Don't Mistake Me For a Space Heater!! 💢 || Mikhail

The hiss and pant and puffs of frost from hot breaths on a cold spring night. The messy, frantic shuffle of boots and scales on a wooden floor. Blood pumping, hearts pounding, a frantic tempo--war drums, cannonfire. Music. A concert. A performance. A brawl.

It was the only place Mikhail felt free.

A musclebound man in a cop uniform took the first steps--no stranger to the dancefloor--stomping forward, hands at his sides, threatening, but deceptively placid. Like all he wanted to do was talk. But the moment he was in arm’s reach of the snake-man slouching in the doorway, the cop snapped out a baton from his hip, and jabbed it at Serperior’s stomach; a thug’s attack, painful, humiliating, meant to leave Serperior doubled over, panting for breath.

Everyone overlooked the tail.

The cop suddenly stumbled, looking down in shock as something wrapped around his leg. Serperior grinned, and in that moment of surprise, called out in a sing-song, mocking voice:

“Ladies and gentlemen, please note I’m defending myself!”

Serperior yanked hard, his tail wrapped like a snare around the cop’s knee, reaching out and grabbing the man around the wrist of his baton-hand, and the collar of his shirt in a smooth disarm-throw.

For what it was worth, the cop wasn’t a pushover--he instantly dropped the baton, snapping a punch at Serperior’s stomach as he fell. Serpy let out a grunt, but his padded vest took most of the blow.

As the cop slid to the ground, wrestling for control with Serperior’s lower body every inch of the way, Serpy shot an exasperated grin to the rest of the people in the room behind him.

“I’ll have this taken care of in a moment, ladies and gentlemen! Unless, of course, his partner wants to test things the--ah---scientific way!” He called out.

The group of “night workers” looked back at Serperior with flat, unfriendly eyes. Which was a bit strange, considering they were also holding up their...guard, a stout woman in a leather vest, who was currently clutching at her split lip, and black eye. Both gifts from the cop Serpy had just downed.

The second cop--the first’s partner--looked even less friendly, standing across from them, baton in hand, pile of extorted yen neatly stacked on the table in front of him.


“Let me try this again--Pro Hero Serperior, on the scene. Here to help. It looks like these fine officers are extorting you and attacked your--” He began.

The remaining officer looked over at the group of girls, and then at his downed partner, then back at Serpy, then replied in a low growl.

“Fucker sticking his nose in our business. Going to ruin it all.”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation after that. Like a single wave, the remaining officer, and all fucking six of the illegal prostitudes rushed him, letting out a howl of raw fury.

After all, why let a little bit of violence get in the way of a perfectly good business relationship?

“Are you SERIOUS!?” Serpy yelled, slithering back onto the balcony, unfolding his metal quarterstaff. “I’M NOT GOING TO TURN YOU IN! I JUST CARE ABOUT--”

...It didn’t seem like either the cop, or the officers were interested in listening. Serpy brought the cop down with a quick jab to the thigh--knocked aside an unplugged curling iron with his tail, and staggered back.

The hiss and pant and puffs of frost from hot breaths on a cold spring night. The messy, frantic shuffle of boots and scales on a wooden floor.

Blood chilling from a battle in the cold.

Reflexes slowing.

A fight where it would look very, very bad to hit back too hard.

And one where he was quite outnumbered. Back, back further--until there was nothing but air behind him, and finally, he tumbled off the balcony.

Wheeeee

It always surprised Serperior how much time you had to think during a mid-air tumble. Plenty of time to consider options! For example, if he landed with a handspring, he’d probably only break his wrists, which left his tail and elbows open for the rest of the battle. If he wanted to get tricky, he could try to twist his tail under him, and let it bend to absorb the fall, but two stories was a little bit short for that. Last, he could always land right on his head! That seemed like the worst of his choices by far.

Yes, breaking both of his wrists was probably by safest option! It was a good thing there weren’t any non-criminal witnesses. There was absolutely no way he going to tell the truth about this to Tsutsuji-chan.

Unless she needed to be cheered up, of course.

Serperior stretched out his arms above his head, and braced himself for the shock of impact, but instead--

Instead, his torso landed on something very soft. And very warm.

“Hello there!” Serperior cheerfully called out. He knew a pair of arms when he felt one.

