Chapter 88: Rainy Days Part 2

The gravure magazine slipped from my hands.
It hit the floor with a thud… the photo of a woman in a bikini spilling open in plain sight.

Michelle’s gaze drifted from me… down to the magazine.

Cold sweat ran down my neck.

I couldn’t see her face.
She didn’t say anything… not a single word.

"Mi… Michelle…?"

Unable to bear the silence, I forced out a voice.

An excuse—no, the truth. I should tell her the truth. Ned… no, that won’t work. Ned only lent it to me… he meant well.

So then…

…what should I do?

"…Peter?"

Michelle crouched down without looking at me and picked up the magazine.

She lifted it and—

"So, this… is what you like?"

She showed me the cover.
Her finger pointed at a blonde woman with a large chest.

Michelle looked… a little exasperated.
And a little embarrassed.

"Th-This… that’s—"

I tried to explain, but… nothing came to mind.

"Yeah… I guess so."

I nodded, almost hanging my head.

"I-I see… I get it."

Michelle’s eyes lingered on the glamorous woman in the flashy bikini.
That full-on smile, radiating confidence.

But honestly, women like that… aren’t really my type. No, it’s not like I’m in a position to be picky, but still—flashy types just aren’t my thing.
Like Gwen… she’s a great friend, but I could never see her that way.

I don’t want Michelle to misunderstand… not her, especially.

"Peter’s a boy… so, yeah. Having something like this is… normal."

As if convincing herself, Michelle handed the magazine back to me.

「…………」

I took it, flipped it over, and slid it into the bookshelf.
Neither of us spoke.

…I turned to face Michelle.

"Sorry, Michelle."

"…Why?"

She tilted her head at my almost reflexive apology.

"I said you could stay over… but it’s been nothing but trouble."

At that, Michelle let out a small laugh.

"Peter, you’ve been good to me. You’ve been trying hard… all for someone like me."

"‘Someone like you’? No… it’s because it’s you, Michelle—"

"Because it’s me?"

Realizing my slip, I shook my head.

"…No, sorry. Forget it."

Another weak apology.
If only I could just say it straight—because it’s you, I want to try.
But… that’s embarrassing. It’d just make Michelle uncomfortable. At least, that’s the excuse I told myself.

Seeing me fumble, Michelle gave a wry smile… and changed the subject.

"…Dinner’s getting cold. Let’s eat?"

"Ah, yeah."

We pulled out our chairs and sat across from each other.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at her, so I averted my eyes—

"Peter."

Her voice called me back.

"W-What is it?"

"I’m not upset."

I shifted my eyes back, just a little.

Michelle looked slightly sad. Then she spoke again.

"…Actually, maybe that’s not true. Maybe I am… a little upset."

"…Sorry—"

"But it’s not an apology I want."

Our eyes met.
Hers didn’t waver—not even a little.

"…Things might be awkward sometimes, but… I’d rather just be with you, the way you normally are."

"Michelle…"

"So, um… what should I do?"

Flustered, Michelle looked troubled.
I exhaled softly and answered.

"Michelle, I’m sorry."

"Ah, you’re apologiz—"

"This’ll be the last one. From now on, I’ll face you properly. Don’t worry… and thank you."

At those words of gratitude, Michelle let out a small breath of relief.

I’m a pathetic guy… but Michelle still said she wanted to be with someone like me. That’s why I’ll try to act as normal as possible… yeah, let’s do this.

"Alright. Then, shall we eat?"

"Mm."

I pulled our dinner out from the plastic bag—

"…Isn’t that a bit much?"

"…Maybe."

While we were scrolling through the delivery app together, we got carried away and ended up ordering way too much. It was obviously more than the two of us could finish.

Michelle picked up a plastic container filled with grilled pork.

"This will keep, so… maybe Peter can eat it tomorrow."

"But that’s not fair… you paid half too, Michelle."

