The night sky hung heavy over Musutafu, stars obscured by a low blanket of industrial haze. In the dim orange glow of rusted streetlamps, two girls lay cradled in the arms of a shadow—one in each arm, shielded by silver and black armor.
Kamen Rider Delta moved silently across rooftops, his every step guided by the Delta System's mapping overlay. Neither of the girls stirred. Mari's breathing was stable now, the sedatives still wearing off. Mariko, rescued just before full neural syncing, was unconscious but safe. Jetsling Beroba, hidden beneath the Rider system's armor, said nothing. The city below murmured its usual apathy—cars humming, neon signs flickering, and the occasional siren that never came this deep into the slums.
But the slums were where he was headed.
Delta stopped at the edge of a derelict tenement building, the place where Mari had once followed him from before once. Jetsling's memory played back the scene—Mari watching from behind broken barrels, curiosity bright in her eyes. He scanned the area now.
[Heat signatures detected. Four minors, huddled. Likely non-hostile. No adult presence.]
Jetsling descended the crumbling fire escape, landing soundlessly near the back entrance. He approached the makeshift shelter: cardboard walls, worn-out tarps, and repurposed crates. Inside, four children stirred at the sound of his approach. Their eyes widened in fear until one of them—a boy with a cracked eyeglass lens—gasped.
"Mari?!"
Jetsling gently lowered her into the arms of the oldest girl there, perhaps thirteen. Her hands trembled as she held Mari close, brushing the hair from her face. Mari stirred, her eyes fluttering open.
"Yuki...?" she whispered.
The girl sobbed.
Jetsling then placed Mariko beside her.
"She's from another block. Keep them warm," his voice rasped through the helmet, distorted and cold, but calm.
The children stared at him in awe and confusion.
"Are you... are you a hero?" the boy asked.
Jetsling didn't answer immediately. He looked at them—dirty, thin, forgotten by the city above.
"No," he said. "I'm the one who cleans up what heroes ignore."
He turned, but a tug on his coat made him pause. Mari had grabbed his sleeve.
"Are you... going to disappear again?"
Jetsling was quiet.
Then: "No. Not tonight."
---
The orphanage stood on the border of the second district—just far enough to be ignored by most agencies, yet close enough for patrols to pretend they cared. The building was old, its paint faded and its roof partially caved in at the corner. But it stood tall against the decay around it.
Jetsling approached its front gate silently, footsteps heavy with purpose.
He rang the old rusted bell once.
Moments later, the door creaked open. A middle-aged woman in a worn sweater peeked out, startled at the sight of the armored figure standing in her doorway.
Her eyes widened.
"...What—?"
Jetsling then ask the person infront of him. "There a few children here that need shelter and protection so I hope that this orphanage has a room for them. I do not know whether they were in the system."
The woman hesitated. "We—we don't have much room. Or funding. If they're not in the system it will be hard.."
Jetsling turned slightly, his voice dropping.
"They need a place to live. I'll make sure you have what you need."
She met his visor—unable to see his eyes, yet sensing something beneath the steel.
A moment of silence.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
"I'll prepare beds. And food."
Jetsling inclined his head in gratitude.
---
By sundown, the five children—including Mari—were inside the orphanage. Cleaned. Fed. Safe.
Jetsling and Mariko watched from the rooftop across the street, cloaked in twilight.
Mari looked out the window once.
She didn't see him.
But she smiled.
Jetsling turned away. There still another job he need to be done with. He still need to get Mariko home.
So the Delta Ai then plot the home of Mariko using the information that it hack.
There were also more monsters to find.
And the city never stopped hiding them.
---
Mariko lay sleeping in his arms, her small frame wrapped in the tattered blanket he'd scavenged from the lab before. This late at night combine with the event that happen before cause her exhausted body to fall asleep. The Delta armor made her weight irrelevant. She seemed weightless, fragile.
Like a single touch from the world might shatter her.
[Life signs stable. Neural interference subsiding. Recommended action: return to familial guardian node.]
Delta's voice echoed in his helmet.
"Already on it," Jetsling whispered, voice a low rasp distorted through the voice modulator.
The home wasn't far. Just four blocks from the edge of the slums. A thin building tucked between a clinic and a shuttered pharmacy. Lights glowed on the second floor.
He stopped at the edge of the street and looked up.
Should he knock?
Should he leave her and vanish?
He hated the idea of being seen. Of questions. Of attention.
But something in him—something he barely admitted—wanted to witness what he was returning.
He stepped forward and pressed the doorbell.
Seconds passed.
Then the door flew open.
A man and woman stood frozen. The woman's hair was in disarray, her face tired and tear-streaked. The man wore a simple shirt and mismatched socks. His hands trembled. The man that he meet before this. The one that extend kindnesses to him.
Their eyes widened as they saw the figure in armor standing in front of them.
Jetsling said nothing.
Instead, he stepped forward and gently held Mariko out.
The woman gasped. "M-Mariko...?"
The man staggered forward, arms outstretched, catching his daughter as Jetsling transferred her without a word.
Mariko stirred from her sleep, her lips parting. "Mama...?"
The woman broke.
She dropped to her knees, clinging to the child, sobs wracking her body. The man followed, holding them both. There were no words—only cries, only trembling, only the raw, unfiltered sound of love restored.
Jetsling stood there, unmoving looking at the familial love. He remember from his own memory about his parent from before this reincarnation.
The man looked up. "Who are you? Are you one of the hero? What—what happened to her?"
Jetsling said nothing.
The woman raised her head. "Please... please tell us who you are. So we can thank you."
Jetsling turned.
His voice was low, altered, inhuman.
"Protect her. Better than this city will ever did."
Then he vanished into the alley before they could ask more.
The man can only say a word. "Thank you for saving my daughter!"
---
[Extraction successful. Both targets returned. Emotional restoration complete. Mission concluded.]
Jetsling nodded.
But deep inside, something churned.
Not anger.
Not hate.
Something colder.
There were more children still missing.
More families with empty chairs and quiet dinners.
More monsters wearing uniforms, smiles, and white coats.
Jetsling looked down at his bloodstained hands.
He was no hero.
But someone had to make the city remember what fear was.
He turned away as the cries of joy and relief echoed behind him.
And vanished into the dark once more.