Seven Floors Up
Most heroes don't keep managers. Even when they do, the manager is usually also a sidekick—a supporter. Pure managers who do nothing but manage are almost unheard of. The qualifiers "most" and "almost" say it all: aside from me, I've never met a hero with a dedicated manager. Of course, I never planned on hiring Mari, who has no superpowers, in the first place. Still... this arrangement owes a lot to her own insistence and the branch manager's persuasion.
The biggest reason was to flaunt the might of Area 4's representative hero. Having an ordinary person at your side rather than another superpowered individual supposedly shows you can protect at least one person while fighting. That kind of display, they said. It would have been simpler to walk alone—no manager, no sidekick—and let the solitary image speak for itself, but that option was never on the table for someone who needs a guide as badly as I do. I didn't agree, yet I couldn't argue.
The real reason they stuck someone to me had nothing to do with power or showmanship. It was simply...
I glanced around. The parking garage should have been underground, yet somehow I'd reached the seventh floor. I had no memory of taking the stairs or the elevator. That was the problem with my sense of direction. The association president had assigned me a guide for exactly that reason. I held a license, but for similar reasons Mari always drove. The twenty-minute trip had once stretched into four hours; after that, even an association employee ended up as my manager, handling both the wheel and the route. I'd tried to refuse over the phone, but the president overruled me. He framed it as a postponement rather than outright rejection—if I wanted to decline, I had to come say so in person. That was refusal in all but name. I wanted to complain that it was excessive, yet I couldn't even reach his office, so I accepted the manager. And now, even with Mari in the role, I still couldn't reach the branch manager's office. Her most important duty was navigation, so where was she when I needed her?
"What brings you here, little miss?"
"Ugh."
I must have been wandering too long. Someone had noticed and spoken up. At my age, being treated like a child—and a girl, no less—felt strangely embarrassing. I turned toward the voice and found a man in a suit watching me. The ID badge around his neck and the drink in his hand suggested he worked here. At least I hadn't wandered into the wrong building. I remembered the Area 4 branch manager's office was on the eleventh floor. Seventh floor meant four floors short.
"Where are the stairs?"
"Looking for someone? I can take you."
"No, I can find it myself—"
I tried to refuse; he had his own work, and I didn't need help. Then the memories flashed past like a highlight reel: waiting for Mari after failing to locate the car following a fight with criminals, getting lost on a coffee run and never reaching either the shop or home, climbing from the underground garage to the seventh floor without ever using the stairs. All the times I'd lost my way.
"...I can't find it myself. Where is the Area 4 branch manager's office?"
"Ah, the branch manager's office? Follow me."
He stepped ahead and started walking. Step, step. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. For every stride he took, I needed three—sometimes six—just to keep up. It wasn't exhaustion so much as the constant switching of left and right feet that grew tedious. Being shorter brought inconveniences in the smallest places. How much longer until we arrived?
We finally reached the elevators. He pressed the button, then turned to me.
"The entire eleventh floor belongs to the branch manager's office. You won't get lost once you're up there."
He kindly pressed the button for me and stepped out.
"Thank you. Take care."
Through the narrowing gap in the doors, he waved. I considered waving back, but any gesture from my current body would look odd, so I simply watched him until the metal doors sealed shut. My reflection stared back—distorted, but unmistakably smaller than before.
Eighth floor. Ninth. Tenth. Eleventh. Ding.
The doors opened onto another set of doors. Metal, then wood. It looked as though opening this one would reveal yet another. When had they remodeled?
"What the—?"
I had a rough plan for how to handle this. It wasn't complicated enough to change now, so I'd stick to it. The plan? Simple.
Click. I turned the lever just enough to leave the door ajar—better than failing from lack of strength again. Deep breath. I kicked the door open and strode inside.
Bang!
"It's me!"
I burst into the branch manager's office with all the bravado I could muster. If there was nothing else I could do, figuring things out was someone else's job. My plan was simply to keep acting like myself. Whether Ganema saw through it or just found the sight funny, the man ahead of me tried—and failed—to hide his laughter.
"Pfft...!"
