Hey guys!
This one shot is rated T for violence, it's about Hiro and Tadashi in a school shooting. Pretty dark. Don't read if you're sensitive to violence, especially against children. I played with the age gap in this, Tadashi is 13 and Hiro is 4. Please review and request!
Silvie—the website's been really weird for me. I can't always see all the fanfics and sometimes it just won't load any of them. I'll try to check yours out! Thanks for letting me know!
TRIGGER WARNING: GUN VIOLENCE
TADASHI
"Attention, teachers and students. There is an active shooter in the building. This is not a drill."
The classroom erupts into screams. High schoolers are practically adults, and even at thirteen, I'm more mature than a lot of them. But even I'm panicking.
I have to get to Hiro.
People are sometimes surprised when I pick Hiro up from the daycare and they realize that we're the only two Hamada kids. My parents had a lot of miscarriages between us, so poor Aunt Cass has to raise a teen and a toddler together. I feel sorry for her.
Despite my teacher's warnings, I throw open the door and rush down the hall. Thank God the daycare is in the same building as my third period.
I fling open the door to see a lot of crying toddlers, Hiro among them. I exhale with relief and scoop up my four-year-old brother.
"Are you okay, Hiro?" I ask softly. Hiro nods, burying his little face in my shoulder. I gently stroke his hair in an attempt to comfort him.
The daycare supervisor asks me to help her round up all the kids and get them to the safest place we can. I nod and start corralling toddlers.
After a few minutes, I'm tucked behind a rack with all the kids' backpacks and lunches on it, clutching Hiro to my chest. I don't think he even knows what's happening. The teacher told most of the kids that we were playing a game and we wouldn't get the donuts unless we were quiet. That helped most of them. Especially Hiro.
Hiro whimpers softly in my arms and I hold a finger to my lips. If there is ever a time he needs to be quiet, it's now.
I hear the lock on the door rattle and close my eyes, praying it's the police. I've never been in a real lockdown, but if it's like the drills, then the cops will come and everything will be fine.
Everything will be fine.
The door swings open. I keep one hand cupped over Hiro's mouth in case he decides to get really scared and start crying. He's prone to spontaneous outbursts of high-pitched shrieking.
"No one here," someone mutters. It doesn't sound like a cop.
"They're here somewhere," a deeper voice responds.
Footsteps tap on the tiled floor. I pull my feet in as far under the backpack as I can.
"Hey, is that…"
"Hiro," I breathe as quietly as possible. "Hold on to the back of that backpack and don't move. Don't make any noise. Okay?"
Hiro nods and does what I said. I hold my breath.
A strong hand grabs my ankle, yanking me forward. My head smacks against the wall and I yelp.
Three figures—two male, one female—stand in a semicircle around me. I feel incredibly small next to them.
One of the men grabs my collar and yanks me to my feet. "What's your name, little boy?"
"Teddy," I say shakily, using my go-to fake name. "Teddy Armada."
"What were you doing over there?"
"Hiding," I reply. "That's typically what we do when thugs like you storm our daycare."
"That what you're here for, punk? You look a little young to be in high school."
"I'm a teaching assistant. The kids are outside."
They stare at me skeptically, and I try to hold my ground. Do it for Hiro. Do it for Hiro.
"Whatever," says the big guy. "Only takes one."
My eyes widen, but the next thing I know, he has me in a headlock and both my wrists pinned with one hand. He yanks my arms behind my back, so hard that I gasp in pain, and he laughs cruelly. The other two remove matching handguns from their belts.
"C'mon, kid," the woman says. "Main office. Now."
I shake my head. "I'm not letting you hurt anyone else."
She nods to the guy holding me, and he lets me go.
Then promptly pulls out a pistol, aims it at my leg, and fires.
A piercing, guttural scream rips through my throat, and the world transforms into a swirling vortex of pain. I've never been shot before. It feels like liquid flame is slowly burning through my leg. I collapse to my knees, sobbing, my head swimming. I have to say I'm proud of Hiro for staying quiet, though.
The woman leans over me, her face half amusement and half disapproval. "Changed your mind, kid?"
I clench my jaw, but she places her fingers on either side of the wound and squeezes. Hot tears stream down my face, and the pain forces it out of me.
"North building," I choke out.
"Get up."
I don't move. I don't think my leg would support me anyway.
The smaller man grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. I lean heavily on my left leg, trying to ignore the pain in my right. The man keeps my arm in a grip so tight it hurts and sticks something hard into my back. A gun.
"Walk," the woman growls.
I take a deep breath. I need to get them away from the kids. I can handle this.
I take one step and fail to swallow my scream. The man behind me thrusts his pistol harder into my back, and I force myself to keep going. Every step is torture—probably the intended effect—and sends white-hot waves of pain up and down my leg. I want it to stop. I need it to stop. But I have to keep going, get somewhere I can protect Hiro from afar. I need to at least get the shooters away from the kids.
The shooters force me down the hall and across the courtyard. The pain in my leg only increases the further we go, and halfway to the north building, I collapse.
The woman kicks me hard in the gut. "Get up."
I curl into a ball, whimpering. I know I sound pathetic, but I'm in too much pain to care.
Her boot slams into my wound, and I let out something I'd like to think is a manly yell but is really more like a wail of pain. "Get up."
I can't move. I can barely think. There's a bullet in my leg and a gun aimed at my stomach, and the longer I stall them, the more time the police have to get here. I'm not exactly in a hurry to obey them.
The gun goes off, and pain slices across my side, eliciting another scream from me. Blood soaks into my shirt, but at least the bullet's not lodged in my ribs like the one in my leg.
