Heart II

Waking to a world filled with sound was the most frightening part of losing someone. The world kept spinning, even though his world had ground to a halt. If only the silence could last forever. Time should freeze, and every living being should weep. They should be sorry. They should mourn. He wanted them to.

Hajime and Kei arrived at the hospital five minutes after Masao passed out. The reason it took them so long was that they made a detour. Hajime's car was an old model that took a few clicks to get going. They figured the group of three wouldn't want to walk all the way back to the hideout with Hideo injured, but they hadn't anticipated the scene that awaited them in the lobby.

Masao was unconscious next to a large bag. Kaho clung to Kei when they arrived, shaking and crying. She couldn't have brought the two men home on her own, and she was so upset that she couldn't imagine walking back to the hideout to find help.

They hauled Masao and Hideo into the car. Hideo was thrown in the trunk, while Masao slept in the back seat.

Those were the order of events as told to Masao when he woke the next day. He nodded, giving minimal signs that he was listening. The rest of the day passed without him present. Present in mind, that is. Hajime took them out of the city, where they buried Hideo by the river.

They dug a large hole in the ground and lowered the body bag into it. Masao was tired and sweaty after digging the hole and covering it back up, but he didn't complain. He didn't say a word. They made a marker for his grave and surrounded it with flat rocks from the river. A simple wooden sign with his name carved into it. It was rushed, and they didn't have much to decorate it with.

A few wildflowers were wrapped into a bouquet and laid on top of the fresh dirt. When the work was done, they stood around him in mourning. Masao was awake, but his eyes were blank. There was no life in them. He did what his friends told him to do, and he didn't give his own opinion on how the burial should be. Just do it. Get it over with. That was his mindset.

Ren came with them and paid his respects. He didn't know Hideo, but maybe being there would help Masao feel better. It didn't.

"You could always do what I did," Ren joked. Trying to lighten the mood only made Masao more bitter. "You know, losing you was too painful for me. I started wearing an eyepatch when I was a kid, and it helped me get by. It stopped me from loving you."

"What are you on about?"

"It's crazy, the way my affection for you vanished when I covered it." He swept his hair behind his ear, revealing his left eye. "But I could never get used to feeling love again, so I have to keep it shielded, even just a bit."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

At sunset, most of the gang had already returned to the hideout. Everyone was filled with grief, but they didn't want to stay at his grave all night. Only Kaho and Masao remained, sitting in the grass next to the plot. Kaho's eyes were puffy and red.

"Are you going to stay here all night?" she asked.

"No."

"It's getting cold. Do you want to go back now?"

"No."

Kaho frowned. Masao was only wearing a t-shirt, but the wind was getting stronger as night approached. In the early stages of spring, a jacket was still important.

"I'm tired of sitting here, sorry," she muttered. She got up and started up the steep hill towards the city.

Masao's hair was ruffled by the wind, no longer put up in his usual pigtails since he didn't have the energy to fix it. He fell back on the grass, staring up at the red-stained sky becoming black as the sun fell.

He pulled something out of his pants—carelessly stuffed into the waistband. A gun. It was Hideo's pistol. The one he always kept on him. For some reason, he'd left it behind that day. Masao found it in his room, lying on the bedside table. Before they'd left to bury him, Masao sat in Hideo's bedroom for a long time.

Nobody was allowed to bother him. He wanted to be alone.

It smelled like him there. His cologne and his soap. His laundry basket was overflowing, and the unfinished projects he'd been tinkering with were left out on the floor. The watch he always wore was tossed on the bed, an afterthought.

As Masao rested in the grass, he thought about those small things. The lingering reminders of his existence that would soon fade. Hideo said it when they were first reunited. Masao's marks faded from the hideout until nobody could remember what it was like when he was there. He wanted to lock Hideo's room up forever and allow nobody but himself to enter. Then he could preserve it all. The last things Hideo touched.

He would never let them fade. Hideo wouldn't be forgotten. It was his final wish: not to be forgotten.

"I loved you so much."

Those weren't words easily spoken between friends. There was a distance between even the closest of friends. They were kept between the dead and the living. A solemn goodbye.

He whispered his name over and over again, cracked lips chanting the repetitive spell he wished could bring his friend back to life. His name crashed against the air like the river's calm tide.

Hideo was one of a kind, he thought. The kind of person you only get the privilege of meeting once. He'd never find that bravery in anyone else. The loyal companionship they'd shared for years. It used to comfort him that a person existed who understood him perfectly. Now it terrified him that there was nobody left. Not even Yoli knew him that well, or ever would.

He turned the pistol in his hand, inspecting all the small scrapes and imperfections on it. There was a guy who used to carry it who was very special to him. Someone who worked tirelessly to run a dying gang and did his best to teach others to shoot like him. A guy who could lie under cars for hours until his hands were black and his face was smeared with oil and dirt. He'd drink too much and lose track of time entertaining himself with women, but he was always willing to drop everything for an adventure.

He hated to smoke, but when someone offered him a cigarette, he would take it just to share the moment. He couldn't stand living, but he didn't want to die. While Masao got all the glory, he was the backbone of the gang. He pulled them together and made sure there was a place for everyone.

And all his hopes and dreams had been placed in Masao's hands. He taught Masao how to forgive—how to respect others even if they'd done things you despised. Yes, it was Hideo who named the gang.

The person who saved Masao. His other half. What Masao lacked, he made up for.

There could never be another person like that.

"Don't worry, I sent you to the afterlife," he said, pressing the gun to his chest. The spot over his heart ached, even the slightest pressure on his skin sending a shiver down his spine. Metal inside him shook, cages opening and closing in mechanical rhythm, allowing blood to enter and exit at a slow, irregular pace.

