About two months after Bang and I had taken over the House of Evolution — during which time I continued to perfect my martial arts as before — I felt ready to move forward. The last and strongest dojo I had yet to visit was that of my teacher's older brother: Master Bomb. I arrived to see that completely ancient yet monstrously powerful old man on a pre-arranged day and hour.
Bomb was waiting for me outside the training halls, in a deserted forest clearing — some kind of ravine filled with enormous boulders. It was atop a tall pyramid of those very rocks that he sat in the lotus position, boring into me with a stern gaze.
Outwardly, he was in certain respects the complete opposite of my teacher. With a beard and no mustache, long white hair, and a bald crown. Slightly taller than Bang and with a very straight posture. Even dressed according to all the rules of a venerable master — in special kimono garments with long, wide sleeves. And yet, one glance made it clear — he and Bang were brothers...
"And here I am, not so young anymore..." — as I approached, Bomb let out a loud sigh, folding his arms across his chest. "I can't believe I'm spending my day off fulfilling my little brother's request, training his student... I've already heard your story, Garou — they say you learn different styles in record time?"
"Rumors usually exaggerate everything." — smiling and giving a respectful bow, I shrugged. "But still — yes, I'm very much hoping to grasp the fundamentals of your style..."
"In that case, let's not waste time." — nodding sternly, the old man abruptly pushed off with his feet from the surface of the rock he'd been sitting on and shot high into the air. "As you probably know, my style differs from Bang's Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist, which reveals its true power at the moment of defense and counterattack." — somersaulting in the air, Bomb began falling vertically downward with his right hand thrust forward. His palm wasn't clenched into a fist — all his fingers were bent no more than halfway. Looking carefully, one could notice aura flowing between them. "My style..." — before the master finished speaking, a barely visible ripple ran across the entire towering pyramid of boulders. Then, as if sliced by an impossibly sharp knife, it began to crumble... transforming from a heap of stacked stones into a perfectly smooth cylindrical column. On top of which Bomb landed a moment later, then continued speaking as if nothing had happened. "Whirlwind Iron Cutting Fist. Its essence lies in striking first and ending the fight with a single blow before the opponent can even respond. Against monsters it will certainly be extremely useful — but do I need to tell you how careful you'll have to be when using this style on people?"
"Of course." — looking up at the old man with eyes burning with anticipation, I gave a quick nod. "Frankly speaking, I try not to touch people at all. If not for the need to train in martial arts, I'd fight nothing but monsters."
"Then let's begin, temporary student. I don't want to waste time — I don't have much of it left as it is." — nodding in return, Bomb jumped down to the ground beside me, paying no attention to the stone column toppling away somewhere behind him. "First of all, your stance..."
Unlike Bang and Suiko, under whom I had trained before, Bomb stood out both favorably and unfavorably. On one hand, he made no secret of his lack of enthusiasm for dealing with me at all, and demonstrated it constantly. On the other hand, when it came to teaching methods and instruction in general, he was considerably more skilled than his younger brother and a hundred times more experienced than the current master of the Void Fist.
That was largely why, even accounting for our dry and exclusively formal interaction, my training progress moved with surprising speed. Diligently ignoring the old man's grumbling — perfectly understanding that he was doing me a favor — I focused entirely on learning his technique. At its core, it was surprisingly simple and straightforward.
The main feature of the Whirlwind Iron Cutting Fist was the projection of aura far beyond the limits of one's own body — far by martial arts standards, that is, rather than by esper standards — along with the ability to manipulate its shape, force, and density. In itself, this phenomenon wasn't unique. Even I, during the battle with Asura Kabuto, had delivered my final strike precisely in this manner. Having accumulated sufficient power and released it outward through my palms.
However, if one were to compare that strike of mine with any technique of Bomb's and draw an analogy to, say, a sword... then his attack was a sharp yet flexible blade, while mine was nothing more than an ordinary wooden scabbard. Yes, with enough intent you can hit someone with a scabbard too and even give them quite a beating — but the difference is obvious enough.
In short, everything came back again to the principle I had worked out several years earlier. The essence of all power in this world is one and the same, but the methods and mastery of application make them entirely different things.
Training with Bomb several days a week, while also keeping up my hero work and meeting with my second teacher Suiko, I completely forgot about Genus and our laboratory for a while. Remembering it and fearing that without me the eccentric scientist might get up to something, I carved out half a day of rest from all my other affairs and headed straight there. Besides, I needed to find out how our "Simulation" project was coming along...
The road to the laboratory was no short one, so along the way I texted Mizuki — with whom I had been in fairly frequent contact throughout all the time since the day we met and parted ways. The girl replied fairly quickly. We chatted a bit about this and that, and then she sent me a photo with the caption: "sorry, time for the next set!"
