Nobody knows who I really am
I never felt this empty before
And if I ever need someone to come along
Who's gonna comfort me, and keep me strong
- Life is like a boat (By Rie Fu)
Chapter 1: After an end
"Really. It is fine."
A breeze moves the thin curtains, shining on the flower patterns as I watch them move. The sunlight outside is bright, too bright for my liking so I stand up and walk to the window. It is quite large, and I can see out to the yard where people are either sitting or walking around in their dull gowns. It is the same as any other day and the sight doesn't seem any different.
The window is somewhat rusty and old, so when I start closing it, the sound it emits scratches my ears. The final breeze that manages to come in makes the bangs in front of my face move before it is shut out completely. There is enough air in this room, to begin with, but I feel like I am suffocating in here. I press my hands against the warm glass briefly and turn around.
"No, it is not," my voice is soft, as I make my way back to my original seat. It looks just as dull as those people outside, but I admit liking how soft it is when I sit down. My entire body feels like it is sinking and unlike the window, the armchair does not make a sound.
"When can you leave?"
Silence. Hearing only the sound of someone walking in the hallway on the other side of the wall makes me bite down on my tongue. I sigh tiredly and press my cheek against the soft armrest with my hands acting as extra pillows. Still, the way nobody speaks in the room is deafening enough. I want to break something but refer from standing up. Who knows what I might do, if I even make an inch up from this seat.
How long exactly have I been here?
"I am sorry."
I frown and shake my head, fighting back tears that sting my eyes like needles. "What are you sorry about?"
"You will be fine."
Those words sting even more, and I raise my head, positive that my eyes are glossy and that the trembling of my lower lip is just as visible. My short fingernails dig into the chair harshly. The marks on it are proof enough that this isn't the first time I am taking my emotions out on it.
"No…" I wish for my voice to sound steadier and that it could have more volume to it, but all I can hear is a whisper. "I won't."
This isn't fair.
My shoulders tremble and it becomes too hard for me to keep my chin up. I lower it and bury my face into my arms again. A right thing, for now, should be to stay calm and look straight at what is ahead, but I can't bring myself to do it. Maybe, if I keep crying like this, someone will take pity on me and stop this nightmare forever. This is probably a cliché or cheesy way to describe it, but that is just how I am seeing things now. This place is nothing more than a black hole that is slowly tearing and swallowing me up.
I don't stop the tears from flowing freely anymore. They are warm, but I shiver when the air conditioner continues blowing cool air in. However, I am soon numb to the chill and can only think of the pain that blooms inside my chest. It spread breaks, tears and destroys my insides. I choke and clench my hands tightly, now fully giving up on trying to remain calm and level-headed.
Not being able to bear it, I slowly stand up – struggling to stay up and not fall down on my knees – and sit down on the bed. I lean down and hug a warm body which embraces me tightly back. I can feel how warm breath heats my right shoulder alongside with something wet.
I want almost to say: 'See? Not even you can stop crying.'
I choke again when a hand combs through my hair and another hand holds me tighter.
"I-I d-don't want t-this…" I whisper, letting every bit of my anguish soak in those words.
There is no air to breathe in.
Something cracks.
Breaks and fades.
The arms keep holding onto me firmly, but gently and shaking.
Whatever is building up in me is starting to boil over and I choke out. The pain keeps on spreading.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Everything hurts and burns.
There is no reason to continue on.
"Don't leave me alone!"
It happens out of nowhere. One second, I am arranging new food products on the shelves and the next thing I know the ground is shaking violently. A few cans on top of each other at my side fall down and clatter loudly while the whole staff and the people in the store start panicking. The shaking lasts only for a moment, but it is enough to make me freeze on my spot.
People cry out – I also holler when I fear a whole shelve will soon fall on me – and soon the store is filled with mutters of confusion. I remain frozen on my spot, but then fall down to my knees when another tremor shakes the whole place, and it feels much stronger and closer than the first one. The products rattle next to my head and I remain in my fatal position like a rock.
"W-what is happening!?"
"Get down!"
"An earthquake!"
When the idea of a natural disaster rises up with a stronger yell, my already fast heartbeat quickens its pace and I start crawling forward quickly. And if this is adrenaline which allows me to dodge skillfully fallen packages of chips, then I am most grateful of my instincts to get away.
