...11/09/2009 Friday; Afternoon...
Tatsumi Port Island Hospital remained in an almost sacred silence.
Despite the city still bearing the scars of what had happened — open fissures on the Moonlight Bridge, collapsed buildings, the lingering scent of smoke in the air — here, within white walls and hallways scented with antiseptic and flowers, the world felt calm.
Inside one of the most heavily guarded rooms, beneath the soft light filtering through the curtains, Mitsuru slept.
Her body rested atop the white sheets, thick blankets pulled up to her shoulders. A bandage covered part of her cheek, and her face wore a calm, serene expression.
Beside her, a table held freshly placed flowers — red roses, a few white orchids. Cards with no names, only words of strength.
But within her mind, there was no peace.
The darkness was thick. Everything around was overrun by crimson roots, pulsating like living veins, twisting into grotesque shapes before forming scarlet steps.
An uneven staircase rose from the abyss, as if leading somewhere that existed only for her.
And she climbed.
One step at a time, not knowing where she was going — and yet, feeling that fate awaited her at the top.
The air was dense. With each step taken, the pressure increased, as if space itself was on the verge of collapsing.
The sound of a heartbeat echoed between the tangled branches and the cracking of living wood beneath her feet.
At last, the summit.
A colossal tree stood there. Its leaves were red like freshly spilled blood, and its black roots sprawled like serpents over the soaked ground.
Below it, pools of blood reflected a sky that didn't exist.
And bound between the roots and the thick trunk — a human silhouette. A motionless body. Trapped. Alive.
Mitsuru swallowed hard.
When she looked down, she saw a dagger in her hand. The crimson blade reflected her face.
But something was wrong with the reflection — her eyes were dull, empty, almost… wounded.
Before she could think, she felt it.
Two cold hands rested on her shoulders. Long fingers from a tall figure that had appeared behind her, as silent as the darkness itself.
Its skin was pale as snow, and when it spoke, its voice scraped at her soul.
"Tell me… Mitsuru Kirijo."
The icy whisper made her shoulders tremble.
"Will you vow your life to him...? Or will you sacrifice him?"
The voice sounded like a sealed fate.
Mitsuru tried to speak, but no words came out. When she looked back at the tree, a searing pain tore through her skull. She screamed, the sound echoing in the void.
The dagger slipped from her hand with a dry clink, and she dropped to her knees, clutching her temples as if she could hold back the chaos.
Everything around her began to collapse.
The roots trembled, cracks split the ground, the red glow intensified. The pain was unbearable, her screams drowned in the crumbling world.
But then… a presence.
In the midst of the collapse, a figure emerged — a white coat standing in stark contrast to the darkness.
White hair. Crimson eyes. A silent intention.
The figure said nothing. He simply looked at her with sorrow.
Slowly, he pulled an Evoker from inside the coat and pointed it at Mitsuru's forehead. His hand trembled slightly. Not from fear. But from compassion.
"You have little time... before he awakens..." His voice was deep, heavy with familiar sorrow. "Be quick... Mitsuru."
The trigger was pulled.
A flash of light flooded the space. Warm and violent, it swallowed the nightmare.
And then — silence.
Mitsuru opened her eyes.
The white ceiling of the hospital came into view, blurry.
The beeping of the heart monitor beside her pulsed steadily.
She blinked a few times, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. Her body still felt heavy, as if something anchored her to the mattress.
With effort, she pulled off the thick blanket and sat up in bed, leaning her back against the cold wall.
Her palm rested on her own face, searching for any thread of connection between dream and reality.
"What happened? The last thing I remember…" she murmured, her voice rough like a whisper, "…was freezing the Shadow…"
But before she could piece her thoughts together, a muffled sound echoed through the room.
A low groan. Like someone trying to smother their pain.
Her gaze quickly shifted toward the sound.
Beside the bed, hunched in a chair, was Hiro.
Still wearing his Gekkoukan High jacket, arms crossed, head tilted to the side — he looked fine, just exhausted.
His face was partially hidden by a bandage, like a fresh scar hurriedly concealed by someone too used to being hurt.
Mitsuru stared at him, surprised. "Hiro…? How did he get in here?"
She leaned forward slowly and reached out to his leg.
Her fingers brushed lightly against the fabric of his pants and gave a gentle shake.
"Hiro. Hiro, wake up…" her voice was soft, but full of concern — and something more delicate, as if she feared he might vanish too.
Hiro let out a hoarse groan, tilting his head. When his eyes opened slowly, the first seconds were filled with confusion.
Until he mumbled, "What is it...? I told you I already have the card for…"
But the moment his eyes met hers, the words died.
He froze. Shock painted across his face.
Mitsuru kept looking at him, silently.
For a few seconds, they just stared — as if time itself had paused for that single moment.
Nothing else mattered.
Only them.
Then Hiro tried to stand up in a hurry, but his body wouldn't respond. His legs gave out.
