CHAPTER 2

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.

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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.

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