Another earthquake could happen at any second, and I am not planning on being in the middle of two large shelves that could fall and crush me.
When I have made it out of the danger, mostly, I see another few workers down on the ground as well. They are shielding their heads and I do the same, feeling a bit safer with somewhat familiar faces. I am trembling, wishing that this could have been my day-off and I would be somewhere else. I hate, hate, hate Mondays!
Still being overtaken by fear, I curl into a tight ball and pray that the ceiling won't be crashing down. Though, I probably should try and crawl under a desk or some other solid thing that could provide protection to some unknown level.
"Everyone, please, stay calm!" The speaker inside the store cuts through the panic and silences mostly everything else. "There is a villain out in the loose on the street and is creating these tremors. The heroes will be arriving soon, so we are asking all of you to stay inside until the situation settles down. Thank you."
As soon as whoever is speaking from the staff room of the store stops, yet another earthquake shakes and ruffles the shelves. I flinch, not seeing how this being a villain's doing makes the situation any better. By the time anyone makes it here, this place will be nothing but dust! And that persons till managed to sound so calm and monotonous, as usual. I want to scoff loudly and tell him that there is no way anyone can have a tranquil state of mind even if someone was coming.
However, contrary to my belief, the people in the store start to lower their volume. Shakily, I look up to see the two of my coworkers shift from their curled-up positions and just sit calmly in the middle of a hallway.
"Only a villain? That scared me shitless for a sec there."
"Tell me about it," the other worker grumbles and rubs the back of her head. "I was almost crushed by a sack of flour back there."
The male worker snorts but then spots me a few feet away with a shaken and probably wild look of a frightened animal on my face. "Wow. Are you alright?"
It takes a while for me to process the question and realize that both of them have started to observe me with obvious concern. My mind works slowly. I stumble with my next words, still shaking. "Y-yeah. I… I w-wasn't just expecting this to happen," I laugh weakly.
"This is actually my third time seeing something like this happening," the man muses and looks out of the window. I see smoke rising and the thick greyness blocks any sighting of buildings or people. "So, I think we will be fine. The pros will be here in no time."
Fine? That word and his calm demeanor do not make me feel any safer.I look around the store, slightly hoping that someone else would share my uneasiness. But to my shock, the customers have settled down and merely also peer out to catch a glimpse of the one causing all of this chaos. I, on the other hand, am silently begging them to stay far away from the way out or the villain might see us attack this store next. Goosebumps have spread all over my limbs and the short sleeves of my uniform make them easy to spot. I am already feeling pretty bare on the ground with the ground trembling and knowing that there is a dangerous individual out there.
Inhaling sharply, I try to sit up as well. I should just stay calm, for now. This is a large city, things tend to happen here more often than in an isolated countryside. Honestly, I have never experienced an attack made by a villain firsthand and I wonder if these people can see it from how I am reacting. Although, we can't really be guaranteed that this whole place will not come crashing down.
As if the world is against me, the ground shakes again and the lamp above our heads flicker. A small 'eep' escapes from my mouth and I cover my head with my hands immediately. I am going to die!
"Whoa! Calm down," the co-worker says, and it is clear from the tone that she is much more collected than I am at the moment. "The building is pretty sturdy, and this is not the first time that someone attacks shops in this street."
"R-right," is all that I can get out of my mouth. Is this really so common that they barely react? "How l-long exactly do we have to wait?"
"Usually, the heroes come and take care of the matters in less than an hour around here." The woman frowns. "But it pretty much always depends on what the situation is and who is handling it."
I want to cry and slam my head on the ground in frustration. Even thirty minutes is too long of a period of time for me to just sit here in the store and wait for the destruction outside to settle. My palms start to sweat again, and I take out my phone to see that my shift should end in ten minutes and it sends a jolt through my body. This is bad – I am starting to sweat bullets. Who even commits crimes while it is in the middle of the day and bright? Not to mention in the middle of a public area?
Calm, calm. Stay calm, I try repeating to myself, but yelp when another quake shakes the ground. The phone slips from my fingers, but I catch it quickly. Luckily, my coworkers are too busy looking out to what is happening to really notice my blunderings. Not at least bit as interested as they are in the commotion, I turn my attention back to the device in my hands while holding in my irritation and bewilderment.
