MORIKO HANZO POV:
It's all happening so fast; there isn't much time to think.
Hiro's bleeding has stopped but his eyes are closed, and he isn't responding to my voice anymore.
As much as it pains me, I realize that I now have a difficult decision to make:
I can't risk staying by his side until the EMTs arrive. Because once they find the shooter's corpse, they'll immediately start asking questions...which may pose a potential risk of exposing myself as an Inu.
At the first sound of sirens, I kiss him once on the forehead.
I climb up a nearby fire escape, unto a rooftop, so I can watch from a safe distance as the ambulance comes, and picks him up. Then I follow it, as it speeds off: running, jumping, sprinting on all fours from rooftop to rooftop, ignoring the stinging cold wind against my tear-stained face and hurrying limbs all the way to the hospital.
And it all feels so...surreal, then...as I'm walking through the empty, dimly lit hallways.
I've experienced death many times before, but never with one so near to me. Never so close and personal.
Where would I possibly go from here? Without Hiro…
He is my anchor. My rock. The only thing that holds me together, most days.
When a wolf chooses a mate, it is often for life. Without him, my life would be an empty shell—a gaping dark hole where nothing matters, leading nowhere.
I wait in the shadows, until my Inu senses detect the arrival of Hiro's parents...
I find them in the emergency waiting room.
Mr. Takeda…he's a top-ranking CEO of a successful company, and Alpha of one of the two major clan families of Japan.
He exudes such an incredible aura…
Just being in his presence alone was once enough to strike fear in me, when I was much younger…a lot like I'm feeling right now.
Contrasted by his wife, who was the perfect image of a princess with her long, flowing brown hair and a preference for lightly-colored (especially pink) dresses; a kind, tenderhearted woman who loved to bake and treat Hiro in any way she could—often pulling me in as well, making me feel like part of the family.
Which…I guess I pretty much was, with how often I was around them. Just don't expect to ever see me call Mr. Takeda "daddy."
To come face-to-face with them so soon…I felt an even worse pit in my stomach.
"Hanzo," Mr. Takeda greeted me stiffly as I cautiously drifted toward where the two were seated, while Ms. Takeda was sobbing loudly against his shoulder. "I was woken in the middle of the night with news that my son was picked up by first responders, lying on his back with a bullet wound in the middle of the street." He grimaced, flashing his fangs at me as he continued through his gritted teeth, "would you care to explain how that happened?"
I gave a limp nod, my nerves getting the better of me. "Y-yes, sir. We were walking home, after a movie, when this homeless man suddenly appeared out of the alley...and…"
"I said to tell me HOW it happened—not WHAT." His voice was raised, now.
"I…don't understand. I'm telling you—"
He rose up, pointing aggressively at me. "What you're TELLING me is that my best dog—a pureblooded Hanzo descendant, no less—was incapable of protecting MY SON!"
"I didn't see it coming!" I snapped back at him. "It happened so fast, and I…wasn't…"
"You weren't WHAT?" He pointed his ear toward me. "You weren't…focused? Were you not paying attention? You didn't think there would be any risk of something like this happening tonight, to ruin your cute little date?" He snarled, facing me directly again. "You stupid bitch: there's always a risk! For our kind, there's always some danger lurking around every corner! But I trusted you…I trusted you to be able to protect my son, no matter what, without needing to have a fleet of…fucking bodyguards following him around constantly! But you…YOU…"
In one lightning fast motion I saw him raise his right hand, the pitch black claw of his cursed form already materialized—
—before he swiped it down, across my cheek—
—but didn't react. Didn't dare make any attempt to avoid it.
Because I knew, full well, that doing so—denying the punishment of an alpha—would only make the situation worse for me.
The claws stung as they raked across my bare flesh...
Warm blood oozed from the inflicted wound, draining down the side of my face to my neck.
He then continued, more calmly, "furthermore...we needed the shooter alive."
"I know." I lowered my head, unable to look him in the face.
He grabbed me, shaking me by the shoulders. "The recklessness of your actions has not only cost us a valuable lead to whoever was behind this...but has also left behind a mess that threatens to expose our kind to the world!"
The tears come spilling from my eyes, all at once, like a broken dam. "I know."
"You're crying?" He says incredulously, shoving his face up close to mine. "You fucked up so enormously, and now you're crying?!"
"Stop it!" Ms. Takeda interceded, coming between us. "You're being far too harsh with her!"
"Too harsh?!" He's madly flailing his arms. "If we were still abiding by the old traditions, she should be showing me her intestines right about now!"
"Don't you know that she feels hurt by this too? She loves our boy just as much as we do!"
By now, I had swallowed back my tears. "Ms. Takeda, it's alright." I can't deny, he's right to be angry with me.
And I knew nothing I could say would make the situation better...
There was truly no excuse for my failures and, regardless of the outcome, I would have to carry this shame with me for the rest of my life.
However, as I was then walking away…
I stopped, half-turning back toward the Takedas, with one final thing to say:
"Actually, Hiro shoved me aside at the last second. He saw the gunman before I did...and his only concern"—I hesitated, drawing in a deep breath—"was to protect me."
It was then that Mr. Takeda well and truly snapped.
His eyes bulged, the whites becoming enveloped in pure black.
