After a long flight, the plane finally landed.
It was a kind of neutral zone created by the combined efforts of every nation in the world—a place that existed solely for the advancement of science and individual powers.
This was I-Island, the floating island.
Kirishima had just cleared the strict immigration process, stepped out into the terminal, and made a quick phone call.
Fortunately, Tsuyu and Hagakure had also gotten through without any trouble.
The four of them met at the entrance as planned and headed for their lodging.
Although the main event was scheduled to begin the next day, tourists had been allowed in two days early, and the streets buzzed with a dense crowd.
"Wow! Eijiro! Look at that! The streetlights are floating in the air!"
"Hm. They sure are," replied one.
"And robot pigeons are flying around? They’re so cute. They look robotic, but in a different way!"
"That’s true," another agreed.
Kirishima led the group toward the hotel while the kids marveled at every new sight.
At least Tsuyu remained composed, which was a relief. If he had been responsible for three wildly energetic kids all on his own, it would have been a real challenge.
"Wow..."
"This building is amazing," one of the kids exclaimed.
"Ribbit. I thought you said it was a four-star hotel?" chimed another.
After getting out of the taxi and seeing the hotel where they would stay for the next three days, the children couldn't help but express their admiration.
Before them stood a building with a clean, futuristic design that evoked the look of a structure thirty years into the future.
Kirishima looked at the unusually styled hotel with interest and explained, "It is four-star. The standards here are a bit different, though. On I-Island, hotels rated four stars or higher must include distinctive I-Island features. When I first read the specification, I thought they were being ridiculously critical about food and lodging—but seeing it in person, it’s actually quite nice."
"So that’s why the design is so cool. Thanks, Kirishima, for getting us a place like this," one of the kids said.
"And thanks to you too!" another added.
Smiling, Kirishima shrugged. "If you’re going to thank anyone, thank Mina, not me. I just managed to get an extra room for a companion. Mina agreed to share it with you all."
"Then we should thank Ashido too! I only got Ashido!"
"Thank you, Mina," came the grateful reply.
"Hehe. No way—I figured sleeping alone would be boring! Traveling is about eating together and sleeping together!"
Ashido scratched the back of her head shyly before being promptly enveloped in hugs by Hagakure and Tsuyu.
Watching the affectionate camaraderie of the girls, Kirishima found it a bit strange. Even the closest of guy friends rarely shared hugs in everyday life—instead, they'd exchange crude jokes and insults.
"Does that mean I don’t have any close male friends?" he wondered aloud with a wry smile at the thought reminiscent of a story about an "in-crowd guy who turned out to be a total loner."
He mused that few could match the ease of being around someone as big, strong, and mature as him. Perhaps Bakugo, who never hesitated to curse, was actually his best friend after all.
Gathering his thoughts, he said, "Alright, let’s head in and unpack first. Mina already knows, but I’m going to be moving separately this afternoon."
"Huh? Why?"
"I was invited here as an investor, so I need to show up for the people who invited me. I’ve also got some business to attend to."
"Oh..."
Once everyone understood, Kirishima went up to his room and changed.
He grabbed the costume bag he had brought at their request, changed into his suit, and came back outside—just in time to run into the girls again.
Tsuyu looked him over and lightly tapped her face with a finger. "That suit really suits you, Kirishima. Suits do seem to work best on someone tall and broad." (She added with a playful ribbit.)
"Eijiro does look pretty sharp in a suit!"
"Why are you getting all proud about it?"
Sighing at Mina’s slightly odd reaction, Kirishima turned to ask the kids, "So, I’m planning to head out as I mentioned—what are your plans?"
"We’re just going to wander around a bit. We didn’t come here with a fixed itinerary," they replied.
"Really? Then let’s have dinner together later. I should be done by then."
"Okay. We’ll find a good spot!"
After chatting with the kids, Kirishima left the lobby, got into the taxi he had pre-booked, and headed to the building rented by Tenma Communications.
I-Island provided buildings for companies participating in the annual expo—places where they could maintain and adjust their products. It wasn’t free, but the rates were reasonable, especially for a company like Tenma Communications, which was rapidly growing into a mid-sized enterprise.
After disembarking in front of a blocky building, Kirishima strode inside without hesitation.
After confirming his identity and receiving directions to his room, the automatic door opened to reveal a familiar face.
"Yo! You made it, bro!"
"Yeah, I'm here. But do you really need to wear that outfit even here?"
The man, distinguished by his horse-like features, was clad in a brilliant white suit.
Though Kirishima himself was in a white suit, he wasn’t in a position to criticize—at least, not openly.
