Not The Chosen One

"It's been tough lately, master…"

The dark night sky stretched across the world, a vast, indifferent canvas. The air was crisp and carried the scent of distant snow and cold stone.

Suddenly, the darkness split apart by a pale green light. It began as a faint mist, slowly shaping itself into colossal transparent curtains.

They moved slowly, as if guided by music only the wind could hear. The light pulsed and flowed, sweeping across the sea of stars.

Under its magical glow, snowflakes sparkled like scattered diamonds. A man could only sit there in silence, feeling as though the entire universe was watching him.

"It’s like a light show just for us," he murmured to the silence. "Pretty cheap date, all things considered."

He sat atop a hill, gazing at the twinkling city below. People were busy with their own lives. A siren wailed in the distance, a tiny, insignificant sound from up here.

"I mean… seriously, this city never learns." The man spoke in a low voice, the words swallowed by the immensity of the night.

"There's always some new villain every single day." He lifted his head, staring at the aurora dancing in the sky, before letting out a deep sigh. "Another bank robbery. Another hostage situation. Another idiot with a doomsday device he built in his garage. Don't they ever get bored?"

"I mean, what does a guy have to do just to get some rest." He muttered, shifting his weight on the cold ground. "A full night's sleep. A meal that isn't eaten standing up. Is that too much to ask?" 

He looked around. "At least I still got this… I mean, look at our view." His eyes followed the green aurora stretching across the heavens. "No one else gets a view like this. They’re all down there, looking at their phones. They don’t even know it’s here."

"I remember the first time we met… it was beautiful." He smiled at the memory, sweetness lingering in his chest.

"God… I miss you so much." He lowered his head, covering his face with both hands, then rubbed it slowly. The leather of his gloves felt rough against his skin. "I miss your stupid jokes in the middle of a fight. I miss you stealing the last slice of pizza."

"Why couldn’t you just stay a little longer." His gaze shifted to the grave beside him, covered with yellow, red, and pink flowers. He reached out and gently straightened a bent petal on a yellow rose. 

"I still get your favourite. Every week. The florist on fifth thinks I have a very lucky girlfriend."

Next to him sat a can of soda and a weapon, something that had once been a gift. "Brought you one too," he said, tapping the second, unopened can he'd placed at the base of the stone. "Grape. Your favourite.,"

His lips trembled before he exhaled softly.

"I know, you had no control over it," he whispered. "I mean… being diagnosed with cancer, that’s… that’s gotta be the hardest thing for a woman with the potential to be the strongest to hear." He kicked at a loose pebble. "All the strength in the world… and you couldn't punch this."

He reached to his left, grabbing the soda he had bought. He cracked it open and took a long gulp. The sugar felt cheap, inadequate.

"You shouldn’t have done it. You didn’t have to. You didn’t have to jump in front of that." His voice nearly broke into silence.

"It could have been me…"

"You know… a year after you died, the world found a cure for cancer. Funny, isn’t it?" A bitter laugh escaped him. "The ultimate punchline. The universe has a real sick sense of humour."

"If only you hadn’t died… if only you had held on for just one more year…" He paused, "You would’ve been way better at this than I am." He gestured vaguely at the city, at the weapon by his side. "You’d have them all eating out of your hand. They’d build you a statue."

"I just can’t keep up. There are too many, and I’m tired." He drank from the soda again.

He bit his lip hard, the taste of iron filling his tongue. A coppery tang of failure.

"I’m so tired, I just wanna quit. But… I won’t. I refuse." His eyes locked onto the grave beside him, and his voice found a new layer of steel. 

"Because I know you wouldn’t. You’d face the world head-on a million times before ever hesitating." His words quickened, fueled by a rising conviction. "You’d tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself and get back to work."

"I need you. I need you so badly," he cried, his voice trembling as it sped up. "Cause without you, I can’t do this."

A fresh wave of sobs threatened to choke him. "I don’t know the right things to say. I don’t know how to make them feel safe. I only know how to hit things."

His eyes welled up, his lips shaking. "I’m trying! I’m trying so damn hard! But it’s impossible! I can’t be a Hero!" The title felt like a lead weight.

His hand clutched the gravestone, the cold granite a feeble connection to the fire she once was. "It was supposed to be you! You dammit! You! But for some reason, I’m still here and you’re not!" He let out a shaky breath.

He shook his head. "And it’s not fair. It’s never gonna be fair." A tear slid down his cheek, tracing a clean path through the grime. 

"So I have to stop acting like some pathetic coward… and start acting like a Hero!" The word felt different this time. Less like a title he didn't earn, and more like a job that needed doing.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "Just like you would…" Tears poured freely down his face as his sobs broke out. He didn't try to stop them anymore.

"Sniff… I can’t keep acting like this. Sniff…"

He cried for a long while. The aurora continued its silent dance, a respectful audience to his grief.

Then, taking a heavy breath, he steadied himself. This time, his smile wasn’t bitter, it was genuine. "You’d probably tell me I’m being a drama queen. That I’m hogging the spotlight."

"Thanks… thanks, master." He whispered gently, his voice hoarse but clear. "For the lecture. I probably needed it." He paused, listening to the wind. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Stop talking to a rock. It’s creepy."

"I promise, I won’t cry anymore." A new light gleamed in his eyes, a reflection of the celestial dance above. "Well, not tonight, anyway. No promises about next week."

"I can do this. Don’t worry." He finished off the soda in his hand. He crushed the can with a single, sharp motion, the sound final and decisive.

Wiping his mouth, he picked up the black weapon beside him—her weapon—and stood tall, facing the grave with unshaken resolve. He hefted its familiar, comforting weight. The city’s lights seemed to burn a little brighter below.

"I’ll be this world’s hero. Just like you would." He turned to go, then stopped, looking back over his shoulder with a faint, real smile.

And with that, he leaped from the cliff, the aurora lighting his path down toward the city, its lonely guardian finally ready to face the dawn.