Let it never be said he was anything less than polite.

The sensation of the rest of his body slamming into the ground was in no way pleasant, or particularly dignified. The worst part was probably the sound--”meaty wet slap” was probably the closest description.

Serperior wasn’t a novice to pratfalls, though. He relaxed his muscles, and let it happen. There weren’t any organs in his tail to damage anyway. Just bones, and lots and losts of muscles.

In fact, “relax and let it happen” worked for a lot of problems in life. As long as you could bounce back after.

Never mind the bruises. They didn’t show through scales anyway.

“Oof.” Serperior grunted, a lot less heroic than he would have liked to sound. The wind went rushing out of him anyway, and he closed his eyes, so no one could see the tears welling in his eyes.

Just wait until it’s my turn.

In that moment of choking, closed-eye disorientation, he heard a woman’s voice from...under him call out a greeting. A greeting to him. Using his hero name.

….Always a pleasure to meet a fan.

“And stay down there!” A second woman’s voice called from the balcony above. He blinked open his eyes, and flicked up his tail on instinct, a second before a...toy...that he didn’t have the presence of mind to identify slammed into it.

The sudden movement and impact on his abused tail made him hiss in pain again, a little spasm moving through his body.

Heh. Hiss.

Wow. The woman he was on was warm. Warm, and soft, and very, very helpful.

Had he torn his shirt during the fight? He still had armor, but if his arms were bare in this weather…

Oh. Oh dear. He was definitely slowing down. Either he’d taken a blow to the head, or…

Serperior--Mikhail--rocked upright, grabbing his staff off the ground, and trying to untangle himself from the woman, scanning up to the balcony. He just needed a minute or so longer…

“Picture perfect, oh mysterious rescuer--” He sang, trying to steal a look at his savior while he also tried to figure out a way back up to the balcony, head twisting back and forth on a swivel. If he reached up with his tail, and swung… “Allow me…”

Man, it really was cold out. And she really was warm. She didn’t look japanese. Too dark.

Then again, everything was pretty dark right now.

“To expressssss” He continued, his voice slurring a little.

Another “toy” went flying at him, accompanied by more jeers. He missed the block, but it flew past him anyway.

“My...gratitude!” Mikhail said, reaching up with his tail.

It wouldn’t reach.

He stumbled back a little.

“In a moment!”

He wobbled again.

Maybe he should just go. He had faces. This could be very embarrassing if handled wrong.

“...ouuuut...ooofffff…..thiissss...alleeeeey...?” He heard himself mumble, wobbling back again.

She really was very warm. And...endowed, if he’d felt correctly.

Oops.

Cold.

Mikhail--Serperior?--felt his teeth chatter, the double-membrane of his eyelids blinks shut, one after another. Heavy.

When had it gotten so cold out here? Had he been waiting upstairs that long…?

“Quuiii...iite.” Serperior slurred in response to woman’s question. At least, he thought it was a response. Everything was a little fuzzy. Especially her hair, if he was seeing correctly.

“You’ll n-need t-to pardon me.” He murmured, teeth chattering harder, curling his tail under himself as he scooted away from the brothel. She really was quite warm. It was honestly rather lovely. He needed to be careful, though--he had no doubt already made a poor enough impression as it was. The last thing he needed was a scandal around him taking advantage of some…

Why is she out this late?

...unfortunate girl.

“A s-shoulder to l-lean on would be...app-app-preciated.” Mikhail said after a pause, righting himself further, and trying to gently maneuver his arm around the girl’s shoulders. Delicately, even. It would have been easier if his hand wasn’t shaking a little, but oh well.

“I m-must w-warn you, though, I’m...not ssssvelt.” He added a moment later. Luckily, most of his weight was in his lower body, which was perfectly well supported by the asphalt “Don't you dare tell a ssss-ssoul!"

As the two of them staggered away from the alleyway, Mikhail kept stealing glances at the girl he was leaning on, until he had a better picture in mine. Foreign, beautiful, dressed...revealingly. It was a pretty outfit, but together, the look wasn’t nearly as pretty.

And he’d met her just outside a brothel.

Exhausting. He just wanted to go home and forget this had happened. Mikhail fought villains for excitement. For glory. This had been exciting, perhaps, but the furthest possible thing from glorious.