The smaller man yanks me up again and forces me onward in a combination of shoving and dragging. The pain in my leg is so bad I think I'm about to pass out, and my ribs don't feel awesome either.
Finally we make it to the front office. They seem to know where it is, so either we passed a map on the way here or they tortured me for nothing. I'm more inclined to believe it's the first one.
The door is flung open and the man shoves me inside. The lights are all out and there is no one to be seen.
"We know you're in here," the larger man calls. "We've got one of your kids. Come out."
Nothing happens. The man holding me squeezes the slash on my side, sending jolts of pain through my chest. I scream as he digs his fingernails into the cut.
I hear the door swing open behind us, and the man pulls me into a headlock as he whirls around.
"Hands up!" says a very scared young policeman. "You're—you're outnumbered!"
The man shoves his gun against my temple. "One move and he dies."
The cop looks torn, glancing between me and the gun in his hand. He opens his mouth, but another, tiny voice cuts him off.
"Dashi!"
I gasp.
No.
No.
OFFICER MEESE
TEN MINUTES EARLIER
I struggle with the key, trying to get into the daycare. They told me to check on the kids first.
As soon as I open the door, a small, black-haired blur rushes past me and out the door. I whirl around and see one of the kids toddling down the hall.
"Hey—kid! Come back!"
I jog after him and scoop him up. His tiny legs keep churning even when he's in the air.
"You can stop running now, kid," I say gently.
He goes limp in my arms. "But I wanna go."
"Go where?"
"To the office."
"Why?"
"'Cause that's where my big bwother is."
I perk up. "Really? Are the shooters with him?"
"Uh-huh."
I walk him back to the daycare and say, "Tell me everything."
"Well…" he starts. "I was hiding in the packbacks with Dashi 'cause he said we were playing a game an' we wouldn't get donuts unless we were quiet an' I figured out he was lying pwetty fast but I knew it was serious so I stayed weal quiet an' they yanked Dashi out an' he wied an' told 'em he was the onwy one here an' they bewieved him an' they told him to take 'em to the office an' he said no an' I think they shot the gun at him because there was a woud bang an' he scweamed an' I had to twy weally hard not to scweam too an' Dashi was cwying an' I never heard Dashi cwy before so I was weally scared but I wemembered Dashi told me to be quiet so I did an' they took Dashi out the door and then…"
Tears well up in his big brown eyes and he wraps his tiny arms around my knees. My heart melts. If any of the guys back at the station can find a cuter toddler, I'll eat my badge.
I finger the gun in my belt. Main office.
Time to go negotiate a hostage.
TADASHI
Hiro skids to a stop as one of the shooters aims a gun at him. The policeman in the doorway edges in front of Hiro, blocking him from the path of the bullet.
"Let us leave peacefully and don't look for us or he dies," the woman growls, pressing her gun to the side of my face.
"Let's compromise," says the young cop in a tone that I'm pretty sure will provoke them and get me killed. "You let the kid go, and we'll let you see how far you can get before we lock you up."
The woman's face twists with anger. She removes the gun from my head, and a second later, pain bursts in my shoulder. I scream. The bullet passes cleanly through my shoulder, ricochets and drops to the floor.
I collapse, blood pouring from my shoulder. I think I'm going to pass out. That's the third time in one day that I've been shot.
Hiro screams my name and rushes forward. The smaller man kicks him out of the way and he goes flying, slamming into a desk and falling limp to the ground.
"Hiro!"
I start to get to my feet, but a foot presses down on my back, keeping me on my knees. A hand grabs the back of my collar and yanks me up.
The larger man pulls out his gun and aims it at Hiro. Hiro sits up, rubbing his head, unaware of the bullet destined for his heart.
"No!"
At first I think the voice is mine, but it's not. The young cop who provoked the shooters earlier flings himself in front of Hiro, his back arching as the bullet hits him.
Everyone screams—Hiro, the cop, me. The officer collapses on top of Hiro, who squeaks and tries to worm his way out.
Blood trickles down my side, warm and wet. The world is swaying. My legs are shaky.
A hand presses down on the wound in my shoulder, and my exhausted, maimed body can't take any more pain.
My legs give out and the world goes dark.
When I return to the waking world, everything hurts. I'm surrounded by bright white that gives me a headache. My leg still burns, if not as badly as before.
"Dashi?"
I yelp as a small face pops into my vision. Hiro grins down at me, the gap in his front teeth on full display.
"Hi! Are you awive? Are you okay? They sewed up your leg and your shoulder and wapped a whole bunch of white stuff awound your wibs and—"
"I'm fine, Hiro," I groan, rubbing my head. "What about you? Are you hurt? Did they—"
"I'm okay. I just have a wittle bump on the back of my head."
"What about the cop?"
Hiro's eyes widen and his bottom lip starts to tremble. I sit up and pull him into my arms.
"What happened, Hiro?"
Hiro whimpers into my shoulder. "The buwet messed up his back," he mumbles. "He can't walk anymore and it's all my fault."
"Oh, Hiro." He dissolves into tears. "It's not your fault."
"Yes it is," Hiro replies. "He was twyin' to save me."
"And he did. He knew the risks when he signed up to be a cop. You didn't choose for that bullet to hit him."
Hiro mumbles something unintelligible and wraps his arms around my neck. I gently stroke his hair and try to communicate that everything will be okay.
I look out the window. The sky is dark. San Fransokyo has a lot of light pollution, so there's not too much of the sky we can see.
But tonight, I can see a single, bright star.