Hikaru woke up to a loud noise booming in the distance. Groggily sitting up in his bed, he turned his eyes to the window, faint light filtering through the shutters.

Something welled up inside of him and he got out of bed, stumbling towards the window in mild disbelief. The morning light. His mother had promised.

Hikaru opened the shutters, and his breath flew out of his body as if an explosion had rocked his entire system.

The night was alight with fire in the distance. In front of his very eyes, to another booming noise, closer this time, another pyre lit up spontaneously. And again, much closer, he recognized the train station in the distance going up in flames, momentarily blinding him. He shielded his eyes, throat dry, and his ears picked up the sound of an engine overhead.

Oh.

He felt strangely at peace.

The next booming noise, close enough to make Hikaru's head ring, preceded the light from a split-second. And Hkarustared in morbid fascination as the neighborhood exploded, the blinding light rushing to end it for him as well.

He stared at the fiery inferno as it consumed everything, barely even felt the heat rushing against the window and shattering it, barely even felt himself be pushed and hit something solid, barely even heard the screams inside and outside the house, barely even heard the house creak and crumble and give in, barely even felt himself falling, and he closed his eyes.

He'd never see the morning light, perhaps, but at least now, he was safe.

..._________________________________________________...

The morning light reflected off his hair, greasy and dirty and matted with dust and blood and dirt, and yet it felt strange to feel the sun's warmth caressing his cheeks. There were no sounds, not even the sound of voices, nothing but the comforting crackling of a fire somewhere around him. For a moment, Hikaru did not even feel alive.

And then, there was pain. Even before his vision flooded with light, his entire world went red with pain. And yet there was a weight on his chest, and the sobs that wanted to tear out of his mouth were caught underneath what he realized was a wooden beam sitting on top of him.

Hikaru whimpered, finally having enough sense to look around him. He was lying uncomfortably on rubble, bricks, and wood digging painfully in his back. He couldn't see anything past his chest, the wooden beam trapping him limiting his vision. He moved his arms experimentally, crying out softly when pain shot up his spine at the movement. Thankfully, nothing seemed broken. Or if there was, Hikaru was too confused to realize it.

The blood on his hands was slippery as he tried to push the beam off of himself. It was thick and heavy and after several tries, Hikaru felt like conceding. But then, if he gave up...he wouldn't be safe.

His mother had promised.

His mother... Mieko...

"Mom?" he cried out weakly, struggling to push again. The beam creaked, and hope welled up inside of him. Holding his breath, he pushed harder, arms straining painfully until the beam budged a centimeter above him, and it was enough. Hikaru slid himself carefully, the rubble tearing his back to pieces, arms trembling with the effort it took to hold the beam up until his head was out of the way. And then he let go, the beam falling back with a soft thud into the dirt. A cloud of dust stung Hikaru's eyes, and he coughed, ribs aching at the action. He gave himself a moment of respite, waiting for the dust to settle, before sitting up.

He was mostly cut up and bruised, aching all over, and he finally took a breath as deep as the sharp pain in his ribs would let him, realizing that the blast must have thrown him under his desk or bed, and the furniture had taken the brunt of the collapse until it had given way and had gotten Hikaru stuck under the beam.

But then, what about his family?

"Mom?" he called softly, trembling as he tried to stand. It took him a few tries, but once he did, he held on to a nearby pipe jutting out of the ground for support, swaying in place. "Mieko?"

Nobody replied. Only the crackling of fire did.

Hikaru looked around him and did not know how to react to the sight of his entire neighborhood flattened, piles of flaming rubble marking places where lives had been built throughout the years. All gone. In the blink of an eye and the literal heat of the moment. Gone.

And then, he saw it.

A patch of cream amongst the charcoal of his broken home.

And he prayed with unprecedented fervor that it was the remains of the living room couch stuck in between the rubble. A piece of marble counter or the porcelain of the bathtub or anything, anything but the strangely intact wrist and hand and fingers sticking out from under a large pile of smoking rubble, nails so impeccably manicured and limp and lifeless and skin soft, even in death.

Hikaru knew this because he caressed the hand, held it reverently with his own calloused, grimy ones, bent to put the palm against his cheek, and shivered at how cold and soothing it was on his fevered skin. A mother's touch never failed to comfort the troubled mind.

