But I could see it. I could see the desperate, agonizing hope shining in her green eyes.
The corporate curse had made me so pathetic, so utterly self-deprecating, that a literal wish from a god was making me hesitate. I was so used to being the punchline that I forgot I was allowed to be the captain of my own life.
I looked down at my silver hands.
I thought about Sam and Dean. I thought about wanting to play catch with them without accidentally denting the baseball into shrapnel. I thought about wanting to actually hug the woman I loved and feel her body heat, instead of pressing cold, unfeeling steel against her delicate skin. I thought about wanting to say her name out loud, just once, before I died.
I could see it in my mind, the kind of future we had and we could have.
I turned back to the massive golden dragon hovering in the sky.
I raised my fists, clenching them tight. I steeled my heart, forcing down the crushing pessimism and the corporate programming that had dictated my life for the last seven years.
I tilted my head back and tried to open my mouth.
The magical branding that held my vocal cords hostage fought back. The corporate curse burned in my throat like swallowing acid, demanding I shout its slogan. It was a physical agony, a tearing sensation deep within my core, grinding my gears together in violent protest.
But the love of my found family, and the warmth of the woman standing behind me, pushed me past the threshold.
"P... pe... please..." I stuttered.
I looked up into the eyes of a god, tearing the silver mask over my mouth.
'Make me human.'
Super Shenron's massive red eyes flared with a blinding, crimson light that illuminated the entire restored planet.
"IT IS MY HONOR TO GRANT THIS WISH, NOBLE HERO."
The colossal dragon's body glowed with a radiant, golden intensity before dissolving into trillions of cascading motes of light. The sheer brilliance of the divine magic was so blinding I had to raise my metallic arms to shield my face.
The magic washed over me.
It wasn't painful. There was no explosion, no agonizing tearing of flesh and metal. It felt like a warm, summer rain washing away a layer of grime I had worn for a lifetime.
A profound silence settled over the crater.
When the blinding golden light finally dimmed, the heavy gravity of the dragon's presence vanished with it.
I slowly lowered my arms and rubbed my eyes, bracing myself to hear the familiar, hollow clink of metal scraping against metal.
Only I didn't hear it.
Instead, I felt a strange, alien sensation.
friction. Softness… and Warmth?
I heard the collective gasps and shocked murmurs of the group around me. I opened my eyes, blinking against the stinging glare of the actual sunlight, and my gaze fell to my hands.
They… they weren't silver!
They were pale and fleshy yet unmistakably human hands. I could see the blue and green veins running under my skin and physically feel the rhythmic thud of blood pumping through my wrists. I could even feel the cool evening breeze brushed against the microscopic hairs on my arms.
The metallic silver visor that had served as my vision for years was gone. The world wasn't monotone anymore.
'Huh?' I thought, my brain struggling to process the visual input as I stared at my own arms. 'Whose hands are...'
My thoughts were violently interrupted by a sudden weight crashing into my back.
Two soft arms wrapped desperately around my chest. For the first time in what felt like eternity, I felt the physical warmth of human contact. The steady, frantic beating of another person's heart pressed directly against my spine.
I turned my neck as I felt the muscles and tendons in my shoulders stretch and pull.
Mary buried her face into my shoulder. She was sobbing, crying her heart out, her hot tears dampening my bare skin.
I panicked and quickly turned my body to catch her, to hold her and calm her down. I opened my mouth, muscle memory bracing for the accursed corporate slogan to fall out.
"Mary," I said.
My voice was hoarse. It was deep and slightly raspy, rough from years of disuse, and trembling with a terrifying vulnerability.
But it was mine. My voice.
Mary gasped. We both froze, shocked by the sound of her name coming from my lips.
"Is it... is it really you, babe?" Mary asked.
She stepped back just enough to look up at my face. Her hands were shaking violently as she reached up and gently cupped my cheeks. Her thumbs brushed against my real skin, feeling the rough stubble on my jawline.
"It's... it's been so long, and I've always wanted to ask you this," she sobbed, her voice breaking into a wet hiccup. "But... what's your real name, honey?"
I looked down into her tear-filled green eyes and couldn't help but pull her completely into my embrace. I wrapped my human arms around her waist, feeling the soft fabric of her clothes, and buried my face into her blonde hair. I inhaled deeply, smelling the sweet scent of vanilla.
"It's me, Mary," I whispered, my voice now stuttering. "Satoru. My name is Satoru Shujinko. And I love you, Mary Winchester."
The dam broke.
Tears spilled from my eyes, running freely down my cheeks for the first time in seven years. The suffocating burden deep in my chest, the metallic cage that had trapped my soul, the corporate brand that had erased my entire identity, was gone.
I wept into her shoulder, unashamed. I held onto the woman who had saved my humanity long before the dragon ever did, sobbing out seven years of silent grief.
"Oh, Satoru," Mary sobbed, half-crying and half-blushing from my very first verbal confession. She kissed my jaw, her hands frantically tracing the organic muscles of my back. "The boys... oh my god, the boys are going to be so excited to meet you like this."
I nodded eagerly, pulling back to look at her face. I couldn't stop a watery, idiotic smile from spreading across my lips.
"Ahem."
Master John interrupted the emotionally raw moment with a loud and very intentional cough.
"Uh, Satoru, my guy?" Master John called out.
I looked over. Master was rubbing the back of his neck, looking pointedly away from us and gesturing awkwardly toward my waist.
"I am incredibly happy for you, truly. It's a beautiful moment," Master continued, a wry grin playing on his lips. "But you might want to put something on if you want a healthy, non-traumatizing relationship with those boys."
I paused.
And slowly looked down to where he was pointing.
My newly restored body finally caught up to the reality of the situation.
In order to release me from the curse, the dragon had stripped the metallic suit away.
But the suit was my garb.
I was standing in the middle of a crater, entirely butt-naked in front of my boss, my found, the Director of the Global Defense Agency, and the woman I loved.
Meruem blinked, tilting his head in genuine alien confusion. Sebas politely turned his back, staring intently at a pile of rubble. Cecil just pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, exhausted groan.
All the blood in my body rushed to my cheeks. The overwhelming embarrassment, a mundane, human emotion I hadn't felt since I was a debt-ridden salaryman, hit me like a freight train.
Before I could cover myself and die of pure mortification, Master John chuckled and snapped his fingers.
A beam of purple energy, released from his index finger, hit my chest.
Instantly, simple clothes materialized over my naked body as a comfortable pair of black joggers, a soft white T-shirt, and a warm grey jacket.
'Was that his Clothes Beam?' I gasped.
I was fascinated by the feeling of the soft cotton resting against my skin. The old, nostalgic sensory inputs came rushing back all at once. The texture of the fabric, the slight chill in the air, the way the dirt felt beneath my bare feet.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, and unfiltered air filled my organic lungs. It was an immediate mistake. The air tasted like ozone, vaporized rock, and alien blood.
I instantly doubled over, coughing terribly as my unused lungs rejected the sudden influx of warzone ash.
I felt a firm smack on my back.
"Here, have some."
I looked up, wheezing. Master John was standing on my left, holding out a chilled glass bottle of Pepsi.
I looked to my right. Mary was standing there, wiping her tears, offering me an ice-cold can of Coca-Cola with a playful, mischievous smirk.
I looked at the two sodas. The two corporate brands that had defined my hell, forged my strength, and ironically brought me to the love of my life.
I looked at my Master, and then at Mary.
For the first time in seven miserable years, an unburdened smile broke across my human face.
"Fuck nah," I laughed, my voice rough but entirely my own. "Get me an ice-cold beer."
[A/N]:
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