists.
She let out a sharp, guttural hiss that didn't sound remotely human.
"Nuh-uh!" Kunou shouted back, matching his volume. She slapped her hand protectively over the hammer's handle. "Finders keepers! And her name is Sparking Hammer-chan now! I'm not giving it back to anyone!"
She puffed out her cheeks, glaring daggers at the former owner of the weapon.
Thor looked as if he had been physically slapped. He actually recoiled, his face contorting in a mask of sheer horror and offense. He sputtered, his complexion turning a blotchy red.
"Sparking... Hammer... chan?" he choked out, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. To a warrior born of legend, the cutesy nickname was clearly a blasphemy worse than theft.
Jane Foster reached up, tugging frantically on Thor's massive bicep, trying to pull him back down into the booth. She looked mortified. "Thor, what is going on right now? Please, sit down," she hissed, glancing around at the staring locals.
Across the table, Darcy Lewis, wearing her signature knit cap and black-rimmed glasses, leaned forward. She didn't look scared; she looked annoyed on the girls' behalf.
"Thor, stop yelling at the cosplaying child," Darcy scolded him, her tone dripping with the exasperation of someone who had been babysitting a man-child all day.
Thor didn't even look at her. His eyes were glued to Kunou's twitching ears. He shook off Jane's hand and gestured wildly at the fox girl.
"That is not a mere child!" Thor insisted, his voice dropping to an intense, urgent rumble. "Look at her ears! Look at her tails! She is a creature of magic!"
Darcy rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the girls. She waved a hand dismissively at Thor and flashed a bright, friendly smile at Kunou and her entourage.
"Ignore him, he's had a weird week," Darcy said cheerfully. She looked Kunou up and down, nodding in approval. "That's some very good cosplay, by the way. Seriously, high production value. I like your ears and tails! Are they animatronic?"
She didn't wait for an answer, her attention shifting to the stern-faced girl in the military uniform.
"My name is Darcy," she introduced herself, waving. "And your uniform and that toy gun are really cool, too. Very retro-military chic."
Coulson watched Tanya Degurechaff's eye twitch. It was a microscopic movement, a tightening of the muscles around her jaw. The girl shifted the strap of the rifle on her shoulder, her cold blue eyes locking onto Darcy with the look of a predator assessing prey. Calling that weapon a "toy" was likely the most dangerous thing Darcy had ever done in her life.
Darcy, blissfully unaware that she was complimenting a child soldier, turned her smile toward Mavis and Myrcella. "And you two look great! Both of you have very pretty dresses. Does this small town have some kind of cosplay convention going on? I would have totally joined if I knew! I have a great Sailor Moon outfit in my trunk."
Kunou blinked, her anger momentarily deflated by the compliment. She smoothed the front of her new armor, her tails giving a confused little wag. "Oh," Kunou said, her voice dropping to a polite, conversational tone. "Thank you for the compliments."
Then, as she scooted into the empty booth nearby, dragging her friends with her, she looked back at Darcy with deadly seriousness.
"But my ears are real," Kunou clarified matter-of-factly. She pointed a thumb at Tanya. "And Tanya's gun is real, too.".
The silence that followed was heavy.
Coulson watched Jane and Darcy. Their expressions went slack. Their mouths formed perfect, silent 'O' shapes as their brains tried to process the statement. A child just claimed to have functional animal parts and a live firearm in a Denny's equivalent.
Coulson nodded to himself silently. He felt that confusion. He lived in that confusion.
The tension, however, had not dissipated for the God of Thunder.
Thor wasn't done. The insult of "Sparking Hammer-chan" was apparently too much for his Asgardian pride to bear. He shook off Jane's grip again and hopped out of the booth, his heavy boots thudding against the linoleum.
He stomped toward the girls' table, his chest heaving, his face thunderous. He looked like a man preparing to flip a table or start a brawl.
Coulson moved.
It was instinct. It was training. It was the sudden, horrifying realization that a depowered god was about to pick a fight with a group of entities that Mavis—the girl who looked like a porcelain doll but spoke with the weariness of a general—had referred to as "Demon Lords." Or at least, the relatives of Demon Lords.
That was just asking for trouble.
And that wasn't counting the fact that if Thor laid a hand on Kunou, and she unleashed whatever power allowed her to lift that hammer, this diner would be a crater.