Back at Hokkaido, I wouldn't have run into a situation like this even in the wildest of circumstances. It was peaceful where I am from, but I should have guessed for this place to be much different. Though, expecting to work in a middle of a street where an attack could occur never crossed my mind.
Suddenly, there is a pause in the air and even I can feel it. People have stopped talking, start to stand up from their crouched positions and are all looking out of the window.
Curious and very hopeful, I also stand up and make my way to stand behind my coworkers who have started to line up as well. And over peoples' shoulder, I catch a glimpse of a dark and collapsed form. Blinking, I frown and then take in the way how he doesn't seem to be able to move. That must be the villain, I guess? And right next to the body, with back straight as an arrow stood a person dressed in a skintight outfit, his back to the crowd inside the store.
A hero.
The inside of my entire mouth grows dry and I just continue standing there like a solid statue. I forget time and then the reason why I am even standing there in the first place. The only thing I can focus on is that standing form on the other side of the window.
"Thank goodness!" Someone exclaims out loud, breaking the quiet muttering the other people have started doing.
"I can return to work now!"
"That villain looks so weak! It is no wonder it was beaten so quickly."
Some start to flood out of the store and out to the street and gather around the standing man while a bunch of police cars starts appearing. The uniform-clad men start surrounding the area and the hero turns around to receive the praise from the excited and grateful people…
All the while I just stand, expression slack and with no emotion whatsoever on my features. Somehow, watching this hero, the people surrounding him and the villain who is chained by the police and dragged away is making my stomach clench. Although, at the same time, I can't tear my eyes away from the scene. The people who had been panicking the very second the earth started to move, had calmed immediately when hearing of that beaten villain being on the loose. And now they are all looking at one person, the appreciation clear on their faces.
My eyes don't follow the gathered crowd, but a smaller group of policemen who are now pulling the villain to his feet. He looks to be unconscious, and if he isn't, then it is merely a shock influencing his limp form. There are chains around his wrists, now. Some young folk are on the side and pointing at him with clear smiles on their faces and making mocking gestures.
Everything on the other side of the glass is black and white.
…I will just go out through the back door, then.
I stare at the rows of fast-food products lined up in front of me. I am not sure how long I have done that, but I couldn't really care less. Any person who has passed this section and seen me just standing in my place has probably thought that I have a problem with deciding what I want. Although, they all would want to call help if they took notice of how unmovable I have been and what kind of blank look is figuratively carved on my face. Chicken or shrimp noodles? When I try calculating how much money I can use and how much is left, my thoughts keep on trailing off.
What did I want to buy, again? That is the last straw and I let out a quiet sigh. There is no way that I can decide anything today. I should just go home, maybe to take a bath or sleep.
I turn around and start making my way towards the cashier. I haven't used this store before, so I am not really sure if I am going in the right direction. It may also have something to do with the fact that I haven't pretty much paid any attention to my surroundings when walking around the place and I can only hope that I won't get lost while walking back to my apartment.
"…ko?"
I freeze and raise my eyes confusedly to stare forward. I am still in the middle of the same rows of shelves and only a few steps away from entering the one holding milk products. I blink once and then continue walking. It is such a funny coincidence. There must be someone else in this place who is called…
"Maki Masako?"
I freeze for the second time, shoulders stiff. This is going beyond having similar names coincidentally with someone.
Slowly, I turn half-way around and tilt my head down. Strangely, I am met with bright yellow colors and a masked face looking up at me. Two pairs of eyes behind that black piece of a mask are wide and do once over on my whole appearance. I frown, not liking the action and keep my shoulders squared. However, my defense falters when I realize that this person is only an old man.
I relax, but then my muscles stiffen again. It is slightly annoying how slowly my brain seems to be working nowadays, but I wish that I could remain in that half-asleep state I had been just a second ago. No random stranger should know my full name so easily, especially in this part of Japan. Not to mention he is wearing overly peculiar outfit… which can only belong to a hero and that makes matters even worse. So, the way I can feel my heartbeat against my ribcage and echo in my ears, the rabid way my palms are gathering drops of sweat to them and how I can't seem to breathe all of sudden are pretty common factories that scream for me to make a run for it.
The old man doesn't take a step forward, nor do I make a move to back away.
"Is it really you, Masako? What are you doing here?" As the questions pass, something in the elder's tone tightens.