Yeah, basically… we split the bill. After paying, Michelle had handed me cash. That’s why making it my dinner tomorrow felt a little wrong—

"Then, how about tomorrow… we have dinner again at Peter’s room?"

"…That’s a great idea."

Inwardly, I practically heard fanfare go off. Not just today, but tomorrow too—Michelle would come over. …Getting to spend more time with her made me happy.

"Then let’s order more from the same place—"

"No, somewhere different."

She said that firmly, even though we hadn’t eaten yet. Tilting my head, I put a third of the food in the fridge… but still, it was a lot.

I laid out plates from the cupboard while Michelle used a plastic fork to portion things out. I set out glasses and grabbed drinking water from the fridge.

Then Michelle suddenly smiled.

"This kind of thing is really fun."

"…Yeah, it is."

Apparently, she found sharing food fun. I wouldn’t have thought of it that way… but doing it with Michelle like this—it really was fun. If she felt the same… that made me incredibly happy.

We faced each other, sat down on chairs, and started eating. The heavy sound of rain outside drowned out the noise of the world. It almost felt like only the two of us existed here—

"Peter, can I turn on the TV?"

"Ah, yeah. Go ahead."

Michelle picked up the remote and turned it on. A news program appeared. And the commentator was… Jameson. Almost like the world only had me, her, and JJJ… ugh, that’d be horrible. I quickly shook off the image.

Jameson was—ugh, bashing Spider-Man again. The topic… oh, right. The runaway train I stopped the day before yesterday. I gave a wry smile without meaning to.

『Wearing a mask means you’ve got something to hide! Take off that mask! Show us your true face!』

Jameson roared. Geez, even the anchor looked a bit uncomfortable.

As I thought that, Michelle was staring intently at the TV, almost glued to it. The reason… oh, of course.

"Michelle… you like Spider-Man, right?"

"Yeah, I do. I love him."

"O-oh… I see…"

I felt happy for a moment—no, that was wrong. What she loved was Spider-Man. Not Peter Parker. Not me. That "love" wasn’t meant for me.

Smiling bitterly, a question popped into my mind, and I decided to ask her.

"…Michelle, what is it about Spider-Man… that you like?"

"Probably the way he helps people."

Michelle answered without a second’s hesitation. I tilted my head.

"But helping people… well, Iron Man does that, and Captain does too."

"…Not like that. I mean more… close by, the smaller things… without expecting anything in return… it’s hard to put into words, but that’s what I like."

"………I see."

Sure enough, I really was the "friendly neighborhood" type. More than saving the world… I spent my time helping people right around me who were in trouble. Things that didn’t even need a hero… things that could be solved if someone just called the police and waited, even if it took a while… I still meddled.

It’s not that I want to beat up bad guys. I just… with this power that’s far too much for me… I only want to help people.

That’s why, hearing her value that… and say she liked that… it made me happy.

And this girl… I—

"I guess… I like her."

The quiet words slipped out before I knew it.

"Peter too?"

Before I could hurriedly explain myself, Michelle said that. …She didn’t seem to think, not even a little, that I was talking about her. She thought I meant Spider-Man.

All the better—so I decided to go along with it.

"Yeah, me too. I like Spider-Man. His suit’s pretty cool, right?"

"…Hehe."

Michelle laughed at my words.

…Did I say something weird? Or… maybe the suit really is lame?

N-no, no. That can’t be… probably.

The awkward mood from earlier melted away, and the conversation flowed again. Sometimes we’d comment on whatever was on TV, sometimes we’d laugh over how tasty the food was… it all felt so peaceful.

Before I knew it, the plastic containers were empty. I put them into a bag and tossed them in the trash. Michelle carried the dishes to the tiny sink in the kitchen.

"Peter, where’s the dish soap?"

"Ah, it’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll wash them."

"But—"

"Michelle, just sit down and watch TV, okay?"

"…Thanks."