But…

Will she blackmail me?

That was the idol talking. Hachi would...be blunt. Ask the girl if she was in trouble. Help her.

No one else was around.

Conflict twisted in his gut, but he needed to stop, repair his shirt, and maybe grab something warmer. He couldn’t dash off quite yet.

“So...w-who d-do I expresss my gratitude to?” He finally said, turning, eyes still wide and sleepy, a smirk on his too-pretty face, no hint of the thoughts underneath on display. He could still play the charming hero. He wasn’t that cold. Yet.

Well, well. It looked like his new friend wasn’t exaggerating about keeping in shape. She barely staggered under his weight--some of his former co-actors could have learned a little. Then again, if he’d guessed her profession correctly, she had good reason to be fit.

Mikhail glanced at the woman out of the corner of his eye. If he was right...well, he didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

Everyone plays a part. No one can always be who they want to be.

As an actor, it would have been something he’d have ignored. There was nothing to gain from interfering in other people’s lives, he had thought.

But now interfering in people’s lives was the entire point of both of his jobs; hero and teacher. What a puzzle! Somewhere, there were the perfect words to choose--he just had find them. How did it go? Nudge her on a right path, kindle her dreams, and open the door to freedom? His brain was still too slow.

Being at a loss for words just wouldn’t do.

A blast of warm air interrupted his thoughts, a band of pink spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Mikhail gasped, blinking his eyes until they adjusted to the yellow glow that came from the ramen shop. Had he truly been so deep in thought that he’d missed where the woman was leading him?

Odd. Odd and unheroic. Getting lost in thought was something he left for more serious people. Mikhail Orlov lived on the surface.

“Elena.” He murmured back, voice playful, lilting, only stumbling a little over the “l” sound. He was very well-coached, thank you very much. “A graceful name for my mystery heroine--though, I should say, my bold heroine as well. After all, you’re bringing a man who just fell two stories to a restaurant.”

After a second, his eyes widened, and he turned to her, mock shock written plainly on his face, recoiling back to her--it still took effort, but he was not going to be a wallflower.

“Then again, perhaps that is your scheme! To take advantage of me--flustered and slow from the cold, in your debt and at your mercy--and then, once it’s revealed that in the scuffle, I dropped my wallet, you take sympathy on me again, and buy me dinner.” Mikhail went on, a dramatic hush in his tone--he was doing his best detective show summation, and even though he’d been cast as nothing but villains and false perps, he still had it down pat.

“And thus--now owing you my safety, dignity, and dinner, I am utterly in your debt, your very slave! I am wise to your tricks, Elena...for, you see…”

Mikhail reached into his thick, multi-pocketed belt, and pulled out a green, flat little metal case.

“Mikhail Orlov carries an emergency wallet.” He finished, a wide grin on his face again. After a moment, it cracked, and he hugged his arms around himself, shivering. “And people who eat ramen with me get to call me Mikky.”

His expression changed from mischievous, to sincere. As much as he wanted this whole embarrassing thing to pass him by, his was in it now, wasn’t he? And until he figured out what he needed to, he had a reputation to preserve.

“Please. Eating alone this late at night would simply be depressing. And though you may be my hero tonight, only heroes with badges get to do the “save someone, and run off” thing. I’m buying!”

Almost without waiting for a reply, he gently reached out to put his fingertips on her upper arm, to guide her into the shop.

“Hello, good man--a humble traveller comes with hands outstretched! Table for two, please, though I don’t mind the bar!’

There. Mikhail felt back on his game. He’d gotten an honest laugh. Between talking about pets, and taking her up on the challenge, he’d make the right play, He’d even gotten an offhand compliment along the way, and a blush to say she meant it. Romance wasn’t at the front of his mind--certainly not after how the evening had started, but he felt appreciated.

“Half-Russian, but most people notice the snake half first.” He replied with a grin, raising the glass of water in a toast. “I’m more used to spicy tofu.”

An evil little voice in the back of his head reminded him that he hadn’t eaten that much hot food in a while, and it was entirely possible he’d lost his touch. He tried to bury it. He’d be fine. He needed to warm up, after all.

