"Are you guys really trying to earn a trip to the Public Security Bureau by hitting on high schoolers at this hour?"
Kenji pulled the brake, and his motorcycle let out a sharp screech as it skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alley. He didn't dismount yet, letting the idle rumble of the engine underscore his voice.
"Oh crap, a Security Officer! Run!"
The moment they saw Kenji's STF uniform, the punks realized they had picked the wrong target. PSB officers dealt with Ethereals and high-stakes crime daily; they weren't known for their patience with street-level harassment. With a chorus of startled yelps, the group scattered, leaving only the shark girl standing in the shadows.
"You okay, kid?" Kenji asked, pulling off his helmet and stepping off the bike.
Even if he was technically still a "temporary" hire, the uniform came with a moral obligation. Besides, regardless of the job, a Kamen Rider doesn't just walk away when someone's in trouble.
"I'm fine. Thank you, Uncle," the girl replied, her voice remarkably calm. "You saved me some energy."
Kenji noted her composure. She hadn't looked even remotely frightened while surrounded, as if she had been more annoyed by the interruption than threatened by the men. But as her words registered, Kenji's eyes widened.
"Wait—you're a robot!?"
He hadn't realized it at first, but it would explain how a shark could walk around on land. In New Eridu, synthetic constructs were everywhere, and many chose eccentric physical mods.
The girl, Ellen Joe, furrowed her delicate brows. Her tail gave a sharp, dissatisfied flick. "I am a Shark Thierren. Ellen Joe."
"Ah... right. My apologies," Kenji said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Your 'saving energy' comment threw me off. But listen, 'Uncle' is a bit much. I'm still in my prime."
Shark Thierren. He mentally filed that away. The classifications in this world were incredibly specific. He'd seen cat-ears before, but a full aquatic evolution was a new level of "wild."
"I'm seventeen," Ellen stated flatly. "And you?"
"Twenty-three."
"Heh."
A faint, knowing smirk played on Ellen's lips, but she said nothing else. The silence made Kenji feel strangely defensive. Was twenty-three already "middle-aged" to a high schooler? He didn't want to be the first Kamen Rider to be sidelined by a mid-life crisis before his first official mission.
"Don't just smirk! Anyway, you should head home," Kenji grumbled, trying to regain his authority. "New Eridu isn't as safe as the brochures claim. I've seen gangs snatching people right off the streets lately."
"Can your bike carry a passenger?" Ellen asked, ignoring his lecture and pointing at the motorcycle.
Kenji secretly admired her taste. He'd spent nearly all his Dennies—the local currency—on this machine. When he'd first arrived and found his bank account converted into the local tender, he'd felt like he'd won the lottery. It wasn't quite a "free" world, but at least he wasn't starting from zero.
"Yeah, it can," Kenji said.
"Take me home, then."
"Whoa, hold on. Don't just hop onto a stranger's bike," Kenji warned. "I'm happy to help, but you need some basic precautions. There are plenty of creeps who could fake a uniform."
"You are a Security Officer, aren't you?" Ellen countered. "Then this is just 'serving the public.' Besides, I can take care of myself if things get weird."
She wasn't lying. Kenji looked at the massive tail swaying behind her. From a purely mechanical standpoint, unless that tail was hollow, it had to weigh at least twenty to thirty kilograms. The core strength required to swing that thing around and maintain balance while walking was staggering. Her waist and hips must have been pure, high-density muscle.
"I believe you," Kenji muttered. "Most girls don't carry thirty kilos of extra weight on their spine every day. Your lower-body strength must be... terrifying."
Ellen glared at him. "Uncle, you definitely don't have a girlfriend, do you?"
"I have a female superior!" Kenji shot back, feeling the sting. Being single wasn't a choice; it was just a side effect of saving the world. "I just haven't found the right 'co-pilot' yet."
Ellen rolled her eyes and hopped onto the back seat. Kenji didn't have a spare helmet, so he handed her his own. She looked hesitant for a second before pulling it over her head, her shark tail wrapping slightly around the bike's frame for stability.
The engine roared to life. Following Ellen's directions, Kenji navigated through the neon-lit streets until they arrived in front of an elegant, classically designed building. It stood out from the surrounding industrial architecture like a Victorian manor dropped into a cyberpunk city.
"Victoria Housekeeping?" Kenji read the sign aloud. He'd expected a private residence, not a place of business.
"You recognized the sign. Good," Ellen said, hopping off and handing back the helmet. "If you ever need housekeeping services, look us up. We don't just clean houses—we clean Hollows, too."
Kenji stood there, stunned for a moment. "Cleaning Hollows?"
It was a clever pitch. Since Ethereal activity caused Hollows to expand, "cleaning" them was a very literal way of describing extermination missions. The PSB was chronically understaffed, so outsourcing to private agencies like this was common.
"You hitched a ride for free, and you're already trying to upsell me?" Kenji asked with a wry smile.
Ellen's "energy-saving" facade was just a cover for a very sharp mind. She'd identified him as a PSB officer and immediately led him to her doorstep to secure a potential corporate lead.
"Bye, Uncle."
She waved lazily and disappeared into the building. Kenji watched her go, deciding not to mention that he was currently too broke to hire anyone for so much as a window scrubbing. A Kamen Rider could summon lightning and fire, but he couldn't conjure Dennies out of thin air.
"Poverty," Kenji sighed, clicking his visor down, "the one enemy even a Rider Kick can't defeat."