Hearing Saiki's accusation, Nick Fury felt a jolt, as if a carefully guarded secret had been exposed. An inexplicable sense of guilt washed over him. But as someone accustomed to authority, he expertly controlled his expression and emotions, keeping his tone flawless and watertight.
Something felt deeply wrong, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.
He didn't answer Saiki's question directly; any response would sound like a feeble explanation. Instead, he adopted the indulgent tone one might use with a petulant child. "Kusuo," he began, his voice laced with forced patience, "—my apologies, may I call you by your first name?"
It sounded like a request for permission, but the underlying tone brooked no argument.
"I understand you might have some misconceptions about S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers," Fury continued, guessing that the previous Avengers infighting had soured Saiki's opinion. He wanted to explain, to clear the air and remove any lingering resentment towards the team.
However, Saiki had no intention of letting him lead the conversation. "I assume you heard the rumors about me before coming here," Saiki interrupted smoothly, "including those about my abilities."
He made no effort to hide it. As Fury's expression grew increasingly grim, Saiki stated bluntly, "Even with your training in counter-surveillance and anti-hypnosis techniques, my telepathy can still confirm your true affiliation. Director Fury... oh, my mistake. I should address you as HYDRA's leader, Nick Fury."
Fury's smile vanished, replaced by an icy hardness. Simultaneously, the distinct sound of multiple footsteps echoed, steadily closing in on their position.
His hand, hidden beneath the table, moved imperceptibly towards the gun strapped to his ankle. He emptied his mind, daring not to form any concrete plan, and silently chambered a round.
Saiki clearly noticed the subtle movement, a small smirk playing on his lips. Before the surrounding figures could reach them, Fury felt his body abruptly cease obeying his commands.
He watched, horrified, as his own hand—the one holding the gun—slowly rose into view, exposing the weapon, until the muzzle pressed firmly against his own temple.
His hand trembled, but he fought desperately to control his emotions, making one last defiant stand. "Do you know what you're doing, kid?!" he snarled.
Saiki merely chuckled, offering no reply. Instead, he tilted his head, gesturing with his eyes for Fury to look.
Fury followed Saiki's gaze, and his own eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
Converging on him were not enemies, but his most trusted agents: Natasha, Clint, Hill... even Phil.
But the usual respect was gone from their faces, replaced entirely with wariness and undisguised hostility.
A wave of utter despair washed over Fury—a bitter mix of anger and resignation. The loaded gun pressed harder against his temple as he struggled frantically, trying to break free from Saiki's invisible control.
Click.
The sound of the hammer falling echoed. Fury squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the agonizing burst of pain.
Yet, after several long moments, nothing happened. The expected agony never came.
He cautiously opened his eyes. He was sitting in the same seat as before. The surrounding agents had vanished. Across from him, Saiki Kusuo was calmly eating coffee jelly. Everything was back to normal, as if the entire harrowing experience had been nothing but a hallucination.
A hallucination? What in the world just...?
Fury's mind felt like a tangled mess. Trying to grasp any coherent thought sent stabs of pain through his head. He ended up panting, drenched in sweat, feeling as though he'd just spent hours in a steam room.
Saiki finished his second serving of coffee jelly, setting the spoon down delicately. He smiled pleasantly. "Find my abilities interesting, Director Fury?"
For a fleeting instant, Fury felt an overwhelming urge to turn and flee in utter panic. He forcibly suppressed the shameful impulse. His assessment of Saiki had undergone a complete, radical transformation.
Recruit this... this monster? Fury thought frantically. Absolutely not! One bad mood and he could frame me as a HYDRA agent! If he joined the Avengers and felt slighted by a superior, he might just eliminate them and install himself as the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.! Whether he's inside the organization or out, he's a menace. Better to leave him out here to terrorize someone else!
Saiki hummed thoughtfully, clearly listening in. "Hmm, while I'm not interested in being S.H.I.E.L.D.'s boss, you're pretty much right about the first part. When I'm unhappy, I do enjoy making people disappear... without a trace."
He was still smiling, but then his expression abruptly shifted, morphing into something truly terrifying, easily capable of giving children nightmares. He continued smoothly, "After all, with my abilities, accomplishing such things is trivially easy. Perhaps... perhaps I fabricated the entire existence of Thanos. Maybe I initially wanted to destroy the world, then decided it would be too boring without all of you, so I graciously spared you. I even let you believe I'm your savior, ensuring your eternal gratitude."
Fury: "..."
Kid, are you completely insane?!
Fury knew he couldn't stay a second longer. He flagged down the waiter. "Check, please," he managed, pulling a bill from his pocket and handing it over.
Saiki, however, looked distinctly like he wasn't finished having fun. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual. "I actually think we have a lot in common. We could keep chatting."
Fury: "..."
If I stay any longer, I'm going to start questioning the reality of this entire planet, let alone my own existence.
He fumbled for several more bills and thrust them at the waiter. "He can have whatever he wants. As much as he wants."
This time, Saiki didn't try to stop him. He simply watched with mild amusement as Nick Fury practically scrambled out of the dessert shop.
Once Fury was completely out of sight, Saiki let out a quiet sigh of relief.
(That was close. I almost ran out of things to make up.)
Having enjoyed a sumptuous amount of dessert courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s expense account (presumably), Saiki contentedly used the remaining money to buy even more sweets to take home.
When he arrived, he found not only Banner and Peter still there, but also Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, whom he hadn't seen in a while, visiting as well.
Wait a second, Saiki thought, pausing. When did I become close enough friends with the twins for them to just drop by?
He suddenly felt an urge to turn around and leave his own house.
Saiki Kurumi, however, was overjoyed that her son had so many friends. Seeing him return, she quickly beckoned him over.
"Kusuo! Where have you been? Your friends came all this way to see you, and you kept them waiting so long!"
As she spoke, Kurumi took the large, heavy bag from his hands. The sheer weight of it made her pause. Curious, she peeked inside and gasped.
Under normal circumstances, she would immediately ask Kusuo where he got the money for so many desserts, while his father, Kuniharu, would likely demand to know if he'd used his powers illicitly.
But with guests present, Kurumi's interpretation shifted instantly. After her initial gasp, her face filled with warmth and pride.
"Kusuo," she beamed, "did you buy all of these specially for your friends?"
Saiki: ...No! That's not it!
Tears of emotion welled up in Kurumi's eyes. "Oh, this is wonderful! Kusuo has grown up so much! Mommy is so touched!"
(Mom, please, I'm begging you, stop making these wild assumptions!)
Kurumi carried the treasure trove of desserts towards the living room, calling out cheerfully to the others.
Left behind, Saiki reached out a hand in silent, dramatic despair.
"Come everyone, look! Kusuo bought desserts for all of you! Don't be shy, dig in!" Kurumi announced proudly.
Peter's face lit up. "Whoa! Is this from that new place? Awesome! Thanks, Kusuo! Guys, you have to try this stuff, it's amazing!"
Banner watched as Peter, acting like the host, enthusiastically started distributing Saiki's precious desserts, cheerfully rubbing salt in Saiki's obvious wounds. He silently offered a moment of preemptive mourning for the painful lesson Peter was undoubtedly about to receive.
And Saiki Kusuo—who mere moments ago had reduced the formidable Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. to a panicked wreck—stood frozen, looking like an empty-nest elder whose last joys had been snatched away. His heart felt like dead ashes.
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