Psycho Dust


Ah, wait. If I’m going to tell this story, I should do it so people everywhere can read it.

Hello. My name is Atsuko Daisuke.

Atsuko Daisuke. 敦子大輔 At-su-koh Dy-Skay. No one who meets me outside of Japan ever gets it right. Not that I blame them – I don’t expect you to pronounce my name right when you don’t speak the language, so I’m not going to expect you to be perfect about it. But it still irks me, just a little bit.

Atsuko Daisuke. That’s me. Come on, humor me. Sound it out, say it out loud. Does it feel right yet? Confident enough to say it if we were to ever meet? Well, never mind. As long as you make the attempt, I’m happy. Oh, and Daisuke’s my first name. Not that I don’t answer to Atsuko, but I don’t want to confuse you too much.

Anyway, I’m Daisuke. Aside from my name, which I’ve said too many times now, you know nothing about me. For an introduction, I’ve pretty much failed at introducing myself. But I’m not going to describe myself in depth. I’m a guy, I think I’m pretty in shape and okay looking, and I have black hair and black eyes. That’s all you get outside of a police sketch. Got a mental image formed? Good, though it’s probably wrong. I bet it even looks better than I really do, so I’m flattered.

So, take the mental image of the guy named Daisuke who just started talking to you. I want you to picture him best you can. He’s wearing a ratty jacket that looks like it got caught in a fire and his face is covered in soot. His hair is a bit singed and his mood is really sour, like really sour. I just bit into a lemon and there’s a big nasty cut in my mouth that stings like a son of a mother when the lemon juice hits it kind of sour.

Okay, now I want you to picture him leaned against a wall in an alley. This guy Daisuke, he’s holding his arm, protecting it like it’s been broken or something. In the background, there’s a hospital. This hospital, it’s burning. Like, a raging inferno kind of burning with the sounds of wailing sirens and red fire trucks whizzing by and everything.

Don’t worry, everyone inside the hospital is out. Nobody is injured or anything – all the patients have been moved. But it’s still burning and out of control, and the fire fighters are doing the best the can to make sure it doesn’t rage anymore out of control and consume a whole city block or anything.

Got it pictured? Is the scene in your head?

Good. I’m was there, about twenty minutes ago. That really was me limping away from the burning building. I’m really looking as much as a mess as I described. Well, maybe worse – like I said, I’m probably more handsome in your mental image than I really am. Either way, the whole scene is a mess and its all as bad as it looks.

The worse part about it is I’m responsible for all of it. That fire was one I started with my own hands and I’m the reason this section of the city is sealed off and regarded as dangerous.

That’s me. I’m the dangerous arsonist Atsuko Daisuke. The mad criminal who tried to burn a city block down.

Don’t worry, I promise I had a good reason to do it. Its not like I burn down buildings to get my jollies or anything. Heck, I don’t even have a video camera right now. I’m not a sociopath. I might just be a hero, actually.

I know, its weird. You’re probably thinking “How can a crazy arsonist be a hero” or something. Well, while I did start a fire, I’m technically not an arsonist. In fact, if you search me right now you wouldn’t find any signs of a lighter or matches ever having been on my person. Heck, I don’t even smoke.

You see, that’s because I started the fire with my mind. I’m psychic, you see. Well, actually I’m an ESPer.

Stop that. I know you’ve got this weird look on your face. It’s crazy, I know, but not as crazy as you think. You see I…


You know what? I’ve got time. And its a long story, too long for me to sum up. I think I’ll just tell you it all and maybe, if I don’t get out of here, you can pass this story along. Let people know “Hey, that Daisuke was a pretty cool guy!”

This ain’t a story about me saving the world or anything like that. It ain’t a love story, it ain’t a shining accomplishment in human history, it ain’t even a glamorous scifi story that could be made into a movie some day. I’m just gonna tell you how everything led to me being half crippled and limping through an alleyway. It’s not the best story, but it’s sort of like my very short autobiography.

So, as I sit here, back against a wall in an alley, typing out the very brief history of my time as an ESPer on a cheap cellphone that shouldn’t even be working right now, I want you to remember that it’s just that. The story of a guy who happened to get involved in some stuff and is probably still sitting in that alley as you read all of this on a spiffy blog of his.

Heh. Listen to how unglamorous that sounds. I sound like the protagonist to some crummy noir novel. Maybe I should sell this a bit more in case it really does get made into a movie. Oh well.

Just like every Noir novel too, the story starts with a girl. Well, it starts earlier than that. But it all stems from me meeting her.

Yeah. The day I met that girl named Alice…I’ve been hating life ever since.


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