The world returned in fragments.
A steady *beep… beep… beep…* pulsed through the quiet, each tone slicing the sterile silence with mechanical patience. The air carried a faint sting of antiseptic, mingling with the crisp scent of sterilized sheets, clean to the point of suffocation. White light bled through Taro's eyelids, harsh and unrelenting, pulling him from the void.
He stirred, his breathing shallow at first, then deepening as awareness crept in like a slow tide, washing over his senses. When his green eyes fluttered open, the ceiling above glared a blinding white—too white—a blank void that made his head spin, leaving him weightless. He blinked, vision sharpening against the harsh glow, and turned his head. The faint hum of machines blended with the muffled shuffle of nurses' footsteps and low chatter seeping through the cracked door.
A hospital.
The realization hit like a reflex—the clinical smell, the chill biting through the thin blanket draped over him, the metallic frame of the bed pressing cold against his elbow. The monitor beside him pulsed with a soft green heartbeat, its rhythm steady. "A hospital… what the hell am I doing here?" he rasped, his voice hoarse.
He exhaled shakily, memory crashing down like a delayed strike. The fire. Nodoka's house… the explosion. His heart lurched. "Nodoka!"
He shot upright, expecting a jolt of pain—burns, broken ribs, the dull ache of survival. But… nothing. His body moved fluidly, as if waking from a restful sleep. His breathing was calm, his pulse unwavering. He flexed his fingers—unburnt, unscarred, the skin smooth despite the blood he remembered spilling. Even his clothes, folded neatly on a chair, bore no trace of smoke or ash.
"How… the hell should I be?" he whispered, confusion knitting his brow, green hair falling messily over his forehead.
A soft voice cut through. "You're awake."
Taro whipped his head around. Beside him, on the next bed, lay Nodoka. Her dark silk hair spilled over the white pillow like a midnight cascade, framing a face pale but serene. Her eyes, half-open, blinked slowly, as if surfacing from a dream, a small bandage taped near her temple. An IV dripped lazily beside her, the tube a faint shadow against her slender arm.
"Nodoka," he breathed, relief flooding his chest, warming the chill of the room. "You're—you're alive."
She smiled faintly, her voice quiet but clear, carrying a fragile strength. "You were the one who broke the window, remember? I… kinda landed on you."
He blinked, staring at her, the memory flickering. "Wait, you landed on me?"
"Well, sorry," she murmured, looking away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, her dark eyes avoiding his. "But hey… if it weren't for you, like my parents, I'd be—" Her words faltered, dissolving into silence, the weight of loss settling between them.
Taro leaned back against the pillow, the sterile fabric crinkling under his weight. "Oh yeah… your parents. I guess I'm a real fuck-up, aren't I?" His voice cracked, thick with guilt.
"No, that's not true—" Nodoka's calm, gentle tone tried to soothe, but Taro's words overlapped hers, raw and jagged.
He pressed his hands to his green hair, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill. "It is… I had one job… only one goddamn job. But I still couldn't do that. Why do I screw things up?" He looked down at his hands, two tear drops escaping to splash against his palms. "I always do."
Nodoka's voice flowed like a steady stream, cutting through his despair. "Oh, Taro, do you know that some—lots of people probably saw that house but were totally passive? The highest they'd have done was file a report about the fire. But you? Only seconds after you saw it, you were ready to help save the people dear to me from a burning building. I don't think I know any fuck-ups who'd have done that. You've got heart, Taro."
His eyes, still heavy with tears, met hers, his voice faint. "What's the point of heart if it can't get the job done?" Silence hung, thick and unbroken. Then he glanced at her—her gentle breathing, the faint glow of sunlight tracing her face—and saw it: a smile.
"Oh, Taro, the heart matters so much—arguably more than the job itself," she said, her tone warm and resolute. "Imagine finally getting your dream job—the one you always wanted, whether it's a doctor, lawyer, or even a gun trader, to be broad. You'd have loved it. You wouldn't just do it—you'd do it with a smile on your face. It's that kind of stuff that makes life, *life*. But now imagine you had no heart. Someone with no heart doesn't smile, doesn't frown, doesn't feel happy—nothing at all, no emotions. They can get the job done… but at the price of their very humanity. The heart does matter a lot, Taro, and you've got it."
Taro looked at her, his tears drying as her words sank in. "Is that… really all true?"
Nodoka nodded slowly, her dark hair shifting against the pillow. "You know… I am quite sad about my parents…" She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. "But I'm happy—no, relieved is a better word. I'm relieved, Taro, that you were there at that time to help me, and that you're still here, right with me."
Taro turned away, a final tear drop tracing down his cheek before he spoke, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thanks, Nodoka… thanks a lot… really."
Nodoka closed her eyes, slipping back to rest, a smile lingering on her lips. "Don't you even mention it," she murmured, her breathing evening out.
But Taro's mind churned, a storm brewing beneath the calm. "But then there was still something wrong—far too wrong about that incident. Some parts of that house looked severely burned, like it had raged for a while or wasn't natural. And then there's the end—what caused that mini explosion? Why in that room? Why was it barely touched until we tried to rescue them? Something—no, someone—did this… and I have a feeling it's not your average psycho Joe. It's supernatural." His blood boiled, brows knitting together in furious determination. He gripped the bed's edge harder, the metal creaking under his fingers, his green eyes blazing. "And whoever the person is, I'm surely gonna kill them."His gaze softened as he looked at the sleeping Nodoka. Surely… they won't get away with this."