Chapter 46: Space Police and the Stuttering Ring
The afternoon in the Gion district passed with that sticky laziness of Tuesday afternoons, when time seems to stretch like hot caramel. The Urahara Candy Shop was open, but the flow of customers was scarce.
Inside, the only sound was the rhythmic, dry click-clack of wooden beads colliding. Urahara Kisuke was sitting behind the counter, hunched over an antique abacus (soroban).
He could have used a quantum supercomputer. He could have used Scott Free's Mother Box, which could calculate the trajectory of a comet in a nanosecond. But Urahara preferred the abacus. It gave finances a tactile and satisfying feel.
"Forty-five yen in melon gum..." he murmured, sliding a bead.
"Two hundred yen in rice crackers for Mrs. Tanaka..."
He sighed, adjusting his reading glasses on the tip of his nose.
"And five million yen in structural repairs for the space ladies' invasion. We are definitely in the red this month."
Beside him, Kara was standing on a stepladder, restocking jars of konpeitō on the highest shelves. She was wearing her blue "Employee of the Month" apron over jeans and a t-shirt.
"You could charge Batman an entrance fee," Kara suggested, placing a jar of sugar stars carefully. "He comes around so much he should pay a subscription."
"That is not a bad idea," Urahara said without looking up. "Premium Membership for Vigilantes. Includes free tea and group therapy on Thursdays."
On the engawa, the porch facing the alley (and acting as the border between the shop and the real world), Big Barda was sitting cross-legged. The former leader of the Female Furies, the most feared woman on Apokolips, was reading a human magazine titled Guns & Ammo.
"Ridiculous," Barda grumbled, turning a page with so much force she almost tore it.
"Why do they still use gunpowder? It is dirty. It is inefficient. A good plasma beam cauterizes the wound while it kills. These humans are sentimental barbarians."
"It's for the recoil, Barda," Kara said from the ladder. "They like to feel the weapon kick."
"Masochists," Barda concluded, tossing the magazine onto a pile.
The peace was absolute. It was the kind of tranquility that, in Urahara's life, usually served as the prelude to imminent disaster. And, like a Swiss watch of destiny, disaster arrived.
There was no explosion. There was no earthquake. There was light. Suddenly, the afternoon sky over Kyoto changed color. The soft blue and white clouds were erased by an intense, vibrant emerald green glow that descended from the stratosphere like a giant stage spotlight.
It wasn't natural light. It was the solid light of Willpower. The Gion alley was bathed in green. Shadows lengthened and distorted.
The shop's spiritual sensors, small paper talismans hidden in the corners, began to hum with a high-pitched warning. Ping. Ping. Ping.
"Energy alert," Barda said, jumping to her feet, her hand instantly going to the Mega-Rod leaning against the wall.
"Apokolips?" Kara asked, jumping down from the ladder, her eyes scanning the ceiling.
Urahara stopped his abacus. He looked at the green light filtering through the open door. He sighed, a long, tired sound.
"No," Urahara said, taking off his glasses and leaving them on the counter. "Worse. Bureaucrats."
With a lazy wave of his hand, he turned off the sensor alarms.
"Ah, official visits. What a drag. And I haven't swept the entrance today."
Before Kara could ask what that meant, two figures descended from the sky. They landed in the alley, right in front of the shop door, with a controlled impact that kicked up a cloud of green dust.
They were two men. Or, rather, a man and a mountain. The man was tall, handsome in a classic American way, with brown hair and a square jaw that looked chiseled to smile on recruitment posters.
He wore a tight green and black uniform, with a stylized lantern symbol on his chest. An aura of green energy surrounded him, and on his right middle finger shone a power ring. Hal Jordan. The Green Lantern of Sector 2814.
Beside him, the mountain. He was a massive alien, with pink, rough skin and a face that resembled a very angry, very large bulldog. His Lantern uniform stretched over muscles that looked like rocks.
Kilowog. The Corps' drill sergeant.
They entered the shop. They didn't walk. They marched. Hal Jordan entered first, projecting an attitude of absolute authority. With a thought, his ring fired a beam of green light toward the shop's ceiling.
The light solidified, forming a giant, floating police badge spinning in the air, with the Green Lantern symbol shining for all to see. It was an entrance designed to intimidate. To say: The Law has arrived.
"Attention, occupants!" Hal announced, his voice amplified slightly by the ring to sound more heroic. "By order of the Guardians of the Universe, this facility is under official investigation."