The early-morning light filtered through the dust floating in the air, breaking through the smoke of the deadly fires that had burned so many lives to ashes.

And Hikaru screamed.

They later called this event "The Forty Fireworks", a sickeningly playful term given to such a sickeningly tragic night. Forty towns and cities of Wiland, including the capital, seemingly chosen at random, had been reduced to rubble in one night, and millions of people had been killed in the span of a few hours. In the days that followed, over half of the several dozen million wounded died as well, from secondary effects of the blast, lack of resources, and environmental destruction. Aid flew in from other countries but the government itself was so torn up that close to none of the donated resources were put to use.

And amidst the nation-wide blackouts, the mass exodus towards rural areas and other countries, the power struggle between the military and the government, and of course, the looming threat of more attacks from opposing countries, nobody thought to consider the misery of the individuals who had survived the entire ordeal.

Hikaru stayed three days in the rubble of his home. Three days, he laid down by the untimely grave of his mother and sister and watched the sky, listened to the silence of the desolate environment around him, and breathed as if it was the only thing he knew to do anymore. Occasionally, he'd blink, but no matter what time of the day it was, there never again felt like there was light.

On the second day, it finally rained, putting out the fires that were dwindling in intensity, and taking away all noise from Hikaru's environment. It was strange that the silver-haired boy, all broken up and beaten to his knees, had simply watched the heavens drown out the earthly sorrows, and then had opened his mouth as if by a mere reflex to stay alive. The dirty, ammonia-filled raindrops soothed his scratched throat as they slid down and kept him alive for another day.

Hikaru kept staring and wondered why he was still trying.

On the third day, Hikaru woke up to the first noise he'd heard since the rainfall. It was the sound of car engines and slamming doors, and immediately, he felt the foreign entities invade what had essentially been a graveyard and sanctuary for him all this time. And just as survival instincts had made him push the beam off, just as they had made him open his mouth for water despite having nothing to live for anymore, they now dictated that he stay where he was and didn't move.

The men had rough voices, perhaps in their middle-aged years, judging by the scratch in their tones. Or perhaps they were thirsty and weary and dead on the inside like everybody else, aged beyond their years.

The thought of young men and women brought a strange burning up into Hikaru's throat, and he tried not to think of his friends. His friends, who were probably dead as well. Why was he the only one who was doomed to survive?

He closed his eyes and held his breath as a few of the men walked past what used to be his house. They were discussing something and swearing, complaining about the lack of resources fit for the taking, and Hikaru slowly realized that there was no life anymore. There were no more societies and no more communities and only rag-tag bands of scavengers who struggled to survive until they fell over and died. In the span of a single night, a hardened and glorious nation had been wiped out, and its people, or whatever were left of them, had returned to the state of nature.

It was kill or be killed at this point, and yet, as the footsteps echoed away from his spot, Hikaru wished he could find the courage to call them back and ask them to put a bullet in his brain.

But he didn't. His voice stayed captive in his larynx as the car engines were heard again, and the vehicles sped off. He was amongst the silence again.

And yet it felt wrong. After nearly three days of lying down and letting himself die, it felt wrong now to stand there and do nothing. Hikaru had never been the kind to give up, not before, and not now.

His mother would have wanted him to live. She'd have wanted him to fulfill the promise she couldn't. Her hand, now pale and blue and cold and rigidly stuck in the rubble like a morose white flag strung up overhead was a sign that she had given everything to ensure her children's safety. And Hinata couldn't disrespect her sacrifice like that.

"I'm sorry, mom, Natsu," Hinata whispered, throat parched and eyes sunken as he took a whiff of the wet dirt under him one last time before beginning his painstaking ascension. First, he pushed himself up, arms trembling, and then began to stand. His head spun, vision going black, and when it returned to him, it was blurred around the edges. Hinata's hand and legs trembled with the overwhelming weight of the promise he was carrying on his shoulder, and he took a tentative step forward.

"I'm sorry, mom, Meiko," Hikaru whispered, throat parched and eyes sunken as he took a whiff of the wet dirt under him one last time before beginning his painstaking ascension. First, he pushed himself up, arms trembling, and then began to stand. His head spun, vision going black, and when it returned to him, it was blurred around the edges. Hikaru's hand and legs trembled with the overwhelming weight of the promise he was carrying on his shoulder, and he took a tentative step forward.