More than just his hand, the entirety of both his arms were now fully materialized.
"You…insolent bitch!" he spat. "How dare you!"
He seemed about ready to lunge at me; to tear me limb from limb…or die trying.
But little Ms. Takeda, struggling hard, looked like she was barely able to hold him at bay.
"That's right!" Mr. Takeda barked after me as I continued to slowly flee in despair, the hospital security staff closing in all around him. "Walk away, and hide yourself in disgrace!"
In just one night, my whole world was changed forever.
Even when I was very young…I was never the type to believe in magic, or miracles, or anything like that; instead preferring to focus on what's tangible: what I can touch, and grab, and affect with my own two hands. But even so, in situations like this…when I walked out of the hospital that night, armed with only my hopes and wishes…and gazed up at the night sky, flooded with dazzling stars—the same ones I had been looking at with Hiro just minutes before…
I closed my eyes, warm tears rolling down my cheeks as I gave in to a silent prayer:
Please, dear God…
Please don't take him away from me!
…
In a way, you might say my wish that night would end up coming true.
Hiro had, in fact, and against all odds, survived his injury: albeit within a comatose state, requiring constant around-the-clock care for the next few weeks...months...or even years, without any way to know for certain. Throughout the first week, Ms. Takeda and I would go to visit him at the hospital every day, with neither of us speaking a word for the entire trip drive in the family limousine—only staring out the windows with pure sadness and dread on our faces, but then putting up bright facades when we were at Hiro's side.
As Hiro's mother...I could only imagine the pain she was experiencing. I only caught tiny glimmers of what might lie beneath her reserved, calm exterior: an out of place eye twitch here, and a fumbling of the lips or odd tripping of her words there: a "prim and proper" Japanese housewife, through and through.
Mr. Takeda had since ceased all contact with me, and wouldn't even allow me into the Takeda mansion. Instead I had to wait outside the gates for Ms. Takeda to ride out in the limo.
I hope he's treating her right. On these long drives, I always want to say something positive... uplifting, but it never feels right; I mean, what would I even say? I guess the generic "polite" thing would have been along the lines of: "don't worry, I'm sure he'll be fine!" But, really...how could I sincerely say that? Because for all we know, he might never wake up from this!
I hate feeling so helpless; only being able to wait and hope for the best.
Hiro and I…
We had our entire lives ahead of us.
It wasn't fair, but I guess there's nothing saying life is supposed to be fair in the first place.
Though, if he really did end up dying to protect me…
I swear, I'll never forgive myself.
After a full week had passed, with still no change in Hiro's state…I was beyond weary; a long string of sleepless nights, paired with the constant guilt, had taken their toll on me.
In other words, nothing was out of the unusual up to the moment when the limousine pulled over to the curb in front of the hospital, then Ms. Takeda and I were let out by the driver to take the arduous trek toward the receptionist desk. Where, after simply waiting on a nod from the woman behind the counter, we would continue: let along in silence to the elevator that would take us to the upper floors...to where Hiro awaited.
"I...really don't like hospitals," Ms. Takeda said to me that day. "Always have, since I used to get sick a lot when I was a girl."
I gave a small chuckle. "I'd be surprised if anyone didn't feel the same way."
"It's because they're made to look so…sterile. So clean. With walls decorated in nice, soft, pleasant colours, and all the nice aromas being filtered into the air constantly—"she turned to me with a glare, the corners of her mouth turned up in a crooked smile—"it's all a…cover-up, for what really goes on here."
"A cover-up?" I questioned her nervously, raising an eyebrow before surreptitiously glancing toward the glowing elevator panel for salvation. "You mean…like a conspiracy?"
She glanced at me seriously. "Well, is it true? Or am I just going crazy from grief?"
The breath caught in my throat.
I realized, then…I was caught in an elaborate trap. Cornered, with no means of escape.
That while Ms. Takeda has me right where she wants me, caught firmly within her clutches…she intends to squeeze me for all I am worth.
Yet she continued in spite of my silence; her voice gradually darkening, while at the same time carrying a distinct mocking tone: "I mean, it's like…they're trying to disguise the whole…concept of death itself!" She giggled. "All wrapped up, tied with a pretty little bow on top!" She unleashed a shrill laugh, much louder and harsher than the one that had come just before it, squinting and hunching forward slightly with her head shaking as her uneasy Stepford smile widened even more, showing all of her pearly white teeth. "But is…anyone really fooled by it? Is there even a point trying to hide it?"
Grimacing and twisting her lips, her gaze became one filled with smouldering rage.
"It should look like one of those…haunted house attractions." She rumbled, and then screamed: "A fucking mausoleum!"
"Ms. Takeda?" I was too chilled to respond with anything else, conscious of the fact that the elevator had long since stopped and its doors opened—revealing a circle of mystified onlookers as we continued to stare at each other for several moments in the awkward silence, her furiously bulging eyes looking like they were threatening to pop out of her skull.
"I know, now…it's all just a game to him." she resumed, panting harshly, her voice fallen to a raspy, barely audible whisper. "But I don't wanna play anymore."
It pained me to see her like this.
And like always I wanted to say something, but couldn't. The guilt was too strong.
…
I stopped going to the hospital with Ms. Takeda after that.