"U-um," I glance around, not really hearing what he is asking, "do… do I know you? This must be a mistake."
"Shouldn't you be at Hokkaido?"
That settles it and I visibly flinch in horror. It is official, and I have literally walked into a trap. A voice inside my head screams that I am an idiot and that I should have ignored the call of my name the very second, I heard it.
This old man knows who I am, and I am terrified from thinking what other information he has on me. I hadn't predicted this; the chances of this happening were so small and near nonexistence that this is definitely a miracle. A bad one.
"Who…" I have to inhale deeply – stay calm! – and not to go with the urge to make a run for it, "who are you?"
His look of shock – it seemed to be morphing into an emotion close to anger – melts into confusion. "What? You were never told of me? Don't you even remember – Oh. I guess you were too young."
Never told? Young? My frown deepens, and my heart won't settle. Just who is this person?
"My hero name is Gran Torino. Does that say anything to you? Or what about my real name, Sorahiko?"
My mouth opens and closes, truthfully, that doesn't tell me anything. I am starting to think that this is all a simple, but horrifying coincidence mixed with bunches of misunderstandings until I pause with my train of thoughts. Something hits me, like a nostalgic memory and a frown forms on my face again. I can't start to ignore that there is a certain familiarity with this name I have heard.
Sorahiko… Gran… what was it again?
I look at the old man – Sorahiko – again, much like he had done to me a few moments ago. I keep on noting how short he is, how old he looks and yet he carries a basket with different foods in his one hand without any problem. Naturally, nothing pretty much clicks into place yet, but then…
"You are…" I say quietly, too much occupied in remembering.
My eyes turn as wide as plates.
Gran Torino smirks, as he watches my shocked – terrified – expression. "So, you do remember me."
The silence is heavy, it fills the entire wide area covered in furniture and dust. However, I try my best to appear as nonchalant as possible. Although, it is becoming rather hard. The chair is uncomfortable, damp air has gotten in through an open window where rain falls down to the city and not to mention the fact that there is a pair of sharp eyes watching me across the table critically. I feel intimidated and keep my gaze on the table in pure stubbornness. My fingers play with the hem of my hoodie and I keep on glancing towards a nearby clock as the minute's tick by.
I am soaked, slightly cold and fear that soon a sneeze might cut through this thick atmosphere. The latter is the last thing that I want to happen, but it might pass by if I don't open my mouth now and talk. Or the silent individual who also has his mouth set on a thin line and his arms crossed across his chest. The message is clear – he wants me to say something first. Probably to explain myself, immediately.
A frown almost makes my eyebrows knit together. He is the one who brought me here; he should be the one to start a conversation. Why is he making me feel like a troublemaker here? It may be because he is a hero; someone who stands with justice is seen as a one who has the power to judge, no matter who it is.
A heavy sigh finally breaks the silence and I stiffen, raising my eyes awkwardly. The sharp pair of eyes are closed, now. "Why are you here, Masako?"
This time, I let myself frown and look at him. "…B-because you brought me here?"
"You know what I mean," he grumbles out and opens his eyes. "Why are you here?"
Words get stuck in my throat and I lower my gaze again. The old man's gaze is too heavy, and I lean back and hope to melt together with the chair. I haven't really done anything wrong, but it feels as if I am in a police station, as a suspect that is. And this senior is the scary cop who forgot to bring the good cop with him. And instead of donuts, there is a bunch of taiyakis placed in the middle of the table. I admit feeling hunger from looking at them, but those sensations shizzle when I remember where exactly I am at.
This is no time to be carefree, not that I could be like that in the first place. There has been heaviness dragging my feet and hung over my head the very second, I ran into this old man – the one who I haven't seen in years. He still recognized me.
Hesitantly, I raise my eyes to meet his. It is still piercing, but the prickling against my skin is silenced by an observation. Was he always this short?
When he sees that I am not planning to answer, he sighs again. "Does Ren know you are here?"
I flinch, fingers digging into the grey fabric of my hoodie. I had ironed it so well before I went out, but now it is filled with wrinkles again. My throat feels tight and it isn't a surprise when I lower my eyes for the hundredth time. They have started to sting, and I suddenly feel much smaller than the older man who is patiently waiting for my answer. I should have figured that he would ask that. But I was kind of hoping that he would know the answer.
