Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction ❯ Bane Sidhe ❯ Bane Sidhe: Izakaya ( Chapter 1 )

Bane Sidhe

[Raildex][SI/OC]

“Thank you for your business!” I cheerfully wished my last customer of the day, who had polished off the last bit of slow cooked crab miso with pork dumplings and green onion. An unusual request for my little izakaya food cart, but one I’d correctly predicted. Everybody in Academy City had a talent, even the street workers managing the robots were talented in some way. Well, the scientists were there to do science any many of them weren’t modified by the Procedure, and there were a few Naturals like me who showed up talented already. Mine is nothing special. I can predict the exact supplies needed for the next day when I buy ingredients at the wholesaler market which supplies many of the older restaurants, the ones where people cook instead of microwave trays of packaged food. I cook for a living, and I never have wasted ingredients. Yes, I cut off ends and such, and those are waste, but I don’t have to throw away actual food. I serve every serving by the end of the day, every single day. Its my talent.

I’m a bainsidhe, a banshee if you like. Or half of one anyway. I doubt actual fairies can live comfortably in a world where even the roads are full of steel, and broadcast radio and even door radar harms their senses. For me it is merely annoying, and my pans are copper or aluminum, not cast iron or stainless steel. I can’t be around it or I get hives and my ability fades. Thankfully, in Academy City there’s a lot of carbon fiber, aluminum, and other high tech materials. It makes things less painful.

Banshee are not evil fairies, as is mistold in that otherwise hilarious Sean Connery movie. We don’t kill people, usually. Our job was to visit the homes of the dying and sing their souls to the afterlife because we know when that will be. We are preternaturally good singers. Quite a few opera choruses contain changelings like me. We are dark fae, to be sure, but not evil. Winter and Summer are a balance. As is hinted in the sometimes accurate Dresden Files books, faeries know the future, which is why they rarely answer a question straight. They’re dancing around the problems of Time Travel, and most fairies are Calvinists. Not Calvin and Hobbes, but the other kind.

This is not to say that we don’t necessarily struggle against the inevitable, which we call Narrativium because Pratchett was an absolute genius and better informed that most particle physicists. We struggle to change futures we don’t like. And that’s why I’m here, right now. My talent is not limited to tomorrow’s food orders. No, I see a lot further than that. I packaged up my own dinner and the two extras of my guests and started the cleanup process. A good thorough cleanup is very important when running a food stall and avoiding complaints about food poisoning in Academy City, land of giggling villains and ineffective law enforcement. And the villains are mostly the ones in charge. That had to be changed if this little island country would have any chance of surviving the part that came next. I had plans.

I started pushing my cart, which was very light for good reason. I can’t use electric motors to assist me. At least Academy City is flat. I got two and a half kilometers before I stopped and waited. A girl popped into existence before me, the not nearly famous enough teleporter.

“Onee sama!” she cried out. Her pigtails were frazzled and hairs were sticking out like she’d been electrocuted. I handed her a tall waxed cup of iced tea with a straw. She took it gratefully.

“Zapped you again?” I asked her.

“Yes. She keeps rejecting me,” Shirai Kuroko sobbed in misery. We’d had a heart to heart on this topic more than once.

“Ganbatte. Just know that your love isn’t entirely rejected, but it won’t be the way you want.”

“Isn’t she just playing hard to get?” Shirai asked. She knew I’d seen her crush around the city.

“Possibly, but not for you. She drives stick. I know that hard to take when you feel this way, but it just is. She’s part of the 98 percent.”

“And I’m part of the one,” she admitted. The other one percent were still deciding.

“I saved you some noodle bread. Here. It’s still fresh.” I handed it over and she unwrapped it and ate. “Us redheads got to stick together.”

She ate and I enjoyed the eventual improvement in her mood. There was a distant flash of lightning from the sky and the city went dark. I noticed, not for the first time, that the damned wind turbines were running backwards again. That always creeps me out. Every single one is turning backwards. Wind foils only go one way, dammit. Curse the maniacs running this project.

“Kuroko, there is something you should know.”

“Hmm? What?” Shirai asked in the darkness. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Misaka Mikoto was a level 5, and puberty was making her very temperamental. She’d blown out the power several times, though the area of effect was reducing to some of the districts rather than the entire city. The engineers were improving circuit breakers and hardening against the EMPs she could generate when angry.

“I realize that you love Mikoto, but something just happened to her. She just met the man she’s going to marry. He is literally the only one for her. He can stop her lightning. You know what would happen if she were with anyone normal and they’re… together. She’d lose control. She’d kill him. This is literally the only man who can stop it. The ONLY one. Can you be happy for her when she realizes this?”

“Are you serious? Really? I’m mean, I know what you said, about your skill, but are you sure?” asked the small girl. She really was scrawny. Its part of the reason I fed her. She was a real hero, and was hiding so much from the city. They didn’t even know her true power. There weren’t just 7 level 5s. There were 8. Such a sweet kid. A shame about her perpetual heartbreak.

