"No! I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry…! I didn't mean it…!"
A boy of barely seven years old cried out.
He was running, a desperate, frantic flight toward whatever lay on his horizon.
Hot tears streamed down his face, merging with the cold, heavy rain.
His small hands were stained dark with blood, and behind him, the baying of people who wanted him dead grew louder.
"Catch him!" voices screamed, echoing off the slick, grey stone walls.
"Off with his head!!"
"Don't let him get away! He just killed someone!"
"Child or not, he is a monster!"
It was a rainy, desolate outpost.
Grey, bruised clouds covered the shining sunlight, eliminating the warmth and life it usually offered.
In the downpour, none of the pursuers could tell the difference between the boy's heartbroken tears and the pure, cold raindrops plastering his face.
But who cared?
No one wanted to see the vulnerability of a monster. To them, a monster was a monster, and a monster didn't deserve a single tear of consideration.
He ran and ran, fast and faster, propelled only by desperation and primal fear.
Just when he started to believe the chaos was over, that he had lost them, he looked back.
They were gone.
But before he could register the relief, he failed to see the public staircase directly in front of him.
He tumbled down, end over end.
Each loud, sickening thud of his small body hitting the stone steps reminded him of the horrific sounds of 'fireworks'—the gunfire that had mercilessly slaughtered everyone he loved—when all he had ever wanted was to simply see real celebratory fireworks for the first time in his short, ruined life.
When the fall finally ended, he lay sprawled at the bottom, gasping for air and slowly pushing himself up to cough.
His vision swam, blurry and distorted, as if he was already on the verge of death.
He had heard that death was a wish everyone wanted granted—a strange thought for a child.
Soon enough, the blurriness cleared slightly.
He noticed a small, dark alleyway to his left, hidden beneath an overhang. He stumbled into the shadowed recess, sinking down with his back against the cold, damp wall.
He hugged his knees tightly to his chest and sobbed softly, praying that no one would ever pursue him again.
Hours passed, and exhaustion finally granted him sleep.
The morning sunlight eventually found its way into the alley, warming his body, but he barely registered it. He felt numb.
Suddenly, he was jolted awake by someone trying to pull him away from the shadows. He instinctively braced himself, thinking it was another one of those people.
But to his surprise…
It was just a little girl, maybe his age.
She had long, brilliant blonde hair that seemed to absorb and glow in the new rays of sunlight.
She wore a bright, cheerful smile on her face as she extended a small hand to him and called out:
"Hii! Let's be friends!"
***
"Huh, weird dream you got there,"
Wyne said, dismissing Trizha's frantic recounting of the caffeine-induced war-zone dream as they walked toward the Aquarium entrance.
"Yeah… I feel like I'm having a headache," Trizha groaned, covering her forehead with her hand.
The after-effects of the caffeine and the sudden exertion were overwhelming her consciousness.
"My knuckles hurt as well."
Margaret glanced at Trizha's hand, still rubbing the pain. "Why did you even try to deliver a punch in your dream? Were you trying to break someone's nose and teeth to watch them fall out?"
"Yeah—wait no! That's disgusting and disturbing!" Trizha quickly objected, pulling her hand away in disgust.
"Hahaha, whatever was in your dream, it definitely sounds dangerous if you tried to punch someone in real life," Wyne chuckled.
"Lucky for you, Miss Yuri had a chest plate for protection. Otherwise, we'd be waiting for the police right now. Not for you, but for the queen herself" Wyne added.
"Yep. Ahhh… my knuckles hurt a lot…" Trizha sighed, rubbing her right hand again.
Wyne looked over at her friend with genuine concern, crossing her arms.
"We definitely should bring you to the clinic. That chest plate was seriously thick. Not to mention you landed a powerful hit! You might have fractured something."
"But this is an Aquarium Tour!" Trizha exclaimed, protesting immediately. "I've been secretly excited and cheering for it. I can't just leave when something this exciting is right in front of me!"
That answer made Wyne frowned at her.
"Trizha, don't be reckless now," Wyne cautioned, her tone serious. "That kind of injury could be fatal, or at least permanently damaging, before you know it. We're talking about basic medical attention here."
"She's right, Trizha," Margaret chimed in softly, her eyes wide with worry. "It could be fatal and seriously needs professional medical attention."
Trizha fell silent for a few agonizing moments, looking back and forth between Wyne and Margaret, weighing her pain against her excitement.
Then, she finally sighed deeply, defeated.
"Fine… I'll go to the clinic," Trizha said, her voice laced with deep disappointment.
She turned to walk back the way they came, a picture of misery. Wyne patted her back to comfort her.
"Don't worry, we can try again next year… even though there really is no hotel event for next year and we'll have graduated by then," she mumbled the last part, trying to be supportive while being realistic.
Wyne then suddenly remembered something else. She turned away from Trizha and looked at Margaret.
"Hey Margaret, did you bring the camera so that we can at least take some pictures of the giant manta rays?"
"Yeah… I'm pretty sure I brought it with me before leaving our room," Margaret said softly, reaching into her purse and starting to rummage for the camera.
Wyne kept her eyes fixed on Margaret, waiting impatiently.
After a few frustrating seconds, Margaret finally took out a small digital camera. "Finally…!"
"Just how crowded is that purse of yours?" Wyne asked, raising an eyebrow. "You shouldn't be taking lots of unnecessary stuff, you know. Right, Trizha?"
Wyne paused, waiting for Trizha's usual sassy response. It was then that she realized the immediate lack of presence.
She didn't feel Trizha's weight or hear her groaning behind her anymore.
"She's not behind me, is she?" Wyne asked Margaret, her voice flat with growing dread.
Margaret shook her head slowly in confirmation.
"Oh for the love and peaceful wisdom given by Buddha himself…" Wyne groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose in extreme frustration. "May he forgive that reckless decision-making idiot…"
Wyne let out a final, furious sigh and turned back to Margaret. "You can go alone by yourself, right? For a while, that is."
"Depends," Margaret replied carefully. "Yeah, I can. But what are you planning?"
"I'm gonna go find Trizha. She probably took off toward the nearest ice cream stand instead of the clinic," Wyne declared, shaking her head. "Let's meet up back at the entrance in thirty minutes."
Wyne turned and walked off briskly, retracing their steps to look for the fugitive Trizha.
Margaret, clutching the camera tightly, blended in with the crowd of students entering the main Aquarium exhibit.
At the same moment, on the periphery of the crowd, Nomoro was seen following where Trizha had last been seen leaving.
He was looking around, his eyes scanning the throng of students, trying to keep track of her.
"She's hurt… She won't go to the clinic alone." He thought.
Nomoro then continued on his way, alone, blending seamlessly into the flow of people, a silent protector searching for his reckless, injured roommate.