"…grandpa," I gather air into my mouth, stomach clenching tighter and my body trembles from the sheer force of sudden emotions, "is… dead."
Sorahiko lets out a sound – a grunt which holds all of his shock. "When?"
My hands continue clenching and shake violently. Somehow, the sound of his steady voice sends a flood of anger through me. How can you ask that so nonchalantly? My teeth grit together, and I absolutely refuse to raise my head again. I might as well get a neck cramp than look at the old hero in the eyes again. I should have just ignored him and kept walking at the market. It had been a shock to me. The fact that Sorahiko and I met with such coincidence that I couldn't move for a solid minute is nerve-wracking. I had an opening and I could have run away – despite his fast quirk that I remember seeing too well years ago. I could have ignored the mirroring shocked look that Gran Torino also had on his face.
Maybe it was because I was too shaken to fully think straight. There had even been a small hopeful thought in my skull that he might be slightly happy to see me. A stupid part of me was happy to be recognized by someone that even my sorrow was lifted all together for a mere second. But when the shock had been completely wiped out of Sorahiko's face, I understood what he thought.
He is not happy that I am here. He would much prefer that I would have stayed back in the countryside. The interrogation had started the very minute I stepped into his house. And now, I am close to bawling my eyes out like a child. I am close to raising my voice, too.
"Sh-shouldn't you know that?" My voice is quiet, contrary to my boiling emotions. "Grandpa told me… that you two have been in contact."
"Yes, but he hasn't since…" Sorahiko pauses and I can only imagine what his expression is like. The silence stretches for few seconds. "Three months. That is how long you have been here?"
"A month and a half," I mutter, but there is no doubt that he can hear it.
"How? Have you settled nearby?"
My stomach continued flipping, and I bite down on my lower lip. "I used… the money grandpa left as an inheritance. But – but I have also gotten a job."
"What kind of job?" Now there is suspicion in his tone and I actually feel a bit insulted. I look up to see him holding one taiyaki while keeping his eyes on my meek form. He munches on it, which strangely adds coercion. He raises one eyebrow. "Well?"
"I work in a grocery store," I say softly and then glance to the outside through the window. "Can I go now?"
Honestly, I was looking forward to spending the rest of the day inside that dusty space I have started calling 'home'. Tomorrow I will have to get back to work and I can't do my job properly if I am tired from not getting any sleep. This old hero has already brought up a subject that I do not wish to recall when I have only recently been able to gather myself… somewhat.
Sorahiko gives me a stern look, but instead of commenting, he pushes a plate towards me. The chair beneath him creaks when he leans back and continues consuming his own snack. "Eat. It is still raining outside, and I don't have an umbrella to give, at the moment."
"But… "
His eyes shoot up to meet mine with the same sharpness he displayed the moment we sat down. The words get stuck into my mouth. Somehow, this makes me have millions of flashbacks whenever gramps scolded me. Despite it usually being – had been – a very uncomfortable and stressful situation for me, I can feel comfort from that similar gaze, now. Nostalgic fills my chest and I look down at the plate full of taiyaki. I haven't eaten one for over two months and yet the sight of it does not make water rise in my mouth.
I look up at Sorahiko to see that he has dropped his own attention from me to his treat. Instead of seeing more wrinkle lines forming from a frown, his features have smoothened. Though, he does not look very happy, yet. In fact, I think that he looks almost melancholic. I could be seeing things because of the rain, the dim light, and the way my eyes still have blurry vision, but it basically doesn't matter because my lower lip drops barely to be visible movement. True, Gran Torino is someone I find slightly scary. He is basically an individual – an acquittance of the family – I have nearly no memories of from childhood. Only a few images are remaining in my brain, and they are fuzzy ones.
The old man has finished his snack and takes another no second later. The low expression hasn't left his features, but he doesn't say anything or look at me.
Seeing this, I take the first bite and my own thoughts are directed to that other wrinkly faced man who the world lost three months ago. Were he and gramps truly friends, then? Is he sad because he is dead now?
…if he feels that way, I can probably trust him.
"Can you not tell," I start quietly, hesitant of how I should put my wish into words, "that I am here… Especially…"
"I get it. You don't want him to know," Sorahiko speaks as if he knows exactly what I think and fear the most at this very moment.