He looked at Barda, then at Kara, and finally his eyes landed on the man in the hat behind the counter. Hal walked toward Urahara, chest puffed out.
"An Omega-level energy treaty violation has been detected at these coordinates," Hal said, pointing a light-gloved finger at Urahara.
"Sir, we need to see your license to operate weapons of mass destruction. Your interdimensional zoning permit. And an explanation as to why your shop is emitting an energy signature that is making Oa's sensors nervous half a universe away."
Kilowog crossed his arms behind Hal, growling.
"And don't try anything funny, poozer. We are authorized to use lethal force if the situation requires it."
Silence filled the shop. Kara looked at the Lanterns, then at Kisuke, with a raised eyebrow. Barda snorted, clearly unimpressed by the "space cops."
Urahara Kisuke didn't move. He didn't even get up from his stool. He simply picked up his teacup, took a noisy sip, and looked at Hal Jordan over the rim of the cup.
"My, my," Urahara said, his voice full of quiet amusement. "The Green Lantern Corps. The bearers of the light. The defenders of justice."
He set the cup on the counter with a soft click.
"Always so loud. Do they not teach you to knock on Oa? Or is the 'dynamic entry' protocol mandatory in basic training?"
Hal blinked. The shopkeeper's lack of fear threw him off. Usually, people got nervous when space police showed up.
"This isn't a social call, citizen," Hal said, hardening his tone. "This is a planetary security intervention."
"I know, I know," Urahara said, waving his hand dismissively. "It is a standard Code 44-Alpha procedure. 'Anomaly Containment and Risk Assessment'."
Urahara's smile widened.
"Written by Guardian Appa Ali Apsa... what? Three millennia ago? Just after the Manhunter crisis, if I recall correctly."
Hal and Kilowog stood frozen. The green aura around Hal flickered for a second.
"How...?" Hal began.
"I suggested the clause in sub-paragraph C," Urahara continued, as if recalling a funny anecdote with an old friend.
"The one that says 'civilians shall not be disintegrated nor private property damaged unless the universe is in imminent danger of collapse'."
Urahara leaned over the counter, his gray eyes shining with mischief under his hat.
"Tell me, Officer Jordan... is that clause still valid? Because my table is antique, and if you break it with those shiny rings, I am afraid I will have to file a formal complaint with Ganthet."
Kilowog opened his mouth, showing his teeth. "Who the hell is this guy?"
"That is the million-dollar question, isn't it?" Urahara said, picking up his abacus again.
"But before we start measuring power levels... does anyone want a candy? Mint ones help freshen breath after long space travel."
Hal Jordan looked at the shopkeeper. He looked at Kilowog. He looked at Kara, who was suppressing a laugh. He realized his heroic entrance had just been deflated by a man in sandals who seemed to know more about his own operations manual than he did.
And that annoyed him. A lot.
"Alright," Hal said, the ring glowing brighter. "If you want to do it the hard way... we'll do it the hard way."
His voice had that cadence of an action hero about to drop a one-liner before an explosion. He raised his right fist. The power ring, the most powerful weapon in the universe, shone with blinding intensity.
"Ring," Hal ordered. "Full spectrum scan. Penetration level: Molecular. I want to know what this guy had for breakfast, what kind of atoms make up this wood, and where he's hiding the nuclear reactor that's messing with my sensors."
COMPLYING, replied the ring's metallic voice.
A beam of emerald green light shot from the ring, aimed directly at Urahara Kisuke's chest. It should have been a cone of solid light, perfect and analytical. But the moment the light left the ring and entered the shop's airspace, something went wrong.
Very wrong. The light didn't travel in a straight line. It sputtered. The green beam flickered, twisted, and split like a high-voltage cable falling into a pool.
It sounded like a radio tuning static between two dead stations. KZZZT... FZZZT... POP.
The light beam didn't touch Urahara. It dissolved halfway, turning into wisps of green smoke that smelled of burnt plastic. Hal's ring let out a painful spark that burned his knuckle.
"Ouch!" Hal shouted, shaking his hand. "What the hell?"
He looked at his ring. The green light pulsed erratically, like an arrhythmic heart.
ALERT, said the ring, its voice sounding distorted and slow, like an old recording. ENVIRONMENT ERROR. ATMOSPHERIC DENSITY... NOT COMPATIBLE. INTERFERENCE IN EMOTIONAL SPECTRUM. WILLPOWER CANNOT... CANNOT... PROCESS...
The ring emitted a high-pitched screech and shut down for a second before rebooting. Kilowog, seeing his partner fail, growled.
