Scratching his purely metaphorical beard, like the senile old man Fura, Minato nodded regularly, listening to the story of his companion in misfortune. He looked like a parent who was trying his best to feign interest in his child's story about the modern interests of young people.
“Hmm. I see. I think I'm starting to understand. While I was walking around half the city and nearly dying, you were picking up girls?”
Minato said, like a sage who had finally attained enlightenment.
“Mimi-san, were you listening to me with your ass, or did envy cloud your vision? Anyway, if I hadn't been hanging between life and death during our daily training sessions, I wouldn't be here. You've got the right.” Tsuna looked at the pseudo-sage as if he were a town madman.
“Okay, I get it, I get it. You have even less sense of humor than I do. You're a freaking bore.”
Waving his hand dismissively, as if shooing away an invisible annoying fly, Minato let out a deep sigh, which only made the wound on his side hurt more. However, his blank expression allowed him to maintain a mask of composure.
“That girl works with the jerk I beat up. The goal is to find and deal with the root cause of this damn serum, but...”
"It's hard to believe, considering all the circumstances, right? That girl said she had to pretend to be a mixture seller to get the information she needed from customers. I even believed her, but considering your history, I'm not so sure anymore. What if she lied, what if there's a double meaning in her story that I didn't catch, what if..."
A shadow of doubt crossed Tsuna's face, and steam almost began to pour out of his ears from the brainstorming. A little more, and his head would burst from the excessive tension.
Minato, meanwhile, glanced at him with the emotionless gaze of a tired corpse. But beneath the facade of indifference was surprise. A couple of months ago, Tsuna would have been more likely to faint at the mere thought of a fight to the death, but now he was able to stand by his words, sincerely believing in his worldview and ideas.
So, in a way, Minato felt a little proud that he had helped give him a little push to become a better version of himself.
“This must be how a bird feels when watching its chicks leave the nest.”
If his face expressed more emotion than that of a person whose face had been overly tightened by plastic surgery, he would have even smiled, but alas.
“There's no point in racking your brains over it. You'll only make yourself feel worse. Aranagi should be better, and you can ask her about everything later.”
Leaning back in his chair, Minato threw his head back only to see the crowd outside the window multiply.
The mere thought of the noise these people would make at the mere sight of their idol made him want to crawl under a rock.
“Hey, MiMi-san. Don't you think the truth is right under our noses? Like we're missing something important?”
“For example, how fortunate were the circumstances of our meeting with Aranagi? How did she end up where she was yesterday? Yes, it bothers me too.”
Minato replied lazily, his calmness even during important conversations sometimes frightening even Tsuna, who couldn't get used to it even after several months.
“Are you saying you suspect her of creating the serum? That you regret saving her?”
Clicking his tongue, Minato began to rack his brains again, as if he were at a crossroads of something really important, but not knowing where to step so as not to fall into the abyss.
"I don't know. I'm not sure. I understand that this may be nothing more than my paranoia, but somehow it all seems strange. As for my help to Aranagi, I don't know myself. I haven't stopped thinking about it since yesterday."
For the first time since he had known Minato, he saw the slightest vulnerability in a man who seemed to keep everyone at arm's length.
His face and voice hadn't changed, but he could have sworn that he was truly troubled by the thought that he couldn't help anyone. However, he himself was proof that these concerns were groundless.
“If you still think that, then why did you help me? Why did you believe in me? You constantly try to act like you're a complete bastard, but your actions prove the opposite. Maybe you don't see anything good in yourself, but I think the people around you don't see the image you project.”
Minato looked at Tsuna with a slightly raised eyebrow for a second, only to sigh wearily.
“Maybe you shouldn't talk as if you understand perfectly well how I feel and what I think?”
“I'm not saying I understand you. I don't even know the reasons why you hate yourself. Still, I just want to say that it doesn't matter what your motives were. Whether you sincerely wanted to save someone, like a real hero. Whether you wanted to help just to keep someone indebted to you. What matters are the results of your actions. That's all.”
Once again, Minato was caught like a deer in the headlights. Both Makoto and Tsuna were talking nonsense that made him want to climb the walls. But it was nonsense that he sincerely wanted to believe, even if only for a moment.
Just as he was about to say everything he was thinking, Tsuna glanced at the wall clock and turned pale. It was as if he realized he had overslept his own funeral.
“Damn it. Sorry, Mimi-san, but I have to go! Don't go far, I'll be back soon!”
With these hastily spoken words flying from his lips, Tsuna ran out of the cafe at a speed close to that of Minato when he had to run away from Makoto's attacks once again.
Left alone with himself and his thoughts, which is never a good thing to do, Minato muttered something indistinct under his breath and, finishing off the rest of the desserts that had been given a brief reprieve during Tsuna's story, Minato left his little corner of paradise on earth.
It was getting close to evening, and there was nothing to do, so Minato decided to walk around the local shops in hopes of passing the time. At the same time, he managed to call Aya-nee, worrying about her even though she assured him that everything was fine.
“Tsk, I told you, I didn't get involved in anything. Why are you interrogating me?”
“Now do you understand what it's like to be on the other side of hyper-protection? Plus, after my procedures, I have too much free time on my hands. And what could be better than driving you crazy?”
At times, it felt like he was surrounded by people whose energy was enough to power an entire city. And Aya-nee was the clear leader, because even when she was dying of boredom, she managed to stay awake, which the perpetually lethargic Minato couldn't understand.
“When you get out of the hospital, I swear I'll hide all the booze for a week.”
“Hey, that's a low blow! And with a spiked sole at that! Don't deprive a young lady of one of the few joys in her life!”
The voice on the other end of the line was so loud that Minato's cracked phone almost crumbled into sand, and his ears almost started bleeding.
“At the very least, it will save me from having to clean up beer cans and liquor bottles every other day.”
And even though Aya-nee's whining and begging were so persistent that anyone would have compromised just to stop hearing it,
“You seem more sluggish than usual, it's not even fun to tease you. What happened?” Aya-nee asked in a bored voice. Even through the phone, you could hear her puffing out her cheeks like a little child.