My shoulders relax, and I can actually feel how my sadness shifts out of the way of relief to some extent. I bite into the taiyaki, relishing the taste that spreads into my mouth. The uneasiness I have felt until now isn't entirely gone, but at least I have some sort of reassurance. Gramps did say that I should come here before he died. I should have listened to him more and contacted this person much earlier. But, who knew that I would meet him like this and talk to him inside his house like this?
"Whatever drama is going to be happening between the two of you… it isn't my business."
I give a short nod, not knowing what else to say. But, I am grateful. So much so that tears nearly escape from my eyes.
"That being said, hurry up and finish that taiyaki!" He points at me angrily and I flinch from his suddenly loud and irritated voice. He then takes a bit from his own treat. "You are under my roof, and you have barely eaten the food I have graciously offered. Is this how youngster nowadays show respect to their elders?"
His words are nearly comical, but whatever gratefulness I felt a moment ago is gone. I am startled and a bit uneasy from the irritation he expresses, and quickly take another bite. He had been so calm and tranquil a second ago that I almost started mistaking him for gramps… but now I am certain that they are nearly nothing alike. Gramps never raised his voice to me – maybe few times, but that was rare and only when I truly screwed up.
"He may be a bit rough on the outside, but don't let that startle you, kiddo."
The food on the way into my mouth pauses as I mull over the faraway echo of the voice I have not heard in months.
Gramps had always talked of Sorahiko with a nostalgic expression and voice.
I peek – for the hundredth time – at the small old man on the other side of the table. When he does not wear an expression, the wrinkles seem to push down all joy in life on his face. Though, every elder person is like that in my eyes.
Still, gramps – for some bizarre reason – forgot to mention that Sorahiko… is a hero. If this old man had not insisted and intimidated me a bit, I would have not followed him from the store. But as I am taking yet another bite from taiyaki, I think I understand what my grandparent had meant. He said he didn't want me to be alone for too long.
My entire body sinks into a soft bed and I let out a loud sigh, not at least bit worried if the neighbors can hear me from the other side of the wall. All I care about is how comfortable and safe the covers feel and bury my face into a pillow.
Still, all the comfort in this small room can't stop the slight trembling of my hands. The same can be said about of the rest of my body; it feels as if every muscle is made of jelly. The heartbeat inside my chest feels like it has increased its rhythm the longer I had kept walking back here, and there hadn't even been any running involved.
"That was scary," I sigh out, voice muffled. Who knew that I would be so frightened of a small old man?
Honestly, Gran Torino is not what I have expected, at all. He is nothing like I have always pictured heroes to be… Well, he is old and probably retired according to what I have understood, but still.
After the conversation we had, the whole 'lunch' had been going forward agonizingly slowly. I am not sure, if Gran Torino got to say everything he wanted, or if he stayed silent on purpose, but I was nearly suffocating while sitting there like an idiot and glancing around the place. If he noticed this, he hadn't commented on my behavior.
A pressure like sensation twists in my stomach and it churns uncomfortably. I scowl, face flushing, but then shiver and turn on my back while hugging a pillow. Those taiyakis had been good, but in the end, I ate too much. If Sorahiko consumed just as much as I did – hopefully more – then I wish for him to suffer from a full stomach as well. What was the point even making me stay there for more than two hours, to begin with?
I sigh again and roll to my side, feeling a bit tired from recalling one unexpected moment that broke the suffocating silence in that rundown house.
Getting up I walk frustrated to a cardboard box left in the corner of my room. It is covered in dust and one side is hanging slightly open with torn tape still attached to its edges. I could have used gramps as an excuse. Would he have seen the lie, though?
There are many things gramps left behind, but few of those are the only ones that I actually took with me to the other side of Japan. They aren't anything major, just simple items that can keep on reminding me of him. Though honestly, I had wanted to take everything he had owned from our house, but that would have been impossible. Those things that haven't made it here are probably trash somewhere in a dumpster and the rest have been settled into a flea market. None one of those places, make me feel any better. The fact remains that people will be thinking of his former possessions as nothing more than trash and it makes my blood boil with bitterness.
Slowly, I reach in and pull out a letter. It isn't old, like the other objects in the box, but rather new and was probably written shortly before gramps died. On its front, there is writing, and the name 'Gran Torino' is clearly there. I frown from seeing it and straighten up.