"Give me that, poozer! Let a professional handle this!"
The massive alien raised his own ring.
"Containment cage! Now!"
Kilowog visualized an unbreakable steel box around Urahara. His will was a rock. His ring fired. The green cage began to materialize around the shopkeeper. Solid light bars appeared.
But instead of solidifying into indestructible emerald metal, the bars looked like... glass. Cheap, crack-filled glass. Urahara, who hadn't even moved from his stool, extended a finger and gently touched one of the light bars trying to form in front of his nose.
Ting.
The entire cage shattered. It exploded into thousands of green light fragments that fell to the floor like shiny confetti and vanished before touching the wood. Kilowog stood with his mouth open, staring at his giant hand.
"What...? My construct! It broke like it was made of sugar!"
Urahara sighed. He set his abacus aside and got off the stool. He walked around the counter, his sandals making a rhythmic sound on the floor. He stopped in front of the two confused Lanterns, looking at them not as threats, but as students who had failed a basic physics exam.
"It is a density problem, gentlemen," Urahara said, pulling out his fan and pointing at the shop's air. "You are used to operating in the vacuum of space, or in the light atmospheres of normal planets."
He made a gesture encompassing the whole shop.
"But this place... my shop... is saturated. It is filled to the brim with Reishi."
"Rei-what?" Hal asked, tapping his ring against his palm to try and get it to work.
"Spirit particles," Urahara explained patiently. "The matter souls are made of. The atmosphere here is conceptually denser than lead. Trying to project solid light through it is like trying to fire a bullet through a ten-meter block of ballistic gelatin."
Urahara stepped closer to Hal, ignoring the pilot's defensive stance. He grabbed Hal's wrist and lifted his hand to inspect the ring closely. Hal tried to pull away, but Urahara's grip was firm as iron.
"Let go!" Hal protested.
"Hmm," Urahara murmured, adjusting his glasses and looking at the green jewel with a critical eye. "Besides... the maintenance leaves much to be desired."
He pointed to a microscopic imperfection on the edge of the gem.
"You have a micro-fissure in the lateral focus channel. Probably from hitting something too hard without inertial dampeners."
Urahara released Hal's hand and looked at him with disapproval.
"Willpower is a powerful force, Jordan-san. But it needs a clean lens. If the lens is dirty or broken... the will scatters. Ganthet would be very upset if he knew you treated standard Corps equipment like this."
Hal Jordan turned red. Not red with shame. Red with fury. He was the greatest Green Lantern. He had saved the universe half a dozen times. He wasn't going to let a bucket-hat-wearing shopkeeper lecture him on how to take care of his ring.
"Enough!" Hal roared. "I don't need the ring to arrest you! I have my fists!"
Hal took a step forward, drawing his shoulder back to throw a very human, very physical right hook.
"Hal, wait!" Kilowog warned, noticing movement on the perimeter.
Too late. The air shattered with a sonic boom. A figure appeared between Hal and Urahara. She didn't touch the ground. She hovered ten centimeters off the wooden planks. It was Kara. But it wasn't the Kara who had been restocking candy.
Her eyes glowed an intense red, two miniature suns about to go supernova. Her hair floated around her head, charged with static. Her hand was extended, palm open an inch from Hal's chest.
"Take one more step, Jordan," Kara said. Her voice was low, calm, and absolutely terrifying. "Touch Kisuke. Try it."
Hal stopped, fist halfway. He looked at the Kryptonian girl. He knew Superman. He knew what they could do.
"And I swear to Rao," Kara continued, tilting her head, "that I will throw you so hard you will enter orbit around Mars before you can say 'Brightest Day'."
Behind her, the hum of a weapon charging was heard. Big Barda had jumped from the porch. She was standing next to Kilowog, her Mega-Rod aimed directly at the giant alien's chin.
"And you, big guy," Barda said with a savage smile. "Move and I will turn you into cosmic dust. I have taken down Furies bigger than you before breakfast."
The shop became a powder keg. On one side, two Green Lanterns without reliable powers. On the other, a furious Kryptonian and a New God warrior. And in the middle, a shopkeeper who had picked up his teacup again.
Kilowog looked at the Mega-Rod. He looked at Barda. He made a quick calculation.
"Hal," Kilowog grunted without moving his jaw. "We're outmatched. Tactically speaking... this sucks."
Hal looked at Kara. He saw she wasn't bluffing. He lowered his fist slowly.
"You are protecting a criminal, Supergirl," Hal said, trying to maintain authority. "This is obstruction of intergalactic justice."