She thanked me, and sat on my bed.

Michelle never forgot her manners. Even for the smallest things, she always said "thank you." I think that’s really wonderful. Not taking things for granted, but appreciating them… well, when I’m Spider-Man, there are people who act like being saved is only natural, or worse, complain instead… but it’s not like I do it for gratitude anyway. Still, it makes me happy when people smile. And when they put it into words, it makes me even happier.

Because without words, people can’t understand each other.

I washed the dishes and set them on the drying rack. Just a few plates and a couple glasses—not many.

Michelle sat on the bed, and I sat beside her… no, a little apart. Then Michelle shifted just a little closer to me.

I pretended not to notice, and just watched TV with her. I didn’t care what was on. What mattered was spending this time with her… and that alone made me quietly happy.

The sound of rain drummed outside. The rain… didn’t stop.

---

Here we are at the "Avengers Tower."
Inside the "S.H.I.E.L.D." conference room… I opened the door.

There were a few familiar faces inside.

A dark-skinned man with an eyepatch looked at me.

"Sorry to drag you out on a rainy day, Captain."

"No, I don’t mind at all."

I pulled out a chair and sat down.
Then, the man seated across from me let out a snort.

A man with a neatly trimmed beard around his mouth.
I know him very well.

"Showing up like an executive, huh? Three minutes and thirty-two seconds late, Captain."

"…Tony, my apologies."

When I apologized, Tony waved his hand lightly.
He didn’t actually care that much, but if he didn’t point it out, he wouldn’t feel satisfied.

That’s just the kind of man Tony Stark is.

Then, I turned my gaze toward Fury.
Beside him sat Natasha Romanoff… the Black Widow.

"Still, it’s unusual to see you here, Tony."

"Hey, hey, what’s that supposed to mean? A jab at me? Who do you think owns the 'Avengers Tower' in the first place?"

"…No, sorry. Tony, I wasn’t complaining—"

"Who owns it? Say it."

"…You do."

"See? Show me some respect."

Stark leaned back in his chair… grinning smugly.

Fury let out a sigh as he watched.
…Well, I can’t blame him.

"Captain, he’s here because he’s directly tied to the reason we’ve gathered today."

For a moment, I thought he might have 'messed something up' again… but no, judging by how he’s acting today, that’s not it.
When he’s at fault, he always looks at least a little guilty.

Right now, he’s just his usual arrogant self.

"Stark, if you would, the footage."

"Of course."

With a snap of Tony’s fingers, a holographic display appeared against the wall.
But instead of a proper three-dimensional projection… it was just a flat image floating in the air.

"This is the data from that video analysis you guys pushed onto me a while back."

The footage was riddled with noise… the face of the person wasn’t even recognizable.
The audio was barely audible.

"What was it again…? 'Papua—"

"Power Broker?"

"Yes, 'Power Broker.' Whoever created him must have been cautious."

At those words, Natasha reacted.

"Some kind of protection on it?"

"No, if that were the case, I could’ve cracked it. This is data deletion triggered the instant the system shut down. I did my best to recover what I could, but—"

Tony sighed at the noise-filled footage on the monitor.

"This is the limit."

"No, this is more than enough."

Fury nodded… and looked toward me.

"I reviewed it before showing you… Apparently, this man knows Redcap’s true identity."

"Her identity?"

I let out a voice of surprise, and Tony tilted his head.

"Redcap? Never heard of her."

"Ah, I hadn’t told you, had I."

At that, Natasha frowned bitterly.
Her expression clearly said, "Why didn’t you tell him?"

"…Captain, you know who she is?"

"I’ve fought her more than once."

"More than once…? She’s that strong?"

Tony looked slightly surprised.

Normally, we don’t end up fighting the same enemy multiple times.
Most of the time, we either capture them in a single battle… or render them unable to fight again.

That’s why Tony must have been surprised.

"Yeah, and—"

I shared the information I knew.

