Despite their persistent efforts and attempts in the past two days, not a single organization is interested in taking Arata in. The closest they can get to a yes is expressions of sympathy.
"Someone else will help her."
Shoto has lost count on how many times he heard that sentence from Aizawa's phone. Each phone call proved nothing but other people's reluctance to get involved, and even though he has tried to keep his chin up, this sad reality is inevitably gnawing at his core.
──────────
As much as Shoto hated to be the bearer of the bad news, he still did it. "None of our calls are returned."
He joined Arata sitting on the bed, hoping that his presence could lift her spirits a little. She had been very quiet and inconsolable since yesterday, only answering him and Aizawa with short replies. There was a part of him that felt disappointed in himself, like he had failed to do something when it really counted.
"It is an enormous responsibility," Arata whispered to him. Her dim green eyes were grimly looking out to the summer night sky shown between the metal bars on the window.
"What is?"
"Guardianship."
"They shouldn't have turned their backs on people in need."
"But, Shoto-san, I'm not a pet that people can just bring home and tend to however they want. It's a commitment of a lifetime. They fear that adopting me will be a mistake... and I— I can't fault them for their refusal... There are a lot of orphans in Japan, so why should they take a high-risk one like me?"
Shoto stared at her side profile, observing her resigned expression in silence. He knew she was right, but they couldn't afford to give up just yet.
"It's not over," he remarked, wishing that his hope alone was enough for both of them to strive until the last minute. "We will keep trying."
──────────
Prior to this day, he has steeled himself to hang on the edge of his optimism and keep trying, because there ought to be someone who cares, right?
But, now, with a few police officers doing the last thorough body check on Arata, the only thing he can feel throughout his body is the crushing pain of defeat. He can do nothing, except stay put and see her off to be escorted back to the Shirayuki.
"Please check your belongings before leaving, because anything left here will be removed on immediate notice."
"Can I say goodbye to my friend?"
"Yes, but don't try anything funny in the process."
Arata nods, then rounds the bed and slowly makes her way to the white-crimson haired boy near the wall. The air of indifference that he usually wears like an armor is splintered right now, and she can see his distraught expression through its cracks.
"Shoto-san," she murmurs in a small voice. "Please don't blame yourself... You've done everything you can for me, and I'm immensely thankful for it."
Metal rings are shackling her wrists, locking them together in front. The steel cuffs are glinting brilliantly under the lamplight, as if they were mocking him for his inability to free her.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way." Shoto grits his teeth and looks away, ashamed of himself. This situation is so wrong on so many levels, that he can feel nausea stirring his stomach. She shouldn't have to endure another snow-clad episode in her life. "All I've done is meaningless."
It hurts that even though he has given his best, he still can't save her.
"It's not true." Arata awkwardly gestures to the outfit she's wearing, her movement limited by the restraining device around her wrists. Her green eyes bore into his grey-cyan ones. "I'm prepared for snow more than ever because of you."
That's the winter coat he gave her. Its firm yet soft fabric is wrapped around her shoulders, submerging her in the dark blue material. It definitely can drive away the cold that Arata dislikes, but...
"The coat won't be able to protect you from the Shirayuki, Ara," Shoto replies with a bitter tone, clenching his fists on the sides of his body.
"I know... But, at least I can remember you and Aizawa-san with this..."
Her sentence resonates with a little more finality than what he would like to hear. He wants to tell her that he and Aizawa can come visit her sometimes, that they all still can meet each other after this. But, he knows this might as well be their last chance of seeing each other.
The Shirayuki don't accept visitors. And even if they do, he doesn't think they will waste any time to permanently seal her lips. He doesn't know how they will do it, but he sure knows that corpses don't talk.
"Your farewell session is over, please return to your designated spot, hee-haw!" One of the police officer's authoritative tone rings in the room as he motions for Arata to get back to her place.
He sounds a bit familiar. Did I meet him somewhere before? Shoto inwardly thinks, his eyes scanning the policeman's dark brown mane and long face. Was he the one who patrolled this wing some time ago? The one who warned me not to get close to Ara?
Baffled, Arata spins her head to regard him, her black ponytail swaying. "Wait... Aizawa-san isn't even here yet..."
"Eraser Head is well-informed of this schedule. Whether he comes or not is not of our importance."