“Yes. Things are going to start happening fast. And there’s something else. You might have noticed when you’re bouncing around girls who look like your Onee-san. Its not coincidence. They aren’t her, exactly. Clones. Its part of an experiment. We have to stop it before Kamijou does. He’s going to be here in about… four minutes. You should stay and meet him. Get in good with him and you’ll still be able to see Mikoto. Get to hold their kids, eventually. You think you’ve got it rough… he’s worse off.” She stared in the darkness, then finished her food and sipped at her drink, waiting in the stygian darkness beside my food cart. A figure approached, walking slowly, dejectedly.

“Such misfortune,” he sighed.

“Kamijou, your dinner is ready,” I called out to him.

“Gah!” he shouted in surprise and stepped on a banana peel, fell, landed in a puddle of dirty water and electrocuted his phone.

“See what I mean?” I said to Kuroko. “And worse the power is out so he’s going to need a cold shower to wash that filth off, and his clothes are ruined too.

“Kamijou,” I called out again. I turned on the gas lantern I rarely used. It was unaffected by the recent EMP.

“Oh, it’s Shaun Davies the Irish chef,” he recognized me.

“I have some old clothes that I think will fit you, and I’ve packed you a double helping of noodles that will taste good cold, and should keep all night. Eat what’s in your fridge after you shower. It will be spoiled in the morning. Don’t go serving it to any weirdoes, even if they say they’re starving. Or taunt you into proving your ability on their Walking Church.”

“But Shaun, you live down the hall,” he pointed out. He took both bags, one soft with clothing, the other double boxed cardboard.

“And that means the power is out in my room too. Cold showers for us both. And no A/C tonight.”

“Gah. That girl. I can’t believe that girl!”

“About so tall, electrical attacks, really angry?” I asked, holding out my hand chest high. Kuroko glared at me.

“Yeah…,” hesitantly answered Kamijou.

“Her name was Misaka Mikoto?” I inquired again.

“Sensei, how do you keep doing that?” he asked, shocked.

“It’s my skill. I told you.”

 Shirai approached the boy, who was in high school and several years older than herself. I watched this important meeting.

She bowed to him, carefully and formally.

“Please take good care of my neesan,” Shirai begged, tears visible down her cheeks. It just breaks your heart, you know?

“This is Shirai Kuroko. She’s the roommate of that electrical blaster girl. They’re… very close,” I explained. He looked to me, then the girl, than back to me, still confused. High school is not a fun time. Neither is puberty. I am glad to be in middle age.

“What is she talking about?” he asked.

“Kamijou, come by my place in the morning,” I said.

“Don’t you have to work?” he said, confused at the strange girl’s request.

“I am taking a day off. Just show up before you go to school.”

“Whatever, sensei. Thanks for the food. And the clothes. I’m heading home. Nice to meet you, Miss,” he said, bowing to each of us.

“Tomorrow, Kamijou is going to have a very bad day. I could use your help at 9:30 AM. Can you step out of class then?” I asked Shirai.

She considered in the light of my gas-lamp. Eventually she nodded.

“He’s got very pointy hair. Do you think that means he’s the hero?” she said after a while.

“Probably. He’s going to be very popular with the ladies. This will annoy Mikoto. He tends to rescue maidens. It is his curse. Oh, and don’t try and teleport him.”

“Huh? Why not?” she asked.

“It won’t work. Magic doesn’t work on him. Neither do most skills.”

“How?” she asked.

“That… is a secret.”

“I can’t believe you made me watch that ancient anime,” she said, getting the reference.

“Once I deal with Kamijou’s immediate issues, I’ll come by your dorm.”

“What? Oh, you want to see Iron Mistress,” she realized.

“She’s my type. I’m amazed that no Japanese man has noticed what a stunning beauty she is.”

“So he really is Neesan’s destined one?” she asked, finally, changing the subject back.

“Yep. He’s got a very unique power. And it’s driving her crazy. It’s a short trip from that to love.”

“He isn’t… like that is he?” she asked.

“Nope. Totally honorable. He’s the real thing. Like in stories. She’ll have to put up with all the attention he gets. And she might not be his first. Some of the ones in his future are quite attractive. But in the end, he’s the only one for her.”

“That is really weird to hear from a food cart guy,” she admitted.

“I guess. Here. Bring this little dessert I threw together for Neesan. She could probably use a pick-me-up.” I handed her a little fold over cardboard food box. She took it, dropped some coins in my hand as usual, and popped out of existence, teleporting away. The strongest level 5. They had no idea about this little girl.

I pushed me cart to the storage space I rented and went home to the same building and floor as Kamijou. He was down at the end of the hall. I was closer to the elevator, up here on the fifth floor. There were a lot of students here, as it was Academy City, after all. There were staff and shopkeepers like me too. I looked around and spotted the expected piece of paper written with runes. I sighed, entered my apartment and filled a bucket with water from the tub faucet. After about three minutes I turned it off, lifted the gallon of water and stepped outside in my house slippers. I picked up each paper and pushed it into the bucket till the ink ran, then flung them over the side of the railing. There were three that I could find in the darkness. I think that’s all there were. No reason not to give Kamijou some advantages. I set the bucket inside the door. I went to bed.