Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

I pulled on the red sentai ranger bodysuit, tugging the fabric up over my legs and torso. It covered everything except for my hands, head, and feet. Two black stripes bordered in gold ran down the sides from my neck to my ankles, tapering along the curve of each leg and flaring up toward my shoulders, repeating across my back. On its own it looked a little cheap… like something bought off-season from an otaku thrift shop in Akihabara, but the rest of the costume completed the illusion.

I lifted the mantle with the attached cloak. Red, edged in gold, it formed a sharp V across my chest once I slipped it over my head. Another matching V angled down my back, right above the cape’s anchoring point.

Next were the gloves—white with red trim—and finally the helmet. I’d always hated this part. Even though I loved Mahō Sentai Magiranger, especially the red ranger. I guess I’m pretty simple. It’s easy to root for the leader, right? Back when I wore the helmet to the office costume event, it fogged instantly. It was torture. Sweat pooled inside. And the tinted visor turned the world into a blurry, dark smear.

This time I put it on, it felt like I didn’t have anything on my head at all.

I ran a hand over the smooth plastic.

“I wonder if I’m even alive,” I muttered morosely.

The effect in the mirror wasn’t half bad, though. I struck a pose experimentally, one fist raised, my cloak fanning behind me. I felt silly… but it worked. The costume would hide my face and I hardly felt like I was wearing it.

I glanced at the cheap dragon-shaped plastic gun that belonged with the outfit. If some overzealous police officer mistook it for a real weapon, that’d be the end of me. I tossed it back into the closet. I needed less trouble today, not more.

Still rummaging, I found my old office fanny pack. Red, with a yellow stripe. The perfect size for keys, my phone, and anything else I might need. I strapped it on, tucking behind the cape so it wouldn’t ruin the look. A sentai ranger wearing a fanny pack was the kind of thing that got you bullied online.

Once I had everything, I stepped into the costume boots in the tiny genkan, took a breath, and…

Burst out of my apartment like a man possessed.

I felt galvanized. Seeing everything so clearly, every angle, every detail, was definitely a silver lining. With this disguise, no one could possibly guess what was underneath. I slammed the door open, sprinting down the stairs with my cape fluttering dramatically behind me. I was getting way too into this whole sentai act.

I made it halfway down before freezing.

“Oops. I forgot to lock the door.”

Of course. Even with no face, my minor OCD survived the transformation intact. I was still me, despite everything.

I spun, dashing back up. Just as I reached the landing, a young boy came down the stairs. He gasped.

I froze.

My cover. Already blown. Nooooo—

The kid raised both arms toward the ceiling, eyes sparkling.

“Magiranger Red-san!”

He bounced in place, his little hands punching the air. My brain stalled. Was… was he cheering for me?

I knew the kid. He was one of the neighbors’. His name was Touma. That was pretty much all I knew. His mother frequently yelled his name. 

My nonexistent lips twitched. Thinking quickly, I shifted into a classic sentai pose, my legs spread wide, an arm slicing through the air.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaa!” he squealed.

I suppressed a laugh. Of course kids would accept what they saw. I felt like Santa Claus. Red costume, heroic cape… just swap gifts for all the trauma.

If only the adults I’d encounter would react the same way.

I rushed the rest of the way up the stairs, cape theatrically flipping for my lone audience. The boy cheered again every time the cloak caught the air. The moment I reached my door, more neighbors peeked out, drawn by the noise.

If it weren’t for Touma’s pure enthusiasm, I might have frozen on the spot.

I locked my door with a crisp click, thrust my fist triumphantly into the air, cape swirling around me like a victorious hero.

And immediately felt several pairs of adult eyes burn into me.

I turned slowly.

They were not impressed.

“Creeper…” someone muttered.

I stiffened. I knew that voice. The neighborhood elder stepped out of her apartment like a horror movie antagonist.

“Knock off that stupid ass posturing. A mask like that can’t hide your ugly mug from us,” she snapped. “You better quit or I’m calling the police again.”

I slapped both hands to my helmet in horror.

They know it’s me?! My brilliant disguise… ruined!

Touma’s mother appeared in her doorway like a ninja, snatching her son away before he could get another word out, the same as always.

“Don’t be fooled,” she warned him sharply. “He’s a dangerous gangster. Come inside, Touma.”

She dragged him in. Touma reached out toward me, shouting as the door slammed:

“Yakuza Magiranger Red-san! FIGHT! You’re so awesome!”

The door clicked shut.

I stood there, emotionally pulverized. Touma’s enthusiasm warmed me. However, his mother’s panic chilled me. The elder’s venom stabbed me through the heart. It was a complicated cocktail of emotions.

Maybe leaving this awful place behind was for the best.

