"I look like a king, Shigeo! Join me, and we can actually change this garbage world," Dimple countered, his voice booming with a confidence that didn't quite reach his eyes.

The air felt heavy, saturated with the smell of ozone and sugar. As he walked toward the base of the massive vegetable, the citizens around him moved in a trance, their eyes glazed with a sickly green light. They were happy, but it was a hollow, pre-packaged joy. Shigeo felt a pang of loneliness that no psychic barrier could block.

Dimple let out a wet, wheezing laugh. "It was hideous, kid. Absolute trash."

As the Divine Tree began to tremble, sensing its master's change of heart, Dimple looked up at the boy who had finally mastered the one thing more powerful than psychic energy: the ability to say goodbye. He knew what he had to do to save Shigeo, even if it meant fading into the green glow of the city's skyline.

Shigeo walked over, his own shirt torn and his energy spent. He didn't offer a lecture or a finishing move. He simply reached out a hand. "The monkey shirt wasn't that bad," Shigeo lied.

He reached the inner sanctum where Dimple waited, draped in the golden regalia of a god. The spirit looked more powerful than ever, radiating an aura that would have crushed a lesser esper. But Shigeo only saw his friend.

"You look ridiculous, Dimple," Shigeo said, his voice barely a whisper.

Shigeo Kageyama stared at the giant broccoli looming over Seasoning City, his reflection dull in the glass of a vending machine. Inside his mind, the "???%" meter flickered like a dying lightbulb. He wasn't thinking about the Divine Tree or his lost psychic powers; he was thinking about the shirt Dimple had mocked—the one with the giant, goofy monkey on the chest.