[Third Person Pov]
Clark stood with one hand planted firmly on his hip, the other rising to scratch at his brow in mounting irritation. His eyes tracked Momo as she tumbled awkwardly through the air, limbs flailing like a startled bird before she had managed to right herself and drift back toward them in a wobbly arc.
"Umm… help?" Ken called out, voice thin and startled.
Clark's attention snapped sideways to Ken. The moment Momo had flown out of range, Turbo Granny's influence had surged back into the boy's body with vicious speed. Ken's limbs contorted at unnatural angles, joints popping and twisting in directions no human skeleton was meant to bend. Wild, stringy gray hair spilled down over his eyes, and those eyes themselves burned with a manic, feral light that belonged entirely to the ancient spirit.
"What the f—" Clark started, genuine alarm flashing across his face for half a second before memory caught up. He exhaled hard. "Oh. Right. You're cursed." The surprise in his voice softened into something almost apologetic. "Sorry about that."
He reached out without hesitation. His vision shifted, piercing through flesh and spirit alike until he could see the roiling wildfire of Turbo Granny's presence thrashing inside the schoolboy's frame. With a precise, practiced effort of will, Clark pressed down on that chaotic energy, forcing it into temporary stillness. Ken's body jerked once, then settled. The gray hair vanished, the manic gleam left his eyes, and his limbs returned to their proper alignment.
Ken sagged with relief, shoulders dropping as he sucked in a shaky breath. "Thank you."
Clark let out a long, frustrated sigh of his own. He had never planned on letting this particular kid learn the truth about who he really was. That secret was one that is never meant to be shared with outsiders easily—until Momo carelessly opened her mouth.
Ken began to fidget, fingers twisting together as he spoke in a rush. "I promise I won't say a word about who you really are. Your identity is safe with me. I swear it."
Clark studied him for a long moment. Another sigh escaped him, quieter this time, almost resigned. "There's only one way to guarantee that…" His voice dropped into something grave and final. "I'm sorry, but now that you know, I have to kill you."
Ken froze. The color drained from his face so fast it was almost comical. "What?" he whispered, staring at Clark in pure disbelief. Then the stammering started, words tumbling over one another. "N-N-Now hold on, there's no need— we can talk about this— I won't tell anyone—"
"I really am sorry," Clark continued, the solemn tone never wavering. "You seem like a good kid. It's unfortunate that things had to come to this." His eyes flared suddenly with the telltale crimson glow of heat vision. "It's the only way to spare you—and my family—from a future where you're hunted down and forced to reveal my secret."
"Kal-El!" Krypto barked from nearby, the sound sharp with reprimand.
Behind them, Lala had one hand pressed over her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. She knew Clark well enough to recognize the performance for what it was.
Ken, however, did not. He looked down at the ground, resignation settling over him like a heavy cloak. Slowly, almost ceremonially, he sank to his knees. He removed his glasses with careful fingers, folding the frames neatly and placing them beside him on the pavement. "This is for the greater good—"
"Dude." Clark's voice cracked with incredulity. "What the actual hell is wrong with you?" He stared down at the trembling boy, heat vision already fading. "I was just kidding. It was a joke."
Ken blinked once. Twice. Color rushed back into his face in a violent wave of pure mortification. "Oh…" The single syllable came out small and strangled. He grabbed his glasses, shoved them back onto his face, and immediately buried his burning cheeks in both hands. "I would appreciate it if you actually killed me now," he squeaked, voice muffled by his palms. "For real. Please."
Momo finally touched down a few feet away, looking between the kneeling, red-faced Ken and the faintly amused Clark with clear confusion. "What's going on?"
"Superman pranked Okarun," Lala explained cheerfully, still fighting laughter. "And Okarun fell for it completely. Now he's embarrassed."
Ken made another mortified sound, somehow even more pained than the last.
Momo's eyes narrowed. She marched straight up to Clark and punched him solidly in the shoulder. "Don't bully him—"
Clark's hand shot out with super-speed precision, fingers locking into a firm claw-grip over the top of Momo's head. He gave her skull a light but firm grip, fingers grinding against her scalp. "Don't act all high and mighty with me, missy. You need to watch that big mouth of yours."
"Ahhh! Mercy! Uncle! Uncle!" Momo yelped, both hands flying up to pry at his wrist. Her feet kicked uselessly at the air. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll be more careful! It was an accident—I just got too comfortable!!"
Ken, who had been watching the entire exchange with an increasingly nervous expression, finally gathered what little courage he had left and stepped forward. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and his posture was rigid with the effort of forcing himself into the conversation.
"Um… Mr. Superman, sir…"
Clark paused mid-motion, the hand that had been about to ruffle Momo's hair again freezing in place. He turned his head slightly, one eyebrow lifting as he regarded the still-flushed schoolboy.
Ken swallowed hard, the sound audible in the brief silence. When he spoke again, his voice was polite to the point of formality, earnest in a way that made it clear he meant every word. "Could you please forgive Ms. Ayase? I understand you're upset with her, but she genuinely didn't mean to expose your identity. It was an honest mistake."
Momo's struggling stopped cold. She slowly turned her head toward Ken, eyes widening in genuine surprise. The grip she still had on Clark's wrist loosened without her noticing.
Ken pressed on, clearly drawing on every ounce of bravery he possessed. "She got carried away and spoke without thinking. That doesn't make what she did right, but… I don't think she deserves to be punished for it."
Clark raised an eyebrow higher, waiting.
Ken's expression grew more serious. He lowered his gaze for a moment, then lifted it again with quiet determination. "I know you're Superman, and I know your secret identity is incredibly important. That information could be used against you—against your family. So I understand why you're angry." He dipped his head in a small, respectful nod. "But Momo trusts you enough to be comfortable around you. From what I understand, she's known you longer as Clark than as Superman. She was bound to slip up eventually. It's not entirely her fault."