Yet, Kirishima couldn’t help but think otherwise. To exaggerate, the man’s watch looked as if it could double as a shield, his white suit was accented by a gold necklace instead of a tie, his shoes were green, and even his undershirt was made of mesh. At that point, it hardly resembled a suit at all, yet he insisted on calling it one and wore that same eccentric ensemble day and night.
Kirishima had hoped things might be different at the I-Expo, but they turned out to be just the same. As always, the man launched into a passionate defense of proper attire.
"Of course I wear a suit here! I’m the representative of a proper company now! Naturally, I have to dress with dignity!"
"I think I’ve mentioned this before: that outfit isn’t exactly your typical suit... and it’s hard to call it dressing with dignity," he teased.
"What are you talking about? The thing around my neck is made of the finest gold—the eternal symbol—and my pure white suit shows my purity! My natural green shoes and this big, beautiful watch complete the look. If this isn’t dressing with dignity, then what is?"
"Alright, maybe. But why the mesh shirt?"
The man simply avoided the question, glancing away.
Though slightly irritated, Kirishima decided to let it go for the moment. "So, if you’re here, where did Ten go?"
"Oh, Ten went to talk to the organizers. He was asking if they could use a wider area of airspace above our booth."
Hearing this, Kirishima found himself missing the calm, sensible Ten.
He still couldn’t quite fathom how those two had become friends. Looking at Uma awkwardly rubbing his hair while avoiding eye contact, he recalled the first time he had met them.
It was the summer of his second year in middle school. Thanks to a series of successful investments, the 200,000 yen he started with had ballooned into 50 million yen. That sum was more than enough to last until adulthood, and he never really intended to push his luck further. His plan had been to park half the money in stable blue-chip stocks and forget about it.
Then a video they uploaded to a video-sharing site derailed it all.
In the video, Ten had casually picked up a palm-sized wooden block. To everyone’s astonishment, the block floated into the air, and he repeated the process several times.
The footage featured various small objects levitating in the background as Uma explained Ten’s unique ability, suggesting that they could turn this phenomenon into a product.
Intrigued, Kirishima had tracked them down via email, and that meeting eventually led to the founding of Tenma Communications. Although there were plenty of twists and turns before the company became established, that was the short version of the story.
Lost in thought, Kirishima was startled when the door opened and a man, less than 120 centimeters tall, ambled in.
With his round, cheerful face, the little man greeted Kirishima warmly. "Well now, you're still a heck of a lot bigger than me! You always keep your promises."
"It's been a while, Ten," Kirishima replied.
"Sure has. It's been too long! You should drop by more often—I was starting to feel a bit hurt," Ten said, his tone playful.
"Haha. I've been busy in my own way," Kirishima responded.
"That figures. You keep popping up on TV every now and then, even though you don’t seem like the type. But you sure know how to stir up trouble—and you’re way better than Uma, if you ask me."
"Even so, using Uma as the standard is a bit much..."
Uma’s expression twisted slightly, and both Ten and Kirishima burst into laughter.
They had managed to stay in touch over the years, and whenever the men got together, there was always plenty to talk about. Of course, after about thirty minutes their conversation eventually ran dry.
With his eyes crinkling in a broad smile, Ten said to Kirishima, "Since you've come all this way, you should take a look and give us your feedback. Oh, and check out the new gadget for your waist, too."
"Huh? I've never even used the old one and you're already replacing it?"
"Exactly—when something new comes out, a man has to upgrade!"
"I'm not as much of a spender as Uma," Kirishima remarked.
"I get what you're saying, but do you really think I’d tell you to change it just for the sake of it? There’s a good reason behind this. I'll explain once we get there—just take a look first and then we’ll talk."
"Ah, alright. I trust you, Ten," Kirishima said confidently.
"So you’re saying you can’t trust me?" Ten teased.
"Do I really have to answer the obvious? How many mishaps have you been responsible for? Why should I trust you?"
"Ghk. Looks like mutiny isn’t as far off as I thought—it's happening right here! My little brother is really giving me a hard time!"
"Right now, I'm not scolding you as a sibling, but as an investor. That way, it isn’t mutiny—it’s just a bit of care so that Uma feels more at ease," Ten explained.
As Kirishima prodded Uma and moved ahead, they soon arrived at a spacious test room.
Ten opened the door using iris recognition and immediately instructed, "Open your costume bag, Kirishima."
Obediently, Kirishima unzipped the bag and pulled out his costume. Ten then retrieved an item that looked like a skirt made of scales.
He continued to the corner and returned with a similar object, only much smaller and composed of densely packed, tiny scales.
"There. This is the Space Suppress Panel Mark 2—improved in every way," Ten announced proudly.
"But that's not a panel, is it? It can’t move on its own, can’t shoot beams, and can’t generate a barrier," Kirishima countered.
"Ahem. If it isn’t a panel, then it’s basically a funnel, right?" Ten replied.
