The apartment was a converted industrial loft in Chelsea, spacious but filled with the stagnant air of a place that hadn't really been lived in for weeks. Light unlocked the heavy steel door and ushered Gali inside.
She stepped in, her violet eyes scanning the room with the clinical detachment of a health inspector—or a predator assessing a new hunting ground.
"It's not much," Light said, tossing his keys into a bowl. "But it's secure."
He sat down on the leather sofa, burying his face in his hands for a moment. The adrenaline of the truck incident was wearing off, replaced by the cold, hard realization of what he had just done.
'I am an idiot,' Light thought, massaging his temples.
'I just brought a random child home. In New York City. This is how you get arrested for kidnapping.'
He looked up at the girl.
She was standing in the middle of the room, looking at a lamp as if she had never seen electricity before.
"Alright, Gali. Look at me," Light said, his voice serious.
She turned, her expression blank.
"If you're going to stay here—and that's a big if—we need to figure out your situation. I can't just keep a minor in my apartment. The police, child services... people ask questions. Do you have any family? An aunt? A grandmother? Anyone I can call?"
Gali blinked slowly. "I told you. My father is away. I have no other kin on this planet."
"Right, the 'away' father," Light sighed.
He assumed 'away' meant prison, or perhaps he was a deadbeat who bought a milk and was never able to return.
It wasn't uncommon. "What about school? Or a foster home? You had to come from somewhere."
"I... traveled," she said vaguely. "I do not require a specialized institution."
Light groaned internally. She was stonewalling him. Either she was a runaway who didn't want to go back to a bad situation, or she was in shock.
"Okay, look," Light said, standing up and pacing. "I'm going to let you crash here tonight because I'm not going to throw a kid out onto the street. But tomorrow, I have to make some calls. We need to find out who you are legally. I can't be your guardian just because I bought you a burger."
He looked at her small, fragile frame and felt a wave of self-recrimination. He was a businessman now. He was supposed to be conquering the media world, not running an unlicensed daycare for mysterious runaways.
"I'm an idiot," he muttered to himself. "A total idiot."
Gali tilted her head. "Your cognitive functions seem adequate."
"Thanks," Light said dryly. "Make yourself at home. Don't touch the stove. Don't open the door for anyone."
...
Light retreated to his drafting table in the corner of the loft, needing to drown his anxiety in work. The hum of the city filtered through the window.
He needed to build a backlog. One Punch Man wasn't just about the jokes; if he wanted to hook the Marvel Universe—a universe obsessed with heroism—he needed to show them what a hero actually was.
He accessed the System. Ghost Trace: Active.
He skipped ahead. The introductory arcs were fun, but he needed something with emotional weight to solidify the series in Andy's mind and the public's consciousness.
He began to draw the Deep Sea King arc.
His pen flew across the Bristol board. He wasn't drawing Saitama this time. He was drawing a cyclist. A man with no powers, wearing cheap plastic armor and riding a bicycle.
Mumen Rider.
The scene took shape under his hand: The rain pouring down on a destroyed city. The Deep Sea King—a towering, terrifying monster that had effortlessly crushed S-Class heroes—looming over the broken form of the Mumen Rider.
Scritch. Scritch.
The sound of the pen was rhythmic, hypnotic.
Light didn't hear the door creak open. He didn't notice the small figure standing in the doorway until a shadow fell across his desk.
Gali stood there, watching. She didn't speak. She just observed the ink forming on the page, her eyes tracking the movement of his pen.
She watched as Light drew the Mumen Rider standing up, bloodied and broken, facing a monster he had zero chance of defeating.
She read the dialogue in the speech bubble Light had just lettered.
("It's not about winning or losing! It's about me taking you on right here, right now!")
Gali frowned. The concept seemed to offend her logic.
"Why?" she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.
Light didn't stop drawing, assuming she was just being a curious kid. "Why what?"
"Why does he fight?" Gali pointed a pale finger at the Mumen Rider. "He is weak. He has no special abilities. That aquatic organism will terminate him in the next panel. It is illogical to engage in combat with a zero percent probability of victory. Why doesn't he flee?"
Light stopped. He looked at the drawing, then at the girl standing beside him.
"Because that's what a hero is."
"A hero is someone with superior firepower," Gali stated matter-of-factly. "Like the Captain America human on the television. They fight because they can win."
"No," Light said, turning his chair to face her. "That's a soldier. Or a weapon."
He tapped the image of the Mumen Rider.
"In this world—and in the one I'm creating—power doesn't make you a hero. It's the spirit. This guy knows he's going to lose. He knows he's going to get the crap kicked out of him. But he stands there anyway. He stands there because if he runs, nobody else is left to protect the people behind him."
Light looked into Gali's violet eyes, trying to explain humanity to a child who seemed strangely detached from emotion.
"Humanity is complex. We're fragile. We break easy. But sometimes, the weakest among us have the strongest will. That's the 'Charm' of this story. Saitama has god-like power but is bored. Mumen Rider has no power but has the heart of someone worthy of having power. That contrast... that's why this story is unique."
Gali stared at the drawing for a long time. She looked at the desperate determination etched into the Mumen Rider's ink-stained face.
"Humans are... inefficient," she concluded, her brow furrowing. "And strange."
Light chuckled, patting her on the head. "You're just a kid. You'll understand when you're older."
Gali stiffened slightly at the contact, her eyes narrowing. If Light knew who or what she was, he would have been trembling in terror. To call a being of her nature 'young' was an insult of cosmic proportions.
But she didn't smite him. Instead, she felt a familiar twisting sensation in her midsection.
Grrrrrrrr.
The sound was like a subway train passing directly under the floorboards. The vibration rattled the pens on the desk.
Light froze. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
"Gali."
"My energy reserves are depleted," Gali said, clutching her stomach, her face devoid of shame. "The efficiency of Earth food is remarkably low."
Light looked at the clock. It had been three hours since she ate five thousand calories worth of burgers.
"You're going to bankrupt me before I even release the first issue," Light groaned, standing up. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
Gali looked up at him, a faint, almost innocent smile playing on her lips. "I require sustenance, Guardian."
Light grabbed his wallet, resigned to his fate. "Fine. But first of all, you talk weird. Second, we're getting pizza this time. Volume over quality. And tomorrow? We are definitely finding out where you came from."