“I'm just tired, nothing happened.”
“If it were possible to hit someone through the screen, I would have already slapped you. Talk already.”
Minato hesitated slightly and almost dropped his phone when some nerdy guy, like a nerd from a poster, holding a stuffed toy with a familiar stubborn dog, almost knocked the phone out of his hands as he passed by the crowd.
He may not have wanted to tell her everything, but he could describe how he felt to the only person close to him.
“It just so happened that I helped someone. I don't even know why. I don't trust her one bit, but when I saw her in trouble, I was incredibly angry. I tell myself that it was only for my own benefit, but everyone I meet insists that I just can't recognize my own kindness, or some other nonsense.”
A rare, barely perceptible note of melancholy could be heard in his monotonous voice. What he felt might seem like meaningless nonsense, groundless worries that only an idiot would think about.
But the thing was, he felt it. A man whose emotions had been practically numb experienced more feelings in such a short period of time than he had in the last couple of years. And he just didn't know what to do with them, how to deal with them.
For a while, there was silence between them, not even breathing could be heard.
A dry, dull chuckle escaped Minato's lips. A chuckle that was devoid of any emotion.
“It's nonsense, you have to admit.”
“It's not nonsense.”
“Huh?”
"I'm saying it's not nonsense. You just don't understand what you're feeling, how to feel anything other than self-loathing, and that's okay. No one expects you to be a bastion of stoicism without doubts and hesitations, because no one is capable of that. And no one is capable of giving you the answer you so desperately want to find. Fear, anger, love, joy.
These and many other feelings live within each of us. The only question is which of these feelings you will choose as a guiding light for your actions, learning not to be ashamed of what you feel.
Aya-nee's words stunned him, and he stood in the middle of the endless stream of people, like a statue. Makoto and Tsuna insisted that there was something good in him, but they simply did not know the whole truth. They did not know what he knew.
But even so, if he knew how and allowed himself to feel freely, to freely choose which feelings and emotions to be guided by, instead of eternal self-flagellation, then he...
“I'm not entirely sure if anything I said made sense, but I hope you got the gist. Damn, I can't remember the last time I said something so shameful!”
“Thanks. I think I'm starting to understand. And no, it's not nonsense.”
“Heh, you're welcome. If it makes you feel better, then it wasn't a waste to embarrass myself. Take care of yourself, it'll suck if we both end up in the hospital.”
“That's true. Take care, and don't overexert yourself.”
After dropping the call, Minato sighed. But not with his usual fatigue, but with a slight feeling of relief. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
With the dim flame of his soul rekindled, Minato was ready to move on, when suddenly his heart sank at the sight of a painfully familiar shaggy head. A shaggy head that was a harbinger of trouble.
Amamiya Makoto, whom Minato saw for the first time outside of her school uniform, wearing a black sleeveless turtleneck and jeans, despite the heat. And she was holding a small paper bag in her hands, with a possessed smile on her face.
And if his initial desire to approach her was zero, then seeing that terrifying grin, it went into negative values. His body subconsciously began to back away, but his mind told him that he couldn't do that. He was indebted to her. And, overcoming himself more than the heroes of martial arts films, he forced himself to approach Makoto.
“You know, people who are banned from approaching kindergartens and schools often have smiles like that.”
Hearing the familiar empty, even voice, which was like a bolt of lightning, Makoto's heart almost stopped, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
With a sharp movement, she hid the bag behind her back, and a thin stream of saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth was wiped away in a desperate attempt to hide the evidence of her excitement.
“Huh!? W-what the hell are you doing here!?”
“Hm? Why, is that not allowed?”
Looking questioningly at Makoto, he tried to peek behind her back, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed the image of a humanoid pug dressed in a business suit and a fedora hat.
If he were given two words to describe this design, he would say childish and stoned.
“What kind of ugly mutt is that?”
“Hold your tongue, heretic! Don Pugganini is one of the rarest prints of all! He was the only one missing from my collection...”
Minato looked skeptically at Makoto, who was rapidly turning red and was ready to sink into the ground just to get away from there.
“Kill me. No, I'll just poke around in your head. Maybe if I don't accidentally touch the important parts of your brain, you won't die, you'll just forget.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them, and away from me. Who cares anyway?”
The finger, which was slowly turning into a razor-sharp thread, returned to its original form, as if rewinding onto a spool. It was like raising a white flag, and Minato was able to relax, even if only a little.
“Aren't you even going to tease me? Aren't you going to make fun of a man my age collecting things like this? They're childish.”
“If you knew how little I care, you'd cry bloody tears. I have hobbies that I love no matter what, so if you like it, there's no point in worrying about what others think... even if that bitch is really crazy.”
He glanced into the bag to confirm his observations, but to his surprise, Makoto's face turned redder than a cherry again, and she began waving the bag around like a barbarian who had eaten too many mushrooms, swinging an axe like a berserker.
“I get it, I get it! Shut up already!”
“And you still wonder why I call you Arnie...”
Minato said this mentally, because he knew perfectly well that if he said it out loud, he would have to run for his life, like a rabbit fleeing from hounds.
Using all his powers of persuasion, Minato somehow managed to calm Makoto down and lead her away from the crowd so he could tell her everything that had happened yesterday, leaving out the minor details. If she hadn't insisted so much, he wouldn't have said a word and would have done what he does best: ignored her every cry.
“Okay, looks like I missed that other performance yesterday.”
“But I made it to the finale.”
Glancing at the crowd, which didn't stop for a second, Minato felt uneasy for a moment. Not physically, but mentally. Every person passing by lived in blissful ignorance, unaware of what was happening.
Since he got involved in all this, he had experienced a thousand and one emotions, involuntarily allowing some of them to seep out.
It was unusual, even repulsive in a way, which is why he felt unnaturally vulnerable. And, even if only for a moment, he wanted to switch places with someone who didn't know. To get rid of this weakness in the form of emotions that made him predictable and led by his feelings, that tormented his soul.
“Tsk, as if I'm trying to play the victim. If I've started diving into a pit of pus, I'll go all the way to the bottom.”
