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A Rider Kick in Marvel Rewrite Vol 2 Ch 61
🕑 Added 2025-07-22 15:08:05 +0000 UTCCrimson lightning flashed through the Musutafu night as Momotaros, encased in the formidable armor of Den-O Sword Form, carved a path through the horde of Inves. The monsters, grotesque parodies of animals twisted by the Helheim Forest's insidious influence, surged forward, their claws and teeth snapping, their eyes glowing with a predatory hunger.
"Ore, sanjou!" Momotaros roared, his voice echoing through the district. "Time for you overgrown sandcastles to crumble!"
His DenGasher blade danced through the air, a crimson blur that met flesh and bone—or, rather, sand and vine. With each swing, Inves erupted in miniature explosions of golden dust, their forms collapsing as they were exorcised back to whatever twisted dimension they called home. Yet, despite the Imagin's devastating power, the Inves seemed endless, their numbers an unending tide that threatened to drown him in their monstrous ranks.
From the relative safety of an alleyway, Asahi watched, his heart pounding in his chest. The sheer force of Den-O's attacks was awe-inspiring, yet a bitter frustration gnawed at him. He longed to help, to contribute, to prove that he wasn't just a useless bystander. But what could he do? His Quirk, Healing Touch, was useless in the face of this kind of devastation. He couldn't heal a building, couldn't mend a shattered street. He was utterly, hopelessly outmatched.
Asahi’s gaze swept over the ravaged landscape, landing on a nearby construction site. It had collapsed during the initial Inves assault, a skeletal framework of twisted metal and broken concrete. An idea, reckless and impulsive, sparked in his mind.
He scrambled towards the site, his fingers closing around a jagged piece of metal pipe and a splintered signpost—makeshift weapons, pathetic in their inadequacy, yet all he had. He hefted them, his hands shaking, his breath catching in his throat.
"I… I can do this," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the din of battle. "I can help!"
With a yell that was half bravado, half terror, Asahi charged towards a lone Elementary Inves, a hulking brute with razor-sharp claws. "Hey! Ugly! Over here!"
The Inves turned, its eyes locking onto the small, insignificant figure running towards it. A low growl rumbled in its throat as it prepared to strike.
Asahi swung the pipe with all his might, but the impact was pitiful. The metal snapped against the Inves's thick hide, the sound like a twig breaking. The Inves barely flinched, its gaze filled with contempt.
With a swipe of its massive claw, it sent Asahi flying. The world spun as he crashed into a nearby wall, the force of the impact stealing his breath, pain exploding in his ribs. He crumpled to the ground, his vision blurring, his body screaming in protest.
"Tch. Idiot…" Momotaros groaned, his crimson gaze snapping towards Asahi's crumpled form. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This kid… did he have a death wish?
He disengaged from the swarm of Inves, his DenGasher flashing as he cleared a path towards the fallen boy. He couldn't just stand there and watch him get killed, even if he was being a complete moron.
With a snarl, he blocked a killing blow aimed at Asahi, the force of the impact sending sparks flying from his armor. He grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and dragged him behind the relative safety of a toppled concrete barrier.
"Stay down, brat! You're gonna get yourself killed!" he barked, his voice a furious growl. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
Asahi coughed, his body aching, his pride shattered. "I… I wanted to help," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Momotaros scoffed. "Help? You're just getting in the way! This ain't a playground, kid. It's a battlefield!"
As if to punctuate his words, the remaining Inves converged, their numbers pressing in, their hunger for destruction insatiable. Momotaros gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn't afford to waste any more time. He had to focus on the fight, on protecting the city, even if it meant leaving this reckless kid to his own devices.
But as he turned to face the monstrous horde, he couldn't shake the image of Asahi's crumpled form, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and disappointment. He was just a kid, trying to do what he thought was right. But good intentions weren't enough in this world.
The Pro Heroes, scattered throughout the district, fought valiantly, their Quirks clashing against the Inves's relentless assault. But they were struggling, their numbers dwindling, their strength failing. The situation was growing desperate.
Momotaros knew he had to end this, and end it now. He couldn't afford to hold back any longer. He channeled his energy, focusing his rage, his determination, his unwavering will to protect.
"Alright, you overgrown sand fleas!" he roared, his voice echoing with power. "Time to see what a real climax looks like!"
Momotaros, without a moment's hesitation, swipes the Rider Pass across the Den-O Belt, the action triggering a surge of power.
[Full Charge!]
With a metallic screech, the blade of the DenGasher detaches and becomes supercharged.
The blade cleaved through the air, a single, sweeping strike that encompassed the entire horde of Inves. A wave of crimson energy erupted, consuming the monsters in its path. The air crackled, the ground trembled, and then… silence.
The Inves, reduced to dissipating sand, vanished into the night, leaving behind a scene of utter devastation. The Pro Heroes stared in shock, their faces etched with disbelief, as the red-armored warrior stood victorious amidst the ruins.
Momotaros, with his crimson eyes narrowed, turned his furious attention back to Asahi. "You idiot! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"
Asahi winced, shrinking under the intensity of the glare. "I just… I wanted to help somehow."
"Help?" Momotaros scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "This ain't some game, kid!"
Before Asahi could stammer a response, a faint but familiar sound reached Momotaros's ears—the distant wail of sirens. His head snapped up, his senses on high alert.
