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#gai amatsu
hidengifs · 6 months
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@Giftober 2023 Day 5: Friendship ↳ Gai & Thouser | Kamen Rider Zero-One
Being able to stay with someone like me… Thank you.
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skajador · 1 year
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id in alt text
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thouserzilla · 7 months
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melting-morning-blues · 11 months
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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.
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itsupermanti · 1 year
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I found this online once, but I forgot who drew it.
Edit: Turns out its by @egophiliac
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mrrald · 1 year
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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.
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jodiebastard · 1 year
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Gai Amatsu
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mangolon · 6 months
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This is just Gai Amatsu all over again.
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macmanx · 2 years
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Horobi, Thouser, Kamen Rider Valkyrie, Kamen Rider Vulcan, and Jin vs. Thinknet
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palaciosworks · 2 years
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This post is presented by ZAIA Enterprise.
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hidengifs · 2 years
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KAMEN RIDER GENMS – SMART BRAIN AND THE 1000% CRISIS
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skajador · 1 year
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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
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thouserzilla · 4 months
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> me always liking the characters everyone else hates
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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
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REAL FUWA!! BEAT HIS ASS UP!!!!
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pulaasul · 2 years
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Facing an Empress
Mitsuru Kirijo executing one Gai Amatsu - that's it, that's the fic.
Ao3 I FFN
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---------
Aigis and Mitsuru found themselves in a strange world.
Misturu was no stranger to being unceremoniously thrown into different worlds. Sometimes it'd be her lonesome, or other Persona users would accompany her.
This time, she was thrown into this strange but technologically advanced world with Aigis.
Mitsuru was able to start a company with her meager resources, she was able to properly catch a demand that this technologically advanced world could not provide.
And she capitalized on that.
However, this story isn't about Mitsuru's business or how she managed to turn her meager business into a buzzing partnership with a few companies in this world.
Aigis was elsewhere doing important work for the Kirijo company.
Mitsuru was walking on an equally important errand when she encountered two beings that looked like that Zephyrman spinoff of Featherman that Yukari introduced her to a few days ago. One was silver and the other was gold.
The golden being's armor vanished and revealed an adult man, being relentlessly attacked.
"Persona."
Mitsuru summoned her Persona, a giant masked lady in a ball gown appeared behind Mitsuru and tried to get a read on the silver being's thoughts.
"Stop it! Stop!"
That could only mean one thing.
The silver being was not in control of his actions.
"Niflheim." Mitsuru announced.
The giant lady behind Mitsuru slammed her whip to the ground as a pillar of ice encased the silver being's form, stopping the attack.
"Wha-"
A blue being approached and unceremoniously punched the ice pillar that Mitsuru had the giant lady encase the silver being and removed that silver being's belt, erasing the being's armor to reveal a man in a red coat, black blazer, and blue hooded shirt.
That certainly was a combination.
The man with neon green shoes collapsed as soon as the armor vanished from him.
The blue being's armor also vanished, revealing a man in a suit, while holding the belt. Mitsuru focused on the blue being a bit and found a presence not unlike Minazuki from when she was in Inaba.
"Zero one has evolved." Another woman, holding a thick rectangular object in her hand, commented.
"That's not Zero one," The man in a suit denied the claim. "It's something else entirely."
The man Mitsuru had saved earlier started laughing. A laugh, that is still giving her and former SEES members nightmares.
"The Ark is truly magnificent," The man gloated. "Now ZAIA's scenario will now reach its climax."
"I see what's going on here," Mitsuru revealed her presence to everyone involved.
"Who are you supposed to be?" The man who had been in the golden armor questioned.
"Kirijo Mitsuru, you might have heard of my business that has captured a demand that neither Hiden Intelligence nor ZAIA Enterprises has capitalized on." Mitsuru introduced herself.
"Impressive, for someone just starting out." The man scoffed.
"I'm impressed that corporate sabotage has devolved into a playground fight." Mitsuru raised an eyebrow. "I must say, it's incredibly rude not to introduce yourself after asking me for my name."
"Amatsu Gai, president and CEO of ZAIA Enterprises, and soon, Hiden Intelligence."
Mitsuru looked around, prompting the others to introduce themselves.
"Yaiba Yua, ZAIA Enterprises." Yaiba bowed.
"Fuwa Isamu." Fuwa mimicked his former superior's actions.
Fuwa and Yaiba couldn't explain why they had the sudden urge to bow at the Kirijo, they just did.
"Hi-Hiden A-aruto."
Aruto struggled to get up from the pain he's in, even with Izu's assistance.
"Do not force yourself, Hiden." Mitsuru shook her head. "You're injured."
Aruto complied with the woman's order and let Izu give him first aid.
"Izu, a secretarial humagear to help the company's president." Izu bowed towards Mitsuru before she continued treating some of Aruto's wounds and bruises.
"Regardless of your standing, Kirijo, you have no stakes here, leave."
"The moment I had deduced that this was a form of corporate sabotage, this became my problem as well," Mitsuru stood her ground. "Yaiba, I understand you were recording footage of the battle earlier?"
"Y-yes." Yaiba nodded. "Under President Amatsu's orders."
"Show me."
However, Yaiba remained rooted in her place.
Suddenly, someone grabbed the thick rectangular object from Yua's hand.
"Thank you, Aigis."
A blond girl landed beside Mitsuru and gave her the rectangular object.
The girl, Aigis, and Mitsuru viewed the video that Yaiba had recorded earlier.
----------
"I see," Mitsuru nodded as she handed the phone back to Aigis. "If I understood the footage correctly, you did something to Hiden's belt that caused him to turn into the silver being that attacked you relentlessly."
"And what of it?" Amatsu challenged.
"Just know that I know of your modus operandi," Mitsuru stated. "You won't last long as President of ZAIA or of Hiden Intelligence once word goes out."
"Let's see you try."
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lavenderrosiefan · 2 years
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In my opinion, Gai Amatsu is a poorly written expy of Starlight Glimmer.
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