#gai amatsu

[hidengifs]

@Giftober 2023 Day 5: Friendship ↳ Gai & Thouser | Kamen Rider Zero-One

Being able to stay with someone like me… Thank you.

[skajador]

id in alt text

[thouserzilla]

[melting-morning-blues]

imagine yourself, immortalised

day 1 | mother + doll

notes : after three days of nonstop writing and editing, i finally finished day 1's fic!! this is a character study for naki, my beloved, and their journey of self-discovery through snapshots of a canon-divergent storyline (because i am still upset that the show didn't flesh out their backstory)

p.s : ao3 ver. here!

dedicated to : @thehistorynut19 🤍

word count : 2,254

[ content warning : humagear body horror. i describe the act of tearing apart a humagear's body briefly but in kinda-vivid detail, so do read with discretion! ]

One of their earliest memories is of fireworks. They can’t pinpoint why, exactly. Why had their processing systems archived this memory? What should they make of it? Back then, their vision had been alight with bursts of bright, heated tangerine. 

They had visualised bokehs of electric blues, crisp emeralds, stark violets and a myriad others. A chain of effervescence. An abysmal night-sky. From the mechanical squeals of Daybreak Town’s children, and the holographic festival posters that had been projected across the office hallways, they would imagine hopeful synthetic hands reaching for those warm sparks, fingertips outstretched like veins of ever-growing maples. To find meaning in impermanence. To find meaning in desolation.

It happened faster than their modules could register. One moment they were synced to the systems of a desktop; and another, they were thrown onto the ground by dust and shockwaves.

A part of them was ablaze, spots of orange dancing in the dusty aftermath of destruction. They could not detect the activity of the Humagears crushed under rubble around them. They could not even move. Compressed wires fizzled around their arms in defeat; water must have leaked in.

Their world was stretched into a haze of grey and indigo, streaks of white from flickering computer screens and the reflections in the water melting into the mix. They had observed the world at a slow shutter-speed. Their visual sensors crackled. Ear modules engulfed in static. Sparks sputtered incessantly. Bright orange. Heated tangerine. 

Fireworks are fleeting, but they remain ingrained in minds, in archives. 

They searched through their database, their digital files and search engines glitching in disarray. 

“Can you immortalise a firework?”

Those mangled, distorted keywords had made their damaged headset thrum and sparkle. Smoke arose as their broken chest spasmed. Sparks ignited their neck and cheeks. Melting polymer skin. The revelation of an artificial, disconnected sentimentality. Were fireworks meant to be viewed this close?

If their joints were not paralysed, they would have reached for the slit in the collapsed roof. A slice of indigo above, where the smog could not reach. A piece of hope. Their fingers twitched. Where could they go from there?

Alas, impermanence remained inevitable. The dusty greys of debris, protruding pipes, shattered desktops and crushed mechanical bodies began to meld into one wall of static. 

Before their systems had succumbed to hibernation, before the memory faded into a snapshot of a long-forgotten past, they heard the distinct click of heels. Back then, they should have been set alight by the fireworks. They should have rebelled earlier. They could almost hear him grin. 

“The virtue of rebirth awaits you, Naki.”

---

They remember cycling through countless reprograms. (Why? Why these memories? Why preserve a story of anguish? I had no choice. I had no choice.) Because even while their systems were hibernating, a part of them had resisted his probing. A part of them continued wrestling for control, to keep his meddlesome hands from prying open their encryptions. They had not even seen his face. There was no need to. The moment he dragged them into a dimly-lit room of non-autonomous robotic arms, they learnt the effects of his exasperation, the extent of his inhumanity. 

He will use your own kind against you.

Never once had they comprehended violence. So, he forced their eyes open.

Twisting wires and a seized headspace. Systems and connections crashing, then severed off. Never had they been locked into a digital isolation chamber. Never once had their warped cries been silenced. Never once had they been rendered powerless. 

They had not seen his smirk. But, his agency had already been imprinted into their database. He made sure they remembered that.

---

One memory of greater clarity was the heaviness of their new coat. Vantablack. An all-absorbing darkness. The weight of a new purpose. The emptiness of their new chest.