If the spirit of my grandparent is watching me, I hope that he hasn't had his hands on this fateful meeting I had today. It was hard enough to move out, but it was harder to face someone who apparently knows me here. For a moment, it had felt like the ground beneath me had collapsed and I had been so afraid.
A lump has appeared in my throat and it hurts. I hold the letter close and go back to bed with dragging steps. If you had something you wanted to tell him, you should have used mail.
Now I will have to go back to that old house to give this to Gran Torino.
"Breaking news straight from the inner streets of Hoshi," the lady from the tv startles me out of my thoughts. Just a second ago, there was a thing about the overpricing of milk in stores. "Here, next to this unpredictable corner of two streets, a brutal attack has taken place."
My body stills, and I slowly turn to look at the screen right on the other end of the room. There is an image of yellow tape blocking the way into an alley with a bunch of police officers moving or standing around it while trying to block a bunch of civilians from getting closer. The sight peeks my interest immediately and I get closer with the letter clutched in my hands.
The camera shifts its position to a woman who stares back with a somewhat blank face, but even I can see the tension on it. "The infamous Hero Killer has once again made his move..."
Something inside of me turns far more bitter than it already is. Of course, I should have guessed that this news was going to be all about that one ominous person. Not long after I moved here, he was the first thing the local news mentioned. It made me feel a bit uneasy and still does, but luckily, I am not living in the same area where he prefers to attack.
Still, I feel sick just from hearing what he has done.
As soon as I sit down in front of the screen, the camera filming the whole thing – wherever this scene is from – turns and zooms in on an ambulance. There is someone being taken into the vehicle, but that person is…
"Hey! No filming allowed!" An officer appears and blocks the view of the camera with his gloved hand.
The screen staggers and then it takes a few seconds and undistinguishable noises for it to stop moving. The news reporter looks a bit irked from having her filming to be interrupted but tries obviously to remain professional. The yellow tape peeks from behind her sharply, but the crowd is not visible anymore.
"The identity of Hero Killer's new victim remains unknown, but there is no doubt that they are yet another hero who unfortunately happened to pass by the area…"
I frown deeply while listening, being suddenly very well aware of how dark it is outside right now. Shivering, I quickly stand up, walk to the window and close the curtains. The hairs on the back of my neck are on the edge, just like witnessing a horror movie. Granted, the Hero Killer hasn't killed any civilians, yet. So, who is to say that he will not strike somewhere unexpected?
"The victim has – according to our intel – more than a few wounds and in a critical condition which-"
I switch the channel before she can finish. I do not need to have any nightmares tonight.
Scrunching noise right under my nose makes me look down to see the letter nearly smashes into a ball between my fingers. I stiffen, thinking that these wrinkles can't be smoothened down with ironing.
More than a bit nervous about what is about to come, I knock on the wood. There is no buzzer for me to use and inform the person living in this building that there is someone waiting outside. Well, at least the weather is looking much better than a few days ago. It certainly has taken me a while to gather some courage to do this, last time was intense enough, but what will this second meeting be like? That is pretty much all that has been bothering me for a while.
When the door doesn't open, the frown on my face starts to melt. Maybe he is not home? That certainly would take some of the weight off my chest.
However, just as I am ready to turn around and make a walk back to my apartment, I hear a solid and quite loud 'thud' coming from the inside. The sound makes me jump slightly and strains my ears to listen closely for any other noise from inside. Sure enough, short grumbling and quiet speaking voices come behind the solid door and my heartbeat quickens. It seems that my thoughts - of anyone not being home - were not valid.
I become more nervous when a voice from the inside shouts: "Yes, yes! Coming!"
Despite it being a muffled sound, the bottom of my stomach clenches from recognition. Well, here goes nothing.
The door is finally opened, and my gaze naturally falls down to see a small old man standing there. For a second, he looks shocked to see me, but that expression soon falls. "Why are you here again?"
I am startled by the curt tone and bluntness and feel a sense of dread. He doesn't look very happy to see me – not that I even expected him to – but… I bite down on my lower lip and reach out into my jacket. "U-um… Grandpa – kind of – wanted…"
"Speak up! I can't hear you!" Sorahiko ruffs out and waves his cane menacingly.