That she was a young girl.
That her body had been implanted with a bomb.

"…Well, that’s… how should I put it."

Tony covered his mouth with his hand and sank into his chair.
It wasn’t the kind of reaction you’d expect from the usually flippant him… but I know that Tony is a good man, someone who can sincerely face another’s pain.
So it wasn’t strange—just rare.

The atmosphere in the meeting room grew a little heavier.

Fury spoke up.

"Are you done? Then let me share what the analysis actually revealed."

"Ah, right. Please do."

Fury fiddled with the tablet in his hand, and new information appeared within the floating display.

"What concerns me isn’t the 'Power Broker,' but the organization he was working with… and the organization Redcap herself belongs to."

I felt my brow crease at that.

"‘Unseelie Court’… An organization you fought back in World War II."

"Me?"

I tilted my head at Fury’s words.

‘Unseelie Court’… That was a name I’d also heard from Taskmaster.
But other than that, I had no memory of it.

"…What? You don’t know them?"

Fury frowned.

"According to the analyzed data, it said ‘the organization’s leader was defeated by Captain America.’"

"…Never heard of it. What was this leader’s name?"

"He went by 'Oberon'… supposedly ex–British Special Forces."

"That doesn’t ring a bell either."

I shook my head, and Tony gave me a suspicious look.

"Old age catching up with you? Memory slipping?"

"Tony, I happen to pride myself on my memory. And I don’t forget the enemies I’ve fought."

When I said that firmly, Fury rested his hand on his chin.

"…The leader may have been taken down by Captain back then… but now they have a new one. Someone who’s kept the group hidden, pulling strings from the shadows."

At those words, a thought struck me.

"Could it be… that they used my name—"

"Someone killed the leader at the time and replaced him… is that what you’re suggesting?" Natasha finished my thought.

I sighed and covered my mouth with my hand.

"Looks like this won’t be simple."

"It never is. Not with the enemies we end up fighting."

Tony tossed in a quip… but even he wore a thoughtful expression.

I turned my eyes toward Fury.

"Fury, do you have anything else?"

"Not about the organization… but I do have something on Redcap."

"That’s fine. She’s the real priority."

I stated it firmly, and new data appeared.

A tiny object—something like a microchip.

"The bomb implanted in her body… it can be detonated remotely, through external transmission."

"…In other words, if the one holding the trigger presses it… she’ll die no matter where she is?"

"That’s right."

Without realizing it, I was biting my lip.

"Can’t it be removed?"

"It’s extremely small… and cleverly concealed. Made of bio-material, so it won’t show up on metal detectors and it’s silent. You’d have to cut open her chest and search for it from inside… it would require full-on surgery."

"I see… Are there others besides her who’ve been implanted with the same thing?"

"That’s unclear… but I doubt she’s the only one."

I rubbed the bridge of my tightly furrowed brow.
Seeing me like that, Tony spoke up.

"That 'Unseelie Court' must have some serious tech, huh."

"Yeah. Before the leader switched, they were nothing more than a combat unit… but ever since the replacement, they’ve gone very high-tech."

"So the boss is a scientist?"

"Highly likely. 'Power Broker' was originally from an existing organization—the 'Power Broker Company.' They hijacked it. The method’s the same… There’s a good chance Unseelie Court was the one who created him."

"I see… If they can make androids at that level, then building a bomb like this would be child’s play. Nasty stuff… Fury, do you have a sample of the actual bomb? I’d like to disassemble it and reverse-engineer it."

When Tony asked, Fury shook his head.

"No. But among the documents we seized from Power Broker’s base, we found the schematics."

"That’ll do. Show me later."

"And what exactly do you plan to do with them, Stark?"

"If I can figure out the communication protocol, I can jam it. Build a jamming device, and just being nearby would block the detonation signal."

At those words, I was taken aback.

"You can do that, Tony?"

"Who do you think I am?"