He dropped to his knees with a muted thud, a pained hiss escaping his clenched lips.
"Damn it… not now…" he growled low, frustrated.
His jacket slipped off and fell to the floor, revealing the state he was in.
His entire left arm wrapped in bandages, some already stained red.
The wrappings extended to his shoulder and disappeared beneath his shirt, but it was clear — his torso was also covered in wounds.
The bandage on his face, the exhaustion in his eyes… he was wrecked.
Mitsuru brought a hand to her mouth, surprised. The shock quickly turned into concern.
She knew he had been injured. But she hadn't imagined… that.
Even so, Hiro forced himself to stand, leaning with effort on his good arm. Relief showed on his face when he saw that Mitsuru had opened her eyes.
"Thank God you're awake… Are you okay?"
She nodded slowly, her eyes still focused on his bandages.
"Yes… I'm fine. But… what happened?"
Hiro lowered his head and let out a relieved sigh. Then he picked up his jacket from the floor and tied it around his waist, as if the gesture could somehow hide the damage already done.
"After you passed out… you fell from the fifth floor. But I managed to catch you in time."
She narrowed her eyes.
Fragments of memory began to take shape. The wind cutting against her face. The emptiness beneath her feet. And then—the warmth of his body. The desperate grip. The impact. His arms around her, shielding her from certain death.
Her eyes widened.
"Wait…" she said, incredulous. "You took the fall without getting hurt? How are you not in the hospital? You should've broken something at the very least."
Scattered images came back — her falling into the void, the sound of rushing air, the imminent impact — and then, warm arms wrapping around her, a body shielding hers from the ground.
Her eyes snapped back to him, wide.
"Wait… you actually took the fall? Without getting hurt?" Her voice teetered between disbelief and rising worry. "How are you not hospitalized? At the very least, you should have some broken bones."
Hiro rubbed his bandaged shoulder with a distant expression, his eyes fixed on the floor like they might reveal some hidden truth.
He let out a low sigh and met Mitsuru's gaze again. She was watching him closely, her brow slightly furrowed.
Even with her body still weak, even just recently awakened, she still had that sharp gaze — the kind that could cut through any lie.
Hiro's heart tightened. Part of him wanted to open up. But the other… the other just wanted to see her safe. Even if it meant forcing a smile.
"I… survived the fall," he said quietly but firmly. "The ice kind of cushioned the impact, so I didn't get hurt too bad."
For a moment, silence lingered between them. Then Mitsuru's eyes slowly trailed down to the bandages across his body. The bruises still visible. The stiffness in the way he moved...
And she remembered.
She remembered the moment he burst through the wall — riding on top of the wolf-like Shadow. Remembered Aigis shoving the creature out of the building.
And the blood… pouring from Hiro's shoulder, from the deep bite that tore into his flesh.
When her eyes returned to his, she saw the exhaustion. The desperate attempt to appear whole in front of her.
Mitsuru closed her eyes slowly.
"I know you're lying, Hiro."
He didn't react at first. He only lowered his head, his shoulders dropping, like something inside his chest had given out.
"Sorry…" His voice was barely audible.
But Mitsuru opened her eyes. A small, gentle smile appeared on her lips, despite the concern.
"You didn't mean any harm. I know you're just trying to calm me down… so I don't worry about you. Or the others."
Hiro remained silent. Her words were like a mirror, reflecting the things he didn't want to admit. And still, he didn't lift his gaze.
His body remained still, but something inside him pulsed. A memory — vivid, painful — surged like a knife in his chest.
The night sky. Mitsuru's body falling. The wind howling in his ears. And the certainty, for one eternal second, that he wouldn't reach her in time.
"MITSURUUUU!!"
The scream echoed in his mind, more real than anything else.
Hiro clenched his fists tightly. The bandages on his arm stretched, trembling. Was it anger? Was it fear? Or both?
When he finally spoke, his voice was lower. Darker.
"It's not just that…"
Mitsuru's brows furrowed, surprised by his tone.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Hiro felt his heart pounding as if it were trying to break free from his chest.
He ran a hand over his face, drew in a breath, trying to organize his thoughts.
But they came all at once — tangled, suffocating, sharp like shards of glass.
"It's just that I... ah, fuck..." The words slipped out like a directionless outburst. His shoulders slumped.
Mitsuru remained silent. Her lips parted, about to say something... but stopped.
Something inside her told her this moment belonged to him. Whatever it was inside, it needed to come out — even if just a little at a time.
Hiro dragged his hands over his face again, his fingers trembling. He tried once more to breathe, like someone surfacing from a deep dive.
"I didn't want anything to happen to you."
His voice was confused, choked. "I didn't think twice before jumping to catch you. But..."
His fingers clenched tightly, the knuckles turning white.
His nails dug into his palms, as if trying to rip that feeling out by sheer force.
"But I didn't know what to do..."
He swallowed hard.
His eyes shut tightly, and a subtle tremor ran through his body, like he was about to break.