The world did not end when he stepped away from his broken life. And so he took another step, and another, passed over the toppled kitchen table, went around the broken living room lamp, climbed over a mess of stone and wooden beams and when he finally stood at the top, he looked back down one last time.

His mother's hand was still there, and Hikaru was still alive, and it felt like she was saluting his courage and waving him off on another one of his marvelous adventures.

"Thank you," Hikaru whispered, and tore his eyes away, letting the light wash over his broken body before sliding down, towards the street.

He had one last thing to do before he died.

_________________________________________________

It was harder than he anticipated. He lived in an area where hills were very steep and rather numerous, and his undernourished, dehydrated, wounded, weakened body could only do so much. He was lucky enough to have found solace in an old corner store and had drunk a warm sports drink that hadn't been scavenged yet off the floor. He spent the night there and set out again in the morning, glad to leave the stench of its old owner's decaying body behind.

He stuck to the alleys, freezing up at the slightest noise, but thankfully did not have any close encounters. Once, he heard a car coming down the street and threw himself flat on the ground, and the car drove right past him. He stayed there for twenty minutes, enjoying the coolness of the stone on his warm face, wondering what it would be like to waste away and die right there before he stopped entertaining his fantasies and set out again.

It rained again the next night, and Hikaru spent it huddling on himself under the holed awning of a fruits and vegetable store closer to the center of the town. He was getting closer to his goal every day, but his body was letting him down even more every day. He was pretty sure that his cuts had been infected and that he was running a fever, and he probably had a concussion and cracked, if not broken ribs. And most of all, he felt weak and dizzy and ready to fall over and close his eyes and never have to get up again. But he pulled through. On the dawn of the sixth day, he set out, convinced that he would make it to his goal this time. His pace was agonizingly slow, and he had to stop many times and get sidetracked to find some water before his body gave up entirely, but by the evening of the sixth day, since his life crumbled to pieces, Hinata finally saw the light.

Looming at the end of the street was his salvation and his final resting place. The only place where he knew he'd feel safe and happy, and the only place that would soothe him and steal his worries and take away his pain as he laid down and waited with a smile on his face. A cold gust of wind blew, carrying the smell of smoke and decay with it, and Hinata shuddered, clutching his sweater's hood over his matted hair and quickening his pace. He couldn't wait to die.

Oceanside Institute was slightly beaten up, dark, and windows were broken, one part of it has seemed to have caught fire before the rain put it out. It felt eerie and devoid of life and yet Hikaru could not have asked for more. He went around the school, life returning to his eyes more and more as he took wobbling steps towards the building behind it, the familiar sight of it making relief well up in his heart and tears in his eyes.

He finally felt like his journey had led him home.

And yet, all of it seemed like it had been stolen from him in the blink of an eye, like the explosion had done on that night, by the simple impact of a body against his. And part of Hikaru wished as he hit the rough ground harshly, that this time, he would stay dead.

His vision swam and his voice escaped him, the impact jarring his irritated ribs and making him breathless. There was somebody towering above him now, face hidden in darkness, and yet the baseball bat by his side was clear-cut. Hikaru's eyes widened minutely, and he was overcome with a sudden sense of bitterness. That he would be stopped right before entering the gates of his grave was simply too cruel. He didn't want to do this anymore.

"...at...ng... ere..."

Hikaru hadn't heard voices in so long. He wondered if he still remembered how to speak. The voice questioning him mercilessly belonged to the faceless man now pointing the bat at his face threateningly, and yet it seemed familiar somehow, like a warm hug.

But there would be no warmer hug than death at this point, Hikaru was convinced of that fact.

"Who are you? What's your purpose here? Have you come to rob us? Damn it, answer me! You... you aren't dead, are you?" the voice questioned continuously, and Hikaru figured he may as well indulge the man. At least one of them would go to sleep satisfied tonight.

"I..."

"Identify yourself!"

"I..." Hikaru continued, having trouble breathing. "I... came here to die."

"What?" the voice suddenly backed off, and the bat was lowered. "What the ****?"