He thought to himself, not wanting to use his own phobias as an excuse behind which he could hide.
His momentary prostration did not go unnoticed by Makoto, who decided not to probe for the truth, knowing that it would lead nowhere. “I spoke with Aranagi this morning, and she said she'll be discharged from the hospital by evening.”
“Really? That's encouraging.”
“Of course. She said she'll tell you the truth when this case, which is like a growing tsunami, is closed. She also asked me to tell you that she's sorry for getting you involved in this, and when the time comes, she'll tell you everything.”
Perhaps due to lack of sleep or exhaustion from his wounds, Minato's head was foggy, and he was as pale as chalk, or like a person in a faded photograph. Most of Makoto's words were like gray noise, but one phrase caught his attention.
“Wait a minute. Like a growing tsunami, you say?”
Minato asked skeptically, and Makoto sighed wearily.
“Yes. I guess our thoughts converged, as disgusting as it may be.”
Makoto snorted with a hint of disgust, not even wanting to think about what might be going on in the mind of someone like Minato.
“I never thought I'd say this, but I agree.”
A few seconds later, both of them voiced the thought that had popped into their heads.
“Clusters!”
“Clusters.”
Sharing a solidarity in their unwillingness to pry into each other's minds, the imitator detectives voiced their guesses almost in unison, as if competing to see who would come up with a sound idea and who would come up with nonsense.
And both turned out to be equally close to the truth.
"If you stop and think about it, looking at the trend of cases where Specials were used and where traces of serum were found, the severity of the cases increased day by day. At first, I thought it was all about dissatisfaction, or testing the waters with their newfound powers.“ Makoto said with a slight smile, ”but if that were the case, the criminals would be harming themselves because of their inability to control their power."
“In reality, it's all about the principle of a growing wave. The more cases there were, the more noticeable the rapid increase in the consequences of these incidents became. It may seem like a coincidence, but if you apply the concept of clusters, everything falls into place.”
To put it in the simplest terms, clusters are a group or collection of homogeneous elements united in a system with certain properties.
In this case, the system was a network of minds that, under the influence of the serum, were united into a single network, where each element of the system was connected to the others, like a web.
“If from the outside it looks like a single computer, in this case the serum and the acquisition of abilities, then inside there are many specialized nodes of consciousness that feed off each other.”
Because they were on the same wavelength, Makoto's smile grew wider, contrasting with her earlier statements, even if she didn't notice it.
“Accordingly, the more users there are in the system, the more they will fuel each other, increasing its power, and by tuning all brains to the same wavelength, it is possible to avoid overload, so that it is a coordinated system, rather than a chaotic crowd where everyone is trying to pull the blanket over themselves.”
Minato, in turn, was pleasantly surprised that at least when it came to something serious, they could refrain from going for each other's throats.
And if before, all conversations with Makoto had brought nothing but frustration, now at least he didn't experience any negative emotions, which was already an achievement.
“But it's practically impossible to distribute the load evenly, so an unprepared mind will go into a coma from overexertion.”
Having reached a more or less logical conclusion with her temporary partner, Makoto let out a deep sigh, forgetting to breathe while she was adding to Minato's theory, as if she had become so immersed in the role that the only things missing from her final image of Sherlock in the twenty-first century were a cloak and a pipe stuffed with tobacco.
“Wow, looks like you can do more than just throw punches. Seems like you're not completely empty-headed either.”
Makoto said with a mocking smirk. In fact, she was pleasantly surprised by Minato's quick-wittedness, even though she would never have voiced her thoughts aloud, even at gunpoint.
But even so, there was a slight hint of respect in her words.
“And you, as it turns out, can say something sensible, not just idealistic and sappy nonsense.”
Minato dismissed the hint of respect by saying the first thing that came to mind, even though in his head it sounded like a compliment.
“Wait. If everything works on the principle of clusters, and everything is growing exponentially, if you track the dynamics of the growth of abilities, the first such incidents were already too powerful to be the work of Patient Zero, right?”
The contradiction was valid. If we adopt the cluster theory, several questions arise.
The obvious question was why the criminals who were the first in the chain of events, but who had no abilities before, were so strong after just one dose? It was unlikely that good genetics could explain everything.
There were two options. Either their theory was pulled out of thin air, or long before the first cases surfaced, there were many unknown individuals who had taken this serum and had not been detected.
“Any thoughts, sidekick?”
“To be honest, I was hoping that the genius with the straight-A complex would have an idea, but it seems that none of us have a single working brain cell.”
“I don't know if you're trying to provoke me, but your tongue is clearly not your friend.”
Gritting her teeth, Makoto muttered, having learned from bitter experience of her quick temper and situations in which she looked like a radical stalker who had learned of the unrequited love of her object of adoration.
“Provoking? Me? Not at all. I'm a model gentleman, just used to saying what I think without any secrets.”
“Well, well, gentleman. Keep it up, and the grim reaper will catch up with you sooner than you expect.”
“I drink five cups of coffee a day, and she always follows me around in silent shock. Besides, I didn't meet her several times yesterday anyway.”
The sudden change in mood caught Makoto off guard. Of course, she herself had beaten quite a few dangerous and aggressive idiots yesterday, but Minato was a slightly different case.
In their regular fights, Makoto fought with the intention of winning, even if it meant cutting off a limb, but in the fight at the warehouse, Minato had to face a man who struck with certainty, without hesitation.
Clearly not the kind of situation a fifteen-year-old teenager would want to find himself in. However, Minato didn't seem too concerned about it.
“Yeah, and that weird guy who knows Aranagi. What the hell is his problem?”
“I have no idea, but if I listen to my paranoia, which has saved my ass many times, Aranagi is no better than him.”
The statement was harsh and contradictory. She couldn't blame Minato for distrusting a scientist who had appeared out of nowhere with unclear connections, but to directly state that she was no better than a common hired killer was going too far.
“Oh? Has terminal schizophrenia finally caught up with you?”
The teasing in her voice came out more as a defense mechanism than Makoto herself had expected. But it was better to be ironic, even at the most inappropriate moments. If you're tense all the time, you can lose your mind.