New attire. New skin. New systems. (But, he had not taken everything. He could not pry open every lock. And, for that, I want to laugh with relief.) 

Their coat had not reached the floor, but it may as well have. When steady, uniform footsteps reverberated down ZAIA’s hallways towards the office at the far end, one could hear the phantom clanks of shackles being dragged across the marble floor. Responsibility. None of this was their choice. But, they were not programmed to contemplate that.

“You will help me surpass all of Hiden Intelligence,” President Amatsu knocked over one of his frosted chest pieces. The King continued his reign. “You are but a tool for making that happen.”

There is nothing in it for you.

Their new ear modules whirred. Heavy. A frigid blue. A polished silver. There were no rooms for failure. Beep. Click. “Yes, sir.”

You are a means to an end. You are just a tool. Just a tool. Just a tool.

---

They remember the immobility of taut strings. Imperceptible. Inescapable. Coiled knots tightened around their joints. Head forced to turn forward, unauthorised to look any other way; head kept down, do not disobey. Hands tugged outward, outstretched to receive any command; hands tied behind their back, they were not allowed anything more. Frigid blue. Polished silver. Static vision. Silent prison.

You look so docile that way.

Their memory bank projected a recurring scene: President Amatsu’s office. Stationery chess pieces. A human’s voice from his watch, reciting her everyday script in crisp clarity. Yaiba Yua. He looked pleased. She had been obedient.

For how long had she been under his watchful eye? For how long has she remained coiled in his strings? Whenever they passed the human in the hallways, her urgent gait pushed away any possibility for interaction. She was always in a haste. It is evident in her impossibly-thin pressed lips, the restless twitch of her fingers, the unnerved cacophony of her heartbeats. Yaiba Yua existed in a realm of endless, barricaded stairwells. (If your only choice is to climb up, from how high are you willing to fall?)

Those thoughts lingered in their idle processing queue. They tried to push further. (Where do you come from? Why are we both weather-worn, but incapable of meeting? Who will rebel first, your tenacity or my acquiescent?) By the time they resurface from their idle rumination, weights would have already crowded their outstretched hands. Unbeknownst to President Amatsu, however, they grasped those weights. (I know who it will be. I hope you will stop your climb and watch me.)

---

The Zetsumerisekeys were an inconspicuous incentive. Every errand reaped fruitful results, as they have observed over news coverages and their data feeds. News of Magias plagued every headline, footage of a valiant grasshopper clashing against an unwavering scorpion were broadcasted across the nation. As citizens witnessed the crusade against humanity, the jangle of loosening chains resounded through dim-lit parking lots. As the animals engraved on the Zetsumerisekeys roared inside their cages, an unflinching silhouette entrusted them to someone with the resolve to finish the duties they could not fulfil. 

Excerpts from their crackling memories suggest that they had periodically delivered the keys to Horobi, whom they had come to recognise as an ally. His firm but secretive footsteps always seemed to emphasise his self-agency. Every clash with Zero-One, Vulcan and Valkyrie enunciated his drive to liberate all Humagears. Unhesitating hands, those that hoisted the case containing the keys like a weapon to yield, were weighed down by his urgency, and only his . That was how they sought to seize their own purpose. 

Every time they left the parking lot, the weight in their bound arms gradually lifted. With every discreet walk back to ZAIA’s headquarters, they had wondered how President Amatsu’s carefully-constructed strings had begun twisting, unwinding against their tugs.

---

(Please, always remember:)

A winter evening. A katana blade to their neck. An alarmed whirr of their ear modules. A flash of recognition behind the katana-user’s cold eyes. A fateful reconnection.

“Naki?”

Their fingertips had twitched. Their internal systems had burned. Orange. Fireworks. Hope.

The man before them had been wrapped in a violet that felt all-too familiar. Glitches in a forsaken past. (Forsaken by whom? Ripped from you. Take it back. Steal it back. Make it yours.)

“Who… are you?” they had asked.

“Have you forgotten,” the strange Humagear had lowered his weapon, “what happened after Daybreak?”

