災伴 (Saiban)

Chapter Four (Klein Yohei)

"Nein!" I reach a hand out as though I can stop the arrow with it, but it's too late. It punctures directly between Kaede's eyes, making blood bloom like a tsubaki blossom. I barely have time to look at  Orou before he's loading up the second arrow, and I've barely taken a step before he's let loose a second arrow. The child — Kenshi — lets out a scream, getting on his knees to try to get his aunt and father up.

"Daddy, Auntie, no—"

I tackle Orou to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back. "You bastard!"

I see Tameko grabbing Kenshi and his mother from out of the corner of my eye, leading them to safety and forcing them to leave behind the father and Kaede. Enkai seems frozen between getting me off of Orou and making chase for Tameko and the two strangers as Hana darts into the hallway, trying to see if the father can be treated — Kaede got hit with a headshot, but due to the force behind my tackle, the second arrow only hit in the torso.

I tighten my grip on Orou's wrists, my eyes burning. It's not the first time one of us has killed before — the world's cruel, with the looters and the gangs that began to rise along with the Saiban — but this was different... it wasn't self-defense, it was just murder.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Orou?!" I demand, driving my knee into his back as my voice cracks from the tightness in my throat. "That was a father and an innocent woman you just shot!"

"No one's innocent anymore, are they, Yohei-kun?" Orou groans, not bothering to struggle in my grasp. We both know that, despite Orou's own physical prowess, he still can't overpower the sheer size difference between us. "Lemme go. For all we know, there's more of them."

"It was a goddamn family." I swallow down the lump in my throat. "A child, his parents, and his aunt. And you killed two of them in front of a little boy, you realize that?"

"What, like the little boy that got Haru-kun killed?" he hisses, coughing a bit due to his neck pressing against the ground.

The face of the kid flashes in my mind — a big-eyed, adorable seven year old. One with the sort of smile that lit up a room like the sun. Maybe the brightness is what made us so blind to... "That isn't the point." I feel Enkai grab my shoulder, but I knock them away. "All because the world's bad doesn't mean every person is, too. All because there was one bad person that happened to be a kid doesn't mean every kid is going to do the same."

"...let me go. Tameko's already got them far enough for you," Orou mutters, his face unreadable. "Not as if any windows are open for me to snipe 'em anyways..."

I sigh, throwing him against Enkai. "Check him for injuries, Sorazawa-san. I tackled him pretty hard."

The X-gender cosplayer narrows their eyes, catching the man in their arms. "He didn't do the wrong thing. At the very least, that Kaede woman was a loose cannon. He just protected us."

"Or he took a woman's life for nothing," I reply, matching their glare. "We're all just trying to survive."

"And that makes people do things they wouldn't normally," Orou hisses, leaning against Enkai for support. "You know we're right, deep down. You're just too soft."

A stabbing feeling enters my chest. Before I can even think of my response, however, Tameko runs back into the complex and forces Hana away from her less-than-hopeful attempts at helping the man Orou had shot. She's covered in blood, making me freeze. She pushes her hand against my chest, making me stumble back towards the door back inside the apartment. "It's a Saiban. The fighting was too loud. Get inside."

I swallow and nod, not looking at Orou or Enkai. "R-Right." Though the abilities of Saiban seem to vary, one thing they all have in common is a powerful sense of hearing. We all know that, we all know that we have to keep sound low, and yet...

"...it's my fault," Enkai mumbles. "I was the one shouting..."

"If I'd shot sooner, we wouldn't've been so loud in the first place," Orou mutters. "It's on me."

Tameko locks the door behind her. "It's no one's fault. We were all stressed, we all made mistakes. Just try to keep it down now," she whispers. "I set out a few alarm clocks on my way back, so that should keep them distracted for now."

"The boy and his mother...?" I ask hesitantly, unsure if the answer is truly something I want.

"The mother got.." She swallows and looks away, wiping some blood from her face. "Her son ran away as soon as it happened, but I think.. he's gone too..."

"It's better that way," Orou says, his voice low. He pushes Enkai away.

"Wait, I still have to check—"

"I'm fine," he says, his tone clipped. He shoves his hands in his pockets, slouching, before exiting the room in favor of an empty bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Hana opens her mouth to speak, but covers it when a creaking sound enters from outside the window. We all make as much space between ourselves and it with quiet steps. There's a faint sound of scratching against the glass, though whatever is causing it is hidden by the wooden planks covering the window. It's the sort of shrill sound that makes you want to cover your ears immediately. My hands, however, are occupied with covering my mouth and supporting my weight on the wall behind me. I take shallow breaths to try to keep them quiet.

Skkkkrrrkkktttrrr...

Hana flinches next to me and covers her ears, her eyes squeezed tightly. A small whimper escapes her mouth despite her clear efforts, causing the scratching noises to pause. I shift my weight to my shoulder and slam my second hand to her mouth, my finger between her lips to prevent more noise the best I can. Her teeth clamp down a bit on my finger, but she's now quiet, her lips trembling against my hand. She somehow manages to still offer a grateful smile — I can feel its shape against my skin. Tameko has Enkai in her arms, stroking their hair in a comforting gesture. The silence is deafening, the moment completely taut as rope. Cold sweat drips down my back, causing me to shiver.

The Saiban's breathing is the only sign it's still there, a deep panting like a dog. In, out, in, out, in...