Plus, Coulson had a code. Even if Kunou was a supernatural fox-being capable of wielding divine weaponry, she currently looked like a ten-year-old girl. And Coulson didn't like adults picking on little girls.
He stepped smoothly into Thor's path, placing himself firmly between the towering blonde man and the booth full of children. He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't raise his voice. He just stood there, a man in a suit, radiating the calm, boring authority of a government bureaucrat who had seen it all.
Thor stopped, looming over him, confused by the sudden obstruction. Coulson adjusted his cufflinks, looking up into the furious blue eyes of the supposed Thunder God.
"Please sit back down, Donald," Coulson said coolly. He stood like a statue in a cheap suit. His heart rate was elevated, thumping a steady, rapid rhythm against his ribs, but his face remained a mask of polite, bureaucratic indifference.
Thor loomed over him, muscles bunching beneath his flannel shirt. The blond giant opened his mouth to argue, likely to bellow another demand for the return of his birthright, but a smaller, much more insistent hand grabbed his bicep.
"Sit down," Jane Foster hissed, her voice tight with panic. She wasn't asking anymore. She was using her entire body weight to drag the man backward. "Donald, seriously. Look around. You are going to get us kicked out, or arrested. Again!"
Thor blinked, his focus breaking as he looked down at the diminutive astrophysicist. He seemed confused by her resistance, as if the concept of being thrown out of an establishment was foreign to a prince who likely owned every tavern he walked into. "Jane, the beast has Mjolnir," Thor rumbled, though the volume had dropped from a roar to a localized tremor. "I cannot simply—"
"You can, and you will," Jane insisted, shoving him toward the vinyl bench. "Sit. Drink your coffee. Stop yelling at the little girls! Jesus Christ…"
Around them, the diner's ambient noise had shifted from the clatter of silverware to the hushed, fervent murmurs of locals gossiping. The waitress behind the counter was already reaching for the landline phone on the wall, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Coulson knew the look. She was about to call the Sheriff.
Thor let out a huff of air that ruffled Coulson's hair, glaring one last time at Kunou—who was currently ignoring him to inspect a laminated menu with intense fascination—before allowing himself to be manhandled back into the booth.
Coulson exhaled slowly, adjusting his cufflinks. Crisis averted. Or so he thought.
The peace lasted exactly twelve seconds.
The heavy glass door at the front of the diner didn't just open, it was flung wide with enough force to bang violently against the stopper. The cheerful chime of the bell was drowned out by the heavy, metallic clanking of boots that sounded far too heavy for civilian footwear.
Coulson turned, his hand drifting toward his jacket pocket again, and felt his jaw go slack.
Striding into the diner were four individuals who looked like they had taken a wrong turn on their way to a Renaissance Faire, except the costumes were far too good.
There was a massive man with a voluminous red beard that spilled over his cuirass like a waterfall, carrying a double-headed greataxe slung casually over his shoulder. Beside him stood a dashing blond man with a rapier at his hip, smiling as if he were posing for a portrait. A grim, dark-haired warrior stood silently at the rear, and leading them was a woman with raven hair and silver armor that looked sharp enough to cut glass.
They marched in, their eyes scanning the room with the arrogance of royalty entering a peasant's hovel.
"Thor!" the large, bearded man bellowed, his voice booming loudly. "We have found you!"
In the booth, Thor's sullen demeanor vanished instantly. He surged to his feet again, knocking the table so hard a ketchup bottle tipped over and rolled toward the edge. A smile of pure, unadulterated joy broke across his face. "MY FRIENDS!" Thor shouted, spreading his arms wide as he stepped into the aisle to embrace them. "YOU ARE ALL HERE!"
The reunion was loud, metal clanking against flesh as Thor pulled them into crushing hugs. He laughed, a deep, booming sound, and turned back to the booth where Jane and Darcy were staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
"Lady Jane!" Thor announced, gesturing grandly to the armored quartet. "These are Sif and the Warriors Three! My closest friends and allies!"
Coulson stood by the counter, his mind racing as he tapped his earpiece. Damn it, he cursed silently.
These had to be actual Asgardians. What were his agents doing? He had a perimeter established around the entire town. He had eyes on the roads, the skies, and the crater. How had four heavily armed medieval warriors slipped past a S.H.I.E.L.D. containment net without so much as a whisper over the comms?
