Here is Blue Justice!

What kind of hero is that?

That's what I thought. When I was a kid, I would have opened a dictionary or asked my parents. The answers thus obtained were simple and clear. Heroes are heroes and protagonists. A hero seems to be someone who has power beyond people's knowledge and performs a messianic act. He's a rider with a mask on, he's a person who can only be big for three minutes, and all five of us beat the evil out of him.

So, how can I be a hero?

I knew I wanted answers from my dictionary and my parents. But I didn't get that one. It still is. I don't know anything, I don't know anything, I'm just looking for something. But, but. To my mind, justice is so to speak of heroes. Then, on the contrary, we will need things that are located. That is, evil. For the first time, there's a bad guy, and he's a hero, right?

Justice and Evil.

I don't really know who or how to decide. What is right and what is wrong. Who is right and who is wrong. I don't get it.

What's a hero?

Without knowing, today is coming. Live now that someone stranger protected and made me. That's about all I was allowed to do.

"Hey, you're not falling asleep."

Someone rocked me, and I woke up. Apparently, he was a little loose. I don't know, I'm going to work.

"It's time to get there. It's the beginning of your work……………"

Something must have gotten up on the stone. The bus rocked heavily. Because of this, a twitch occurs in a full car. Like me, the sleeping must have woken up. Secondly, when I looked out the window, it was dark outside and I couldn't see anything.

"What time is it?

When asked, a man sitting next to him drops his eyes on the wrist of his left arm. But there's no clock or anything wrapped around it.

"Oh, I was getting dressed. Sorry, I don't know."

"Well," he murmured, and I meditated my eyes. Not to sleep. To sort out today's steps in my head.

"Hey, you're sleeping twice. That's why you don't go up in depression. It won't change forever. How long should I do this?"

but my thoughts are interrupted by being called out. In particular, I don't have to check again. We only have one thing to do at all times at the bottom.

"Who are you this evening?"

The guy in the front seat comes up and asks me. I'm sure that guy must be making a fool of himself.

"What year are you in?

Before me, the man next door spoke. From the color of my voice, I can see it's frustrating. Well, I guess so. I don't know how I can ask you that sometimes. I've never crossed the line to get to know them to some extent, even though they're the lower end. Well, there might be a next time. This time, I might be able to go home alive.

"Year four. I had a cold last week, and I didn't get any information."

"Then the synchronized people will be seniors, and I wish I could ask someone. How long have you been feeling Rookie?... ah? Four years?"

The man next door arms up. He was thinking something.

"As you can guess. My synchronization was last time, mostly the hospital sent an apology for the visit. Honestly, I'm glad you caught a cold."

I see, I envy you. If I could, I would have liked to take the week off. When I came with them, they brought out new weapons. I don't know if it was a test shot, but there were more wounded than necessary. It would have been dangerous if I had been on the front line.

"Ask your senior if you can't sync."

When the man next door says so, the man in the front seat hands on his head.

"No, me, the seniors don't like me."

"I guess," I laughed bitterly.

I mean, we're gonna hit what you call seniors, too.

"Uh-huh? Are you serious? I had no idea."

Look at the window. That would be so. There's no way I can tell by my face or clothes. We're all wearing the same clothes and wearing the same mask.

"You don't have to be nervous. For today only, I'll just take a little of what's in the warehouse."

Exactly. Especially if it's not ours to bring. I don't even know what's in it. It's our orders to take the box. I hear someone stranger hid it for the rest of his life, but this one's at work. Doesn't matter.

"Get to the perfect time. Ah, I can aim for the moment to carry you into the ship. Properly. Properly."

I snort. The man in the front seat roared Ugh.

"But is that how it works? See, even before..."

"Oh! Oh! Stop it. That's what I'm talking about!

Someone gets up. Seeing, he was a tall, pretty good Gatai guy.

"Weird flag. You're gonna stand up!?

"Oh, uh, heh. Excuse me."

"Oh, here we are," the bus stops, and we stand up with nobody. There's no such thing as nervousness. This is the beginning of a fun and enjoyable job.