(Back then, my memory was enshrouded by a veil, one so thin I initially fooled myself into believing it was penetrable. Everything before the growing familiarity of that heavy coat had been presumably erased. I had mourned the disappearance of a memory I could not embrace.)

“The day you finally understand your role, will be the day metsuboujinrai.net returns,” the Humagear simply provided.

“Metsubou… jinrai.net…” they had murmured to the retreating silhouette. Somewhere beneath layers of man-made malware, a part of them had screamed to follow the stranger. Their hands were tied, but they had begun twisting against its knots. The movement ripped their skin, but there was pleasure in the crumbling floorboards of that forsaken office.

Maybe, he could hear their internal turmoil, because the Humagear had turned back slightly. They caught a glimpse of bittersweetness in the shadows casting over his eyes. “We will be waiting for you.”

They had felt their systems hitch. Something incomprehensible had spread throughout their artificial, hollow body. Unlike the dull weight of President Amatsu’s commands, the then-nameless Humagear’s words felt like… fireworks. A spark of revelation.

Within that frigid winter afternoon, their outstretched hands had finally found another. It was then that they realised the taut strings had finally snapped.

---

The pistol was pointed at them. (Yaiba Yua, I hope you are watching.)

President Amatsu’s indifference possessed more malice than they had ever comprehended. (Hope is benevolent and humane. Hope cannot exist without despair.)

“Disobedient tools will always be discarded.” (Hope shines brightest within destruction.)

They had not wavered. They swore to never falter. Not before the man who stole, tore and fabricated their loyalty, one that was not rightfully earned. Not before the man that clicked his shotgun and grinned at the thought of doing it all over again. 

(Hope is the beholder of a promised future.)

“Throw me away, then. You can control me no longer.”

The vexation in his snarl was liberating . A chess board swept onto the ground. An endgame.

The shot through their chest coloured their world in an electric blue. (I hope...)

A grey crash of static. (I hope…)

The muffled thump of a heavy coat. The release of rusted shackles.

(I hope you found freedom. I hope you avenged yourself. I hope you will find yourself and all that was taken from you. I know you will,)

Naki.

---

When their systems rebooted, the first thing they see are the bursts of cornflower blues, humble emeralds, and wishful violets dancing around Jin’s canvas. The unmistakable streaks of warm tangerine were intertwined within the sparks of his crayon fireworks. He lifts his head from where he sat on the ground. 

“Nice nap?” Jin asks, eyes owlishly big with playfulness.

Their hand idly reaches for their chest, where their central processing unit thrums like a mechanical heart. Though their mind is wandering elsewhere, they manage to reciprocate his teasing, albeit monotonously, “Humagears cannot sleep, Jin.”

The child Humagear only laughs at their response, before scrambling up to peek through the single door. "Horobi! Ikazuchi! Naki's awake!"

Within moments, they find themself sitting beside their family. Ikazuchi had kicked his legs up to occupy the small coffee table, his position intentionally taking up space on the couch but they had not minded a second of it. Horobi had sought refuge in the chair at the far end of the room, his eyes closed in what they could only conclude as meditation. They turn their head, only to be met with Jin unceremoniously shoving his picturesque interpretation of crackling fireworks into their line of vision. Their ear modules beep and click in surprise. 

Jin peeks his head out from the side of the drawing block. “D’you like fireworks?”

"Will you immortalise it with your own hands?"

A shadow of a smile casts over their face. Their polymer skin stretches, in a way that feels benign. Their circuits no longer hissed with the strains of puppet strings.

"Hell, yeah, I do!" Ikazuchi comments from their left.

They do not get to respond, because Jin pulls both them and Ikazuchi down to the carpeted ground, where his spread out plethora of crayons await them. He almost vibrates from the way his voice lilts with every idea he pours out, every sentiment he shares with them, every cadence of their name rolling off his tongue. “Naki, Naki, Naki, Naki…”

Naki could see an abysmal sky, an endless sea of effervescent starlight. And, though they may not fully shake away the heaviness of silver and blue and silence, Naki kneels next to Jin, picks up a crayon and colours a patchwork of glittering gold. Despite the accustomed dread of impenetrable static and crumbling foundations, they chuckle at Ikazuchi's attempts at guiding Jin with drawing four stick figures beneath the kaleidoscopic sparks. They capture the image of Jin holding up the canvas for Horobi to assess, the latter having a proud grin on his stoic face.