Momo's face softened as she stared at him, the surprise in her eyes shifting into something warmer and far more complicated. Before she could say anything, Ken bent at the waist in a deep, formal bow, his voice rising with sudden force.
"So please forgive her!!"
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a long, weary breath through his teeth. "You take things way too seriously, don't you?" The question came out laced with exasperation, but there was no real heat behind it. After a beat he raised both hands in surrender. "Fine. Whatever."
He turned fully toward Momo then, and the playful edge that usually colored his expression when dealing with her was gone. His gaze was steady and serious enough that both teens felt the shift immediately. "I hope you understand that means he's your responsibility now. Whether he blabs or not—for any reason—that's solely on you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Momo muttered, meek for once. She knew she had messed up, and she knew he had a point. There was no fight left in her voice.
Clark's attention shifted to Ken next, "And you—"
The boy snapped upright so quickly it was almost comical, standing as straight as a pole while nervous energy radiated off him in waves.
"Yes?" Ken managed, voice a little higher than usual.
"You," Clark said, and this time the corner of his mouth twitched with the ghost of amusement, "gotta learn to relax. You're being way too extreme."
Ken's shoulders sagged with relief and residual embarrassment. He rubbed the back of his head, offering a small, sheepish smile. "Sorry."
"It's cool. I don't mind it too much." Clark reached out and clapped a solid, friendly hand on the boy's shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. "It's not necessarily a bad thing. Still… maybe dial it back a notch next time."
Momo, who had been watching the exchange with a complicated mix of gratitude and residual guilt, seized the opening. She stepped closer to Ken and, with practiced ease, reasserted her spiritual hold over the curse still coiled inside him. The wild energy of Turbo Granny settled under her control once more.
"Speaking of bad things," she said, glancing between the two of them, "I wanted to take him to Granny. I was hoping she could help him get rid of the curse for good."
Clark considered that for a moment, then nodded. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture of a man who had already dealt with more than enough chaos for one afternoon. "That's a smart idea. Let's go. I'm done for today anyway."
As they rose into the air and began the flight back, Clark found his gaze drifting toward Lala without meaning to. The memory of his own earlier realization—those inconvenient, steadily growing feelings for her—rose unbidden, and a faint heat crept up the back of his neck. He looked away quickly, focusing on the wind instead, and tried to shove the thought somewhere far less distracting.
After a moment he cleared his throat. "Lala, can I ask you something?"
"Huh? What is it?" She tilted her head, bright hair streaming behind her in the wind, genuine curiosity in her expression.
Clark studied the redesigned super suit she wore. It was sleeker than the previous version, better fitted, and carried a quiet confidence that suited her far more than the older, bulkier design. "What are you wearing?"
Lala's confidence flickered. She glanced down at herself, suddenly self-conscious, remembering the last time she had tried something new and received less-than-glowing feedback. "It's my super suit… Do you not like it?"
"No, I do" Clark said at once, shaking his head. "I honestly do. It's better than the one before. It suits you." A small, genuine smile touched his mouth when he saw the way her face lit up at the words. "You look nice."
"Hehehe… you really think so?" Lala giggled, the sound light and shy. She drifted closer, tilting her body toward him and batting her eyelashes with playful exaggeration.
"Yes, yes—now personal space, girl. You're way too close." Clark reached out and gently pushed her forehead away with two fingers. Lala only giggled harder, the sound ringing through the air like soft chimes.
A few meters away, Momo made a face of pure disgust. "Ugh. Don't they just make you sick?" she muttered, flying alongside Ken and keeping a steady spiritual hold that allowed him to stay aloft. She glanced back over her shoulder at the pair with open irritation.
Ken blinked at her, confused. "No?"
"Yeah, well, nobody asked you, fanboy," Momo grumbled, turning her face forward again.
They flew in relative quiet until the city gave way to quieter streets and denser trees. Eventually Clark angled downward, guiding them toward a secluded patch of open ground. They landed softly, the wind from their descent stirring fallen leaves, and decided to walk the rest of the way.
Ken watched with open, starry-eyed fascination as Clark, Krypto, and Lala shifted back into their ordinary school uniforms. The transformation was smooth, practiced—Clark adjusted his glasses, vanished for the barest fraction of a second, and reappeared with his school bag already slung over one shoulder as though it had been there the entire time.
"What, dude?" Clark asked, noticing the way Ken kept staring at both him and Lala.
Ken offered a bashful grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I just keep thinking about the time I ran into you guys… Who would have thought I'd actually run into Superman before?"
"Damn, that's right!" Momo burst out laughing. "You were searching for Superman when he was standing right in front of you the whole time!"
Ken's face heated as the memory returned in full, painful clarity. He could only imagine how ridiculous he must have looked.
"Seriously," Momo continued, still grinning, "you need a refund on those gadgets of yours. You stood face-to-face with two aliens and didn't even notice. Talk about a waste of money."
Ken blinked, then glanced toward Lala. The revelation that she was also an alien still felt new, but the more he looked at her, the more it simply made sense. After a moment he scratched his cheek and gave a soft, almost sheepish smile.
"I don't think they were a waste," he said quietly. "It's only thanks to them that I was able to spend time with you, Ms. Ayase. So… I think they were worth every yen."
Clark let out a low, impressed whistle. Lala covered her mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.
Momo's face went warm so quickly it was almost visible. Embarrassment crashed over her in a wave. She spun and delivered a sharp kick to the back of Ken's leg. "Who do you think you are, spouting nonsense like that, dumbass?!"
Ken stumbled forward with a yelp, rubbing the spot in confused protest while Krypto barked out a bright, canine laugh. Up ahead, the familiar outline of the temple was already coming into view.
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