“Believe it or not, it's been a long time. She's nothing more than a liar, which I noticed from the very beginning. I just couldn't prove it. But now...”
“Okay, this is either going to be something worthwhile or the ravings of a moron.” Makoto thought to herself.
“I just have even more suspicions about her. After that snotty nonsense you dumped on me, I went home, but I was met by a couple of specialists who wanted to know the details of what happened.”
Minato still remembered the face of at least one of them, the damn Equalizer, who was now everywhere.
Banners with his face were hanging on every other corner, and the resentment from several months ago was still fresh, like a torn wound that was not allowed to heal.
"They were puzzled by how much I knew, but that's not the point. The point is that not a single outside scientist was brought in to investigate. They have their own people, none of whom have the surname Aranagi."
Stolen novel; please report.
The news was hard to take. The man who had led them to the root of the serum problem all this time had not only been withholding information, but had been blatantly lying to them. And perhaps manipulating them.
For Makoto, who always tried to see the best in people, it was like a punch in the gut, mocking her ideals. And Minato's direct and unvarnished way of speaking only made things worse. It was as if he was trying to counter everything she had said yesterday.
As if sensing her bitterness, Minato sighed heavily and patted her on the shoulder.
“Don't worry about it. Like I said, it's just a theory, and it's very likely just a figment of my sick imagination. It's better to be a hopeless optimist than a cynical jerk.”
He knew he had no talent for consolation and words of support. More likely than not, he would just make the situation worse. But now he meant every word.
Even if his voice sounded empty and false, Makoto still wanted to believe in their sincerity.
“I guess I'm losing my touch if I'm spouting such sappy nonsense. Arnie's bad influence.”
“Hey, bro, are they on a date?”
The voice of a small child pulled them out of their conversation vacuum, as if someone had popped a bubble with a needle. Looking down, they saw a little boy of about six standing in front of them, with curly chestnut-colored hair and brown eyes. He was the spitting image of a mutual acquaintance.
“Yuzuru, I told you to wait!”
Pushing through the dense crowd, literally squeezing between people, Tsuna came out into the light, all crumpled and out of breath. It was as if he had been beaten up first and then forced to run a marathon.
“Wait a minute, is that his brother?”
“Bonjour, kiddo. How are you doing?”
Minato's rude greeting compounded Makoto's surprise, which faded when she realized how much time Minato spent with Tsuna.
“MiMi-san, I'm sorry. After you looked after him, it seems like his filter turned off too, so he says whatever he thinks.”
“Bro, isn't it rude to kiss in front of everyone?”
The mini version of Tsuna asked with striking directness, leaving even Minato slightly perplexed.
Makoto's reaction was much more violent, her face red with shame and embarrassment, her voice rising to a pitch that could shatter glass.
“No way! We're not on a date! And I'm not kissing him! No way!”
She pointed her finger at Minato like a lynch mob pointing at the guilty party.
The guilty party with blood coming from his nose.
“Pervert.”
The word was uttered in unison by both Makoto and Yuzuru. And while he could understand why Makoto said that, he couldn't understand why a six-year-old child would say it.
“Tsuna, you need to keep an eye on what kind of content your little brother is consuming on the internet.”
He may have thought so, but one glance was enough to convey this thought to Tsuna.
“If you're one of those people who still thinks a nosebleed is a sign of arousal, I recommend you start wearing a foil hat.”
After each word, he had to fight the bile rising in his throat, with its nauseating taste of iron.
“It's karma. You'll know better than to eat so much sugar.”
Tsuna said triumphantly, feeling satisfied that he had avenged his wallet, which had fallen a brave death.
“What a bunch of jerks. I'll put a curse on each and every one of you. You'll puke further than you can see. I'm going to step away.”
With these words, Minato slowly trudged to the bathroom, while Makoto solemnly showed Yuzuru a rare T-shirt with Pugganini on it and told a rich and equally idiotic story about this character.
Minato wasn't even aware of the compromising information he had lost.
Instead, he clutched the rim of the toilet bowl tightly, regurgitating the colorful contents of his stomach, mixed with blood and rot.
The foul stench made him want to vomit even more. It was as if someone had mixed three times sour milk, surstr?mming, pus from wounds, and meat rotting in the sun.
“It's clear that it wasn't sweets that stabbed me in the back.”
No sooner had he muttered this than another wave of nausea hit him, gluing his head to the rim. It burned, it burned terribly. It felt as if fresh, molten steel was rising from his stomach to his mouth, melting his insides.
Only five minutes later, when there was nothing left to vomit and his throat hurt as if a couple of coals had been thrown into it, did he peel himself away from his ceramic savior and plop down on the floor of the narrow stall.
“Damn, I had my suspicions, of course, but I never thought the poison was still in my system.”
The cuts left by Suo's mechanisms came to mind. The blades were coated with poison that couldn't be sucked out. And now he was reaping the fruits of his mistakes.
“Damn, it won't be long before I'm in the grave...”
His vision blurred and his body began to sway to one side. His head hit the door slightly, and he lost consciousness from exhaustion.
He woke up a short time later from the heat and dryness in his burning throat. He didn't know how long he had been lying there, but he was glad he hadn't vomited on his clothes while he was out.
“At least it's a bright spot on the bleak black canvas that is my life.”
Barely forcing himself to his feet, he realized he could hardly stand. His legs shook like a frightened puppy. Numb and refusing to bend at the knees, they were like two marble pillars.
“Well, it seems that modern problems require modern solutions... and extreme measures.”
Putting his hand to his forehead, he sent a discharge of black lightning into his head. Using the lowest power setting, he shocked himself hard enough to stimulate his nervous system.
The solution was a little radical, but quite effective, because after a couple of discharges, his body began to obey him again.
Slowly exiting the restroom, Minato immediately noticed that something was wrong. There were no people. When he entered, dozens, hundreds of people were rushing by. And now, not a single soul.
“Is this some kind of comedy of situations?”
Walking slowly with a tired gait, each step echoed in the empty shopping center. It was as if he was slowly but surely approaching the lair of a sleeping beast.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing here?!”