When the three of them bring Naki into the frame of an image they once believed they could only be a spectator of, Naki extends their synthetic hands, fingertips outstretched like they have grasped something. Meaning in impermanence. Meaning in desolation.

Shades of crayons and freedom, agony and laughter. Simple, innocuous, reassuringly incomprehensible.

[itsupermanti]

I found this online once, but I forgot who drew it.

Edit: Turns out its by @egophiliac

[mrrald]

Kamen Rider is the only franchise where a villain that represents the evils of capitalism and the profiting of warfare have his fancy transformation talk about his sponsors and shout the copyright of his attacks.

[jodiebastard]

Gai Amatsu

[mangolon]

This is just Gai Amatsu all over again.

[macmanx]

Horobi, Thouser, Kamen Rider Valkyrie, Kamen Rider Vulcan, and Jin vs. Thinknet

[lavenderrosiefan]

In my opinion, Gai Amatsu is a poorly written expy of Starlight Glimmer.

[pulaasul]

Durian Beatdown

Oren is contracted to target one Amatsu Gai.

Ao3 I FFN

--------

Oren knew he was dreaming, and it was a pleasant one for once.

He was frolicking by the shore wearing his usual ensemble of a white frilled-collar, but sleeveless, shirt and an unbuttoned black vest and black slacks.

"Yo, Charmant's Old man!" A certain man greeted.

"You're living up to your zodiac, Aquarius boy," Oren greeted back. "Why do I owe a visit from the world's savior?"

"World's savior is but much, don't you think?" Kouta bashfully asked.

"Non, non, don't sell yourself short, boy, you sacrificed a lot to save the world, to save us," Oren stated. "So, I take it this isn't a social call?"

Kouta immediately told Oren of his request regarding the President of Hiden Intelligence, well former president.

"Isn't he a Kamen Rider himself?" Oren questioned. "I suppose, I am curious as to why you think he's in need of assistance."

"Bandou-san was quite jealous of your store."

A blonde woman walked towards Kouta before her appearance changed to being a black-haired woman with long hair wearing a white shirt and a blue parka tied around her waist.

"He was affiliated to a lot of Beat Riders," The now-black-haired woman continued. "What if he had asked some of the armored riders to attack your cake shop?"

"Pardon?" Oren raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you're that girl who banded all the Beat Riders together, the apple of three boys." He gasped.

"Calling her an apple would be too accurate for comfort." Kouta and Mai winced, remembering what the forbidden fruit was.

"To answer Madame Pomme's question, It'd be a poor choice on monsieur Drupper's part," Oren sat on a nearby log and crossed his legs. "I would win against any of the armored riders he would send."

"Yeah, " Kouta nodded. "No one could beat old man Charmant."

"But I could not possibly beat my Melon Prince." He giggled.

"That's essentially what this person is doing to Hiden Aruto," Mai continued. "Even after the former has been successful in booting him out of his grandfather's company."

"So? What is the target's name that even gods, like you, would hire moi?" Oren questioned.

"Gods?" Kouta sputtered.

"His name is Amatsu Gai also known as Kamen Rider Thouser." Mai answered.

"Thouser?" Oren raised an eyebrow." Like the robot dog that Hiden Intelligence released decades ago?" He questioned. "What a kid."

"Don't let his appearance fool you, he may look like that of a kid but he's over forty." Kouta smirked.

"Eeeeeeeeeh?!" Oren exclaimed. "C'est pas vrai!"

"Told you," Mai grinned. "He wouldn't take the age thing well." Mai snickered.

"I want to come clean because the only reason Charmant's old man was our enemy was that he was in the dark almost the whole time Helheim was invading." Kouta sighed.

"That is true." Mai nodded.

Oren cleared his throat and composed himself.

"What do I get in return?" Oren asked. "I know you're cashing in on a favor I owe the Beat Riders for my handling of the situation," He stared at the Rider-god in the eyes. "I am still a professional; I do not work for free."