Yoli should be here, he thought. Her voice was the only thing that could save him from the bottomless pit of despair he was falling into. He wanted her to hold him, the only person he could be vulnerable with without feeling ashamed. Squeeze her until the pain dies, and kiss her so deeply he would forget all about Hideo.

The distance between them felt too huge. The two most important people in his life had been torn away from him in one day. He was no longer living a peaceful life outside the city, hoping to marry his roommate and occasionally hanging out with friends.

He had nothing.

The life he'd rebuilt was gone, and now his only option was to return to the way he lived before. Return to that lonely house where nothing ever happened, where he slowly killed himself day by day. He had no problem with it before. That was just how things were. But he'd let too many people in. Allowed temporary arrangements to rule his happiness, and gave them reign over his way of life. Temporary.

He could no longer live the way he had been. Not now that hope was lost. He wouldn't have the comfort of knowing his friends were doing okay without him. No, the most important one was dead. And on top of that, he would always worry about Yoli. Agonize over what Wataru might do to her, what he might force her to become.

It was pointless.

Pang!

A gunshot rang through the hills, but the louder sound was the clanking of metal that lasted only a second. The gun slipped from his hand and quietly fell into the grass. He clawed at his chest—the area above his heart where blood began to spurt from. Blood fired into the air like a geyser. He dug his fingers into the wound, dyeing his skin scarlet.

"Mghh...ah!" A mixture of vomit and blood bubbled up his throat and spilled down the side of his face.

The sky was spotted with dark clouds. He could hear them laughing at him as he clung to thin shreds of life. The bullet must've gotten lodged in his heart. It struggled to move, pushing the foreign object against the inner walls of his flesh, pulsing without humanity, driven by the code it was programmed to perform.

He only regretted it for a moment when he remembered Yoli. If Wataru were kind enough to inform her of his passing, she would definitely shed tears. He didn't want to make her cry, but Masao was tired of it all. He was tired of losing people he loved. Ever since he was a kid, that's all he'd known. Saying goodbye.

She would get over it. She was strong, unlike him. Yoli wouldn't be sad forever. He had faith in her resilience.

- - -

A band locked around Yoli's wrist blinked orange as they walked down a dimly lit hall. Behind her, Wataru watched her carefully. He studied her movements. Every sway, every step, the change in her pace, and he turned it into a formula. He wouldn't let his prey escape again.

The first day had been dedicated to reintroducing her to the facility. Making her feel safe and returning her to her room. She was stripped of any personal possessions and dressed to his liking. Then she was examined by multiple doctors and given a schedule. She would take part in multiple experimental studies every day and receive therapy to deconstruct her 'rebellious nature'. They prescribed her multiple medications. Dressed in black, she appeared like a sparrow haunting the sanitized halls of the medical ward.

That night, she was going to be examined for the fifth time that day. Doctors carefully took note of her vitals, making sure she hadn't been harmed in her time away. Wataru made sure they were meticulous. Did she have any bruises? Cuts? Scrapes? What about her virginity?

Her expression didn't change. She remained quiet. He knew why, but he didn't dare mention his enemy's name. It would only pull her further into his delusions. The man who conjured such a depressed look on the girl's face in his absence. He was to be punished.

Wataru dreamed of ways he could execute his enemy, but as doctors frantically pushed a patient through the halls on a stretcher, his spirits rose. There was no need for such violence. The man had taken himself out for him.

"Sao?" Yoli stopped.

A blanket mostly covered him, blood seeping through the white fabric. His unique hair color was recognizable. "Sao!" She ran towards him.

Wataru was quick to grab her, restraining her as she kicked and screamed. The doctors were about to enter the operating room when Wataru gave them orders. "Don't bother! Take him in, routine check. Do not perform surgery." They nodded.

Yoli's eyes swelled with terror, and her body went limp as the doors swung shut and Masao's unconscious form disappeared into the unknown depths of COT's medical hell. How he'd ended up in such a condition was unknown to either of them. Wataru let go of her, sensing her will to fight had been crushed by his words.

She didn't move. Just watched the door. "No need to fight, my dear. That man can't hurt you anymore."

He relished in her silence. Finally, he'd defeated the block in his road. Yoli would have no choice but to accept him now. No matter how long it took, she would someday accept him as her rightful protector. Masao was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it. Wataru saw that their relationship had gone too far, but he didn't care to understand why or how. He was glad her captor was gone.

Yoli's hand twitched. Her fingers grazed her lips, gliding over them as if remembering the ghost of a touch. "He kissed me here." Her hand moved to her neck. "Here too."

Wataru's eyes narrowed. Again, he analyzed her actions. Was this rebellion, or her way of coping?

"Is that so? You're safe here, so please don't bring this up again."

"If you let him die, I'll kill myself."

"W-what? Honey, don't say that! What ideas has that terrible man put in your head? You mustn't harm yourself...a girl as young and beautiful as you has a great life ahead!" He frantically hugged her from behind.

"I will marry Masao, whether it be now or in the afterlife."

His eyes darkened, and a sadistic smile overtook his face. "You won't be able to harm yourself under our supervision. But even if you could...you'd never meet him in death. You, my angel, will go to the heavens above, but he will be damned to hell."

"You don't want me for research, and definitely not to better the planet! You're only interested in your own gain. I'm just an object to you!" she yelled. Wataru took a step back, anger pulling on his smile. She'd never talked back before, never displayed any form of anger. It must be Masao's fault.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" He grabbed her wrist and pushed her against the wall. He didn't sense the fear and weakness she used to display. No, that had been overwritten. Her glare was piercing and unforgiving. His angel rebuked him; her scorn alone was a punishment for hurting her dearly beloved friend.

"You're going to fall in love with me because I get everything I want. Oh, and the name he gave you? You won't be needing it here. You're mine, and nothing else. Possessions don't require names."