Shingin was tightly bound by rough ropes, his hands turning purple from the pressure. He weakly lifted his head, taking in the chaos around him: trembling ground, crumbling ruins, massive boulders crashing down, and screams piercing the dust-choked air—a harbinger of imminent death.
"Run for your lives! Stay, and you're done for!" a man covered in dirt shouted, dragging his family as they fled. Those who once pointed at Shingin, cursing him as a "demon," now lacked even the courage to glance in his direction. Panic consumed them as they scrambled for safety.
Just as Shingin mustered the strength to unleash his powers and break free, he felt the ropes slacken slightly. Turning abruptly, he saw a small figure fumbling clumsily with the knots. It was a boy of seven or eight, his frail body trembling amidst the tremors, yet his determination tugged at Shingin's heart.
"What... what are you doing?" Shingin asked in a low voice.
The boy looked up, his face lighting up with a pure smile. Despite the dirt on his cheeks, his eyes sparkled with innocence. "Big brother isn't a bad person."
For a moment, Shingin froze. He recognized the boy. After the rooftop battle, he had seen this child at the bus stop, holding his mother's hand and happily licking a cotton candy. Back then, he thought that no matter how dark the world was, such pure light would always exist. He never imagined this light would burn so brightly before him just days later.
"Why…" Shingin's voice trembled. "Why are you helping me? Don't you all think I'm a demon?"
The boy grinned wider, his voice like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. "Big brother isn't a demon. Mom said bad people don't cry."
Tears? Shingin reached a trembling hand to his face and found it wet. Unbeknownst to him, tears had already fallen. He choked back a sob, finally managing a hoarse, "Thank you…"
Before he could say more, a deafening crash erupted above. A massive boulder hurtled down with blinding speed, aimed directly at them.
"Watch out!" Shingin instinctively reached out to shield the boy but was powerless.
The boulder struck the boy's head with a sickening impact, blood instantly staining the ground. His small frame wavered before collapsing like a flower stem snapped by the wind, his tiny hands still clutching the rope.
"No!" Shingin roared, his voice raw and broken. With a surge of desperate strength, he shattered the ropes and rushed to the boy's side. Cradling the lifeless body, he trembled uncontrollably, the icy touch of death sending shockwaves through his soul.
The boy's hand hung limply.
"Why…" Shingin's voice cracked as he sobbed. "Why did you do it? You were so young! Why save me!?" His anguished cry echoed amidst the ruins, louder even than the collapsing debris. Yet, the fleeing crowd remained indifferent, their only focus survival.
Shingin clutched the boy's body, tears streaming freely as his gaze lifted to the collapsing world beyond. Inside him, a fire raged—consuming, unrelenting, and blinding. Reason gave way to raw emotion, a storm that threatened to drown him.
"What's the point of all this!" His voice tore through the dust-filled air, laden with heart-wrenching grief.
Shingin held the boy close, his fingers trembling. Around him, the ruins continued to crumble, but all he could feel was the silence in his chest. His once-bright eyes now reflected only void—a man hollowed by loss. The boy's blood soaked his clothes, its warmth fading, leaving a chilling weight in its wake.
With trembling hands, Shingin gently laid the boy down, arranging him in a peaceful posture. The child's face, unmarred despite the tragedy, seemed to wear a faint, serene smile, as if still lost in an innocent dream. Shingin clasped the boy's hands over his chest and wiped the blood from his forehead with shaking fingers.
"Thank you…" Shingin whispered, his voice fragile, almost inaudible. "But I can't stay…" He stood, his body heavy with sorrow, and forced himself to walk away. Each step felt like dragging chains, the boy's lifeless form anchoring him in place.
He didn't look back. That small, brave soul, the light of innocence extinguished, was a wound that would never heal. His mind swirled with shattered thoughts, yet one notion burned sharp as a blade—his family. His mother and sister needed him. Somewhere in this hellish landscape, they awaited his return.
"I must reach them…"
Unnoticed, his staggering steps quickened into a determined run. Pain and exhaustion were swallowed by an unyielding resolve. Tears blurred his vision, but he pressed forward, unshaken by despair.
Far away, Yahageshii sprinted with Jade in his arms, panting but unwilling to stop. Anxiety clawed at him as thoughts of Shingen's safety tormented his mind. Slowing briefly, he was startled by two figures emerging ahead—Ryuosho and a stranger.
"Lazy bug! Where the hell were you? I thought you ditched us!" Yahageshii barked, pointing an accusing finger.
Ryuosho shrugged lazily, his head tilted as if indifferent to the outburst. "What's with the attitude? I'm not interested in your little game."
Yahageshii's anger flared but cooled when his gaze fell on the girl by Ryuosho's side. "Who's this? Why bring a stranger back?"
Ryuosho didn't answer. The girl lowered her head, biting her lip as if reluctant to speak.
Yahageshii shook his head, brushing aside the question. Gently setting Jade down before Ryuosho, his tone turned urgent. "Forget it. Just take care of her for me. I need to go back. Shingen's still out there, and I can't leave him!"
Ryuosho frowned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what'll you do? Be a liability?"
Yahageshii whirled around, his eyes blazing. "Shut up! Shingen's my brother. If he's in danger, I won't abandon him!"
Ryuosho smirked but said nothing more, watching Yahageshii's determined silhouette vanish into the chaos. His expression grew complicated as he glanced down at Jade, then back toward the direction Yahageshii had gone.