Hikaru wanted to laugh, but he couldn't even muster the energy. It was all gone. Everything.

"Oi, what... Who are you?"

There were hands on him and Hikarudid not even care enough to struggle. They fumbled lightly with his hood, trying to pull it down, and Hikaru did not even complain when the person -so, so familiar, like the smell of home and the feeling of safety- tugged at his hair while bringing it down.

And there was a gasp.

"H-Hikaru!"

That must have been his name. Probably. Did this guy know him? The orange-haired boy probably knew him, too. Somewhere. In the depths of his eclipsed mind, he probably did. But now...

"Oh god, I messed up. Oh god, hang on, hang on!"

There was no point in hanging on anymore, the boy wanted to say, eyelids drooping sluggishly. He wanted to sleep and never wake up.

"Damn it, Hikaru, eyes open! Oh hell... Hassan! Hassan, I need help!" The hands turned him over on his back, and Hikaru did not respond. Slowly, he was shutting down, and his eyelids slid shut over his dull, lost gaze.

A harsh slap to the face suddenly jolted him back, and Hikaru glared lightly at the person above him. Soft, lovely, wide brown eyes were looking down at him, the rest of the features hidden under the hood of the other person's jacket, and Hikaru felt at ease with them. He perhaps did not recognize the person kneeling next to him, but he was glad that he was dying next to somebody he apparently knew once.

"Don't close your eyes! Hikaru, I swear to god, stay awake! Stay awake... You're safe now. You're safe. You're safe. You're safe..."

His mother had said that. Perhaps she hadn't been lying. It wasn't morning anymore, but the sun was dying now, and perhaps this is what she had meant by him being safe and sound in the end.

"Ethan! What's going on?"

"It's Hikaru! He's hurt, help me get him inside!"

"What!?" There was shuffling, and someone was tugging at his limbs. "****, he's a mess... Oh god, what do we do?"

"Get him inside! Now!" the first voice responded, tone trembling. A hand was suddenly put on his forehead, cool and comforting, and it pushed all of his dirty hair out of his eyes. "Hikaru... You're gonna be okay. We're going to take care of you."

Hinata blinked. Once. Twice. Ethan. Hassan. Three. Four. Safe. Alive. Five. Six. Friends. Family. Seven. Eight. Warmth.

He closed his eyes.

"Hikaru! Kikuchi! Don't do this! Hikaru, wake up!"

Hikaru drifted off.

It was cruel for heaven to look like the Oceanside's gymnasium, Hikaru thought as he opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling. Now he'd have to spend all of the eternity remembering the life he used to have before he died. Perhaps he'd ended up in hell instead.

Slowly, testing himself out, he sat up, taking a deep breath to steady himself and regain his bearings. He couldn't remember how he died, or when that happened, but it was finally over, and Hikaru could rest at ease.

But then... Why did his body still hurt all over if he was dead and hanging out in heaven now? And why the bandages everywhere? Couldn't God just snap his fingers and fix him?

"This sucks," he huffed, crossing his arms, and biting his lip to stifle a cry of pain. He breathed harshly through his nose until the sensation ebbed away and then carefully turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Then, he realized that he had a tube sticking out of his nose, and he cried out softly, touching it. It was taped to his nose and he had no idea why it was there, but he figured he'd ask when someone came around. Until then, he needed to know what was going on.

The soles of his ***** feet were raw and hurt when he tried to stand up, and his knees buckled at first, but Hikaru steadied himself with the bed and began taking a few steps around his little bedroom. Although that term was rather lightly used.

In reality, it was just a single mattress mounted on a metal bed frame and a small table at the side. Curtains had been set up with poles and created two walls whilst the gym walls made up the corner where the bed was pushed. It was a sweet little setup, and Hinata was grateful for the isolation.

But he needed to know what was going on.

Tentatively, he went for the curtain and gently pushed it open. His eyes immediately fell on the scene in front of him, and his eyes widened.

He stood on the landing that ran above three sides of the gym, looking down on the court where he used to play volleyball with his friends. His hands tightened on the railing to steady himself, sudden vertigo taking his entire body hostage, and his knees buckled. He held onto the rail for dear life until he could bear his own weight again.