Besides Mizuki's own figure, the photo also featured a fairly telling angle of the weights she was lifting. That, however, wasn't what caught my attention. What did was something that looked suspiciously like a jellyfish-shaped monster crawling in through the window of the gym in the background.
Naturally I immediately wrote to my conversation partner about it. She read the warning, but the reply took several agonizing long minutes to arrive. Finally I saw her start typing and send:
"Thanks!" — and a kissing emoji, then the next message: "Phew, that was incredibly dangerous... while I was dealing with it, it ripped my top! ...I don't want to say this, but I think it was one of those crazed fans who kept showing up and standing outside the gym windows... last time one of them wanted an autograph, but when I said I didn't have a pen on me, he ran off screaming something about me being a common you-know-what... what a nightmare — can something like that really be enough to make someone turn into a monster?"
"That's the insane world we live in." — exhaling with relief once I understood everything was fine, I couldn't hold back and asked her for a photo of the "aftermath" of the fight, under the perfectly obvious pretext of confirming she hadn't been hurt.
To which I immediately received the concise reply:
"Pervert!"
And then, about ten seconds later, the photo itself.
With her bare and undeniably remarkable chest and a terribly flustered expression, Mizuki looked absolutely stunning. Which I immediately informed her of. Judging by the subsequent exchange, having crossed into the next stage of our relationship — the sending of such photos — the girl felt extremely awkward. So before long she once again cited her already disrupted training schedule and went offline.
And I — let me remind you, biologically just a nearly seventeen-year-old guy — spent almost the entire rest of the journey to Genus's laboratory walking with pants that were about ready to burst from the strain in the area of my groin.
Right, I urgently needed to beat someone up. Or at the very least find a girlfriend who wouldn't be as categorical about my age as my dear Mizuki.
With those thoughts I stepped inside the underground laboratory — and immediately understood that even wishes addressed solely to oneself needed to be formulated far more precisely... because waiting for me on the threshold was my biggest headache...
"Master, Master! You're back! Would you like lunch? Or a bath? Or perhaps... me?"
Standing before me in the most seductive pose she could manage and working hard to simulate embarrassment on her face was Mosquito Girl — that same sole Demon-level monster to whom Genus and I had left freedom of will...
And yes, even accounting for her nature as a monster and the frankly formidable blade-like claws, the girl was still undeniably attractive. The problem, for me personally, was that however accustomed I had become to the ways of this world, losing my virginity in the company of a monster — however tamed and however alluring — was not something that appealed to me. So... suppressing a heavy sigh and with an inhuman effort of will commanding a certain part of my anatomy to stay down, I gave her a brief smile and, walking past, immediately pointed my index finger at the man sitting at his workstation.
"You! Self-proclaimed genius of genetic engineering! I believe I told you that by my next visit she was to be fixed!"
"And I told you then and I'm telling you now, you ignorant boy who understands nothing of my magnificent work — specimen number A-69 is in perfect order and is not broken in the slightest!" — turning around and instantly scowling, Genus planted his hands on his hips. "Allow me to remind you. You yourself told me to remove everything responsible for the bloodlust common to all monsters. I said I could do it, but that she would then have no personality or memory of her own — she would come into the world like an ordinary newborn. And if we wanted to avoid all those rather unpleasant things — like changing diapers — we needed to upload some information into specimen A-69 so that she would already have her own experiences upon birth. You said — do it. So I uploaded everything stored in my House of Evolution's database. Including data automatically collected during your encounter and battle with Asura... not my fault! That after processing it, she decided you were the one destined to defeat all monsters and become their master! Not mine! Do you hear me?!"
"I have no desire to hear you, this is—"
"Ara-ara, the professor and Master argue so amusingly..." — interrupting our perfectly calm and constructive conversation, Mosquito Girl suddenly wrapped her arms around my neck from behind and, pressing herself against my back, spoke in a tone obviously copied from some hentai. "Ah. Data, analysis, my creation... it's all so complicated. And I simply want to serve my master... surely my body doesn't look... ahh, no, it seems everything is fine." — her palm slid across the surface of my pants and came to rest on a prominent bulge in the groin area. "Master's body finds my touch pleasant! My efforts are not in vain! Ahhhh, like this..."
"As a matter of fact..." — watching my nervously twitching face with a smile, Genus smiled back. "It's Monday and noon as well... the perfect time to give specimen A-69 her artificial blood injections... she won't let me do it, so..."
"Bring me the syringe." — shaking my head in resignation, I glanced sideways at Mosquito Girl, who was beaming with joy and anticipation. "First I'll give her the injection. And then I'll stick that enormous needle directly into your—"