A familiar voice, which always foreshadowed trouble, brought him out of his stupor.
Amamiya Makoto was walking towards him at a brisk pace, her face tinged with slight irritation.
“What are you doing here? Haven't you heard the announcements? Get out!”
Her voice was as stern as that of a homeroom teacher who starts yelling when the whole class starts acting like a small branch of the zoo.
“You're the last person in the world I'd want to take orders from. What announcement?”
“Wait, are you serious right now?”
“I was in the WC.”
After that sentence, Makoto felt like she was in a cheap sitcom. The only thing missing was canned laughter after every stupid line.
With a heavy sigh, she barely restrained herself from slapping him and dragging his unconscious body out the door.
“There was a bomb threat from the Specialist who was here as security. The security guards sent everyone out, and I agreed to help.”
“A bomb threat... that serial bomber?”
"I don't know. And I don't want to know. Let's go. I want to be far away from here when the big boom happens. "
One of the fingers turned into a thin but strong aramid fiber thread and wrapped around Minato's wrist, digging deeply into his flesh.
Literally dragging Minato behind her like a lazy dog on a leash refusing to walk, Makoto stomped toward the exit.
Minato didn't mind, as his legs were already weak.
“Where's Tsuna?”
“He's helping to get people out. He took his brother out first so he could have peace of mind.”
“Others first, and only then himself, right? You're like him in that way.” Minato grumbled neutrally, to which Makoto replied.
“In that regard, you're no better than us, so don't get cocky.”
Unable to even say tusche, Minato quietly followed Makoto, looking around for anything he could focus his attention on so he wouldn't collapse.
He found it and started walking in its direction. And now he began to drag Makoto along with him, like a lazy dog. Even in this state, he had more strength.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”
“I see the goal, I see no obstacles.”
Minato said, charging ahead like a bull until he heard a slight whimper. A whimper?
Standing next to Minato, Makoto could clearly hear a dog whimpering coming from a store selling CDs and vinyl records. There, behind the glass doors, sat a puppy. Shaggy like an Irish wolfhound and covered in scars from head to tail.
“Hey, kid, did you hide on purpose so you wouldn't have to leave? Even now?!”
Taking out a paper clip that was lying around in his pockets, Minato deftly picked the lock on the closed doors, much to Makoto's surprise, whose puzzled look he ignored.
“Do you know this dog?”
Opening the door, he reached out to the frightened puppy, which was backing away. It wasn't just natural fear when someone big reaches out to you with their grasping hands, but also the waves that Minato unconsciously emitted, scaring animals.
“Almost everyone here knows him. His owners abandoned him and left him on the street. He sometimes comes here, there's no ban on animals entering the shopping center.” The story seemed painfully bitter, which only reinforced Minato's philosophy that the lives of animals are more important than the lives of most people.
“We don't need another Hachiko kid. So you're coming with us, whether you like it or not.”
With a sharp jerk, Minato caught up with the puppy and grabbed it firmly, but gently enough not to hurt it. Holding it close to him, he turned to Makoto. A smirk appeared on her face.
“Well, well, the insensitive brute turns out to be a classic softie.”
Pulling a string, she silently ordered Minato to finally get out of there at high speed.
“Better to be a softie than...”
“...than a cynical asshole. Yeah, yeah.”
Descending to the first floor of the shopping center, Tsuna stood near the escalator, clearly having many questions, judging by the expression on his face. Like a person who caught his friend changing into women's clothes. But he decided to leave the questions for later.
“There's no one here. It seems everyone has been evacuated, and the bomb squad will be here soon.”
“Good job. Let's get out of here.”
No sooner had she said that than the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps could be heard. Fast, but light.
“What? There shouldn't be anyone there, I just checked.”
“Looks like you didn't check very well.”
For a reason Minato himself couldn't understand, a chill ran down his spine. It was like a harbinger of something catastrophically bad.
But, as it turned out, the one running down the long corridor was Tsuna's younger brother, whom he had personally escorted to the exit.
"Yuzuru! What are you doing here? I told you to wait for me outside!“
Frozen in silent shock, the child stood motionless, as if his feet were nailed to the floor.
”B-but a guy came up to me, he was wearing your school uniform and said he was your friend. He said you forgot your toy."
“What? I don't have any...”
Only now did they notice the small stuffed Pugganini in Yuzuru's hands, which he began to hide shyly, like a piece of paper with a failed test.
The words about a friend in their school uniform, a guy with the exact same toy who pushed him before the meeting with Makoto, the appearance and mannerisms of that guy, the saboteur.
The toy emitted an ominous hiss, like a poisonous snake, like a burning wick. The dog began to bark furiously.
Everything suddenly fell into place, but there was no time to explain.
“Tsuna, throw that toy away! Arnie, pull the kid over here!”
The sharp change in Minato's tone sent shivers down everyone's spine, which shook with fear. But his train of thought was clear.
Makoto threw the thread at Yuzuru's wrist like a fishing line and pulled him toward her. She could have tried to cut the toy into small pieces in hopes of destroying the bomb, but she was afraid of activating it prematurely while the child was so close to her.
Tsuna created a strong gust of wind, blowing the stuffed dog away, trying to push it to the other end of the mall.
The plan was pure improvisation, made on the fly, and Minato, who had caught Yuzuru, was still full of apprehension. The news reports said that the bomb exploded even from slight physical contact. Even the fact that the little one was holding it tightly could have caused an explosion, let alone contact with the surface after such a flight.
They would all be buried under the rubble if they didn't hurry
“Let's get out of here!”
Minato grabbed Makoto and Tsuna by the collars, holding Yuzuru by the collar in his teeth and stuffing the puppy into his pocket. He ran as fast as he could toward the emergency exit, which was a few dozen meters away, but it was too late.
He knew perfectly well how futile his efforts were. It was like a cow running away from a train right along the tracks.
“Damn, I'm not going to make it!”
At the other end of the corridor, there was a thud as a soft toy hit the hard floor, followed by a bright, blinding flash that burned his eyes.
