“I don’t even know where Hiura lives!”
He suddenly realized he was lacking one vital piece of information as he barreled out of the orphanage.
I need to see it! he thought, panicking. The vision he had seen so clearly just a moment ago had suddenly left him. Cursing under his breath, Makoto butted his head against the concrete wall encircling Nanoha-en.
“Ggyaah!” he yelped in anger.
His head made a terribly dull and unimpressive sound. Of course, he had no chance of winning against a concrete wall, and blood began to pour down his forehead. But the pain brought the visions back. Her house was not too far from the park they had visited some time ago. Several time-lapse photo-esque visions showed him the way to her house from the park.
“Damn, I’m good!”
The blood trickled from his forehead to his lips. He licked the warm blood and noted it tasted of iron.
A strong wind began to blow. In his vision, he saw the same wind that fanned the fire as the house was consumed in flames. In other words, what he saw was the future. It also meant it might be a future he could prevent from happening. He should still be able to make it in time. Makoto jumped into a cab, figuring it would be faster than taking the train.
“Old man,” he told the driver, “I need you to go one trillion times faster than you’ve ever driven before! Please!”
He threw his wallet at the driver. It contained his entire fortune. It seemed like a reckless request, but he was that desperate.
The driver, wearing Tetsuya Watari-style[5] sunglasses and sporting a crew cut, asked curiously. “Hey, young fella, you got some sort of situation here?”
“Just hurry up and go!” Makoto yelled impatiently.
“All right! Done.”
As luck would have it, the driver did turn out to be a speed freak, expertly zooming his yellow cab in and out of traffic with unbelievable speed and technique.
But while the taxi zoomed through the streets of Japan, Makoto still couldn’t help but fret. He might really lose that which was precious to him.
Now that he realized just how much she meant to him, and there was a possibility he could lose her, he was nearly freaking out. He wondered why those who were precious to him always seemed to have this tendency to vanish. His family, his father, his mother. Was he going to lose her now too?
“Not this time!” he told himself vehemently. “My father and my mother, they died… because of me. But I lived. I’m alive. I breathe, I have warmth and I’m here.”
He thought about why he avoided thinking about these things until now. There are things that can be discovered not by dying, but only through living.
“If this power I have was given to me for this day alone, if this is what my father and mother exchanged their lives for, and I was born only for this day… then maybe I can be forgiven for being born. This is my reason for living, the answer I have searched for. I’ve found it. I’ve finally found it. Now I can’t lose her!”
The taxi skidded into place with the force of a bullet.
“Old man, call the police and ambulances and everyone!” Makoto yelled as he dashed out of the taxi.
The sign on the door read “Hiura,” confirming this indeed was the place. Makoto reached for the doorknob and saw the door was unlocked.
“Hiuraaaaaa!” he called out, leaping into the house.
The living room was in a terrible state.
“Hiura!”
Soaked from head to toe, Toiro was lying there listlessly.
“Hey, get a hold of yourself!”
He was about to slap Toiro’s cheeks, but he stopped, seeing a bruise on her face. It looked like it came from a punch. Makoto knew those kinds of bruises well. In his past he had suffered the same kinds of bruises all over his body.
“Crap! How did this happen?” He held her tight and felt her breathing.
“Good,” he said to himself. “She’s still alive.”
But his relief was short lived. Sniffing, he realized the liquid covering her, and spread all over the living room, was gasoline.
“Ggaaaahhhhhhh! ”
He heard a voice yelling from behind him. Turning around, he saw a man standing there. The setting sun, which could be seen from the window, shone from behind the man. His face was not clearly visible.
“You!” Makoto yelled. “How dare you?!!”
Makoto braced himself to charge at the man, but he stopped short, noticing that the man held a lighter in his hand.
“H-hey!” he yelled at him. “Put that down!”
“Aaaaagghhhhh!” the man screamed out.
“God, are you out of your mind?!”
“Aaaaaiiiaaaaaaahhhhh! ”
The man flipped open the lighter top.
“Stop!” Makoto yelled, tackling the man.
“Gaaaahhhhhh!”
“Don’t mess with a former kendo club member!”
In the struggle, Makoto’s fist somehow found the man’s face. Wincing in pain, the man gave up. Makoto snatched the lighter away from him.
“Huff, huff, huff… How do ya like that, huh?” Makoto bragged.
He turned his attention back to Toiro, still shooting careful glances at the man.
“Hiura! Hiura!”
“…Hm…” she responded to his voice.
“Hiura! It’s me, Makoto! Get a hold of yourself! You’re hurt pretty bad! Er, I mean, you’re not hurt that bad! But it’s—”
“…M…Makoto… kun… why…” she stammered as she came to. Her eyes began to focus.
“Makoto-kun…?” she asked.
“Are you all right, Hiura?!”
“How… Makoto-kun… What are you doing here…?”
“I don’t really know either,” he explained, “but I felt you were in danger. Anyway, don’t worry. I beat him down with my iron fists.”
“Iron fists…?”
Her memory was still fuzzy and Makoto—in his excitement—couldn’t explain the situation properly.
“Uh…yeah.”
“…Gwaaaahhh…”
“Wha—! Not again…” Makoto exclaimed in surprise.
The man had stood up and staggered towards them.
“Bastard,” Makoto said. “Looks like I’m gonna have to give him another taste of my—”
“Daddy!” Toiro shouted, interrupting Makoto.
“Huh… This guy… Oh my God… Your dad…?!” Like pieces in a puzzle, the little things he noticed about Toiro suddenly fell into place.
The bruise on her thigh, the long skirts and long-sleeved blouses she preferred even in hot weather, the welt on her neck, the way she smiled to laugh it all off… It was all to hide the marks made by her father’s abuse.
He knew if she were to take her clothes off now, the painful scars would be revealed. So why hadn’t he realized it? Why couldn’t he realize it? The signs were all there before, only he hadn’t noticed.
There must have been some kind of sign, a cry for help, he thought. Why didn’t I realize it?
“Daddy! Please!” Toiro pleaded.
“Aaaaghhhh!”
But her father no longer understood her words. His mind was damaged. Something in his hand suddenly glinted.
Makoto and Toiro stared dumbfounded. He was holding a knife. It was pointed in their direction.
“Aaaggh,” he hissed, “Let’s… Let’s be together… together…”
“Daddy!” Toiro screamed.
Still confusing Toiro for her mother, her father was out to kill her.
He was going to kill her and then kill himself. In so doing, he would be able to achieve eternity. An eternity, a world for themselves. Makoto understood his intentions perfectly. Still, he couldn’t get himself to act. The scene he was witnessing forced his painful memories to resurface.
Red blood, his mother’s voice, her warmth, her cold death.
His memories robbed him of all mobility.
What is this? he asked himself. Am I still the same child I was back then? Can’t I ever wake up from this nightmare? Will I always have to hide my scars?
Looking at Toiro, he willed himself into action. He knew if he was killed, everything would end here. He had to do it. Yes, he still bore the scars and they still hurt, but he had to do something.
“I’m alive. And… I’m going to live!”
Cursing loudly, Makoto leapt into action. He moved swift as lightning and hurled himself onto Toiro’s father’s chest.
As soon as Makoto hit him, Toiro’s father swung the knife down.
—Ring.