I jump and quickly pull the letter out. "Here. From grandpa."
His eyes go between me and the white piece of paper before he swiftly reaches out and takes the thing from me. He looks down at it and frowns. "Why does it looks so worn out?"
My shoulders stiffen, but I try to relax and appear calm. Whether he is guessing the reason for that can stay as a mystery to me. "Sorry to bother you… I will be going now."
I turn around, just as swiftly as he had taken the letter. The ground feels a lot firmer under my feet now, but I also fear that my eagerness to get away is too obvious. It must be because when I am just a few steps away from pavement covering the street, I am halted.
"Wait," Gran Torino calls out and I turn slightly to see the door hanging more open. The small man clad in yellow gestures inside. "Come in. It is about time for some snacks."
The very second his words register in my head, I shake it. "No, no that is not ne-"
"I insist," he says firmly, not showing an expression on his face. And it is all enough to make me scurry back meekly and step inside the building for the second time in this week.
"Pardon the intrusion," I mutter under my breath and listen as the door is slammed shut behind me.
The apartment has not changed – obviously. The furniture is not in harmony with the color of the walls, but you can't probably expect an old man put some time into thinking his house's image. It is plain as a day from the way the whole thing looks from the outside. Still, it is not how it looks that is making me uneasy. It is the fact that Sorahiko has gotten me in here, for the second time, and the fact that I could have kept walking away.
Somehow, despite him being small, looking like he has one foot in the grave already and being a hero – the latter wouldn't make a difference, though – he certainly intimidates me. The palms of my hands are sweaty, and they become worse when Gran Torino walks past me.
I swear… If he offers me yet again taiyaki I am going to-
Footsteps from the kitchen make my thoughts pause and a young voice pierces through my mind. "Gran Torino, who was – Oh."
I turn my gaze slightly to see a ruffled-looking boy standing with a plate and fork in his hands. Though, more comical than that and his wide eyes that are looking at me, as if some sort of three-headed freak is his messy and green locks that seem out of order on top of his head. However, the next things I noticed are the noticeable scratches on his face and a slight bruise on the side of his head.
Injuries. They are not bad and make the boy look like he has simply taken a tumble down a hill. Though, he must have done so a mere seconds before I came here. The state of his clothes is no better. They have wrinkles and pecks of dust all over, especially on the white t-shirt he is wearing.
"U-um," he mumbles, seeming more than a bit lost at the moment, "g-good day?"
I am tempted to raise an eyebrow but feel his pain. I am just as confused as he is. So, a simple forced and awkward smile spreads on my lips. "Good day."
"Boy, where is the taiyaki?" Gran Torino asks from the table, tapping his hands on the surface what seems like impatience.
The young boy's shoulders visibly tense and he quickly makes his way to a microwave. "R-right! They will soon be ready."
"Masako," Sorahiko calls to me and gestures briefly at the seat next to him, "sit down, already."
A bit reluctantly, I walk over and do sit down. Though, I also make sure to keep some distance between the two of us. Last time, I was seated opposite of him, but now he has made me sit next to him. It could be because there is someone else in here, now, but I still manage to feel conflicted. I nearly shake my head, when I realize just how paranoid I am making myself sound. This is stupid.
The young boy walks briskly to the table and sets a table filled with steaming, fish-shaped pastries down. He sits opposite of me and looks up so that our eyes meet. Now, that we are in a close proximity, I take a note that he is even younger than I thought at first glance. There is a bunch of baby fat on his face and his eyes are just as wide and innocent looking as any child's. Although, the bare arms laid on the solid surface of the table have clear shapes of well-formed muscles. It is not on an adult man's level, but impressive for a young boy.
This one could be Gran Torino's grandson. But both in their appearances is the first sign of great differences. Not to mention the boy is much meeker and soft-spoken, as he has already demonstrated, despite stronger and taller physique, compared to an elderly man.
He blinks and then his large eyes widen further. Then, he bows his head. "Ah! I-I apologize for not introducing myself! My name is, Izuku. Midoriya Izuku. It is very nice to meet you."
That settles it. These two can't really be related… right? The thought of this polite boy sharing blood with grumpy Sorahiko sounds just too wrong.
"Masako. Maki Masako," I say and smile, this time it is not tight or awkward. "It is nice to meet you, too, Izuku-kun."