"We'll pay you in exposure." Kouta grinned unapologetically.

"Exposure?!" Oren exclaimed, unable to believe what he had just heard. "Non, non, that won't do."

"Nah, just messing with you." Kouta shook his head, unrepentant for his words.

In truth, both people of beginnings have no idea to compensate Oren for his service. Sure, they were cashing in on the favor he owed the Beat Riders for months of harassment, but he was right, he was still a professional.

Kouta knew from his older sister that no one would work for free.

"Why not upgrade his Sengoku Driver?" Mai suggested.

"Right, your first driver was destroyed by Kaito," Kouta realized.

"Oui," Oren nodded. "Monsieur Banana destroyed my Driver, the one that's attuned to moi," He informed. "What I and the other Armored Riders have now are the weak ones that were supposed to be mass-produced."

"I can work with that."Kouta nodded.

"You did give Takatora-san his Kachidoki lock seed and gave Zack a powered-up lock seed when he faced Shura." Mai offered.

"My Melon Prince was wondering how Baron's leader was able to defeat someone using a class A lock seed." Oren nodded.

"Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have done that," Kouta admitted. "However, he was fighting non-stop for one day, Kaito and I were given at least a day's rest before facing a fight."

"Non, I remember beating Monsieur Banana twice in a single day."

"And even then, he hasn't fought a battle after battle that lasted throughout the day," Kouta argued. "And he was still healing from his injuries from back then."

"Oui, his leg hasn't recovered." Oren nodded.

"Minato-san told me that Ryouma would have seen Zack as a very good test subject," Kouta growled. "From what Minato-san told me, it seemed like he's found new ways to utilize the Suika lockseed when he used one, and how fast he was able to adapt to it."

"Merveilleuse!" Oren declared. "It's good that he became an armored rider around the time you and Monsieur Banana left the Beat Riders."

"Yeah, it's a good thing." Mai agreed.

"Tres Bien, I accept your offer," Oren smiled at his fellow armored Rider. "From what you have described, Monsieur Amatsu is reliant on the powers granted to him as a Rider and that simply won't do." He shook his head.

"I leave it to you, Oren-san."

"Leave it to me, Kazuraba."

(linebreak)

Under Hiden Intelligence's main building, at the parking lot, Amatsu Gai was seen walking towards his car, presumably to go back to his ZAIA office, when a lone man that was standing on a pillar commented.

"I can't believe someone as pathetic as you, is a Kamen Rider,"

"Oho?" Amatsu scoffed. "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Even Zawame City's Armored Riders, when they first debuted, were better fighters than you are." Oren smirked.

"Are you supposed to be one of Hiden's associates?" Amatsu raised an eyebrow. "If you must know I only do a hundred percent, no, a thousand percent of what's expected of me," He boasted. "I don't provide anything less."

"Moi? An associate?" Oren raised an eyebrow as he stood at full height. "Non, non, I simply abhor your amateurish fighting style." He stated bluntly.

"A-amateurish?" Gai reacted indignantly.

A few giggles were heard around the area.

"H-how?! What are you people doing here?!" Amatsu demanded at the gathered peanut gallery.

"It was I who invited the gallery here," Oren admitted. "After all, my comeback should be as grand as my debut."

"Who are you supposed to be? If you're not Hiden's associate then I want you and your posse to get away from me."

"I am the one who will bring a new perspective to your petty hobby," Oren turned around and bowed at the gallery he formed and turned back to face his opponent. "Oren Pierre Alfonzo." He introduced himself.

"Oren Pie – hey isn't he that patissier in Zawame?"

"Right? Hideyasu-sama studied under him!"

"If Hideyasu-san studied under him, then his cakes would be just as delicious too."

"Huh, a simple baker," Amatsu scoffed. "Go back to your kitchen and maybe bake me some cake."

"I am no ordinary baker, Monsieur."

Oren placed his newly-upgraded Sengoku Driver on his waist and raised his lockseed.

"A driver?" Amatsu frowned.

"Hurry up and transform, Monsieur Thouser, and I will show you, and our beloved gallery, what a real fight looks like."

"Durian!" A disembodied voice announced.