The gym was mostly empty, although there was a small set up next to the back entrance to the gym that looked like a camping stove and some buckets of water. Plastic dishes were stacked on top of a table next to it, along with some other cooking utensils, and the whole setup looked like an improvised kitchen, and a pretty good one at that, too. If Hinata bent over the railing a bit, too – his ribs hurt like hell, nevermind -, he could see a small table with a laptop on it, some maps, and what looked like a battery-operated radio. There was a chest next to it and some chairs, and the number of papers and pens strewn around the area made it look like it was often used.

He turned his attention to the top landing, noting that it had become something of a bedroom, for the most part. Sometimes separated by cardboard boxes, curtains or nightstands, futons, mattresses, and clumps of blankets were lined up against the wall, some of them made up really nicely, others completely messy. Hinata chuckled at that. It made the whole setup look lived in, and strangely homey.

On the central stretch of the landing, where he was standing, there seemed to be a medical station, hence the isolated bed. There was a desk with some papers on it and pens, and then a bunch of medical equipment. Hikaru could see disposable gloves, masks, bandages, antiseptic solution, and maybe a syringe or two. The rest of it was probably in the cardboard boxes stacked under the desk. Then, further away, there was a blue cooler, and next to it were some ripped grocery bags that obviously contained half-eaten food.

Hikaru's stomach grumbled at that, and he made a move to go grab something to eat.

"Eh...? Hikaru!"

At the sound of his name being cried out in such surprise, the short teen turned around to face the person who'd called him, the sudden movement almost making him lose his balance. He swayed on his feet, but thankfully, there was a reassuring grip on his arm before he could fall.

"Hikaru, what are you doing? You're not well enough to be up. Go right back to bed, alright?" the person chided him gently, and a huge grin blossomed on Hinata's face.

Maybe... maybe being alive wasn't so bad after all.

"I'm so happy to see you, Beau," he beamed and put his arms around the red-haired third year. And Beau laughed and held him, and Hikaru laughed and cried, because finally, finally, he was home.

_____________________________________________________________________

Beau had picked up nursing, apparently, in the six days since the world went to hell. He'd taken textbooks and practically transported the school nurse's office to his little corner on the gymnasium's landing and had poured everything he'd had into mastering skills necessary to take care of his team. To Hikaru's relief, Beau had informed him that most of the members of their volleyball team had gathered and had made it through thick and thin, only to set up base in the gym to try and outlast the storm.

But then, although he'd had a thousand and one questions to ask him, Hikaru had been just too tired and had retired. Beau had come around with a stethoscope and a heavy-looking textbook and had done his best to give him a head-to-toe check-up according to the book's instructions. He then had skimmed over what he'd done for Hikaru and had told him that the tube, that they'd been using to feed him liquid foods while he was out for the past day, could come out now. Hikaru didn't really fancy anything inside of him that didn't have to be and agreed that Beau should take it out.

Once it was out, Beau told him that it was important that he drink lots of fluids to help ease his state of dehydration and malnutrition. If he didn't keep anything down, he'd have to get fluids intravenously.

But then, when Hikaru looked down at his arms, both of which were mottled with bruises he didn't think he had before, he kindly refused Beau's offer to try and insert an IV (which had obviously turned out so well the last... fourteen times he'd tried?), and he promised to eat. Tomorrow.

Beau told him the team should be back from their daily raids for dinner soon, and that they'd be glad to see him, but Hikaru was too tired to stay up. That isn't to say that he didn't try, but then at some point, his eyes slipped shut and he was gone.

Medical notes: What Beau put into Hikaru's nose is a nasogastric tube (nose to stomach). It's actually pretty easy to insert, so he could do it if he knew the theory. Although NG tubes need to be used to administer prepared feeds only, Beau obviously doesn't run a hospital, so I imagine they injected cold chicken noodle soup and diluted juice or diluted, mashed-up food into the tube. It's not the intended use, but... you gotta make do! As for IVs, they're also easy to set up once you've got the catheter in the vein, and the types of solutions to infuse are pretty easy to understand, but venipuncture (the process of piercing the vein to insert the catheter) is suuuper hard, especially if the person has difficult veins. So no wonder Hinata had bruises all over his arms from failed IV insertions.