He was going to have someone's badge for this. Assuming they all survived lunch.
The joy of the reunion, however, was short-lived. As the initial excitement settled, Thor remembered his previous grievance. The smile slid from his face, replaced by a dark, brooding intensity. He turned, his heavy brow furrowing, and pointed a thick finger directly at the booth where the four girls sat. Specifically, he pointed at Kunou, who was currently debating the merits of a grilled cheese sandwich with Tanya.
"My friends," Thor announced, his voice heavy with gravity. "There is a grave injustice here. That demon girl stole my hammer!"
The atmosphere in the diner, which had just begun to recover from the initial intrusion, plummeted back into icy tension. The Warriors Three and Sif turned in unison, their hands drifting toward the hilts of their weapons.
Thor looked at them, his expression pained. "I would love to return to Asgard with you all," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I cannot. Not without Mjolnir. Not without my godly powers!"
Coulson groaned internally. Oh, crap. He didn't like where this was going. He didn't like it one bit.
Volstagg—the massive, bearded one—stepped forward. He loomed over the aisle, his bulk taking up half the available space. He didn't look at Kunou as a child. His hand went to the handle of his greataxe, the leather of his glove creaking as he tightened his grip. "You there!" Volstagg boomed, addressing Kunou. "Small creature! You hold the property of the Thunderer! Return it at once, or face the wrath of Asgard!"
The threat hung in the air, heavy and ridiculous.
Sif, the woman in silver armor, stepped up beside Volstagg. Unlike the boisterous giant, she seemed to possess a modicum of awareness regarding their surroundings. She glanced around the diner, taking in the terrified faces of the patrons, the trembling waitress, and the fact that her companion was currently threatening a table of little girls.
She reached out, placing a hand on Volstagg's arm to stay his weapon. A flicker of shame crossed her features. "Volstagg, peace," Sif scolded. "They are children. We are warriors. We do not brandish steel against little girls in a place of dining."
But the scolding did little to deter the man. Volstagg shook her off, puffed out his chest, and took another step toward the booth. "A thief is a thief, Lady Sif! Be it giant or sprite! The hammer must be returned!"
It was the wrong move.
Coulson watched, his breath catching, as Tanya Degurechaff glanced up.
She stopped looking at the menu. She folded it neatly, placed it on the table, and then turned her head slowly to look at the Asgardians. Her blue eyes, which had been cold before, were now devoid of anything resembling human warmth.
They were the eyes of a predator watching prey stumble into a trap.
Slowly, deliberately, Tanya reached for the rifle leaning against the seat next to her. The movement was smooth, practiced—the muscle memory of a veteran soldier.
"I am Kunou's bodyguard, first and foremost," Tanya said, trailing off for a second.
Coulson blinked. He had assumed she was a friend, or perhaps a sister. But a bodyguard?
She looked up at Volstagg, a man three times her size, and didn't even blink. "Leave," Tanya said. It wasn't a request. "Immediately. Or things will get ugly."
– Haru –
The date I had gone on with Cortana in Magnolia had been nice. Actually, it had been more than nice—it had been a breath of fresh air. There was something fascinating about watching a former AI experience the organic world for the first time. The way she marveled at the taste of the food, the texture of the cobblestones, the warmth of the sun—it was infectious.
The date had been cut short by the sudden arrival of a scroll from Ranni. It had popped into existence right when we were enjoying some magical ice cream.
Family came first. Always. Foremost. Before dates, before even cooking.
I stepped through the heavy wooden front door of The Fox Hole. I blinked against a sudden, blinding glare.
Dry, searing heat washed over me instantly. The air tasted of dust and sand. I was standing in the middle of a flat, sun-baked desert basin under a sky so blue it looked painted on. "Well," I muttered, shielding my eyes with a hand. "This is new." The heat didn't bother me. As a Demon Lord, environmental extremes like temperature were more like suggestions than actual physical discomforts. My body regulated itself instantly.
Behind me, my ten golden tails uncurled, swaying lazily in the dry breeze.
I scanned my immediate surroundings. I was standing in the center of what looked like a high-tech quarantine zone that had been hastily erected.
And there were people. Lots of people.