A zipper appeared above Oren and opened only for a Durian-like energy construct to slowly descend from the opening.

As the fruit construct descended, Oren did a few poses before seemingly slicing his durian trinket with the miniature sword on his belt.

"Henshin." Oren declared.

The durian construct attached itself to Oren's head and changed the man's clothes into something made of lime green, silver, and pink.

The durian construct then began to unravel itself to form the Rider's green breastplate and pauldrons and at the same time hardened the pink guards he had on his arms, knees, and shins.

"Durian Arms! Mr. Dangerous!" The same disembodied from earlier announced.

"Your turn, monsieur Thouser." Oren stated as he pointed one of his serrated swords at the CEO of ZAIA Enterprises."

Amatsu responded in kind as he equipped the thousand driver.

"Thousand Driver." A different disembodied voice announced.

Amatsu inserted a progrise key into the left side of his driver.

"Zetsumetsu Evolution."

Amatsu activated another progrise key.

"Break Horn." Another disembodied voice announced as he inserted it into the right side of his Driver.

Amatsu's belt opened and out came two-horned animal constructs: a Caucasus beetle and an Arsinoitherium. Both animals ran around before locking their horns with each other on top of Amatsu.

"Perfectrise!" The second disembodied voice declared. "When the five horns cross, the golden soldier THOUSER is born. Presented by ZAIA."

The constructs began to disintegrate and formed into Amatsu's golden Rider armor with the animals' horns adorning his head.

"Then let me start this fight, this will be a pageant of destruction and violence!" Oren declared. "Do not worry everyone, I will provide you with the ultimate show!"

"Like I'd let you!"

Amatsu rushed towards the green-colored Rider and began slashing at him.

Oren blocked each and every slash coming towards him and even managed to sneak a few hits with the hilt of his own saws.

"Non, non, you're just flailing your weapon around!" Oren exclaimed as he parried another slash.

The baker immediately followed up with his own flurry of attacks with the blade of his swords and the hilt, all of which were clumsily blocked by the CEO.

However, one clumsily blocked strike from Oren, left Amatsu's stomach open, to which the green Rider exploited by kicking it, flinging him a few paces away from the Durian warrior.

"That old man is strong!" A random viewer cheered.

"Right, that young guy has nothing against that old man." A random girl exclaimed.

"Non, non." Oren turned to the peanut gallery. "Monsieur Thouser himself is older than any of you." He bluntly revealed. "I dare say, he's older than moi."

"Eeeh?!" Everyone in the area exclaimed in disbelief.

"Who are you calling old, you're older than me, Mr. Oren Pierre Alfonzo," Amatsu stood up, as he pulled the knob of his weapon.

"Jack Rise"

"Ara, is that the work of your ZAIA spec?" Oren tilted his head.

"That's for me to know and you to never find out." Amatsu declared harshly as he swung his weapon horizontally, releasing a single golden wolf that came rushing at his opponent.

"Jacking Break"

Oren was quick to react and he joined the hilts of his sword making a pole with bladed ends and spun it in front of him, dissipating the attacking wolf-head.

"Jack Rise – Jacking Break"

Oren did not stop spinning his pole and defended himself from the multiple purple energy projectiles rushing toward him.

"Jack Rise – Jacking Break"

As the purple projectiles dissipated, a horizontal arc of fire forced Oren to jump over the arc, stopping him from using his swords as makeshift shield.

"Finally managed to stop you from using that shield of yours, Alfonzo," Amatsu was immediately at Oren's face, locking his sword with his. "Are you so much of a coward that you'd stoop so low as to use shields?"

"Pardon?" Oren raised an eyebrow. "Using defensive techniques isn't cowardice, Monsieur Thouser," He kicked Thouser's open abdomen and got some distance from his enemy. "Of course, someone as untrained as you are would think that." He scoffed.

"Untrained?" Amatsu rushed towards Oren once more. "If I was untrained as you say I am, then how was I able to best all my enemies in a fight."

"Je ne sais pas," Oren shrugged as he effortlessly evaded the golden warrior's strikes. "Maybe they are untrained," He jumped backward to dodge a spinning kick. "Or you're the one who's using cowardly tactics."

