[Third Person Pov]
Ken looked at Lala, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to question her about what he saw earlier, but the proper way to address her completely escaped him. After a moment of awkward hesitation he managed a tentative, "Uhh… miss…?"
Lala's eyes lit up with realization. "Oh, right! I never introduced myself properly." She straightened her posture and offered him a graceful, practiced courtesy bow, the motion smooth and elegant despite the casual clothes she currently wore. "I am Lala Satalin Deviluke. A pleasure to meet you."
Ken's raised a brow. He remembered the outfit that she was wearing previously and wanted to inquire "Ms. Deviluke… are you also an alien superhero?" he asked, a spark of genuine excitement breaking through his usual nervousness.
Lala immediately began rubbing the underside of her nose with a smug, cheeky, little smirk, clearly delighted by the assumption. It was obvious for them all that being regarded as a hero seemed to please her even more.
"Try more like an intergalactic space princess," Momo scoffed under her breath, folding her arms. In her opinion, calling Lala a mere superhero was selling the girl short by several galaxies.
"R-Really?!" Ken's voice jumped an octave. He immediately dropped into a deep, almost panicked bow, his forehead nearly touching his knees. "Forgive me! I had no idea you were royalty!"
"Please stop," Lala said quickly, her earlier smugness melting into an awkward, shy grin. She waved both hands in front of her as if trying to physically push the formality away. "You can just call me Lala. I don't mind at all."
"Or Satan," Clark added dryly as he had already pulled his phone from his back pocket and was spinning it upright between his fingers with casual ease.
Lala's lips pursed into a thin line as she fixed him with a sharp glare. "Why do I feel like that was an insult?"
"Clearly all your inventions are the work of the devil," Clark replied, the corner of his mouth twitching with restrained amusement, "so I'm just saying."
Lala's expression collapsed into an exaggerated pout. Clark ignored it completely. His attention had already shifted to the two unread messages that had just appeared on his screen—one from Komi, one from Miku. Both had seen the news coverage of the alien invasion and were checking on him. His thumbs moved quickly across the keyboard, typing out calm reassurances that he was fine.
Meanwhile Lala, undeterred by the teasing, puffed her chest out with shameless pride and returned to Ken's earlier question. "And you were right the first time, by the way. I am a superhero. I'm just having a little trouble deciding on a name that'll stick the way 'Superman' does."
"Batgirl," Clark muttered absently, still focused on his phone. "Or Batwoman. Whichever works for you."
"I don't like it," Lala pouted, closing the distance between them and looping both hands around his arm. "I want something that matches with you."
Ken, who had been watching the exchange with growing confidence, tentatively raised a hand. "How about… Ms. Satan?"
Clark finally looked up, one eyebrow arching in mild curiosity.
Ken pressed on, the words tumbling out more steadily now. "I mean, Superman is a Super-Man, right? And you're a lady, so you'd be a Miss. 'Satan' matches your middle name, and I noticed the costume you were wearing earlier had that matching sigil on it. It just… feels like it fits."
Clark considered the suggestion for a moment, then gave a small nod. "You know, that genuinely isn't terrible." He glanced over at Lala. "It could work."
Lala's entire face lit up. She spun toward Ken and began enthusiastically slapping him on the back in gratitude. "Thank you, Okarun! If Clark likes it, then I'll use it!"
Without waiting for permission she reached up, plucked Clark's glasses straight off his face, and settled them onto her own. She struck a dramatic pose, chin lifted, one hand on her hip. "You can call me…" She theatrically took them off with a fast swipe "Ms. Satan!"
"Pfft—give those back, you dork." Clark laughed, easily reclaiming the glasses and sliding them back into place. Lala flashed him an embarrassed smile and rubbed the back of her head.
Ken turned toward Momo, equally as curious. "What about you, Ms. Ayase? Are you also a hero?" He thought if she was Superman's sister she just had to be.
"Yeah," Clark said with a quiet laugh that only he fully understood. "Green Lantern."
Momo shot him a flat look. "I seriously hate when you call me that. I don't even know what it means." She started up the stone steps leading toward the temple gates, hands shoved into her pockets. "And no, I'm an ex—"
The moment Ken's foot crossed the threshold of the temple gates, a sudden burst of orange fire erupted around his entire body. The flames roared to life so abruptly that everyone froze in stunned silence.
"AHHHHHHHH!!" Ken's panicked scream shattered the moment. He staggered backward, arms flailing.
Clark and Krypto reacted in the same instant. Both drew in a deep breath and exhaled sharp, controlled gusts of freezing air. The flames were snuffed out in less than a second, the sudden gale force sent Ken flying several meters back. He crashed hard onto the gravel path outside the gate, smoke rising from his clothes and a wild, grandmotherly afro of singed hair standing straight up on his head.