"I am protecting my home," she replied, not lowering her guard. "And my family. You are the one who broke down the door."
"Technically, the door was open," Urahara pointed out from behind.
"Kisuke, you're not helping!" Kara scolded him without looking back.
Urahara chuckled softly. He set his tea on the counter with a click. The sound, though soft, broke the tension of the standoff.
"Please, please," Urahara said, walking into the center of the conflict, gently pushing Kara's arm down. "No one is throwing anyone to Mars. Fuel is very expensive these days."
He looked at Hal, then at Kilowog.
"And no one is arresting anyone. Because it would be terrible paperwork and, frankly, I do not have time for trials on Oa. The trip is incredibly long and the courtroom seats are made of hard stone. Terrible for the back."
"You have no choice," Hal said, though his stance was less aggressive. "The Guardians sent us. We can't go back empty-handed."
"The Guardians," Urahara repeated, nodding. "Your authority comes from them, correct? They are your bosses. Your creators."
He reached into the sleeve of his kimono.
"So..." Urahara said, pulling out an object that glowed with a crystalline, faceted light, "...let's let the bosses decide."
Hal and Kilowog stared at the object. It wasn't Earth technology. Nor was it Kryptonian or Apokoliptian. It looked like an Oan memory crystal, but older. Purer. Hand-carved, not grown.
"What is that?" Hal asked, eyes narrowing.
"This," Urahara said, holding the crystal up to catch the light, "is a direct line. Secure frequency. Founder-level encryption."
He smiled at the Lanterns.
"Ganthet gave it to me about three hundred years ago. Just after I helped him reorganize the Book of Oa filing system. They had a terrible bureaucratic mess with the Blackest Night prophecies. They had gotten lost in the 'Cooking Recipes' section."
Hal's jaw dropped.
"You have... Ganthet's personal number?"
"More or less," Urahara said.
He placed the crystal on the table burnt by Lobo (which still had char marks).
"Let's make a call. I think there is a misunderstanding regarding my 'villain' status."
Urahara tapped the crystal with his index finger. Ting.
The crystal vibrated. And a beam of pure, serene blue light projected toward the ceiling, beginning to form a giant holographic image in the middle of the candy shop.
The blue light emanating from the crystal wasn't the harsh, military light of Power Rings. It was a soft, ancient light, heavy with a wisdom that outweighed the gravity of a black hole. It condensed in the air, forming a three-meter-tall three-dimensional image floating above the scorched table.
The figure wasn't a warrior. It was a small being, pale blue skin, dressed in white ceremonial robes that looked made of woven starlight. He had a large, bald head, and white pupil-less eyes that had seen galaxies born and nebulae die.
Ganthet. One of the Guardians of the Universe. The immortal founders of the Green Lantern Corps. Hal Jordan and Kilowog reacted on pure conditioned instinct. Defiance vanished from their postures.
"Guardian Ganthet!" Hal exclaimed, snapping to attention and bringing his right fist to his chest in the official Corps salute. Kilowog did the same, his boots hitting the floor with a military thud.
"Sir!" barked the alien. "Sector 2814 secured! We are interrogating the anomaly!"
Ganthet's giant hologram didn't look at his soldiers. His ancient white eyes lowered toward the small, relaxed figure of the shopkeeper standing by the table. The Guardian's face, normally a mask of unshakeable stoicism, showed a crack of emotion.
Was it... weariness? Resignation?
"Urahara Kisuke," Ganthet said.
His voice didn't sound in the air, but directly in the minds of everyone present, resonating with the authority of a billion years.
"Why do you contact us using the Omega Frequency? Has it happened? Has the King's Seal broken? Has the Eternal Winter begun?"
Urahara laughed, waving his hand dismissively.
"No, no, Ganthet-san. Nothing so dramatic. The apocalypse is scheduled for next Thursday, if my schedule is correct."
Urahara pointed at the two Green Lanterns standing statue-still.
"I am calling about a personnel matter. Your boys are here. They barged in without knocking, threatened my staff, tried to cage me, and, unforgivably, broke a Ming Dynasty teacup."
Ganthet's gaze shifted slowly toward Hal Jordan. Hal swallowed hard. Suddenly, he felt like a first-year cadet caught crashing the training ship.
"Lantern Jordan," Ganthet said. His voice was calm, but held the weight of a falling mountain. "Is this true? Are you attempting to 'contain' the Entity Urahara?"