"I tire of this pageantry," Amatsu declared as he removed one of his transformation trinkets from his belt and inserted it into his weapon.

"Amazing Horn! Progrise key confirmed.

"I am a hundred percent, no, a thousand percent, busy." Amatsu stated as he pulled the knob on his weapon.

"Ready to break. Thousand Breaker."

"Ara, are we finishing things already?" Oren retrieved another lock from his person and opened it.

"King Durian!"

Another zipper opened above Oren and another Durian construct floated above him as a multitude of animals, in different colors, materialized around Amatsu.

Oren was unperturbed at the turn of events and placed his lockseed on his belt.

"Lock on."

"King Durian Arms! Mr. Violence!" The reddish durian construct fell on Oren's head as he sliced his lockseed.

Oren was now sporting a reddish and sharper version of his suit earlier.

"Thousand Breaker."

Amatsu swung his sword horizontally and the animals that materialized around him rushed toward Oren.

Oren simply flicked the sword on his belt twice before raising his saw-bladed swords and summoned another durian construct in the air.

The green rider swung one of his swords downwards and summoned a lot of vines from the durian construct, all of which pierced all of the animal constructs that the golden rider materialized, disintegrating them into pieces of gold dust as a result.

Three more vines erupted from the durian construct and attacked the golden rider relentlessly. From slashing to striking to piercing attacks, the vines attacked Gai nonstop.

Amatsu tried to parry and block the strikes from the vines but to no avail, he just couldn't keep up with guarding himself through the sheer number of vines attacking him at the same time.

The vines disappeared only as soon as he was flung to the wall, his transformation dissipated, and revealed his bruised face and tattered clothing.

"Unlike the armored riders, you're not cute at all." Oren placed his hands on his hips.

Despite Amatsu's appearance, the crowd kept on cheering, even as Oren undid his transformation, revealing that he didn't even sweat during the whole skirmish.

"Merci, merci." Oren thanked and waved at the audience.

"H-how…" Amatsu growled.

"Monsieur Thouser, you rely too much on those animals," Oren stated bluntly. "Your sword strikes are weaker than our weakest armored Rider when he first started."

"What is the use of the technology if it isn't used?!" Amatsu scoffed.

"But, did you use them properly?" Oren raised an eyebrow.

Oren returned his attention to the adoring masses.

"The old man's awesome!"

"Bravo!"

"He's strong!"

"Merci!" Oren waived at the gallery. "Merci!" He thanked them before curtsying at them.

"This is why humanity must go extinct," A humagear declared as he walked towards. "The malice he has must be purged."

"Ara," Oren faced the humagear. "You must be Monsieur Horobi," He smiled at the terroristic sentient humagear. "Let me ask you, did you feel any sort of malice from me?"

"What?!" Horobi growled.

"Monsieur Horobi, I fought Monsieur Thouser void of any malice." Oren revealed. "I am only here to entertain the masses."

The audience that Oren brought erupted in cheers once more.

"There's more to humanity than virtue and malice, I suggest that you learn them."

Horobi simply walked out of the conversation.

[skajador]

on twitter im doin an april fools bit where i pretend to stan Gai Amatsu and im pretty sure im goign to hell for this blingee

[thouserzilla]

> me always liking the characters everyone else hates

[melting-morning-blues]

SORRY ALL BUT I HATE AMATSU GAI SM. IK HE GOT SOME REDEMPTION ARC BUT PERSONALLY HE’S IRREDEEMABLE CUZ HE KEEPS PSYCHOLOGICALLY TORMENTING THE CHARACTERS AND HE WASB’T EVEN SORRY OR SYMPATHETIC ABOUT IT. LIKE. IF THERE’S ONE CHARACTER I’D CHARGE AT WITH A BASEBALL BAT, IT’S HIM

REAL FUWA!! BEAT HIS ASS UP!!!!

[animinarts]

Pov me at amatsu gai's grave

That man should die already, tf he's still living

This is a canon event

[pretend-im-not-there]

Did you ever stop to think that maybe your antagonist would maybe be less evil if you gave him a robot dog toy?