Ughh!!
Kirihiko Sudo's body was sent flying, slamming open the roller shutter of a nearby warehouse and rolling inside. The pain left him sprawled on the ground, unable to stand.
Shotaro Hidari followed him in, exhaled, and muttered, 'So strong. A cadre-level Dopant completely overpowered—no surprise they call it the king of Gaia Memories.'
Shiraishi Shin flicked his cape. 'Where did that calm confidence from the start run off to?'
Kirihiko Sudo might have gone straight, but once a Dopant, always a Dopant.
And as the top gaia memory salesman who became a Sonozaki family woman, imagine how many of those memories he's put into circulation.
He knew full well Gaia Memories grant evil power and are laced with toxins that ravage the body, yet he still sold them. It's like the saying: a villain drops his blade and instantly becomes a Buddha, while a good man does one bad thing after a lifetime of virtue and gets branded forever.
'Damn it!'
Kirihiko Sudo staggered to his feet. Kamen Rider Eternal was simply too strong—close-quarters he was crushed, and the Rider could even deactivate Memories. This fight was impossible.
He could take to the air and flee, but if his Memory suddenly shut off mid-flight he'd plummet to his death.
So how could he break this deadlock?
If he'd known, he'd never have come sticking his nose in.
[eternal! Maximum Drive!]
Shiraishi Shin squeezed the trigger of the eternal edge; his compound eyes blazed gold, vivid in the gloomy warehouse. 'Looks like you're out of options. Don't feel bitter—your opponent is Death: eternal, king of Memories.'
With that, he swept the dagger from right to left, slashing out a flying crescent of blue flame.
BOOM!
AHHH!!
A deafening blast and a shriek signaled the fight's end.
High-tier Memories are indeed superior, but Kirihiko Sudo hadn't pushed the Nasca Memory anywhere near its limit; losing to a max-level boss of the Rider camp was no injustice.
When the flames died, his immaculate suit was shredded, his face scraped and bleeding. He lay limp, unconscious.
Shotaro winced at the devastation. 'You didn't kill him, right?'
Shiraishi Shin walked past. 'He'll live. I pulled the strike—missed vitals and held back. Looks nasty, but it's only superficial.'
'Good.'
Shotaro exhaled. With power like that and he was holding back? If their Rider Kicks ever clashed, he could picture only one outcome: he'd be blown away, transformation cancelled, left in a heap—just the thought made him shudder.
Shiraishi Shin crouched beside Kirihiko Sudo and picked up the golden gaia memory lying nearby.
Kamen Rider W stepped over, puzzled. 'His Memory isn't broken? Was it because he used a driver?'
'The driver just keeps excess toxins out during transformation; overall output's a bit lower than direct insertion, but it lets you use the Memory longer. It didn't break because it's a high-tier Memory—superior to the mass-market ones. They don't self-destruct on defeat.'
Shiraishi Shin's explanation satisfied Shotaro, though he couldn't help asking, 'So what are you going to do with it?'
Shiraishi Shin glanced at the Memory, then closed his fist. A sharp crack echoed. 'What's the point of keeping it?'
He opened his hand, letting the shards of the once-prized golden Memory scatter across the floor, then walked out to the bike waiting beyond. The Money Dopant's user still lay there, weakened by the sudden Memory shutdown.
'These two are yours to deal with, great detective.'
Mounting the eternal, Shiraishi Shin glanced back at Shotaro—now out of transformation—then gunned the engine and rode off.
Shotaro watched him lean into the curve and vanish, clicking his tongue. 'So cool… especially that cape. Would I look even better wearing it?'
He'd kept his eyes on that flowing black cloak all through the fight, wondering whether Shiraishi Shin had brought it himself or the Rider System supplied it.
'Well, I'd better call Officer Blade about these two.'
…On the way back to campus Shiraishi Shin didn't open the throttle; he'd already skipped class, so a few more minutes wouldn't matter. He powered down and cruised the streets at low speed.
'Hm?'
A flurry of white pages covered in black text drifted toward him from an overpass. He braked, spotting a pretty black-haired girl on the pedestrian bridge; the next moment a sheet slapped against his visor.
He peeled it off and saw what looked like a novel manuscript. Dismounting, he gathered the seven or eight pages before the wind could snatch them again.
The girl hurried down from the bridge—about 1.68 m, delicate features, an air of poised intellect, white hairband, blue coat over a short teal dress.
(Image Kasumigaoka Utaha)
Her long legs were wrapped in eye-catching black tights, shapely rather than stick-thin—absolute treasures.
Kasumigaoka Utaha descended and apologized politely, 'Sorry, a gust just blew my manuscript away.'
Shiraishi Shin gave her a warm smile and handed the pages back. 'No problem. Here you go.'
She accepted them with a nod. 'Thanks. May I buy you a coffee to repay you?'
He declined gently. 'Appreciate it, but I've got somewhere to be. See you around.'
'All right. Goodbye, handsome.'
She smiled in return and watched him ride off.
'A junior from my school… but classes should be in session. What's he doing out on a bike?'
Utaha was a third-year at Seirei Academy herself. She'd taken two sick days for a high fever and had just woken up, heading to her usual café to write. A sudden wind on the bridge had scattered her pages.
The underclassman had looked polite, striking, nothing like the truant type.
And that bike must be custom, she mused, then continued on her way to the café.