A bit leaked out. What was so amusing? I'd given it my best.
"What? Why are you laughing?"
"Ah, sorry about that."
Ganema—branch manager of the Area 4 Hero Association and a hero himself. He'd been practically demoted to this district, the one with the highest crime rate and fewest heroes, yet together we'd turned it into the place with the lowest crime rate despite still having the fewest heroes. His efforts earned him the branch manager post; I became the district's poster hero. In this region—maybe even in the whole world—he was the only person I could call a true equal and friend. Should I count Mari too? Either way, he was one of my only real friends.
"I thought our poster hero was auditioning to become a poster idol. Something like that."
"You're cracking jokes even now? What if this change causes problems with my work?"
"Does it really matter?"
"?"
Acting like it wasn't even his body anymore. I rolled up the suit sleeves that completely covered my hands. He might be a superpowered individual, but he'd still feel pain if I hit him hard enough. With that thought, I charged—only for his hand to catch my wrist and lift me clean off the floor.
How light had I become for him to do that so easily?
"All right, listen. No matter what I say, you're going to keep being a hero, right?"
"Obviously."
"Even if I tell you to treat this as a vacation and rest, you won't?"
"How many heroes do we have in Area 4? I'd rest if I could."
"No matter how logically I try to convince you, you won't listen, will you?"
"If logic worked on me, I wouldn't have become a hero in the first place."
Nod, nod. I nodded, satisfied with my answer. With reflexes like that, I wouldn't slip up at the next press conference.
"Is that... something you should be proud of?"
"We succeeded, didn't we?"
I planted my free hand on my hip and grinned proudly. One arm still dangled in the air, ruining the pose, but since I couldn't see myself from the outside, I remained oblivious.
"So, did Mari fill you in?"
"You two were together the whole time. Did I miss a call?"
"Then you already saw it."
With his clairvoyance he could see through walls, around corners, even inside boxes. Distance meant nothing; he could probably watch my house from another district without effort.
"You and Mari both noticed it was me. How?"
Even with his ability, he wouldn't have stared at a sleeping man the entire time. He must have been watching around the time Mari was due to arrive.
"No matter how suspicious I got, anyone who steps out of a car normally wouldn't make me think otherwise. But jumping out like that? Had to be something more than human."
"Hmm. Convincing."
There was no emergency, so no reason to spy on someone's daily life. Watching a single building was child's play for him, so of course he'd noticed.
"...I'm the one who changed, yet somehow I feel like I'm the one being tested."
Jumping from the car had preserved my pride and served as proof. Good call. The shirt inside the suit was dirty, but that could be fixed.
"Well, there aren't any lunatics left in this district who'd break into your house, so I was already certain."
"Mari hears that, she'll tear you apart."
"Even if I'm weakened, I'm still a superpowered individual. An ordinary person couldn't rip me apart."
"Want me to tell her?"
"Sorry."
"Heehee." Still fun. If Ganema had been my manager, we could have bantered like this all the time, but his position as branch manager and his own powers disqualified him. I'd secretly added his name to the candidate list once; he'd found out and withdrawn himself. A real shame he never made it through.
"More importantly, when are you putting me down? My arm's going numb."
"Ah, sorry."
He hadn't gripped hard, but my thinner wrist must have cut off circulation. Once he understood, he lowered me immediately. My feet touched the floor at last. After spending most of my time here floating, my balance was a mess; I nearly toppled.
"Whoa, careful."
He caught me again. Twice in one day. Two different people helping me stay upright. It felt oddly awkward.
"I forgot the most important question. How long until you change back this time?"
"I don't know."
My entire body had shrunk, not grown or stretched. There was no telling how long reversal would take. The duration might lengthen with repeated use, or I could end up fixed in this state permanently. I couldn't give a definite answer.
"Hmm... six months. That's pretty vague."
"Huh? Didn't I just say I don't know?"
"Six months is what you don't know. You think I don't understand your personality by now?"
"No, that's not it—I really don't know!"
"All right, all right. Seven months, then. Happy?"
"Don't haggle over something like that!"