Telephone Man Junior ~The Man Searching for a Public Phone~ - The Vermilion Card and the Two Who Don't Match

Kagurazaka Denwa, twenty-four years old. Unemployed. Ever since that night when he'd been released from the police box, Denwa had wandered the alleys of Kagurazaka nearly every day. Along the stone-paved streets, hunched over, in the same wrinkled tracksuit. On his left wrist, a wristband holding his father's keepsake—a green telephone card. "...Hah." His sigh dissolved into the evening air. He had transformed. He'd definitely transformed. In that moment, his body had grown light, power had surged through him, and he'd felt like he could do anything. But in the end, he'd been caught by the police, made pathetic excuses at the police box, and been let go. (Did I really become Telephone Man?) The face of that older officer wouldn't leave his head. *"So you're that Telephone Man's son."* (He knew about my old man. Someone higher up, maybe? Why'd he let me go?) There was so much he didn't understand. But one thing was certain. (I want to transform again.) He wanted to be popular. That was the honest truth. But it wasn't just that. The sensation of that transformation was stuck deep in his body, and it wouldn't let go. The same power as his father. The same form as his father. He wanted to taste that again. That's why Denwa was searching for public phones. There were still several phone booths left in the alleys of Kagurazaka. At the corner of the old shopping street, behind the shrine, in the shadow of an apartment building. From midday until night, Denwa visited them one by one. But he couldn't transform. He'd try to slide the card into the phone. His fingers would tremble. He'd feel eyes on him. Just having a passing old lady say, "Oh my, a phone booth—how rare," nearly made his heart leap out of his mouth, and he'd run home. (Pathetic...) That time, he'd been cornered by the cop, and half out of desperation, he'd managed to transform. But in a calm state, with people watching, shouting out that move name—there was just no way. "Telephone Punch!" He tried saying it quietly, under his breath. "...Ugh, no. I'm dying of embarrassment." No one had even heard him, and his face was burning. (Did my old man do this every single time?) How mentally tough were Showa-era heroes, anyway? Denwa leaned against the alley wall and looked up at the sky. An orange sky. A single crow cut across between the power lines. (Maybe it's just impossible for me after all.) He was thinking that—and then it happened. "...That's the type that keeps a usage history, isn't it." A voice came from behind him. A girl's voice. Denwa's heart gave a violent thump. (A—a girl!?) He turned around. Standing there was a young woman. Nineteen or twenty, maybe. Her black hair, reaching her shoulders, caught the sunset and looked faintly crimson. Pale skin, large eyes. Those eyes weren't fixed on Denwa's face—they were staring intently at the card on his left wrist. She wore a slightly old-fashioned dress. Floral print, the hem fluttering. In her hand, a small handbag. "Uh, ah, um... can I help you?" His voice cracked. (My popular phase is here! No, wait. Calm down. This is... what is this? A pickup? A reverse pickup? No, that's not it. She's talking about the card?) His head was spinning. The girl, paying no mind to Denwa's flustered state, took a step closer. "That card. It's a green telephone card, isn't it. The type with a usage history left on the magnetic strip. How rare. I've never seen anyone carrying one of those these days." "Y-yeah..." (What's with this girl. She's talking about the card. So she's not interested in me?) "Um, are you... knowledgeable about telephone cards, by any chance?" Denwa managed to ask, trying to feign composure. The girl looked at Denwa's face for the first time. "Yes, well. A little." No sooner had she said that than her gaze returned to the card. "Hey, would you let me see that for a moment?" "Eh!? Oh, yes! Go ahead!" Denwa removed the card from his wristband and held it out with both hands. (I'm talking to a girl! And she wants to borrow my card! This is—this is the flow where we have to end up dating, right!?) In his mind, he pumped his fist. The girl took the card and stared at it intently. "...Beautiful. This deep green—the color unique to Showa-era telephone cards. Completely different from today's plastic cards. The texture of this magnetic strip—it's irresistible." "Y-yeah..." (The texture of the magnetic strip? What is this girl even saying?) The girl flipped the card over, held it up to the light, and murmured with a rapt expression. "And this illustration of the old telephone. This gold pattern. Showa-era design is truly wonderful. It's on a completely different level from today's sterile designs." "I-is that so..." Denwa nodded along while stealing glances at the girl's profile. (Up close, she's seriously cute. Nice skin, long eyelashes, and she smells good...) A faint shampoo scent drifted from her hair. (Crap. My heart's racing.) Denwa pressed a hand to his chest to muffle the sound of his heartbeat. "Um, by the way, what's your name?" "Akane Hikari. And you?" "Kagurazaka Denwa!" "Kagurazaka... Denwa? Denwa—as in, 'telephone'—is your name?" "That's right. My old man had a connection to telephones, you see." "Huh, what an interesting name. ...So, where did you get this card?" Hikari's eyes glinted. "Eh? Oh, this is my father's keepsake..." "A keepsake. So your father has already passed away. ...This card must be very precious to you." "Well, yeah, I guess." (Oh, this is going well, isn't it? We get all sentimental talking about the keepsake, and then she notices my charm, and...) "So, have you ever used this card? At a public phone?" "Eh? Oh, yes. Just once." "Just once!? Where? When? What kind of phone booth?" Hikari leaned in close. "Uh, um, you're a little close..." Denwa instinctively took a step back. (Close! Her face is close! She smells good!) "Tell me. About that time, in detail." Hikari's eyes were utterly serious. "Um, well, I