"Sir..." Hal began, his voice wavering. "We detected an unregistered energy signature. Omega Level. Security protocols in the Book of Oa dictate that..."
"Protocols," Ganthet interrupted, "have exceptions. Did you not read Amendment 7, Paragraph 4, Subsection 'Benign and/or Too Complicated to Deal With Anomalies'?"
Hal blinked. "The... what?"
"Urahara Kisuke," Ganthet declared, his voice echoing in the shop, "holds the status of Approved External Consultant and Independent Observer."
The Guardian sighed.
"His shop is... neutral diplomatic territory. It is not under Green Lantern Corps jurisdiction. In fact, it is not under the jurisdiction of standard physics in this universe."
Kilowog's jaw dropped.
"You mean we can't arrest him, sir?"
"I mean, Lantern Kilowog, that if you tried to arrest him, you would likely end up turned into something... unnatural. And the Corps does not have the budget to reconstruct your molecular structures from scratch."
Ganthet looked back at Urahara.
"My apologies, Kisuke. The Corps has been... tense. Since the Sinestro Corps War. They see threats everywhere."
"I understand, I understand," Urahara said magnanimously. "Just tell them next time to bring a visitation form. And maybe some cookies."
"Lantern Jordan. Lantern Kilowog," Ganthet ordered. "Withdraw. Immediately. Erase the readings of this sector from your patrol logs."
"But sir..." Hal protested, his sense of justice offended. "What is he? My ring couldn't scan him."
"And you should be grateful for that, Hal Jordan," Ganthet said, his image beginning to fade. "There is knowledge the ring cannot process without breaking. Urahara is... a story from another book."
The hologram flickered and went out. The blue light vanished, leaving the shop in the afternoon gloom. The silence that followed was thick and embarrassing. Hal Jordan lowered his arm slowly. His ring, which had been buzzing with contained energy, went dark.
He looked at Urahara. He looked at Kara, who was smiling with crossed arms. He looked at Barda, who was cleaning her nails with a dagger.
"Well," Hal said, clearing his throat. "I guess... I guess that's it."
He felt small. He had walked in like the sheriff of space and was walking out like a child scolded by his grandfather.
"I guess so," Urahara said.
The shopkeeper walked to the counter and picked up a brown paper bag. He approached Hal.
"Here," he said, offering it.
Hal looked at the bag suspiciously. "What is this? A bomb?"
"Sweets," Urahara said. "For the trip back to Oa. The journey is long and sugar helps with concentration."
Hal took the bag. It was heavy.
"And..." Urahara added, pointing to Hal's ring, "inside is a small cleaning kit. Spiritual microfiber cloth and a bit of polishing oil."
Urahara's expression turned serious for a second, the clown mask slipping.
"Seriously, Jordan-san. Fix that micro-fissure in the focus lens. Willpower is a powerful force, but if the tool is broken... the light scatters. And in your line of work, a moment of scattering is the difference between life and death."
Hal looked at his ring. He saw the tiny crack Urahara had pointed out earlier. He had never noticed it. He looked the shopkeeper in the eyes. He saw an intelligence that gave him chills.
"Thanks," Hal said, and this time there was no arrogance in his voice. Only confusion and a reluctant respect.
"Let's go, Kilowog," Hal said.
"Yeah. Let's get out of this madhouse," the alien grunted.
The two Lanterns stepped out into the alley. Green light enveloped them and they shot into the sky, breaking the sound barrier, fleeing the candy shop as fast as possible.
Kara stepped out the door, watching the green trails disappear into the atmosphere. She let out a laugh.
"I can't believe it," she said, turning to Kisuke. "You really organized their files? The oldest Space Police Corps in the universe?"
Urahara was back on his stool, cleaning imaginary dust from his abacus.
"Someone had to do it, Kara," he said with a dramatic sigh. "The universe is terribly mismanaged. They had expense reports mixed in with apocalypse prophecies. An administrative disaster."
He moved a bead on the abacus. Click.
"Besides," he added with a smile, "they paid me with access to their forbidden star map library. A fair trade."
Barda got up from the porch, putting away her magazine.
"You are a dangerous man, Urahara," the warrior said. "You have gods on speed dial and guardians eating out of your hand."
"I am just a friendly shopkeeper," he replied. "Now, if you will excuse me... I think I have to recalculate the budget for teacups. That Ming was irreplaceable."
Kara shook her head, smiling. She walked to the counter and stole a candy from Hal's bag (which Urahara, of course, had duplicated). Life at the Urahara Shop was many things. But it was never, ever boring.
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