"When I saw you falling... it was like everything else around me stopped existing."
Mitsuru felt a pang in her chest. Her breathing grew heavier, and she barely noticed her fingers tightening around the bedsheet.
Hiro continued, eyes now downcast, his words spit out like they burned on the way out.
"I don't know why this is happening. Or what the hell I'm even thinking..."
He raised his head for a moment.
His eyes — usually intense — now wavered, confused, broken, as if trying to decipher a feeling even he couldn't understand. Anger? Fear? Something deeper?
Mitsuru felt her throat tighten. The Hiro in front of her — this wasn't the one who helped her lift her head high and stay confident.
He was just someone. Someone trying to understand what was burning inside his chest.
Hiro turned his face away, trying to hide his eyes.
"I just... don't want anything to happen to you. Because... I... I'd never forgive myself."
The words shot out like an arrow.
This wasn't just about Tartarus, or the Dark Hour, or the Shadows.
It was about what she meant to him.
And Mitsuru... felt her chest ache.
She didn't know why it hurt so much. But it did. Like something inside her was cracking, splintering at the sight of him like this.
She didn't think. She just moved.
She threw the blanket aside, her heavy legs touching the cold floor. She walked closer, slowly, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Then, with both gentleness and strength, she held Hiro's arms.
Hiro felt the touch before he understood what was happening.
His body tensed instinctively, but when he saw her face so close, his eyes widened.
Mitsuru looked at him with firmness — a firmness that wasn't coldness, but presence.
Those crimson eyes, intense, were now soft.
But still commanding. As if to say, without words: "I'm here."
And when their eyes met — the world stopped again.
Everything went silent.
There was only her. Only him.
Just the two of them.
The connection between them was so palpable, it was as if one could hear the sound of their hearts trying to match each other's rhythm.
Hiro held his breath.
Mitsuru's gaze carried seriousness, yes. But there was something more. A silent tenderness. A quiet plea for him to stop blaming himself.
Time itself seemed to slow down, as if the world respected that moment.
The distant hum of hospital machines faded away, like the universe had fallen silent to hear only the ragged breaths of two restless hearts.
Hiro kept his gaze locked on hers. His eyes, though tired, reflected something difficult to name — a mixture of relief, pain, and a deep affection that simple words couldn't contain.
His mind, for a moment, went still. He couldn't fully understand what Mitsuru was doing… he just knew it was breaking something inside him.
"It's okay. Calm down..." Her voice came out soft, almost like a breeze blowing through the cracks of his heart.
And even with the tightness in his chest, even with the guilt gnawing at him from the inside, something in him... gave in.
His fingers finally relaxed, and with them, the tension in his body.
Blood dripped slowly between his fingers, thin and quiet.
Small marks where his nails had dug into his skin — silent witnesses to how much he had been holding in.
His shoulders relaxed — not in defeat, but in surrender. There was nothing more to hide. He wasn't okay.
"I'm sorry... it's just... I couldn't let anything happen to you." His words came out low, almost like a lament.
Mitsuru let out a quiet breath, relieved. She reached out, placing her hand firmly on his shoulder, giving him a light shake — like someone waking a person from a nightmare... or reminding them they're still alive.
His eyes opened slowly. And once again, the world faded away.
"I know you were worried... but... Hiro... there's no reason for you to blame yourself."
He clenched his eyes shut, confused.
"But... I couldn't just watch you fall to your death like that."
His breath wavered, and his gaze fell away.
"Without you... S.E.E.S wouldn't be the same. Not without our leader. Not without you... Mitsuru."
The words came out heavy with a truth he had only just come to understand.
And with them, the flashes returned — Tartarus, the endless floors, the battles against the Arcana Shadows… and the day they all learned the truth about the Theurgy.
"If I ever doubted you, it was when I first joined S.E.E.S... But now I know... you're trustworthy. Not just as a leader... but as a person."
Hiro shut his eyes, trying to chase the images away.
He came back to the present, and there she was — still in front of him, still alive.
Still looking at him like that.
A gentle light. A gaze full of something that didn't need to be spoken aloud.
Worry. Compassion. Maybe... something more?
"I told you you're not alone..." His voice came steady now, calm. "And that we're all here to support you."
Hiro lowered his face, but his voice still carried resolve.
"And... so am I."
Mitsuru held her breath.
Her eyes widened. She didn't expect that. Not like this. Not now.
She looked down, instinctively, trying to find the right words — but none felt enough. And a faint blush rose to her cheeks.
She looked back up at him. And seeing him like that — wounded, exhausted, broken — something became painfully clear:
"If he hadn't jumped… I wouldn't be here right now."
Then, she smiled.
Gently, she reached for his chin.
Her fingers touched his skin with a tenderness that felt almost reverent.
And with a soft motion, she lifted his face.
She wanted him to look at her.
She wanted him to see.
"Thank you, Hiro."
TO BE CONTINUED...