don't really remember it that well. Before I knew it, I'd transformed, and then I was caught by the police..." "Transformed!? Police!?" Hikari's voice jumped an octave. "I knew it. You're Telephone Man, aren't you?" "Telephone Man—you mean, that Showa-era..." "Yes. The hero who inserts a card into a public phone and transforms by shouting a move name. If you have a green card, you must be connected to the green Telephone Man, right?" "Well, my old man was, um, a former Telephone Man." "Your father was!? Amazing! What was your father's name? What region did he operate in? What was his transformation move? His signature pose?" Hikari fired off questions rapid-fire. "Uh, um, wait a sec. Calm down. I don't know much about it." "You don't know much? But he's your father?" "Well, my old man left home when I was little. I don't even really remember his face." "I see... that's a shame." Hikari looked a little sad. "But you were able to transform. That's an amazing thing. To think a Telephone Man existed in this day and age." "No, it was just once. And I got caught right away." "Even so. I've been searching all this time. For traces of Telephone Man. Tracking public phone usage records, analyzing the magnetic data on cards, following the footsteps of the Showa-era heroes." "H-heh..." (This girl looks cute, but inside she's a total otaku...) Denwa was a little taken aback by Hikari's enthusiasm. "So, I'd be happy if you'd show me your card. I want to compare it with mine." Hikari pulled a card from her handbag. It was a vermilion telephone card. "This is my grandmother's keepsake. The card of the vermilion Telephone Man." "Vermilion..." Denwa stared at the card in Hikari's hand. A deep vermilion. The same illustration of the old telephone and gold pattern as Denwa's green card. But just the difference in color made the impression completely different. "That's a beautiful color." "Yes. I love this color. It's like the color of a sunset, don't you think?" Hikari held the vermilion card up to the sunset. "So, I was investigating the history on this card. And then I noticed something." "Noticed something?" "If you trace the history on this vermilion card, the last person it leads to is a certain individual. That person's name is..." Hikari paused there. "...Kagurazaka." "Eh?" Denwa's heart gave a jolt. "Your father's name is Kagurazaka, right? Could it be—Kagurazaka... yes, Kagurazaka. His given name was, I believe..." "Wait a minute." Denwa instinctively gripped the card tight. "Why do you know my old man's name?" "I knew it. So it's true." Hikari's eyes took on a light of conviction. "If you trace the history on my grandmother's card, the last person it leads to is your father. The green Telephone Man. A person named Kagurazaka. There's no mistake." "...What do you mean by that?" Denwa's voice dropped low. (My old man and this girl's grandmother are connected?) "I don't understand all of it yet either. But it's certain. These two cards show traces of being used the same way, at the same time, in the same place. If we compare your card and mine, you'll see." Hikari gently took the green card from Denwa's hand. "I'll just borrow this for a moment." "Hey, wait—" Hikari held the two cards side by side in her hands. Holding them up to the sunset, she stared intently at the magnetic strips. Denwa peered over Hikari's shoulder at the cards. (Close...! Way too close...!) The distance where Hikari's hair nearly brushed Denwa's cheek. The shampoo scent was stronger than before. (Crap, my heart...) Denwa took a small breath to steady himself. But Hikari seemed completely unconcerned with Denwa's presence. With a serious expression, she was gazing fixedly at the cards' magnetic strips. "...This." Hikari suddenly caught her breath. "This is amazing." "W-what is it?" "Look. The way the history is preserved here. Your green card and my vermilion card. The magnetic data of the usage history is left in the same pattern." "The same pattern?" "Yes. This is a trace showing that they fought using the cards the same way, at the same time, in the same place. Your father and my grandmother fought together. They must have been comrades." Hikari's voice was buoyant. "Your father and my grandmother were connected." Denwa repeated the words in his head. (My old man and this girl's grandmother...) A side of his father he'd never known. And an unexpected connection to the girl before him. (What the hell is this...) A complicated swirl of emotions churned in Denwa's chest. Happy, sad, frustrated—all at once. (My old man fought alongside this girl's grandmother. In a place I never knew.) "...I see." That was all Denwa could manage. "Don't you want to know more about your father? I'll help you investigate. Let's search for traces of Telephone Man together." Hikari peered into Denwa's face. "Eh, ah, no, I'm not really..." "Eh? You're not interested? But he's your own father?" "No, it's not that I'm not interested, it's just, how should I put this..." (What does this girl think of me? 'Let's search together'—is that a date invitation? No, it's not. She's absolutely only thinking about the cards and the history.) Denwa looked into Hikari's eyes. Her eyes were sparkling—but that sparkle wasn't directed at Denwa. (I'm completely invisible to her, aren't I.) "Hey, what do you say? Together..." That was when it happened. From the far end of the alley, a man could be seen walking toward them. A man in a suit. In his hand, the latest model smartphone. When the man spotted Denwa and Hikari, he stopped dead in his tracks. And then he stood there, as if carefully watching the two of them. A chill ran down Denwa's spine. (What's with that guy?) The man's gaze was fixed on the card in Denwa's hand. (He's looking at the card? Don't tell me...) Denwa instinctively shifted his position to shield Hikari. "Eh? Wh

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Episode 2

Name: Telephone Man Junior ~The Man Searching for a Public Phone~
Author: Novelia

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