"No—if you were naming it by its appearance, you’d have called it a scale unit or something like that. And come on, we all know you’re a Gundam maniac. Let’s not pretend otherwise," Kirishima teased.
At Kirishima’s remark, Ten swallowed a groan and then, with a solemn expression, admitted, "Alright! I admit it! This thing isn’t quite enough to be called a panel—it can’t shoot beams or generate barriers. But it can be controlled as you wish."
"Huh? It can move however I want?"
"Exactly! That’s where our Pegasus comes in. Now, Uma, explain!"
Uma launched into his explanation. "The old panels were limited to preset configurations—almost like objects floating while generating a sort of field. But this device is different!"
Kirishima shot a cold glance at Uma, who was striking an absurd pose with his arm outstretched so that his index finger partially obscured his forehead, revealing only his eyes.
"So what’s different? And enough with that ridiculous pose—it's not some gimmick that will let you use [Demon Form]!"
"Always so cold! But I won’t back down. You asked what’s different—if you’re really that curious, I’ll explain! First, we shrank the processing unit’s size while boosting its computational power. That makes it compact enough to fly! It can move exactly as you direct, even though it’s not blazing fast."
"So, how does it move exactly as I want?"
"That part is up to you!"
With that, Uma produced several devices. One resembled the scouter from Dragon Ball; another looked like a pair of early VR goggles; and a third was a gadget with long, horn-like protrusions extending upward.
Kirishima sighed. "So I just put one of these on and control it?"
"Exactly—the first one activates when something enters your field of vision, and a button press triggers several preset formations," Uma explained.
"And the second and third devices?"
"The second lets you maneuver more fluidly in three dimensions by tracking your eye movements!"
"Are you serious? You know I fight up close, right? You expect me to press a button on a scouter during a fight? And even more, you want me to move it around with my eyes instead of keeping my focus on the enemy?"
"Hold on! That’s why we prepared the last one—the masterpiece of Ten and me—a brainwave control device."
"Brainwaves?"
Before Uma could respond with a proud grin, Ten clapped him on the back and said, "Why are you in such a hurry? Let me explain. This device reads your brainwaves and synchronizes with the panel."
"Does that even make sense?"
"Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to work either—but it does. And since it's worn on your head, you don’t have to worry about it breaking."
"Why not? Did you make this out of Iterus too?"
"Oh? You know about Iterus already?"
Kirishima blinked at Ten’s words. After a beat of silence, he met Ten’s gaze and asked, "You made it out of Iterus?"
"Yeah."
"How much did it cost?"
"Not much—thirty million."
"And our annual revenue?"
"Three billion."
"So you poured one percent of our revenue into this? I half expected the betrayal to come from Uma, but it looks like you were in on it too?"
Noticing the dangerous look in Kirishima’s eyes, Ten hurriedly explained, "Wait, wait—look here! I understand that thirty million on something this small sounds excessive. But you’re the one who’s going to use it! Frankly, you’re heading into situations where things blow up and get smashed. How are we supposed to build something that won’t break on impact? When Uma and I design something for a life-or-death fight, we don't skimp on quality."
Watching Ten passionately gesticulate, Kirishima absentmindedly touched a headband adorned with two sharp protrusions. The familiar feel convinced him.
He sighed and conceded. Sure, what these two had done might seem wildly inefficient by capitalist standards, but from a warrior’s perspective, it was perfectly logical.
"Sigh. Alright. Thank you for thinking so far ahead."
"See! You get it, little brother!"
As Uma lunged in for a hug, Kirishima blocked him by gently pressing a hand against his head. Turning to Ten, he asked, "So this thing operates by reading brainwaves—how heavy is the load it puts on you?"
"I don’t really notice it because it works perfectly for me. When Uma used it, though, he was sweating bullets while controlling ten of them at once."
"Oh, so you want me—the one who uses [Demon Form]—to use it too?"
"There’s nothing you can’t do if you train hard enough. It’s the perfect item for an invincible superhuman!"
Kirishima pressed his hand to his forehead as Ten continued his enthusiastic explanation.
These two self-professed otaku had achieved success through their own brand of madness—but that very madness sometimes led them to create things that ended up coming straight at Kirishima.
He fought back the urge to smack both of them on the head. "I’ll keep it in—for now, I’ll let it slide since they meant well."
After a moment of reflection, he sensed his body beginning to change.
He blinked, feeling his skin flush and his hands sharpen without warning.
Uma and Ten trembled at the sight.
The cruel truth that there’s no such thing as a free invention, courtesy of capitalism’s devilish ways, had arrived in the form of their investor.
Kirishima rummaged for his suit and hoisted it up.
The moment he saw it, he knew without a doubt—this was the one.
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