Loosely, get off the bus with all the geese necks. My buddy, I looked around a bunch of coworkers, black scumbags, and then I shifted my gaze to one guy.

"Walk from here."

The chief looks around at us and sighs. He always does. Comes to work melancholy. You're older than me, and you're higher than me.

"Operation is a big deal, Nashi. Attack and take it. That's all."

"Ah."

I hear a careless reply from there. But the chief doesn't blame it.

The chief is in a position to command our lower end. A black tights costume is no different than ours, but I hear you got it from the organization, with a golden bad hobby badge on your chest. To distinguish. But in my sixth year, I don't have to have a badge. Only the chief can tell. Because he's the one who seems twice as unmotivated. I don't know anybody but the chief who drops his shoulder and walks sloppy when he says he's in battle.

"Oh, the prying is nasty. So, the bus only waits thirty minutes. The guy who came back late, he walked home."

A pitiful voice leaks from there. The chief laughed small.

The hero didn't show up that day.

It was crowded in front of the station in the early morning. Students going to school. Company employee going to the company. Head to where each should be. Nobody cares about anyone else. I don't want to waste every minute or second of this time.

"Please!

but also those who anticipated it come to the place where people gather. They're billa handlers, to speak for themselves. These days, there have been more of those guys. Well, the contents are with you. I'm gonna get all the flyers in this hand. There's nothing going on. I was just wondering if it would be a seed for conversation.

"... please"

In it, I saw the girl with the muffled face. This is the first face I've ever seen. Sometimes little girls are rare, but she was in a wheelchair. Nothing, I guess I'm not trying to draw sympathy. If it were, I'd be making it more loving.

In the meantime, I got a flyer from that kid. Fold and screw into the pocket of your jeans. Despite receiving it, there were no words of thanks from the girl. At least, I didn't hear anything.

While waiting for the train at home, I take out the flyer that was stuck in my pocket. On a good look, that seems to be a reuse of the supermarket flyer. I cry. I'm in trouble for money everywhere. but so am I. I'm having trouble with the money. I mean, everyone, even now, is having trouble with something.

... Long before I was born, the place known as Congress in this country literally collapsed. I still don't know the details. Nothing, I don't even want to know. Before that, they were much more peaceful than they are now. They say the people lived just fine. No, is that still the same thing?

Anyway, Japan went rogue. That would be so. Because it broke from what is called the representative body of the people, the supreme body of state power, the only legislature of the country. As far as my parents and grandpa told me, that was already terrible. Man died, he was killed, and the city broke and perished. They didn't function as a country anymore, and they pretended not to look at it even in other countries.

But I have it right. People are still alive, and there's a city. Japan is well on the map of the world. Saving this country was a masterpiece to call a hero. He was the Prime Minister at the time, Mitsurugi Tenma. Especially just the shape. There is a title, but it equals no. An empty prime minister. But he did it. We did it. We regenerated a country called Japan beautifully. In a hero suit.

Hero suit, yeah.

I'm not kidding. At least, the Prime Minister must have been serious at the time. Hero suits are common names that the media shrunk and spread because they seem to be long. The original name is physical strengthening. What a crust. Whatever the name, the performance was awesome. All you have to do is wear it. Not exaggerated, the punch crushes the rock and the kick crushes even iron. It would have seemed like a whole world of dreams, a gaga tale, for humans at the time, about which scientists made them. Because a guy like the one I was watching on TV is getting out of it and getting the opposition senators bogged down. Power is power. The Sovereign Sword organized a Hero Squad with terrible power, and in about a year he reigned over the country and gathered it up. Regardless, there were many who rebelled. I can't help it. Whatever you can think of, honestly, a man with the title of Prime Minister doesn't do it. It is an area of perversion. but no one, I wouldn't have been able to say anything. Speaking of which, they blow up a few meters lightly.

But then it wasn't a good idea. There's no way anyone other than your sword would want a suit with awesome performance. Of course, you wanted your sword to be your own, too, but no one can resist the magic of gold. Hero suit technology has spilled over into the private sector. Power is power. If peace is taken by force, there may be no choice but to be taken by force and lost. Regulations, bills have been passed, but it is already late, regarding the use of suits. Whoever did whatever he wanted, never stopped following.