It lit up the walls of the building, and a few moments later, there was a deafening explosion, raising a cloud of smoke and a wave of fire that devoured the oxygen.
The explosion shook the building to its foundations, burning everything in its path, destroying columns, and causing the huge two-story shopping center to collapse under its own weight like a tombstone, burying everything inside.
The onlookers standing outside and the people who had been escorted out of the shopping center froze in horror at the deafening bang that raised a cloud of smoke, but fortunately they were standing far enough away that they were not hit by flying glass and concrete debris.
Dozens of screams, curses, shock, phones raised with recording turned on.
Some were shaken by horror and fear, while others saw an opportunity to gain views on social media with the scandalous stunt of a bomber with a bad reputation.
Experts and police tried to get everyone as far away as possible, saying that everything was under control and that no one should remain inside.
And further away from the crowd and the site of the explosion, with barely contained excitement, he stood. An ordinary guy whose face and general appearance were so unremarkable that he would be forgotten faster than a strange dream. An ordinary person who would get lost among thousands of passers-by.
Although, after what he had done, it was hard to call him a person.
As he walked further and further into the alley between the apartment buildings, his quiet giggling gradually turned into a nasty, screeching laugh.
“Amazing! Just wonderful! Who's laughing now, huh?!”
He continued to burst into nasty laughter, not even thinking about the gravity of his sin. Like young maniacs who took out their hatred on animals, torturing and killing them, taking out their hatred and resentment on defenseless victims, this guy took out his pain on those around him with explosions.
He blew up both buildings and people who were unlucky enough to be nearby, because his main targets were those who had hurt him. Minato and Tsunade were among them.
If they were so special, so strong, with such good Specials, then why didn't anyone help him? Why did they live carefree lives when, after Tsuna, the focus shifted to him, and scumbags like Kagero and his rabble caused him pain?
“Nothing, there's more to come. The rest are just trash, subject to collateral damage. Soon they will know, they will fear me...”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have Machiavellian tendencies?”
“Huh?”
The guy turned toward the voice, only to be met with a painful blow to the face that knocked him onto his back.
“Collateral damage, huh? How rude and cruel of you, Yorinobu...”
His own name, coming from this girl's lips, brought him to his senses, and his student ID, thrown at his chest, brought him back to reality like a bucket of ice water.
“W-who are you?!”
Even though he tried to raise his voice, he was trembling with fear. A cowardly nobody who was used to only hitting rats would never be brave.
“Me? Just an element of the interior that was subject to collateral damage.”
Brushing a strand of hair from her left eye, Makoto stared intently at the saboteur. In her gaze, which tried to see only the good in people, in her gaze, which was almost always kind, there was not a hint of compassion.
Only pure, unbridled rage and contempt.
“If you try to run away, I'll cut your tendons, and you won't be going anywhere.”
“I-I don't understand what you're talking about. I just wanted to...”
Yorinobu secretly reached for another stuffed toy hidden in his briefcase, but his hand was instantly covered with deep cuts, almost cutting through the bone.
“I told you, if you try to wriggle out of this, I'll cut your tendons. Are your ears blocked?”
“He's just an imbecile. There's no point in expecting him to cooperate.”
Behind Makoto, Minato's towering figure appeared, watching the scene with an indifferent gaze.
Just the sight of Minato made Yorinobu's blood boil, and his teeth gritted with rage.
“You! Did you come here personally to gloat, huh?!”
There was no trace of his former vanity left, only endless, groundless hatred that could not be appeased.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard your villainous monologue. You talk, and I feel ashamed, well, well, miracles happen.”
Minato's dismissive tone only brought the guy to boiling point. It was as if he was uninvolved in what was happening and had only come to mock a member of the circus of freaks.
There was a feeling that he would explode, like all his creations, if he didn't do something.
“First, a brat from a prestigious academy with excellent abilities, and now you. Do you want to repeat what others have done? Go ahead! Make sure you don't miss!”
Yorinobu, writhing in pain and hatred, was a pitiful sight. Like a worm that had had part of its body cut off. And yet, despite the pitifulness of this creature, Makoto tried to understand.
“Why?”
“Huh?”
"Why? Why cause pain to so many people just because you're offended? What do you get out of it? Pleasure? Self-affirmation? You're no better than those you hate if you're willing to sow senseless violence."
In response to her sincere attempts to understand what was going on in the mind of an unstable teenager, to her sincere plea, as if in a church confessional, all Makoto received was a spit. A literal spit.
As if she had tried to brand him with a hot iron, as a mark of shame, rather than get to the truth.
"Shut up! What do you know about how I feel? Did they rub your face in the dirt? Beat you unconscious? Knock out your teeth? Extort money from you? Have you been wiped on with just because you're different? Just because you don't have the ability? Just because you lost the genetic lottery?"
He bared his teeth, wanting to say so many more words, to spew so much more venom, but even several days wouldn't have been enough.
If every inch of his body had a thousand words of “Hate” written on it, it still wouldn't describe even a hundredth of the inadequate anger and contempt he felt towards them at that moment.
"If you don't know how I feel, don't you dare pry into my soul, you vile mongrels! You all belong on the gallows! Hanging by a noose! Torn to pieces! All of you, scum from Specials, are equally disgusting with your deceitful nature!"
Every cell of her body, every part of her being demanded it. It demanded to chop up this pathetic, immeasurably selfish creature that saw no one and nothing but itself. After all, IT could no longer be called a human being, IT could not be sympathized with, IT had to be shot like a rabid dog before it caused even more pain out of blind vanity.
“I am well aware that not everyone in this life is equal. I know perfectly well that the presence or absence of Special puts a big wall between people. And yet, I believe that despite these differences, people can accept them. Accept each other. It's disgusting to even call you a human being.”
“Life has repeatedly humiliated you. You have a right to your resentment, to your hatred. However, it is not even a matter of ability or lack thereof. Nor is it a matter of whether a person is a saint or the lowest of the low. It is a matter of whether you are prepared to walk over everyone and everything just to vent your anger.”
But before she could bring the thread down to slash Yorinobu's face, Minato punched the saboteur in the gut with all his might, knocking all the air and all the stupidity and terror out of him.