"Okarun, are you okay?!" Momo cried, already sprinting toward him. Clark was right behind her.
Ken lay on his back, staring up at the sky with wide, shaky eyes. "I-I thought I was a goner… thanks," he managed, voice still trembling as he pushed himself into a sitting position.
Clark offered a steady hand and pulled him to his feet. Momo hovered nearby, looking equal parts worried and guilty.
"I'm so sorry," she said quickly. "Granny has talismans all over the place that create a mystical barrier. It's designed to ward off anything negative. I completely forgot you still have… well, you know."
"Damn," Clark muttered, still fighting back a snicker at the sight of Ken's singed afro and smoking clothes. "Even I overlooked that. Since you're a yokai vessel, the talismans target you automatically."
Ken blinked, the term catching him off guard. "A yokai vessel?"
"A body that's housing a yokai—or at least the leftover power of one," Momo explained as she strode over, tore the offending ofuda from the gatepost. "There. You should be able to walk through now. Granny shouldn't be all too mad, hopefully"
Ken approached the threshold again, far more cautiously this time. He stretched one foot forward, tapping it carefully, and only when both soles were safely on the other side did he let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
"Anyway, let's go. Granny needs to see you," Momo said. She grabbed him by the wrist and took off at a run, dragging the still-stumbling Ken straight into the house while shouting at the top of her lungs, "GRANNY!"
Krypto shot after them in a blur of white fur and super-speed, leaving only a brief gust of wind in his wake.
Clark stayed behind for a moment, thumbs already moving across his phone again as he walked at a more leisurely pace. He had barely taken three steps when Lala suddenly spun into his path, hands clasped behind her back, tail swaying with open anticipation.
"You know," she began, voice light but clearly fishing, "I did pretty well today. I stopped those space pirates from firing their weapons on the city."
Clark lowered the phone and raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you're right." He powered the device off, slipped it into his pocket, then gently tipped Lala's chin upward with two fingers and pressed a soft, brief kiss to her lips. "Thank you. You were a great help today."
Without another word he stepped past her and into the house.
Lala remained frozen in place, eyes wide. A slow, warm flush climbed her cheeks until her entire face glowed bright pink. "Well… alright…" she murmured, a content smile spreading across her face as her tail gave a happy little flick.
Inside, Clark's gaze landed on the pitiful state of Ken's clothing. The earlier fight with Geryuganshoop had already left the fabric hanging by threads; the spontaneous combustion at the gate had finished the job. What remained looked more like scorched rags than an actual outfit.
Krypto came rocketing through every room of the house in a series of white streaks before skidding to a halt in front of the group just as Lala finally stepped inside. "Aww… she isn't here."
"Where the hell did she go?" Momo grumbled, irritation plain in her voice.
Clark closed his eyes for half a second, listening. He found the familiar heartbeat almost immediately and with a look with x-ray and telescopic vision he saw what she was doing. "She's at the convenience store," he sighed. "Buying beer and cigarettes again. That stubborn old woman, I swear…"
"I'll get her!" Krypto barked excitedly, and in another rush of wind he was gone, the front door barely having time to rattle in its frame.
Clark turned back to Ken. "Come on. I've still got some clothes from middle school that should fit you." He guided the other boy upstairs to his room, searched the drawers in a blur of motion too fast for normal eyes to follow, and pressed a folded set of clean clothes into Ken's hands. Then he headed back downstairs to give the kid some privacy.
He had just stepped into the kitchen and was reaching for a glass when a high, anguished cry tore through the house from above.
"NOOOOOOO!!"
The sheer despair in the sound made all three of them jump. Clark, Momo, and Lala bolted up the stairs and burst into the bedroom without knocking.
"What? What's wrong—?!" Momo started, concern sharp in her voice.
They all stopped dead.
Ken stood in the middle of the room in nothing but his underwear, the waistband pulled out as he stared downward with pure horror. Tears already welled in his eyes. With a choked, trembling expression he turned toward them… and simply dropped the underwear.
"The heck are you—!!" Momo began to scold, only for the words to die in her throat.
Clark's mouth slowly fell open. Momo's did the same. Lala clapped both hands over her mouth in absolute disbelief.
The front of Ken's pelvis was completely smooth. Not a single trace of genitalia remained.
He tried to hold back a sob; it escaped as a broken, high-pitched squeak instead. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks as he managed, in a tiny, devastated voice:
"My shlong… it's gone…"
Clark, still staring in open shock, slowly raised his phone. The bright flash of the camera lit the room.
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