Again, the hero appears.

But no one was there to support them. No longer, probably because it was natural to have a suit. It would be appreciated if it were valuable. But it's not because a man in a suit commits a crime. A person wearing a different suit appears to control the criminal. Soot from the average person, a match pump in a way. It took Japan to become a country where heroes and heels would walk wide as usual.

"Hero Dispatchers, Recruiting Employees"

I threw away the flyer I just got.

Yes, it's obvious. By the time I was born, there were already such beings as those called evil organizations and those called righteous messengers, who were usually there. Somewhere, like every day, someone wears a suit. Wear a suit and a crime will ensue. If a crime is committed, a hero pops up.

The kids have discerned the spreading heroes. Even now, the profession I want to be when I grow up is strong around professional baseball players. Few kids say they want to be heroes. Heroes are no longer a profession. The company that wanted to fly earlier, hired heroes, and dispatched them when things went wrong is no longer uncommon. There are cheap heroes in this city who calculate some hourly wages. I'm sure they're everywhere. Suits, for once, are in circulation, but they're not for sale. It's pretty expensive, and it sucks to handle it without permission. Finish the turbulent process, where you can name your first hero. But it doesn't mean I can be active right away. It's like throwing a stone would hit a hero in the world. For bounty and commission, criminals are close to their prey if they're heroes. Like ants swarming in sugar, gushing as much, gathering together. It's hard to scratch the eyes of the eagle, Haiqian Mountain Thousand. Sometimes, there are skirmishes between heroes. Maybe we can't call them heroes anymore.

"Aoi, Aoi"

They called me by name, and I turned around.

"Yesterday was good. Hey, with an easy job. After all, no one came."

"The bottom line was perfect, wasn't it? He was probably paying for his hero at the time."

"Heh." A man pulling a pipe chair opposite me and smiling like a good person. His name is Mulberry Dye. That's my sync. But don't be alarmed. Because we're the bad guys.

Mulberry dyeing mouths coffee just poured into a paper cup. Even though it tastes bad, you can drink it well. There are no assorted things in the understatement assigned to the lower end. Even the locker has to be shared with a few people. I can shove a combat suit in there, so if I miss the laundry, the smell sticks through my nose.

A dusty, lighted, hanging room. Lockers and desks, pipe chairs. Other than that, I don't see any blind spots. This is where I work. Even so, there is very little to do here. In fact, the bottom end is the job of moving around in the field.

"I don't care if you even get money. Aoi, did you see the board?

"You're telling me to stop calling you by name.... I saw the board. But it doesn't matter to us."

A board is a whiteboard placed near the entrance. Contact matters, crap graffiti is left behind. Mulberry Dye is talking about this personnel change, I guess.

"You bastard, you're born to a Phantom instead of us. Uh, next time he comes down, I guess he'll be treated with his chin like that. My juniors chased me through, and I don't cry anymore. I don't care if it is. I don't care. I have to get a better suit. I need you to raise my salary. No, I'm a liquor store in the mall. Recently, shopping centers have been built, and the guests' feet are far apart."

"Don't do it, it'll get you."

My place of work is the organization of evil, if you chew it up. I don't know much about detailed entities. When I was flunking out of high school, I was scouted as a fighter at the bottom of the organization, at the bottom of the pyramid, for six years, and I haven't done anything in particular, and I still do. It's my job to be assigned a job and run around after twenty.

After six years, I haven't been able to grasp the entity, because besides being the lower end of the dot, in the first place, there's nothing certain about the entity here. I've said evil organizations, but I've never even heard of their purpose. I would have quit if I had put up a great deal of world conquest.

Sequences also exist in such tissues at first. Vertical societies exist everywhere. We fighters, the chief fighters who command and oversee us, and on top of that, they're called Phantoms. The Phantom was given a bespoke suit, and I recognize him as a good combatant. In addition, a Phantom known as the Four Heavens King snorts on top of it. I haven't seen it yet. Well, you're here. That's why it binds tissues. Of course, I've never seen him or seen him.