A dozen scientists in white and yellow hazmat suits froze in their tracks. They stared at me, their eyes wide with shock behind their plastic faceplates. A few of them had been running scanners over the frame of my restaurant door, treating it like it was a leaking reactor core. When I stepped out, the Geiger counters in their hands went haywire, screeching with static before dying completely.
"Unknown entity!" someone shouted, their voice muffled by a mask. "Containment breach!"
I just rolled my eyes and ignored him, still looking around. Ranni sure dumped me somewhere weird this time. A man stepped out from a command tent nearby. He was built like a soldier, with defined muscles visible even under his tactical vest. He had short cropped hair and a compound bow slung across his back.
He took one look at me—at the tails, the ears, the casual suit I was wearing—and he let out a long, weary sigh. I heard him mutter under his breath, "Not another one..." He adjusted his grip on his vest and strode forward. His grin was practiced—friendly, disarming, but entirely forced. The smile of a man used to dealing with things way above his pay grade. "Hey there, friend," the man said, stopping a safe distance away. He kept his hands visible, palms open. "That is one hell of a cool door you just walked out of."
I tilted my head, looking him over. He felt capable. Dangerous, for a human. But he wasn't a threat to me.
"I'm Agent Barton," he continued, tapping the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on his chest. "So, um, I have to ask... where exactly are all you fox people coming from?"
"Japan," I said plainly.
Barton blinked. He clearly hadn't expected that answer. "Japan. Right. Okay. Long walk."
"You met my little sister, Kunou, I take it?" I asked, cutting through the small talk. My golden eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you know where she is?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "The little blonde one with the ears? Yeah. We met. She... liberated a magic hammer from our containment crater. Right now, she's with my boss, Agent Coulson. They're in the town a couple of miles down the desert that way. Puente Antiguo." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward a haze of heat shimmering on the horizon. "I can give you a lift in a car if you want? It's got AC. Might take us a few minutes, but it's better than walking…"
I looked in the direction he pointed. My fox ears swiveled atop my head, filtering out the wind and the hum of the nearby hastily set up generators. I focused on the sounds in the distance.
The distinct crack-thoom of magic artillery. The sound of metal screeching. And... was that someone shouting in Old Norse?
"No need," I said, knowing there was fighting in the distance and I needed to move quickly.
"Buddy, it's a long walk," Barton started to say.
I turned away from him. I channeled a surge of magicules into my legs, reinforcing my muscles, bending the laws of physics around me just enough to prevent the sonic boom from liquefying the scientists standing nearby.
I took a step. As soon as my foot touched the sand, the world blurred.
BOOM!
The sound of my departure cracked the desert air like a thunderclap. By the time the dust cloud kicked up by my launch washed over Barton and his hazmat team, I was already gone.
The desert landscape smeared into streaks of brown and blue. Cactus, rocks, and road signs became nothing but a tunnel of color. I crossed the distance in a fraction of a heartbeat. I skidded to a halt at the edge of the small town, my boots carving deep furrows into the asphalt of the main street as I bled off the momentum. Dust swirled around me as I straightened up, my tails fanning out to stabilize myself.
"Well," I muttered, taking in the scene. "This looks like a party."
The main street of Puente Antiguo—or what was left of it—was a war zone. Cars were overturned, storefront windows were shattered, and people were screaming and running away. Well most of them were, except the stragglers sticking around to film with their phones of course. Why did humans always insist on risking their lives for a bit of social media views?
And right in the middle of it all were my girls.
"Take that, you bearded weirdo!" That was Kunou. I looked down the street.My little sister, Kunou, was decked out in a mismatched set of armor that looked like she'd looted a museum, complete with a bright red cape fluttering behind her. She was holding a gray hammer and swinging it with gleeful abandon at her opponents. Lightning crackled around her, arcing off the hammer's head and scorching the pavement.
Lightning? That was new.
Next to her was Tanya. She was flying—hovering about ten feet off the ground—her rifle barking out magical rounds with rhythmic precision. The bullets slamming into the shield of a large bearded man who was grimacing and looking like he regretted whatever started this fight in the first place.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"
The chaotic skirmish on Main Street froze like a paused video. The bullets stopped flying. The lightning stopped arcing. Even the dust hanging in the dry desert air seemed to settle unnaturally fast, terrified to move in my presence.