“And unfortunately, I can’t give juicy dirt on anyone other than my ferrets, but I can at least shame them for not paying the rent.” He added, digging in his pockets. “Let me show you a--oh, right. My phone’s lying on the ground back with the “sword sisters.”

Mikhail shook his head, not even flushing this time, just mentally chiding himself for what a mess it had been.

“I specifically limit myself to getting bludgeoned like that when there’s someone charming around to rescue me. So this was a rare deal.” He began, trying to think of the angles before he said anything dangerous. After all, if she was a sex worker, saying he’d been considering arresting them was hardly going to earn him points.

“Just between you and me--and I’m being serious, keep this quiet--I was actually there for some cops running a racket. But they ended up making assumptions.” He murmured, smile turning sheepish. There. That was true, and made him look honest. He hadn’t decided what he was going to do about the women anyway. “I blame it on this district--Nothing goes smooth in Kabuchiko. One time I was here, a lady threw an entire sidewalk at me.”

His grin broadened at the recollection. That had been a fun night.

“Wish you’d been there--I could have provided even more entertainment for you.”

Now, did he dare to ask her what she was doing out this late? For that matter, what questions were safe?

He took a gamble.

“How long have you been in the country? Favorite parts?” He shot back. Hey, no matter how she got here, Japan’s quirks were always worth a few words.

Mikky leaned back, his pleased smirk at Elena’s blush morphing into a raised eyebrow at the outburst of passion. It felt like a bucket of ice water--no, a bottle of raw spice poured into their dinner. Habit made him draw back, smile turning fake and media-trained, as though he’d been asked an embarrassing question after a show.

This wasn’t an interview, though--she was just passionate about her city, and he’d asked the wrong question instead.

Is it her city? As much as it’s mine, I suppose.

“Recommendations? Well, I’ll be setting my opinion on this ramen in a moment.” He deflected, uncoiling from his booth to slither over to the bar, and take both steaming bowls of ramen. He’d never been one to ignore a good distraction.

For a second, he stared down into noodles, pork, tofu, and orange-red spice, trying to figure out what he thought of Elena’s take on Tokyo. Even though he’d toured through Japan, the city was closer to his home than anywhere else in the world. And he...well, he’d always sorta loved Kabuchiko. The danger in the air, the sleaze, everything she disliked were things that made him feel alive. An escape from the shackles of fame, and the rigid control over his life that had been there since childhood.

Then again, that ‘escape” had nearly killed him less than a year ago.

He set the bowls down in front of both of them, then slide back into his booth, clasping his hands together in thanks for the meal.

“Itadakimasu!” Mikky said, grinning in painful anticipation. The smell was already making his eyes water. “As for my speed of emotional recovery, I can’t claim my pride isn’t bruised, but you know what they say--the show must go, and so forth.”

That, at least, was very true. The fact that she’d offered to get his phone back also tickled his suspicions about her job. Unless she was planning on picking a fight with escorts in heels.

Granted, he’d seen it happen before, but no one walked away from that with dignity.
“You know, I can swing with the energy. It’s the thread between “idol” and “hero;” having an audience, surrounding yourself with people.” He grinned. “Not just fans.”

Mikky took a bite of ramen without thinking, and instantly coughed, his eyes streaming. He fumbled from a glass of water, slamming it down as his throat burned. Ugh. Pure, raw heat. Like being punched in the face. It warmed him up, but--

“Wow! Yikes! You weren’t kidding!” He breathed, fanning himself, pale skin suddenly flushed red.

“That’s…”

The spice faded, and he was able to make out a bit of the flavor as it trickled down. He tilted his head, waving for more water from the bar.

“Actually decent.”

He grinned sheepishly, waiting to see how she handled it.

The spice wasn’t terrible. It hurt, but...it made him feel something. He’d remember this, at least. And he’d chosen to eat it.

The fire she’d shown at Kabukicho had been a bit like that as well. Intimidating, but he envied it.

“You know? I wouldn’t want to live here. If you’re looking for a way out, I might be able to give you a tip--friend of a friend, place to work. Or find you a secret reservation, at least.” He said, trying to figure out his own thoughts. “...For me...well, I’m a Hero! I’ll be where the worst is. Even if I might not plan it that way. ”

He grimaced.

“It was really an accident, the whole...thing that you caught me in. I wouldn't want you to be in danger if we went back.”