Insignificant Interactions
A torn piece slid under the door, and it arrived in front of a young Kyomoto.
'Don't come out!' It read.
An alternate timeline? A connection to the past?
Tony could theorize, but he refused to rationalize at this moment. Because knowing what would happen next had become more important than understanding it.
In this timeline, Kyomoto never came outside when Fujino dropped by.
She continued drawing in her room, building walls of practice books around her, until her passion led her outside of that room and into the art school again.
"There's no way the writer will do it twice?" Tony was exasperated when the attacker came in with a pickaxe on 10th January 2016.
Was this some bullshit about fate and destiny? Because if it was, Tony was about to write a strongly worded review for this book and tear it down while stomping at it for good measure.
However, before the pickaxe could be swung on Kyomoto, Fujino came flying in, literally.
"When I karate kicked the guy, I fell and broke my own leg too. So lame, right?"
"Super lame, kid." Tony chuckled and scrolled as Kyomoto recognized Fujino.
In this timeline, Fujino had given up on manga in sixth grade and stuck with karate. However, Tony knew that wasn't true.
Even in this world, Fujino waited for that one person to approve of her dedication. And when she did, the words came out naturally.
"I picked it back up again. Be my assistant when I get serialized!"
"So, that's what this is about…" Tony had a small, almost dry smile on his lips.
Kyomoto went back home, alive and well, and reread all four of the four-panel manga Fujino had created. She had kept them all in a file. And while reading, she drew a four-panel manga of her own, one that the wind snatched and took to the grieving Fujino on the other side of the door.
'So nothing changes in the end.' Tony had held a little hope, but that was a futile attempt.
Fujino entered the room, looking at the state of it. The practice books, her manga, the reader survey, and at last the shirt she had autographed back in sixth grade. It still hung behind the door with great care.
To Fujino, drawing was a chore; it wasn't fun, and a big hassle.
Tony had felt the same these days; he was unable to handle the approaching death, lashing out and doing whatever.
But there was a part of him that wanted to continue.
Fujino did it because she got the approval of that one person who mattered to her, and she wanted to make her proud as they continued to laugh over dumb jokes while working together. That's why she picked up her pen and resumed drawing, so she would have more to talk about with her friend when the time inevitably came.
And Tony too had a reason why he wanted to continue onwards.
"Tony!" Pepper walked in as the doors flew open.
"Oh Pepper, you look gorgeous. Is that Chanel?" He stood up, looking at her with a big, wide smile.
"You cancelled the party." She cut straight to the point.
"Too loud, was getting on my nerves." He guided her to the sofa, making her sit down.
"Your eyes are red." She touched his face as he coughed.
"It was… dust. Nasty, I tell you." He said, holding her hand.
"I know you have a lot of questions; I am sure you do." He stared right into her eyes for a good moment, eyes that looked tired but more worried about him. "Look, I know I haven't been on my best behaviour, and there is a lot I want to tell you right now about why that has happened. But there is something I have to really do right now so that I can tell you all about it. Does that make sense?"
"No!" Pepper let out an exasperated sigh.
"Good… Why don't you think about it tonight, like right here, ok?" Before she could speak further, Tony kissed her cheek and ran away. Leaving her behind, stunned and alone.
Natalie watched Tony rush to the basement; he nearly tripped over himself as he went past Rhodey and looked at the collection of suits down there.
Looking at them over and over, he thought back on what he had read. That wasn't a redemption story. It wasn't a story about giving solace, or peace, or any of that crap.
In truth, it wasn't even a story about creating a manga, a bit disappointing since he quite liked that concept and the thought put into it.
Still, stripped down to its bare bones, that story only told about one thing.
"Jarvis, what is the probability that one insignificant interaction changes someone's life?" Tony walked over to his cluttered desk, picking up the frame pressed face down against the glass, right next to the framed photo of his mother.
"Defining 'insignificant' proves to be difficult, sir," Jarvis answered.
Tony chuckled; of course it was difficult. Which moment or action was insignificant? It wasn't something one could tell at the moment. He focused on the memories back in that cave in Afghanistan.
The dread he had then, but he was here now, wasn't he?
"Jarvis, pull the data on the elements for the replacement of the Palladium core."
"Sir, we have been through everything and so fa—"
"No, not everything." Tony's right hand, gripping the photo frame, refused to move, so he had to use his left hand and place the frame upright on his desk; it was a photo of his father. "There's still one place I haven't looked."
"As you wish, sir," Jarvis answered as panels fired off before him.
Tony wondered if Jarvis understood what his seemingly insignificant action of recommending that manga to him would lead to. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't?
'Guess we'll find out about it soon enough.' Tony watched the screens hover before him with a smile, a genuine one this time.
***
As Tony worked hard towards his answer, Gwen was swinging through the New York Boroughs, going towards the outskirts. Hearing the wind whistle past her as she released the string, reaching the peak of momentum, Gwen only had one thought in that weightless second.
'I want to read Look Back!' She was fuming, diving straight, piercing the air like an unbending arrow.
But as much as she wanted to go back home and read John Doe's new work, Gwen hadn't gotten a moment of rest since the Theatre incident.
Had someone caught onto her neighbourhood spiderwoman gig?
If they had, how, why, and when they did that mattered little. They had seen her with John. If they knew of her identity as Spiderwoman, there was a chance they'd try to go after him when she least expected.
"I don't want him to get roped into my mess." It was true that she had been trying to monitor him for the Bank mess; at least that was how it started, but that didn't mean she wanted him to get hurt because of her.
That's why she had been swinging around the city since their movie night and today too, trying to find this supposed stalker before they hatched a plan.
A night without any sleep did affect her focus in lectures, but John got her some coffee, so it was bearable.
'Maybe I can read Look Back with him; he is awfully good at catching the smallest of details.' Gwen looked at her left hand for a moment, flipping through the air.
"Focus on the task." She snapped, her voice entering a lower register as she landed on a lamp inside a junkyard.
Thankfully for her, the stalker seemed like the type to play around, leaving around a trail of crumbs for her to follow.
She looked at the piles of totalled cars in front of her, her eyes stopping on the man sitting on top of it. A sonorous shing of metal clicking against metal echoed, mirroring applause from a very unenthusiastic crowd.
"Welcome, Spiderwoman, I have been expecting you."
...
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