Down the street, the three men in medieval cosplay armor stumbled to a halt, their weapons lowering as they looked around in confusion. The dark-haired woman in silver plate skidded to a stop, her boots carving grooves in the road, her eyes scanning for the source of the overwhelming pressure.
And then there was my little sister.
"Onii-chan!" The golden blur that was Kunou didn't freeze. If anything, she accelerated.
There was a crack of thunder and then a small, armor-clad projectile slammed into my midsection. I barely had time to brace myself before I was wrapped in a fierce, electro-charged hug.
"You're here!" Kunou squealed, burying her face into my stomach.
I looked down, blinking against the residual static. Arcs of blue-white electricity danced across her skin and leaped onto my clothes, popping and fizzing harmlessly against my own magical aura. I reached down, resting a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. "Hey, kiddo," I said, my voice softening. "You having fun destroying a small American town?"
Kunou pulled back, beaming up at me with a grin that showed off her sharp little fangs. Her golden eyes were practically vibrating with adrenaline. "It wasn't me! Well, maybe a little bit me. But mostly it was them! They started it! And look! Look what I got!"
She held up the gray hammer like it was a trophy fish.
I narrowed my eyes at the weapon. I could feel the power radiating off it—dense, divine, and ancient. It felt like a storm trapped in a metal box. "Is that... Mjolnir?" I muttered, more to myself than her.
Another world's version of Thor's infamous hammer at least. Accept instead of being made of stone, this one was made of metal.
"Her name is Sparking Lightning-Chan!" Kunou corrected me instantly, puffing out her cheeks. "And she likes me best! She gives me super strength and lets me fly without using my foxfire! It's way easier than magic!"
I stared at her. My little sister had usurped the power of a Norse God. Just like that. I sighed, a mixture of pride and headache forming behind my eyes. "Why am I even surprised anymore?"
A soft thump drew my attention as Tanya descended from the sky. "Welcome to the party, Haru-niisan," Tanya drawled, dusting off her uniform. "Your timing is impeccable. Collateral damage is currently within acceptable parameters, though the local infrastructure has suffered... significantly. I tried my best to hold myself back, but I specialize in artillery magic and this is a small town. Some things were, unfortunately, caught as collateral…"
"I can see that," I noted dryly, looking at the overturned cars and shattered storefronts.
A few yards away, the door to a diner—or what was left of it—creaked open. Myrcella Baratheon poked her head out, looking pale but unharmed. Behind her, Mavis Vermillion peered over her shoulder, clutching a ceramic mug of coffee like it was a lifeline.
"Is it over?" Myrcella called out, her voice trembling slightly.
"Everything will be fine now, girls," I called back, giving them a wave.
I turned my gaze toward the four strangers who had been fighting my family.
They were an odd bunch, even by my standards. Three men and one woman, all dressed in high-quality, battle-scarred armor that definitely didn't come from a costume shop. They stood in a defensive formation, weapons half-raised, staring at me with a mix of wariness and confusion.
The woman stepped forward first. She was striking—tall, with cascading raven hair and features that looked like they were carved from marble. Her silver armor hugged a body that was undeniably fit, accentuating the curve of her hips and the strength in her shoulders. She held a double-bladed staff with a relaxed competence that told me she knew exactly how to use it.
She looked me up and down, her dark eyes lingering on my tails for a moment before meeting my gaze. "I am Lady Sif of Asgard," she announced, her voice clear and commanding, carrying the weight of nobility. "And these are the Warriors Three. We have no quarrel with you, stranger. Are you these girls' minder?"
I felt my tails twitch behind me. "Minder? No. I'm her big brother." I rested my hand on Kunou's shoulder. "And from what I can see, you four grown adults were just attacking a child. So, Lady Sif, I think the question is: do you have a death wish, or are you just stupid?"
Sif stiffened, her grip tightening on her weapon.
Kunou peeked out from behind my leg, sticking her tongue out at the group. "Yeah! He's my Nii-san, and he's super strong! You're all in big trouble now!"
"Silence, you wretched little beast!" The roar came from the largest of the men—a massive, rotund warrior with a beard. He stepped forward, hefting a double-headed greataxe that must have weighed as much as Kunou did. His face was flushed with exertion and indignation. "You know nothing of the might of Asgard!" the fat one bellowed, spitting on the ground. "You steal the weapon of the All-Father's son, and then hide behind your kin? A thief and a coward! Return Mjolnir, creature!"