"How long have you been doing this, us?"

Mulberry dyed sipped coffee. I couldn't answer that. Because I didn't even have to answer. That's settled. Until he dies. A scumbag like us tried to be a villain that would be mowed by a hero. This is not how close heroes and bad guys have become if they're decent nervous. While my father was a mediocre company, he worked safely until retirement and pulled into the country with his mother based on his retirement pension. By now he will be overjoyed at how his crops are growing. I keep bothering people. I'm not going to be mistaken. Even in a world where heels have become commonplace, bad things are bad. Even the law exists. I'm a fine criminal now. I'm not ashamed to let you go anywhere. I'm a combatant in an evil organization.

Fighters are lifeless in health. Rather, that's all you need if you're healthy. The younger you are, the better. I'm only in my twenties, and I'm working out not to blunt my body. But next year? What about next year? After five years, I'll see thirty more. Can you still run then? Can we still fight? The answer would be no. Must be.

"Six years, aren't you the sticky one?

Mulberry dyeing says without looking at me. Even this guy must be hard. After six years, depression doesn't go up no matter how long we do it. With a fixed salary as cheap as this and a bonus as tears of sparrows, they are made to work until they die. There's nothing left. I can't leave anything behind. Instead of tomorrow, it's the best I can do to live today. At the tide, I guess.

This day's work sucked as usual. I'm not going anywhere with the second jerk. Everyone knows that. But if you tell me to 'go' from above, I'll have to go. We attacked the same warehouse yesterday, but the heroes were ambushing us. The junior, who had just been born to a Phantom, was stuck in a crow's dress, but he was stunned. It would have been four to one. We escaped on the lower end. Escape is not forbidden, and above all it is a species with life. Thirty combatants abandoned the Phantom and ran desperately. When I got to the bus, a third of the fighters I had fled with had disappeared. Maybe he got caught by some other hero on the way out. When the driver couldn't wait any longer, he set aside the rest of them and let the bus leave. When I breathed a sigh of relief about my seat, I noticed that Mulberry Dye was nowhere.

I don't have insurance.

There are no benefits.

They don't even hear words of apology.

We have nothing on the lower end. Disposable shield. It is only the next consumable to be replenished. Nothing... No, I don't, at least, I don't have anything. Whatever's left, and what's gripping hard, will one day be gone. I know, but I can't do anything about it. I won't be able to help. I don't have any money. I have no power. Even my friends will be gone at some point.

I was thinking about that while the train rocked me. I was thinking of ending it. I think I'm gonna pull in, too. Tell your parents what's going on, and I'll take the field...

"Ah..."

When I came to that point, I started crying. I didn't know if it was because I was sorry or because I was sad. I wonder what I've been doing for six years. Yeah, let's quit. How could I have come to an evil organization? Oh, because you're an idiot. Because it's a guzzle? Because it's scum?

Going down to the home, the same flyer that I threw away this morning was dropping. Maybe it's not mine. Um, someone must have received what the wheelchair girl handed out from hand, without any concern, and let it go without thinking. I feel like I'm sorry for the girl. Melankori. No. I'm an idiot, so the more I think about it, the deeper I get. Already, for now, let's not do this today. I only think about it after I go to sleep and wake up. Luckily, I'm off tomorrow on Saturday.

When I left in front of the station through the ticket, I was idle, unlike this morning, on a boulder. But I'll find it. Not unlike this morning, make that one point.

It's a wheelchair kid. She's still handing out flyers. Just one person, without anyone's help, on their own.

I'm just handing out flyers. Yet her it seemed, for some reason, a very sublime act. That's what they thought of me as a fighter in a crooked, evil organization. If you notice, your feet are geared toward the girl. I didn't think of anything further. I'm just certain that the moment she admitted she was handing out the flyers, it was like the possession fell off, making her care that much. So, I guess.

"Hey."

Stupid.

I'm an idiot.

I don't know what to think.

I'm, where, what the fuck have I been?

It doesn't say anything about a phone number.

What kind of hero are you?