"But—"
"Please," he rebukes her harshly, then waves her over again, the click-clack of his hoofs echoing, "don't make us use coercion, hee-haw."
Shoto sees the dismay in her green eyes considerably deepen as her gaze darts from him to the door. The inner corners of her eyebrows are angled up and her mouth is parted a little, making way for a heavy sigh to escape.
To return her to the Shirayuki is to send her to her demise. It is a one-way ticket to the death's door. And even if Arata herself has given up, Shoto hasn't. He can't.
What good are the laws that can't protect an innocent citizen? What good is a hero who can't even save a single life in front of him?
Before Arata can walk up to the police, Shoto's mouth opens again, stopping her in her track. "Are you going to give up, Ara?"
She glances at him with a perplexed look, a forced smile on her face. "... What are you saying? You know I have no other choice, Shoto-san..."
"Just tell me." he steps closer to her, never breaking their eye contact. "Are you really okay with going back to the Shirayuki?"
"Um..." No, of course not... Please help me... Please save me!
"Please keep a safe distance from her! A distance of at least one meter is required."
Shoto takes another step, not heeding the warning shouted by the police officer. "Be honest, Ara."
"..." If I say it, will you hear me? Can I really say it?
"Todoroki-san, we're warning you to put some distance from her!"
The genuine concern in his grey-cyan eyes burns her lungs intensely, and even though Arata has already lost all hope since two days ago, she can't find it in herself to give her life up just like this.
It was only his back against her gaze, with his white-crimson strands swaying under the gusts of the air conditioner. But, his words echoed clearly in her mind, rooting themselves deeply in her heart.
"Keep living, because it's your life, Ara."
If Arata can be honest... Of course, she doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want to return to her old prison.
Why does she have to revoke her statements against the abuse the Shirayuki have done to her? Why does she have to suffer like this when she hasn't done anything wrong? Her only fault is to have been born on the wrong side of the society.
Can she turn over a new leaf, walking right into the future without carrying the baggage of her past?
Arata is her mother's daughter, but that's not all there is to her. She is her own person with her own hopes and dreams. She wants to make her own decisions and paint her own future.
Because, what good is her life if it's not hers?
All of a sudden, the words come tumbling out of her mouth. "... No, I don't want to go back," Arata croaks out, plea resounding in each syllable. "Shoto-san, I— I want to live and be free!"
"Then, stay." Perhaps, it is a trick of light, but she can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards, forming a ghost of a smirk.
Can I? Can I really stay and be free, Shoto-san? Do you believe I deserve it?
Before Arata can reply to Shoto with a smile of her own, a round of dramatic claps echoes sinisterly in the room.
"'Live and be free', you say?" the donkey-mutant officer snarls, his voice dripping with disdain. His hands continue to clap with mocking rhythm, each sound echoing like a taunt. "Just like your mother. The two of you always do whatever you please, without a care for anyone else."
"Officer?" Arata glances at him tentatively, startled at the snide undertone in his voice. "What do you mean?"
"You don't get it, do you?" His eyes lock onto Arata's, the bitterness in his voice rising to a dangerous edge. "Oh, of course you don't, who am I fooling? As Hanakiri's child, you should be burdened by everything she's done. Don't you feel any responsibility to help us capture her?
"But no, you made it difficult in the interviews, barely giving us anything! We wasted precious time because you refused to cooperate. Eraser Head and that boy had to wait on you hand and foot just to get a few crumbs! Which led us nowhere, by the way!
"Now you think you can just waltz around, wanting a peaceful life and freedom while your mother's victims suffer? At first, I was just going to let this chance of revenge slide. From what we know, the Shirayuki are going to put an end to you, anyway. No need to dirty my own hands if they will do it."
"Donki-san? This is not in the procedure..." one of his coworkers tries to intervene, but Donki ignores him, his gaze fixed on Arata.
"But, like your mother, you can't think about anyone other than yourself." Donki's voice drops to a dangerous whisper as his hand slips inside his vest pocket. "If you're going to do whatever you want, then I'll also do the same thing."
A resounding click sharply cleaves the atmosphere between them. Donki's bitter, cynical bray thunders in the enclosed space, bringing all of the attention to him. His pistol is raised high and steady, save for a light tremble creeping his body, his muzzle pointed at Arata from across the room.
"Go to hell and atone for your evil mother!"