"Tch," he spat, recognizing the sound for what it was. "The fuzz is coming. Gotta bounce."
He grabbed Asahi by the arm, hauling him to his feet. "And you," he growled, "stay out of trouble, you hear? Next time, leave it to the pros—or at least someone who knows what they're doing!"
With a final glare, Momotaros activated the Den-O Belt, the armor dissolving in a shower of crimson sparks. He released Asahi, melting into the shadows before the first police car turned onto the street.
…
Asahi stood alone amidst the aftermath, the echoes of the battle and Momotaros's harsh words swirling in his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, the adrenaline slowly fading, replaced by a gnawing sense of inadequacy. He wanted to help, to be a hero, but all he had managed to do was get in the way, earning the scorn of his idol.
He walked towards the main street. A familiar voice cut through his thoughts.
"Asahi? Is that really you?"
He turned, his eyes widening in surprise. Standing before him, her face etched with concern, was Natsumi, a friend from his elementary school days. He hadn't seen her in ages.
"Natsumi! Wow, it's been a while," he replied, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
Natsumi beamed, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "I can't believe it's you! What are you doing around here? I thought you moved away."
"Just visiting," he replied, trying to downplay his earlier heroics, or lack thereof. "What about you? Still living in the area?"
"Yep! Helping out with the family restaurant," she said, gesturing down the street. "We're just around the corner. You should come by! It's been so long, we need to catch up."
Asahi hesitated, his mind still preoccupied with the battle and his own failures. But Natsumi's genuine warmth was hard to resist. Besides, a home-cooked meal sounded infinitely better than dwelling on his shortcomings.
"Sure, why not?" he agreed. "I'd love to."
Natsumi took the lead, guiding him through the tranquil streets, a stark contrast to the bustling district he remembered from his childhood. Finally, they halted before a modest, unpretentious restaurant. Its sign, though faded with time, still proudly displayed the name "Sakura Diner." The windows, while showing their age with a slight grimy film, hinted at the warmth within.
"Welcome to Sakura Diner," Natsumi announced, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and nostalgia. "Where home cooking is an art!"
Asahi's heart skipped a beat as he stepped inside. The restaurant exuded a comforting, cozy atmosphere, though the emptiness of the tables was hard to ignore. The arrangement was simple, with each table neatly set and adorned with a vase containing plastic flowers. The aroma of soy sauce and simmering broth filled the air, triggering a wave of nostalgia within Asahi. It reminded him of simpler times, of shared meals and laughter.
He noticed an older couple emerge from the back, their faces lighting up as they recognized Natsumi.
"Mum! Dad! Look who I found!" Natsumi announced, her voice filled with excitement. "It's Asahi! Remember, from elementary school?"
Her parents' eyes widened in surprise as they turned towards Asahi. "Asahi? Is that really you?" Natsumi's mother exclaimed, her face breaking into a warm smile. "My, how you've grown! We haven't seen you in ages!"
Natsumi's father stepped forward, extending a hand towards Asahi. "Welcome back, Asahi. It's good to see you again," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "Please, make yourself at home."
Asahi clasped his hand, feeling a sense of familiarity wash over him. "It's great to see you both again, too," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "It's been far too long."
"Sorry it's so quiet," Natsumi said, her smile faltering slightly as she glanced around the empty restaurant. "It's usually busier than this, especially during lunchtime."
They sat at a table near the back, and Natsumi quickly brought over a steaming pot of tea and two mismatched teacups. As they poured their drinks, they launched into a flurry of catch-up, reminiscing about old friends, awkward school dances, and shared dreams.
Asahi noticed Natsumi’s smile seemed a little forced, and her cheer was a little subdued.
"So, how's the restaurant doing?" Asahi asked.
Natsumi sighed, her eyes clouding over. "It's been tough," she admitted. "A lot of new places have opened up nearby, really popular spots with fancy menus and trendy decor. Customers don't really come here anymore."
She gestured around the restaurant, her gaze sweeping over the empty tables. "We're just a small family business, you know? We can't really compete with that."
Asahi's heart ached for her. He knew how much this restaurant meant to Natsumi and her family. It was more than just a business; it was a legacy, a testament to their hard work and dedication.
"Hey, don't worry about it too much," said Natsumi's mom, coming out from the kitchen. "We'll figure something out. We always do."
"Yeah," her dad added, patting her shoulder. "Don't let it get you down."
"Thanks, Mom, Dad," Natsumi said, managing a small smile. "I appreciate it."
"Thank you for the delicious meal," Asahi said, standing up to leave. "It was great seeing you both again."
"It was great seeing you, too, Asahi," Natsumi's dad replied, shaking his hand warmly. "Come back anytime."
"Please do," Natsumi's mom chimed in, her eyes sparkling with genuine affection. "You're always welcome here."
Asahi clasped their hands, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over him. "I will," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise."
After Asahi left, he stepped out onto the street, feeling a little better about himself. He pushed down the sting of Momotaros's words. He wouldn't let one setback define him. He would find a way to help, to protect, to be the hero he always dreamed of being.
He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and started to hum to himself, his steps lighter, his spirit renewed.
Unbeknownst to Asahi, back in the Sakura Diner, Natsumi began cleaning up when sand began to pour out from her legs.
