Chapter 111: Live Without Fear

The solemn atmosphere of the courtroom.

There, a man was standing.

Tap, tap—the sound echoed.

"With regard to this case, I ask that you step back and look at things broadly."

Tap, tap, the sound continued with steady rhythm.

What sound? The sound of a white cane.

"My client did injure and kill. That is fact. But it was under orders, from a position where refusal was impossible… In other words, she had no will of her own and stood in the same place as the weapon itself."

A white cane is used by the blind. It probes for obstacles or steps at one’s feet.

…Though in his case, it was unnecessary.

"You will blame the assailant who held the knife. But would you blame the knife itself? No, no one would."

The tapping of the cane ceased.

The man in sunglasses turned his face—not toward my seat, but the opposite direction.

"What matters is ethics. For it is ethics that makes humans truly human. And yet, that same ethic is fragile, easily bent by great forces."

The man was a lawyer.

His name… Matthew "Matt" Murdock.

Also known as Daredevil.

At this moment he stood not as Daredevil, but as Matt Murdock of the Nelson & Murdock law firm.

"To threaten a life—that is unforgivable. But she too was threatened… forced to endure mental and physical pain in an environment she could not resist as a child. Could she have truly fought back?"

He was now standing as defense counsel, speaking for the accused.

"My client was a victim forced into murder, and she has already repented. What she needs is not shackles, but a chance for atonement."

He spoke out, appealing to the court, in order to save the one on trial.

But then… whose trial was this?

It was—

"That concludes the final argument on behalf of Michelle Jane Watson."

My trial.

---

Three days earlier.

After my usual mental care session, I was summoned by Nick Fury.

"This has turned into a mess."

He scowled the moment we met and said it bluntly.

"What happened?"

I frowned too and asked back—in my professional tone.

With Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, or Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, I can speak as "Michelle." Because I trust them.

But with Fury, I can’t. He’s an ally who devoted himself to helping me, and yet somehow I can’t open my heart. I always keep a line drawn between us.

It’s not dislike. I just don’t think we can ever be that casual.

"The Secretary of State has taken issue with the fact that you’re walking around freely."

"…I see."

It’s true. I am a criminal. Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t even be allowed to meet friends. Let alone walk outside with a lover—

"But let me be clear, this is unjust. You can deny it. There’s no basis to imprison you or keep you bound."

"But—"

"Thaddeus Ross only wants to make you his pawn."

I touched my chin in thought.

Thaddeus Ross, Secretary of State. A cold-blooded man who puts his country first and despises heroes. He wants to treat heroes and villains alike purely as "weapons" under control.

Not simply an evil man—he truly does strive to protect innocent people and defend his nation’s interests. For better or worse, his sense of good and evil is rigidly upright.

And he has a history: assembling a team of former villains turned "heroes"… the Thunderbolts.

In other words—

"He intends to indict me, and then force me into the Thunderbolts as a criminal?"

"Exactly."

The Thunderbolts already had Herman among them. Not that I dislike the idea.

I was a repeat offender myself. It made sense. Nothing strange about it.

"If you lose this trial, you’ll be sent to the Raft—the prison for enhanced individuals. You’d only be released for military operations."

"That… might be unavoidable."

Yes. I had already accepted it. Atonement can be made anywhere. With S.H.I.E.L.D., or with the Thunderbolts.

…Though one thing weighed on me.

"If that happens, you won’t see your friends again. A year, three years… no, at least ten."

"…You’re right."

Maybe I could see them under visitation rights. But tea parties and casual gatherings? Impossible.

Even if Gwen and Harry might still qualify as related, what about Ned and Peter, just ordinary civilians? I might not be able to see them at all.

They’re kind. They’d be hurt by it.

I can endure it. But seeing my friends hurt—that, I cannot bear.

I clutched the hem of my clothes.

Seeing this, Fury exhaled deeply before he spoke again.

"Who do you think decides guilt and punishment?"

I turned my gaze back to him.

"Fury, it’s the victims."

The people I killed. The people I hurt. Their suffering—against that, I—

"No. It isn’t. The one who decides is—"

But Fury shook his head.

"The law. What you’ve done won’t vanish. But whether it counts as crime, and what punishment follows—that is for the law to decide."

"But—"

"This country is a nation of laws. Vague emotions of an unspecified many cannot decide punishment. There are laws, and those entrusted to judge. Leave it to them."

"By the law?"

"In other words, it will be settled in court."

Fury stood up, a fearless grin on his face.

"The trial will be in three days, closed to the public. But don’t worry… I know a good lawyer."

"Fury…"

"This is a good chance, Michelle Jane. Use it to look at your sins objectively."

With that, Fury left the room.

That was three days ago.

---

I am a villain with superpowers.

Because I might go on a rampage, the courtroom was on high alert… and the trial proceeded.

The charges were read. The questioning conducted.