As expected, a reliable man. His arrogance was nothing more than confidence backed by skill.

I nodded, and Fury handed his tablet over to Tony.

"Here are the schematics. I’ll transfer the data later."

"Yeah, thanks. Let’s see, what do we have…"

Tony swiped through the tablet… then his hand froze.

"Tony?"

I called out, suspicious, and he looked at me with a grim face.

"Ah—oh. What is it, Captain?"

"No, why the face? Don’t tell me you can’t actually pull off this jamming thing—"

"No, no… You really underestimate me."

Tony set the tablet down on the table and rested his chin on his hand.

"Then why? What’s with that look?"

"…I’ve seen this communication protocol before."

"…Before? Isn’t that unusual?"

"No, it’s the opposite. Too unusual. This technology doesn’t exist yet in our world… it’s not something that’s even been established."

When Tony said it flatly, Fury tilted his head.

"What do you mean?"

"In short, it shouldn’t be possible with modern tech."

"That’s—"

"Unless it’s me, of course."

Tony grinned, and I let out a sigh.

"Don’t scare me like that… Then why look so troubled?"

"I told you. I saw this once before…"

At those words, Natasha caught on.

"…You encountered a member of the organization, didn’t you?"

"No. Not me. But someone close to me was nearly hacked… using this occult-like transmission."

Tony tapped the tablet lying on the table.
Fury narrowed his eyes.

"That was… Spider-Man?"

"Yeah, that’s right."

Stark nodded.
Fury frowned deeper, then spoke again.

"Stark, there’s one thing I forgot to mention… Redcap seems to be targeting him."

"What…?"

Tony shot up from his chair.

"The source is reliable. I can’t say if she intends to kill him, but… she was definitely digging into his information."

Stark started to say something, but then let out a sigh and sat back down.
His expression was a mix of surprise, worry, and a kind of troubled hesitation.

Seeing such a rare look from him startled me.
…Right, come to think of it, Tony had been close with the boy.

Perhaps it was something like parental concern.

Watching Tony’s reaction, my eyes shifted back to the holographic display.
The image was clouded with noise, the face indistinguishable… the figure of a young girl, her red mask removed.

From there, my gaze drifted toward the glass wall, looking out.

It was raining.

…What is she doing now, I wonder?
Someone whose face, name, and even voice I don’t know—someone I’ve only ever fought.

I have no way of knowing what lies ahead.

But… if nothing else, I wished for one ending—
that she, that they, could find some measure of ordinary happiness.

---

"Hh-choo!"

Michelle sneezed.

Since she was sniffling, I pulled a tissue from the bedside box and handed it to her.

"Mm, thanks."

Michelle tossed the crumpled tissue into the empty trash bin.

"Should we go to bed soon? It’s getting late."

When I glanced at the clock, the short hand was about to reach ten.

"Yeah, let’s do that."

Michelle stood up, heading toward the sink, then suddenly let out an "Ah."

"...I’ll go grab my toothbrush."

"Ah, right. Got it."

She slipped off her slippers and put on her shoes, stepping out of the room.
I followed right behind her.

Noticing me, Michelle turned around with a questioning look.

"What’s up, Peter?"

"Well, I thought I’d see you off."

"...Overprotective."

It was already late at night. Even if it was just the next room over, I couldn’t help worrying.

Michelle must have realized that, because she didn’t say anything more and stepped out.

The rain was still falling. Heavier now than it had been during the day.

She entered the neighboring room—her own. I stayed there waiting.

Rain dripped off the eaves, gathering into puddles.

After a short while, Michelle came back out holding a cup with her toothbrush inside.

"Kept you waiting."

"It’s fine."

The two of us returned to my room, and Michelle headed straight for the sink.

Meanwhile, I pulled a summer blanket and an unused large cushion out of the closet and laid them on the floor.

The sound of running water and the faucet turning off signaled Michelle’s return.

