I'll fix him

Seiji arrived home and removed his shoes.

"I'm back." he exclaimed, then paused, remembering he was alone.

'It feels so quiet without him... Finally. Some long waited peace.' he thought.

He entered his room and lay down on the bed, trying to relax. Just then, his phone rang. "So much for peace and quiet... Why so many calls today?" he wondered, glancing at the screen.

It was Ken.

"Hello?"

"Hey Seiji! How's it going?"

"Well..." He took a breath thinking of how to choose words properly.
"Hideaki is in the hospital." Seiji replied a bit untouched.

There was a pause on the line.

"...Oh. Wow. What happened?"

"He had... an accident."

"An accident?" Ken echoed. He hesitated for a moment. "Was it... serious?"

"Serious enough to land him in a hospital bed. But I wasn't home when it happened, so I don't know the full picture. Should be out in a couple of weeks."

"You sound like you couldn't care less," Ken noticed.

"Yeah, well, what can I do? It's not like me worrying will change anything."
Seiji spoke calmly, almost without emotions.
"He's alive, he'll recover, and he's in a hospital, not a grave. Let the professionals deal with it this time. I've done more than enough lately. So for once... I get a moment to breathe."

Another pause.

"...Well, I hope he recovers quickly. I mean..." Ken exhaled through his nose, lowering his voice just slightly. "...Even if he's... not exactly easy to be around sometimes, especially for you, that still sucks."

"Yeah... Anyways. So, what's up? Need help with something?"

Ken's tone shifted a bit, trying to lighten it.

"Not exactly help... I was wondering if you'd like to play a game with me. It showed that you're online, so I thought to myself why not? We haven't played together in quite some time."

"Hmmm... Actually, I could use a game or two. I am finally having time to do it, in peace."

"Oh! Alright then. How about a shooter? I remember you said you liked those."

Seiji smiled at the thought of playing. "Bring it on."

He dove into the game, playing as a sniper, focusing intently on the gameplay.

The clock ticked late into the night, the sky outside was already black.

After saying goodbye to Ken, he pushed back from the computer and rubbed his eyes, fatigue settling in.

'Ugh... My eyes feels tired... I need a coffee. But first, food.'

He sighed and headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal. As he glanced at the couch, he noted the haphazardly thrown blanket and pillow.

'He's so messy. Can't even leave a sleeping area arranged. And Akemi will be here in a few weeks... She can't possibly sleep on the floor,'  he thought, already mapping out logistics in his mind.

While chopping onions, his mind shifted back to Hideaki.
'He's been working hard to mask his turmoil. Beneath that facade...'

The image of Hideaki crying replayed in his mind.

'...there's a sensitivity that doesn’t align with his crimes. Something changed him along the way. Was it the accident from high school? Some childhood trauma? Or was he simply dragged into it, unable to stop?'

He poured coffee, took a slow sip, and watched the steam rise.

'He’s not completely devoid of humanity. Kinda looks like he’s faulty code. But that means there’s room for improvement. I need to capitalize on it. Any system can be reprogrammed — the question is how long it will take and what measures will be effective.'

The rice cooker clicked. He plated the food and sat at the table, eyes occasionally drifting to the glowing city beyond the glass balcony.

His reflection stared back at him from the dark TV screen.

'Society is where he needs to find his place. To live without violence, without leaning only on his unstable, brutal Magic Ability.'

He let out a short, dry breath of amusement.

'Although considering his character... society will have a lot of fun with him.'

The thought of his own words to Ken returned to him:

----"I think he...deeply needs help... It's just... no one has given it to him yet..."----

Living with Hideaki had made the patterns clearer.

'He’s been spiraling for a long time. Someone should’ve stepped in earlier. After seeing both his violence and his weakness... I feel it’s my responsibility to intervene. Because no one else has, not enough anyway.'

He exhaled deeply, eyes narrowing on the horizon.

'I’ll straighten his path. Guide him away from this. If I can achieve that, I’ll leave this world knowing he won’t trouble society anymore.'

He set the empty plate aside, determination crystallizing.

'I don’t give up easily. Not on someone this lost. I will fix him.'

---

[Later that night – Hospital, outside Dr. Watanabe's office]

Fukuda Daisuke stood by the coffee machine, a styrofoam cup trembling slightly in his hand. He hadn't taken a sip. Thoughts were buzzing in his head like a swarm of angry wasps, refusing to quiet down.

'It's really him... That guy is the same monster the police talked about... And I just watched him nearly kill a nurse.'

He leaned his back against the cold hallway wall and glanced toward the closed door of the room where Hideaki slept.

'And yet... the doctor wants to treat him. As if he's just another patient. As if it's all okay.'

He clenched his jaw.

'It's not okay. Watanabe said they were supposedly safe, but what if something go wrong... What if he wakes up in the middle of the night? What if he attacks again? And this time finishes the job?'

The image of the terrified nurse flashed before his eyes again. Daisuke felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

'I can't just let this go. If something happens and I didn't do anything...'

He looked at his phone. His finger hovered over the contact for the local police station.