“Arnie, take the thread off his hand. If he doesn't want to understand, I'll make him. Don't dirty your hands with such filth.”
His words and actions finally brought Makoto to her senses, and, albeit reluctantly, the thread returned to her hand, becoming a finger again.
Ten clicks at equal intervals rang out in the alley, and after that, Minato grabbed Yorinobu by the hair and slammed his head into the concrete wall.
“The rules are as follows: I will hit you once every ten seconds. Your task is to land at least one blow on me. If you manage to do so, you can even blow me up right here, I won't resist.”
His voice was cold and dismissive, as if he did not consider the thing writhing in front of him to be human.
“And by the way, ten seconds have passed.”
A left hook knocked his jaw out of its socket with a loud crunch, and now it hung limply, dangling lazily, while blood splattered on the floor and walls.
All ten seconds were spent so that Yorinobu could at least recover from the blow and stand on his unsteady legs. But, unfortunately for him, time was up.
As soon as Yorinobu swung, Minato grabbed him by the hair and pulled him down, where his knee was already pressed into his jaw, putting it back in place.
"I'm not your kind uncle Specialist, I won't feel sorry for you. Get up, fight. If you want to kill someone, be ready to kick the bucket as well."
Minato didn't care if IT bit off its tongue and died in the doorway. He would continue to beat it again and again, over and over, until IT understood one simple truth. Even if he had to crush its bones, he would do so without a moment's hesitation.
Minutes passed, and the beating continued. There was not a single spot on Yorinobu's body that was not bruised. Broken arms and legs, knocked-out teeth, dislocated joints, unnaturally twisted limbs, a cracked spine, internal bleeding.
Ten minutes later, Yorinobu looked like a piece of meat chewed up by a bulldog, still breathing by some miracle. Despite all his hatred and contempt for IT, even Makoto found it difficult to watch.
“You bastard...”
It took all of Yorinobu's strength to mutter that one word. Blood gurgled in his throat, and bitter tears streamed down his face.
“What, you want me to start feeling sorry for you? After your words and actions? Fine, have it your way.”
Minato took a shard of glass from the nearest trash can, a piece of a broken glass bottle, and pressed it against the throat of the piece of meat. Against the throat that visibly tightened at the sight of the object that could abruptly end his suffering. And his life.
Fear made the tears flow even more, and Minato felt less and less pity.
"Well? Go on, take it. Slit your throat. It's much quicker than dying from broken bones and burst organs, isn't it? You'll become a martyr, a fighter for the right ideals, who gave his life for a cause... It's a pity that the idea is just like its creator, shit that one wouldn't even touch with a stick."
But even though he knew it would be quicker, he was afraid. He was afraid to take his own life, even though he was easily prepared to kill Tsuna, Makoto, Minato, and others, viewing the victims as collateral damage.
“I told you... all of you... scum, who use Special... disgusting bastards...”
Minato's emotionless facade remained intact, but even Makoto could feel the fire burning inside. A fire for which any water that tried to extinguish it would only be gasoline, helping the flames burn like white phosphorus.
“I see. So you still don't understand.”
He threw away the shard of glass and, no longer holding back, put all his strength into a single blow to the chest, crushing the rib cage like a fragile cookie.
Without even waiting ten seconds, Minato grabbed it by the hair and began to beat it in the face with all his might, gradually turning it into mush.
After a good beating, which resulted in a face practically turned into mincemeat, Minato contemptuously threw the carcass to the ground.
“U-u-ugly... mongrel...”
But even so, it did not see or acknowledge its mistakes. It simply did not want to.
“Wow, you really are dumb. If you still don't get it, you freak, I'll spell it out for you.”
He crouched down, holding Yorinobu's now shapeless face by the hair like a bag of garbage.
“I'm a bastard, a vile animal, a mutt, and so on. No doubt about it. Just like those who beat others for idiotic and arrogant reasons. Just tell me, am I a bastard for beating you? I didn't even have to use my ability to defeat you, the great and mighty fighter for the rights of the incompetent.”
Yorinobu's swollen, tear-filled eyes opened as wide as they could. And even though it was unbearably painful, it wasn't as agonizing as the realization that Minato didn't even have to use his ability to rub his face in the dirt and destroy all his ideals.
Such a simple, superficial understanding, known to every child, had only just dawned on him.
“You can continue to dispense your justice, you powerless bitch, but first earn the right to be called a human being.”
He let go of his hair, and Yorinobu's face fell to the ground with the sound of a crushed tomato, leaving them finally in a deathly silence, and only distant voices near the shopping center reminded them that this was reality and not a bad, feverish dream. As did the smell of rust hanging in the air.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Makoto asked in a timid voice. She wanted to at least put her hand on his shoulder to shake him and bring him to his senses, but she stopped, because at the same time she knew perfectly well how unstable Minato was in this state.
“Hardly. It's hard to say you love people after something like that, isn't it?”
Minato asked in a calm voice. Nevertheless, perhaps not for long, the flame went out.
After such an outburst, his mind shut down. All his actions were mechanical, beyond the control of his brain.
He only came to his senses when he heard someone calling him.
“...-san! MiMi-san!”
“I can hear you, don't yell. Tsk, can't you even think?”
Minato clicked his tongue slightly and snapped back, leaning his back against the wall, standing away from the crowd.
It was evening, as the bright midday sun had already given way to a blinding crimson. Tsuna stood nearby with his brother, who, judging by all appearances, had spent the last few dozen minutes sobbing. But Minato couldn't blame him, as he knew exactly how he felt.
“Damn, every day is a fucking disaster.”
Tsuna hissed quietly, holding his brother's hand tightly. Guilt remained on his face after he heard about the motives behind Yorinobu's actions, who had handed Makoto over to the doctors and specialists, knowing Minato's current condition.
“There's no point in blaming yourself for this. That nobody brought this fate upon himself.”
Minato still didn't feel a shred of regret for how badly he had beaten Yorinobu.