She noticed the cushion and blanket I had set out, then looked straight at me.

"Peter, this—"

"Well, there’s only one bed. I figured I’d sleep here instead…"

When I said that, Michelle’s expression twisted.

"Peter, you’re the host. I’ll sleep on the floor."

"That’s not right. I’ll take the floor."

"But—"

"Because—"

The argument went in circles.

In the end, Michelle and I both let out a wry laugh at the same time and sighed. She made a troubled gesture, then spoke.

"Peter, then how about the two of us sha—"

"Wait, no way! That’s not happening!"

Realizing what she was about to suggest, I hurriedly cut her off.

That would be bad. Crossing a line.

"But…"

"Michelle, I’m a guy. That kind of thing isn’t okay…! You’ve got to be careful, have some sense of danger."

Gwen always says it. That Michelle is too trusting of men. That she lacks awareness.

And honestly, I agree. I worry about that too.

"...If it’s you, Peter, I don’t mind."

Michelle lowered her gaze.

"Me?"

"I know you wouldn’t do anything I don’t want. That’s why."

When she looked back up, her face carried an apologetic expression.

That look made my heart waver—but I held myself back through sheer willpower.

"Even so, it’s no good."

"...Then."

"I’ll sleep on the floor. That’s final."

"...Okay."

Michelle still looked unconvinced, but seeing that I wouldn’t back down, she reluctantly nodded.

Michelle got into the bed… and lay down, looking a little uneasy.

I switched off the TV, then the light.
Only the small lamp by the bathroom stayed on, so we’d be able to see a little if we had to walk around at night.

Closing the curtains dulled the sound of the rain somewhat.

"Good night, Michelle."

"...Good night, Peter."

And so she lay on the bed, while I spread the cushion on the floor beside it and lay down there.

It was winter, but not unbearably cold. I’d anticipated this, so I was wearing a bit more than usual for sleep, and the light summer blanket was enough.

But—

""…………""

Neither of us could sleep.

Maybe Michelle couldn’t because she wasn’t used to the change of place.
As for me… I couldn’t sleep because Michelle was lying right next to me.

Listening to the rain grow heavier, I closed my eyes.

After a while—

"...Peter? Are you awake?"

I heard Michelle’s voice.

"...Yeah, I’m awake."

"I see…"

Silence again.

In the dimly lit room, the two of us stayed awake, unable to drift off.

As my mind drifted toward the edge of drowsiness, I opened my mouth.

"You know what prom is?"

"Prom?"

We spoke without facing each other.
All I could see was the dark ceiling above.

"At Midtown High, for the graduating class… there’s a dance party at the end."

"...I see."

"Not really interested?"

"...I don’t know. Maybe I’m not sure."

Softly, gently, our voices filled the room.
The sound of the rain continued in the background.

"If you’d like… I’d like you to come with me. Only if you want to, though."

I could hear the beating of my heart.
That was my own nervous pulse.

I hadn’t planned on saying it tonight.
But in this half-asleep state, it felt like I could.

"...Alright, Peter."

The reply was yes.
I let out a relieved breath.

"Thanks, Michelle."

"...I’m grateful to you too, Peter."

Her words puzzled me.

"You are?"

"Mm… because you take me to so many places… and teach me things I never knew…"

Her voice grew softer, like a whisper.

"It makes me so… happy… being with you is fun… even someone like me…"

"I have a lot of fun when I’m with you too."

"...I… with you, Peter… forever… forever…"

Michelle’s voice grew fainter.
Then came the sound of her soft, steady breathing.

…She must have fallen asleep.

I didn’t speak again, just closed my eyes.

I felt like I was forgetting something, but it couldn’t have been anything important.
So I let myself sink into this gentle, happy drowsiness.

—

In the middle of the night, Michelle rolled out of bed and her elbow drove straight into my stomach.
…That’s when I remembered Gwen saying Michelle had terrible sleeping posture.