'But what if the doctor is right...? Maybe it was postoperative delirium...? Maybe I'm the one who seen too less to judge? After all, Watanabe is a long time doctor. He seen more cases.'

But then he remembered Hideaki's eyes. That wasn't the gaze of a confused person. That was the gaze of someone who wanted to hurt. Someone who enjoyed it.

'No, that wasn't just a panic attack, or something with magic... He looked too serious when he said he wanted to kill us. Me. Her. Everyone.'

He clenched his fist.

"Who's going to stop him if I don't?" he whispered to himself. "The police don't even know he's here..."

He glanced at his phone again.

His finger hovered.

"But... if I call... Doctor Watanabe will lose his job. The hospital will be a scandal. But that guy... he will be in jail."

A war raged inside his head: duty as a citizen... and duty as a human being.

Finally, he slowly put the phone back in his pocket.

But not because he had given up.

He looked up, eyes sharp and resolute.

"Not yet" he muttered. "First I'll secure the evidence," he muttered to himself. "I'll check the hallway recordings, talk to the nurse. I'll observe him. Then,  ask others in security about the records, and write down the mana readings. When I have the material, I'll go to the police."

He looked at the classroom door again, this time with determination.

"I'll make sure that Miyahara will never hurt anyone again."

He turned and walked toward the observation room. His Mana Detector Magic Ability started to softly resonate again, quietly monitoring other patients status.

This wasn't just work anymore. It was a mission.

---

Hideaki found himself inside a room resembling an elementary school common area.

Suddenly a young black-haired boy dashed toward him. The boy's hair, tied up in a samurai-style ponytail, added an intriguing touch to his appearance.

Sporting a smile, the black-haired kid greeted Hideaki, indicating that he was likely his friend. But then, the boy spoke up unexpectedly.

"Hideaki-kun... I don't want to be friends with you anymore..."

"W-What...?" Hideaki asked, couldn't believe his ears; the words seemed too surreal...

He wondered if he had misunderstood his friend's statement, hoping it was a mere misinterpretation.

"Hiroshi-kun is cooler than you." The boy said.

'H-Hiroshi-kun... is.. cooler....?'

Suddenly, it hit him. 'Does Makoto-kun... was getting bored with me all the time...?' The last words of his friend lingered in his mind...

cooler...
cooler...
cooler...

'Am... I... boring..?'

he questioned himself.

After that, all he saw was his classmate walking away from him "Bye then, Hideaki-!"

"N-no! Makoto! S-stop! M-Makoto-kun! W-wait.. - wait for me!" he desperately called out to the boy, urging him to return, but Makoto's footsteps only faded as he was getting away from Hideaki.

With all his might, young Hideaki attempted to run after him, longing to catch up, to prevent Makoto from leaving him behind in solitude...

Suddenly he woke up. As he gazed at the window direction, it was already night, casting a small shiny dots on the dark sky.

Hideaki sighed, and squinted his eyes.

'Why did I remember this now... Tch...'

--

Meanwhile Doctor Watanabe walked briskly down the sterile, brightly lit corridor of the hospital, his lab coat flapping slightly with each step. He approached the secure Information Department, where a handful of clerks were quietly working at their terminals.

"Good evening," Watanabe greeted, his voice calm but carrying an unspoken urgency.

The head clerk looked up. "Doctor Watanabe. How can we help you today?"

Watanabe glanced around, ensuring no one else was within earshot. "This concerns one of our patients. After his discharge, I need you to completely erase his records — all personal data, treatment notes, test results. Delete everything tied to him from our systems. No backups, no copies, nothing."

The clerk blinked in surprise. "Doctor... that's unusual. Why such extreme measures?"

Watanabe shook his head slightly, his expression gentle but firm. "I cannot explain fully, but he is... vulnerable. Let's just say, that it's essential that he can return home and continue his recovery without interference."

A murmur spread among the staff, but Watanabe raised a hand. "I trust you to handle this discretely. His safety depends on it. Once he leaves, make sure nothing links him to this hospital."

The clerk hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Understood, Doctor. We'll take care of it."

Watanabe nodded once, a quiet weight settling in his chest. 

After leaving the information department, Watanabe stopped in the empty corridor, hands clasped behind his back. The fluorescent lights reflected off his glasses, and a quiet storm raged in his mind.

'What I've done...'  he thought, a grimace twisting his face. 'The law clearly requires documenting everything. Hiding a patient's data is... illegal. I could be held accountable if anyone finds out.'

He sighed deeply. 

'But if I don't do this now, he... he doesn't stand a chance. Returning to the apartment and continuing treatment under his friend's supervision gives him a chance to survive. And not just physically... but maybe mentally as well.'

His hands clenched into fists.

'I can't watch someone who's already endured so much get caught or hurt just because I'm following the rules. My nature... my responsibility to the patient wins this time.'

Watanabe moved on, his steps confident, though a shadow of moral uncertainty still flickered in his heart. He knew he was acting against the rules, but in his mind, the choice was clear: Patient's safety above all else.

Even if the person is a dangerous serial killer.