The air around me went cold. My tails stopped swaying. The ambient noise of the wind died down. The smile slid off my face, replaced by a mask of absolute, freezing calm.
"Beast?" I repeated softly. "Creature?"
He dared use slurs like that against my precious sister!?
"This guy is dead…" Tanya whispered next to Kunou.
My golden eyes locked onto the fat man. I didn't see a warrior. I didn't see an Asgardian. I saw a side of beef. A rude, loudmouthed side of beef that had just insulted my precious imouto.
The [Lord of the Kitchen]ultimate skill activated almost instinctively. This guy was on the chopping block. I flexed my will. I didn't move a muscle. I didn't cast a spell. I simply asserted my domain over the "ingredients" in front of me.
Snip.
There was a sound like a thousand scissors closing at once.
The red-bearded warrior's eyes bulged.
In an instant, his magnificent, braided red beard sheared away from his face as if cut by invisible razors. It fell to the asphalt in a sad, hairy pile. The hair on his head followed suit, leaving him completely, gleamingly bald.
"What—?" he gasped, reaching up to touch his smooth scalp.
Slice.
His armor—thick plates of Asgardian steel, leather straps, chainmail—disintegrated. It didn't just fall off, it fell apart, sliced into pieces that clattered to the pavement around his boots. His massive greataxe, the weapon he had threatened my sister with, fell into four perfectly equal pieces, the metal severed cleanly.
He stood there in the middle of the street, the desert wind whipping around his pale, flabby legs. He was wearing nothing but a small, stained loincloth.
He looked down at himself. He looked at his broken axe. Then he looked at me, and the color drained from his face so fast he looked like a ghost. "My... my beard," he whimpered, his voice pitching up an octave. "My axe..."
"Ewwww!" Kunou wrinkled her nose, shielding her eyes with her free hand. "Nii-chan, that's gross! He's all lumpy!"
"Sorry, Kunou," I said casually, my tails flicking once to dispel the tension. "I just wanted to peel the fat vegetable before I decided whether or not to cook it." I took a step forward. The fat man—Volstagg, if I remembered the myths right—scrambled backward, tripping over his own feet and landing hard on his ass.
He crab-walked away from me, terror radiating off him in waves. The only reason he wasn't a smear of blood and viscera on the pavement was because Kunou was watching.
But make no mistake—since becoming a Demon Lord, the hesitation I used to feel about killing? It was gone. If he opened his mouth again, I'd fillet him.
The other two men, the dashing blonde and the grim asian-looking one, stepped back, their weapons raised but shaking.
"Sorcery!" the blonde one shouted, though his voice wavered. "Foul, pathetic sorcery! Fight us like a warrior, demon!"
I just raised an eyebrow at him.
Sif, however, was smarter than her companions. She looked at Volstagg, shivering in the dust. She looked at the clean cuts on the axe handle. Then she looked at me. With a sharp intake of breath, Lady Sif drove the point of her double-bladed staff into the asphalt and let it go. It stood there, quivering.
She dropped to one knee, bowing her head low.
"We yield!" Sif shouted, her voice cutting through the panic of her friends. "We surrender! Please, Lord... whatever you are. Do not kill us."
"Sif!" the blonde man cried, aghast. "What are you doing? We are Asgardians! We do not kneel to—"
"Shut up, Fandral!" Sif hissed, not looking up. "Do you not see? He didn't even cast a spell. He just... willed it. We cannot win this!"
I smiled. Smart woman. I liked smart women. "Wise choice," I said, letting the oppressive weight of my aura lift slightly. "I accept your surrender. For now…"
The silence returned to the street, broken only by the whimpering of the naked Volstagg. But of course, peace never lasted long when my family was involved. The door to the diner nearby burst open.
"SIF! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
A large, blonde man came barreling out of the restaurant. He was wearing a flannel shirt that was too tight for his massive chest, and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. He stomped down the sidewalk, his face twisted in a mask of righteous confusion and anger.
