"SHINTARO!"

"What is it?" the teenager asked, lazily pulling his headphones away from his ears.

"H-Haruka's the hospital!"

He sprang up from his chair. The bright light coming in from the doorway hurt his eyes since his bedroom was so dark, but his eyes still stared at the silhouette of his little sister, completely wide open. He ran out of his room, swiping his red jersey hanging next to the door and putting it on as he left the house. With all the strength that he could have in his skinny body, he ran to the hospital, which was several blocks away. The reception desk stared at him with her eyes asking, "What's wrong?"

"Ha-Ha-Haruka Kokonose," Shintaro panted.

"Room 91," she said after she glanced down at the computer screen in front of her.

He wasted no time in getting there. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't run any more. He reached the room and all but slammed the door open, still slightly out of breath. What little he had left was taken away at the sight of one of his best friends lying there on the hospital bed, hooked up to countless machines, yet still looking pale.

"Haruka," he exhaled.

The arrogant boy slowly walked towards him. He repeated his name as he slumped into the visitors' chair next to the bed and reached out. Haruka's hand was cold. If it weren't for the shallow rises of the chest, he might've been dead. Shintaro held his friend's hand in between in his own and brought to his hand. He repeated his friend's name again and as if by some switch, Haruka chose that moment to stir. Shintaro dropped his hand and pretended to have a bored expression.

"Takane?" Haruka asked, his voice slightly slurred.

"It's me," Shintaro said, seeming to not care.

"Oh. Hi, Shintaro," Haruka said brightly, but Shintaro didn't miss the way he seemed disappointed.

"You-"

"I'm not going to make it, Shintaro," Haruka interrupted him. "That's why, I want you to do me a favor."

"Eh?" Shintaro was shocked.

"Tell Takane that I l-love her," he continued.

"...Sure," he agreed, as if that hadn't just dropped his heart into his stomach.

A few days later, while in his room, Shintaro learned that Haruka and Takane were both gone. Haruka from his condition and Takane seemed to had just disappeared off the face of the Earth. He went to school, but his days seemed the same as before, since his first friend, Ayano, wasn't showing up to school either.

"Kisaragi?"

"Here," he replied to the teacher emotionlessly.

"Tateyama?" the teacher said a few moments later.

"Here!" a reply came from the seat next to him, as cheerful as ever.

Shintaro blinked and looked at her. She waved to him.

"Good morning," she whispered. "What's got you so gloomy?"

He gave her an apathetic look as they pulled out their textbooks. The rest of the day went on, with her struggling to keep up and him not caring. On the way home, they walked together like always. She grabbed his hand. For a moment, he was reminded of his last time with Haruka.

"Let go!" he snapped.

"I won't let you go," she said with resolve.

"Che. You're annoying."

And with that, he shook off her hand and left her there. He didn't even spare a glance at her, though if he did, maybe he would've seen her silent tears roll down her cheeks.

Less than a week later, he received news that she had suicided and jumped off their school's roof.

For two years, he stayed in his room. He had a new roommate, a cyber-girl/virus/program that was too cheerful. She kind of reminded him of the friends that he had lost.

"I'm worried for you, Master," she had suddenly said one day. "You've spent sooo much time in your house. You haven't taken one step out!"

He looked at her for a while. Her concerned face, to him, seemed fake and plastered on. Maybe it was, since she was just a bunch of pixels. That annoyed him. There was no way something like her could understand. He stood up from his bed and wrapped his hands around her neck through the screen. Her mouth opened, as if screaming, and there was a sound of breaking glass right before the screen was blank. He picked up a pair of bright red scissors.

Red, like the color of heroes. Red, like the jersey that Ayano and Haruka had both complimented him on. Red, like the color of the blood now streaming from his neck.

"Ayano, you were wrong," he said in his mind. "There are no heroes. No heroes that can save me at least."