And then, the defense we just heard.

In the end, the jury’s verdict—

"Unanimous: not guilty."

Not guilty by reason of insanity.

…Relief washed over me.

Then, shame. Shame at my own relief.

Even as I said I wanted to be judged under the law, somewhere deep inside… I must have feared being separated from my friends.

I bit my lip, lowering my gaze. How shallow a person I am.

Noticing my state, my defense attorney, Matt Murdock, turned his face toward me.

---

"Congratulations, Miss Michelle Jane Watson."

In a sterile white room, Matt Murdock and I sat across a desk, diagonal from each other.

"…"

"Your innocence has been established. Regarding past incidents, you will not face criminal charges, and there’s little chance of a retrial."

Before me, the man in sunglasses spoke.

We were inside a facility managed by S.H.I.E.L.D. After the trial, he was giving me an explanation.

I shifted my gaze, and Matt’s expression hardened slightly.

"Do you have… some dissatisfaction?"

"Dissatisfaction?"

I had none regarding the trial. It was a necessary step—I understood that.

I understood Thaddeus Ross viewing me as a threat, and I understood Nick Fury wanting me acquitted.

And in the end… I had been deemed innocent. Declared innocent.

"…Matt Murdock."

"Yes? What is it?"

He spoke gently, and I found myself asking a question.

"Aren’t you… angry at me?"

At that, he fell silent.

Matt. He was Daredevil. The vigilante who protects Hell’s Kitchen by night. My repeated enemy in his battles against Wilson Fisk.

We had fought many times. And more than once, I killed traitors before his very eyes.

So he should hate me. And yet… why?

He finally spoke, cautiously.

"…You mean you know my identity?"

"…"

I nodded in silence.

"Well, that’s awkward. I had meant to meet you today only as your lawyer—"

Matt gave a wry smile, resting a hand on his chin.

"As for your earlier question… do I hate you? No. I don’t hate you."

"…Why not?"

My tone softened. Less like a client to her lawyer, more like an old opponent—someone well-known through countless clashes.

"I became a lawyer because I wanted to help those forced into unjust positions."

"…"

"Let me tell you a story."

Matt leaned his white cane against the desk, resting both elbows on the tabletop.

"My father was a boxer. Not a famous one, mind you."

I stayed quiet, listening.

"He was threatened by gangsters. They demanded he throw fights. Of course, that was wrong."

Though blind, his eyes seemed fixed on the past.

"My father feared for his life. Again and again he threw matches, earning money… but unable to tell a soul."

I furrowed my brows.

"If someone can only survive by breaking the law… does one crime mean they must never seek help again?"

Matt shook his head.

"No. That’s wrong. Everyone deserves a chance to reform. But my father never had that chance. Because he had no one on his side."

He clasped his hands, smiling faintly in sorrow.

"One time, my father tried to climb out of that swamp. He fought with everything he had—and won. But the next day, they found his body."

Finishing the tale, Matt turned his face toward me.

"I became a lawyer because I wanted to help people like you. So why would I hate you, when my whole reason for being here is to help?"

I opened my mouth to argue… and closed it again. To deny him here would only trample on his conviction.

Seeing my silence, Matt’s lips softened into a faint smile.

"You’re kind."

"…That’s not true."

I shook my head reflexively.

"I won’t deny your guilt, or your desire for punishment. But I won’t allow others to punish you either."

"…Why not?"

"Because I’m a lawyer. You were found ‘not guilty.’ There are no hidden crimes left."

"…"

"You laid everything bare, and still the verdict was ‘not guilty.’ For any third party to try and overturn that—it would be an insult to the law itself."

That was how Matt spoke, and I… nodded.

"Thank you, Matt Murdock."

"Just ‘Matt’ is fine. Though really… it would be better if you never needed a lawyer again."

With a faint laugh, Matt gathered the paperwork on the desk into a single file.

"And… forgive me."

"Hm? For what, exactly?"

"Well, I, uh… hit you a lot…"

It wasn’t once or twice that I’d broken his bones.
Not figuratively—literally.

Feeling sorry for that was only natural.

But Matt wore a somewhat complicated expression.

"No, the apology’s mine. I fought you so many times… and yet, I didn’t even know the sound of your voice."

"…Matt."

"You probably know already, but my hearing is good. And still, I couldn’t hear the fractures in your heart."

Just as I carried guilt, Matt carried his own.

Ah… honestly.

The people around me are far too good.

"But now, like this—talking face to face. I’m glad for that."

"…Me too. I always wanted to speak with you this way, at least once."

"Is that so? That makes me happy."

Matt smiled, and I couldn’t help softening my own expression in return.
And then… I lowered my brows slightly.

"I like you, Matt."

Daredevil. From the memories etched in my mind, I had always respected him.

That rough, stubborn figure who gave everything to protect others—it had set my heart racing.