“You say that, but I understand him like no one else. I realize that I would have beaten him just as badly as you did if I had gotten to him first. I can't forgive him, but I understand him. I didn't have any abilities either, and I was also beaten and belittled just because I was different. I should have helped, and yet...”
Right now, the ability to comfort others, the ability to choose the right words, would come in handy, but alas. Minato had neither.
“That's life. Whether you like it or not, it will inevitably kick you in the balls and force you to face the consequences of your actions. And there's nothing we can do about it. All we can do is learn from our experiences and somehow move on, following our hearts.”
Minato leaned toward Yuzuru, who was trying with all his might not to cry and to appear strong, even though it was clear that he was clearly not okay.
"I know you dislike me for taking your brother away from you for so long, and then he comes back bruised and cut, exhausted. You have every right not to like me. But I still want to ask you something."
With his rough hands, covered in calluses from training and endless fights, he wiped away the tears welling up in Yuzuru's eyes, who looked at him like a cat that had been brought to a new apartment.
“It may be selfish, but keep an eye on him, okay? He's a good guy, but he's still empty-headed. And he thinks too often about things that can't be changed. He's an idealist to the core. So I want you to watch over him just as he watches over you. Can you grant me this selfish request?”
Sniffing and wiping away his tears, Yuzuru puffed out his chest, trying to look bigger than he really was. Still, it was clear how much he had grown up. And so, he nodded.
“Well done, kid. Go home, today has been much more eventful than I would have liked.”
“Yeah, take care, Mimi-san. Let's go, Yuzuru.”
“Bye! And good luck on your next date!”
Watching the two brothers walk away, Minato just tiredly ruffled his hair.
“You really need to keep an eye on what your brother is watching.”
Sighing wearily, Minato slowly trudged away, wishing he could crawl under a rock for the next five years. But fate had other plans, and before he even had a chance to put his headphones in, a few dozen meters away he saw Makoto, who seemed to be waiting for him.
“Listen, Arnie, I'm certainly immensely grateful and indebted to you for today, but let's not do this, okay?”
“Who owes whom, huh?”
“Hm?”
Minato tilted his head in confusion, causing his stiff neck to make an unpleasant crunching sound.
“If you hadn't decided to go all in, we wouldn't be standing here.”
She still remembered it clearly. She remembered how, in a desperate situation, Minato took a risk and, betting that the explosion itself was the product of an ability rather than a device, blocked it with an electric shield of his black lightning.
If not for him, they would all have been buried under tons of rock. It left a bad taste in her mouth.
What good was her status as a prestigious academy? What good were her ability, speed, and intelligence if she couldn't even prevent an explosion?
Seeing the puzzled look on her face, Minato could only sigh, understanding perfectly well what was on her mind.
"Are you blaming yourself for not being able to do anything when you really wanted to? I understand, even better than I would like to. But there's nothing you can do about that feeling. All that's left is to accept it and turn that regret into a determination to change something. At least everything turned out okay, although it's sad to have my first gray hairs at fifteen."
At times like this, she had trouble understanding where the dry sarcasm in his remarks ended and where his real thoughts began. Especially in a situation like this.
"Heh, you talk boldly, but aren't you upset yourself? Because I brought that bastard here, I got all the glory. Don't you feel even a little sorry? You could have bragged about it for the next few years."
The sly mockery in Makoto's voice made it clear that she was not only trying to provoke Minato, but also to dilute this theater of the absurd a little.
"Hm? Nah, not really. I'm not a hero at all. I'll tell you more, if I were given the chance to fix everything, I would just do it all over again and beat that shithead up just the same. That's clearly not what heroes do. Of course, I'm glad that there were no casualties, but other than that, it's pure selfishness. It's not about fame, gratitude, or anything else. It's about doing what I personally believe is right. That's all."
He was certainly glad that his actions had saved at least the four of them and helped catch an unstable psychopath who would have caused a lot of pain to those around him. At least he recognized that.
But at the same time, he understood that if he hadn't swallowed his pride and used the ability he so despised, they wouldn't be standing there. Moreover, even though the severity of his beating of Yorinobu was justified by the fact that he deserved it, he was still frightened.
Scared by how, under the influence of hatred, someone's life had ceased to have any value. And how maintaining humanity made no sense at that moment. It was the life of a piece of trash, but still a life that he would have taken without a second thought.
Definitely not something to be proud of.
Leaving Makoto stunned and confused by this revelation, he slowly walked away, disappearing into the sunset. Literally.
Watching his receding figure, Makoto couldn't help but whisper part of his phrase.
“I'm glad there were no casualties. Doing what I personally think is right.”
These words almost made her burst into hysterical laughter, if she hadn't been so tired.
“Hmm, so who's spouting sappy nonsense now, show-off? Honestly, I don't even have the energy to be angry.”
In order to vent her indignation in some way, she kicked the wall with all her might, causing her leg to cramp and paralyze her for a minute and a half.
Meanwhile, Minato stood on the crosswalk with headphones in both ears. To drown out the blood pulsing in his ears, he turned the volume up to the maximum, just to distract himself from everything that was happening.
A strange feeling pulled him out of his stupor, as if someone were tugging at his pant leg.
He glanced down and saw the same puppy he had pulled out of the shopping center with him. Fortunately, there were no new scars on its body.
“Oh, it's you. I'm sorry, I guess I didn't manage to keep your place while you waited for your owner.”
But instead of anger or sadness on the puppy's face, he saw joy and affection. And a pair of eyes waiting for something, staring intently into his soul.
"Huh? Oh no. No way. I may love animals, but you trampled on my feelings when you tried to run away from me, and now you're acting like you don't care about electricity?"
Sensing the impending rejection, the puppy just bowed its head plaintively and whimpered, but Minato was above that and turned away with a snort.
The dog was apparently grateful to Minato for helping him come to terms with his situation and move on with his life under the wing of his savior.
But Minato remembered the puppy's betrayal, which he never forgave. After all, he was above that, and always would be.
He only came to his senses when he left the pet store with two full bags of care products and a happy puppy at his feet.
“I hate myself at a time like this.”
It was then that Minato realized how weak his spirit and convictions really were. And the score was 1:0 in favor of the puppy.