"You cannot just surrender like that!" he shouted, waving his arms wildly. He ignored me completely, his eyes locked on his kneeling friend. "We are the mighty of Asgard! We do not bow to children and beasts!" He pointed a finger at Kunou, who was currently snickering at Volstagg's bald head. "And what about my hammer?!" Thor bellowed, looking like a man on the verge of a temper tantrum. "I need Mjolnir! I cannot go home without it!"
"And who are you supposed to be?" I asked, my voice dripping with a lazy, dangerous tone.
He was big—I'd give him that. Broad shoulders that stretched the fabric of a cheap, plaid flannel shirt, arms thick with corded muscle, and a jawline that looked like it could crack walnuts. He had the physical presence of a warrior, but there was something missing. He was empty. Hollow. Just a mortal man in a meat suit that was slightly better than average.
Behind him, the glass door of the diner swung shut with a soft whoosh, revealing another figure stepping into the harsh New Mexico sunlight. It was one of those secret agents. He wore a crisp suit that looked entirely too hot for the desert, and his hairline was receding just enough to give him a permanently weary expression.
He looked tired. Not physically exhausted, but spiritually done. He glanced around the wrecked street—at the overturned cars, the shattered windows, the naked, weeping Volstagg, and my lightning-wreathed little sister—and let out a sigh that I could hear from twenty feet away.
The blonde man ignored the agent. He stopped a few yards away from me, puffing out his chest in a way that was probably meant to be intimidating. "I am Thor!" he bellowed, his voice a deep baritone that carried well, even without divine amplification. He slammed a hand against his chest. "Prince of Asgard! Son of Odin! And I demand you release my friends and return what was stolen!"He glared at me, his blue eyes blazing with a righteous fury that was almost cute, considering he was completely powerless against me. "And who are you, beast?" he spat, the word dripping with disdain.
My tails twitched. All ten of them.
The golden fur bristled, and they fanned out behind me like a peacock's display, only infinitely more dangerous. The air around me grew heavy, the pressure dropping as I let a fraction of my Demon Lord aura leak out.
I took a slow, deliberate step toward him. He didn't back down, I'll give him that, but I saw the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
"Beast?" I repeated softly. A sharp, toothy grin spread across my face. "You really need to work on your manners, Blondie." I placed a hand on my chest, mocking his earlier gesture, but with a theatrical flair that bordered on insulting. "I am Haru," I announced, my voice smooth and projecting clearly to everyone in the vicinity. "I am a Demon Lord. I am a professional chef and the proud owner of The Fox Hole restaurant." I saw the confusion ripple across his face at the 'chef' part, but I wasn't done. I let my grin widen, letting a bit of my fangs show. "I am the Slayer of the Sun God Apollo," I continued, enjoying the way the color drained from Sif's face over by the kneeling warriors. "I am the Prince of the Yokai. And, most importantly..." I reached out and placed a hand on top of Kunou's helmeted head. She leaned into my touch, vibrating with energy, Mjolnir—sorry, Sparking Lightning-Chan—resting casually against her shoulder. "I am the big brother of Kunou and Tanya-chan," I finished, my voice dropping to a growl that vibrated in the pavement. "The little girls who your friends were just bullying."
Silence stretched out across the desert town. It was heavy and awkward, broken only by the dry wind whistling through the bullet holes in a nearby pickup truck.
Thor stared at me. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked from me, to Kunou, to the naked Volstagg, and then back to me. His brain seemed to be short-circuiting, trying to reconcile the list of titles I'd just thrown at him.
"Chef?" he whispered, sounding baffled. "God... slayer?"
From behind him, the agent in the suit cleared his throat. He walked a bit closer, his hands held up in a non-threatening gesture, though I noticed his eyes were scanning me with the cold calculation of a man assessing a threat level he didn't have a color code for.
"I feel like 'restaurant owner' and 'Slayer of the God Apollo' really shouldn't go together in the same sentence," the agent mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. He sounded like he needed a drink. A strong one. "Okay," the agent said, his voice projecting a calm authority that I respected, even if I didn't fear it. "Why don't we all just calm down here? We have a lot of... powerful personalities in one place, and I think we've had enough property damage for one afternoon."
BOOM!
Of course, right as he suggested that, something crashed down onto the wrecked street 50 feet behind us!
"Wow! It's a giant robot!" Kunou cheered in excitement!
XXX
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