I bolted down the stairs, the Magiranger theme echoing in my mind, despite all the pain. 

Focusing on my immediate problem, I realized that I’d have to take the train to reach the detective office. Saving my face, as much as I hated it, saving my life motivated me. I didn’t want to end up like Reiko. I wondered if other yokai would somehow appear before I found the Noh-face.

The station was crowded again (praise the kami) and Touma’s cheering had done wonders for my nerves, all things considered. He’d cheered me on. It was the one thing that I needed to hear right now. FIGHT!

I darted past commuters, ignoring their stares. At least their eyes were considerably less hostile or afraid than usual, just curious and sometimes amused. Passing the police box, I spotted four officers from earlier deep in discussion. I’d met them several times before. They were dutifully scanning the crowd, despite their conversation. They seemed more on alert than usual, like anxious meerkats surveying their prairie for threats.

One officer noticed me. Our eyes met.

I froze, bracing for disaster.

He blurted out, “Go, Magiranger Red-san!”

The other three stared at him like he’d had a stroke.

He visibly regretted everything.

But I couldn’t help it… I posed for him on the spot. His face went neon red, but he grinned back like a guilty fan.

Suppressing a laugh, I dashed away gallantly.

When I reached it, I ran into the station, down the steps to the platform. People stared, but it was Tokyo, and it was Halloween. Nobody questioned a sentai hero sprinting through the station.

Crowds filled the platform this time. A blessed sight. If another impossibly empty train arrived… I would sooner sprint the entire line on foot. 

While waiting, I considered my job security, under the circumstances. Maybe I could go into the office in costume, but it would be as a permanent noh-face. My boss had seen me wearing this before. I was sure that he’d recognize me. The holiday lasted only a day… and anything I’d say tomorrow to try to explain why I was still wearing the helmet would be a lie.

And I couldn’t lie anymore.

More importantly, I’d been told if I didn’t fix this before midnight, I’d be a monster forever.

So I couldn’t afford any detours, even to save my life financially.

The train jingled and the train rumbled into the station. When it came to a stop, I waited my turn and boarded. For once, nobody flinched. Kids grinned at me. Someone whispered something about “Magiranger cosplay done right.”

As we passed into the tunnel, I was certain that it was the same tunnel the noh-face had ambushed me in. I tensed for another encounter. That was part of my plan. It had been haunting the subway. Since the detective’s office was on the way, I decided to tempt fate and see if I’d lure it back out. My hands tightened on the hanging strap. I forced myself to breathe regularly.

Part of me thought: If Noh-face showed up again, it’d save me a trip to the detective.

Another part of me remembered how utterly powerless I’d been earlier.

Probably best not to fight a nightmare god on a moving train again… but then again, I’d been changed by the experience.

The ride passed without incident. When I disembarked at the next station, relief and disappointment warred inside me. I was so anxious that my knees were buckling. Forgetting my anxiety, I pushed forward, my cape snapping behind me as I sprinted through the crowds.

My phone guided me toward the detective’s office. Several intersections, two major boulevards… normally minefields that I tended to avoid, but speed was everything.

Before long, the map blinked:

Destination: Nearby.

I stopped in front of the building.

It was old. Weathered. That was absolutely a red flag. The rent was probably cheaper than mine. Even more likely haunted. The perfect location for a spiritual detective’s office.

I checked the small sign again.

“Shinohara Spiritual Detective Services — 8F.”

“More stairs…” I groaned. “Kami, please let there be an elevator.”

Inside, there was no shared genkan, just a narrow hallway lined with mismatched doors. I jogged down it in my full sentai regalia until I found the elevator.

When I got there, I was shocked. It was… ancient, to say the least.

The metal frame was etched and dull with age. The button cracked. The call light flickered. Above it was an actual metal lever indicator. It was the kind you see in old black-and-white movies.

But the ficus plants on either side were healthy. That was promising. Nobody who kept their ficuses alive was truly evil… probably.

I pressed the button gingerly. The light sputtered on. After several clunking noises, the elevator dinged. The wrought-iron door rattled aside, revealing a narrow, slanted interior.

“Oh, Kami, please don’t let this be my coffin,” I whispered.

Despite my worries, I stepped inside…

And slammed straight into something surprisingly solid.

I staggered, pinned against the doorway. I spun around, looking wildly for the obstacle.

There was nothing to see.

Before my brain caught up… 

A small fist cracked the top of my helmet.

“Idiot! Don’t you look down when a cute girl is stepping off the elevator?!” a shrill voice scolded. “What kind of chauvinistic moron are you?!”

The impact stunned me. My vision sparkled… they were actual literal sparkles. When I blinked the static away, I finally saw my attacker.

And blurted the first thing that left my mouth:

“F–FLAT!!!”