…For a moment, he was silent.

Puzzled, I looked at his face—only to find him wearing a troubled expression.

"Well, this is awkward. I’m sorry, but… I can’t accept your feelings."

And that was when I realized he’d made a huge misunderstanding.

I frowned.

"…That’s not what I meant."

"Ah—right. My mistake. What an embarrassing misunderstanding…"

Flustered, Matt scrambled to correct himself. His face was faintly red.

It was my fault, being unclear with words. Still… being rejected by someone I hadn’t even confessed to was oddly painful.

"…I have a partner already, anyway."

A sting in my chest, and I forced the words out, trying to hide my shame.
The moment I said it, I regretted it, the weakness in me so pathetic.

But—

"I see. That’s good."

Hearing that, Matt’s face softened with relief.

His reaction wasn’t what I expected, and I tilted my head in confusion.

Unlike him, I couldn’t read emotion from a heartbeat.

Perplexed, I decided to change the subject.

"…There’s one thing I’d like to ask of you, if I may."

"Of course. You can rely on me for anything."

The court documents had vanished from the desk, leaving only a single thick file.

"It’s this—"

At my words, Matt looked a little surprised… then nodded, as if in understanding.

---

New York, Hell’s Kitchen.

『Alias Investigations』.

That’s where I—Jessica Jones—was frowning.

I stared at the mountain of case files piled on my desk.

The bones broken by 『Redcap』 and the wounds had completely healed.
I was back to a condition where working as a PI posed no problem.

But of course, while I’d been stuck in the hospital, requests I couldn’t take had piled up.
I now had them all lined up on my desk.

"…………"

To be honest, a lot of them didn’t even require me to handle personally.
Still, I couldn’t just ignore the people who had come to me for help.

"First one’s… infidelity investigation, huh…"

Muttering that, I began flipping through the papers—

Then, the chime rang.
My eyes turned toward the office entrance.

"Great, as if I’m not already drowning in open cases."

I shoved the files into the drawer.
Confidentiality meant I couldn’t let anyone else see them.

"If this is a new client, maybe I should just say no."

Even as I said it, I knew I’d at least hear them out.
Because, after all… people who came to rely on me were always the kind who had no one else left to turn to.

I walked to the entrance and opened the door.

…And then frowned at the man who had rung the chime.

"Uh, you do see the sign that says 『CLOSED』, don’t you?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I’m afraid I didn’t."

It was the blind lawyer, Matt Murdock.

"There’s a raised-letter sign for that, you know. So you can tell by touch."

"Oh, my apologies then."

I shot back with sarcasm as I swung the door fully open—then noticed there was another figure standing behind Matt.

"…Hold up. Who’s the girl behind you?"

Platinum-blonde hair, pale in tone, with delicate features.
A type of face you’d hardly expect to see walking beside Matt. A woman—or more like, a girl.

"Her? She’s my client."

"For what exactly?"

"Defense. And maybe a bit of guidance."

Defense… which meant this girl must’ve been mixed up in something.

After letting them in, Matt helped himself to a chair.
The girl gave me a quick glance before sitting down beside him.

"So? What do you want from me?"

"That’s right, we do."

"Hmph…"

I opened the fridge.

From the right: booze, booze, booze, booze, booze…
Second shelf: booze, booze, booze, booze…
On the third shelf, a single bottle of mineral water.

"Sorry, I’m out of tea… water’s all I’ve got. That okay?"

"Don’t trouble yourself."

"I wasn’t asking you, Matt. I meant the girl behind you."

I turned my gaze from Matt to the young woman.
Her expression was tense, anxious.

It wasn’t unusual for girls her age to come to me.
For things the police couldn’t—or wouldn’t—handle, a PI was often the only option.
And when the PI was a woman, it made it that much easier to trust.

I hate to say it, but yeah… female detectives had their demand.

"…Um—"

Without waiting for her answer, I poured a glass of water and set it down in front of her.
Her eyes flicked between the glass and me before she finally spoke.

"Thank you… very much."

"You’re welcome."

She brought the glass to her lips and began sipping slowly.
…Like some timid little animal. Definitely not the kind of person you’d imagine ever doing something wrong.

Most clients who walked in here were cornered, panicked, yelling, breaking things.
But this girl—she was the opposite.

"So? What’s the problem? Dealing with a stalker, maybe?"

As I asked that, a thought crossed my mind.

Matt said he was defending her.
That meant she wasn’t the victim, but the accused.

…But seriously? This girl? What crime could she possibly commit?
False charges, maybe?

The whole thing was starting to feel like trouble.
I frowned—and Matt, noticing, finally spoke.

"Jessica, she wants to apologize to you."

"Me?"

I crossed my arms and leaned back against the desk. Tilting my head, I rifled through my memories.

It was the first time I’d ever seen this girl.
There was nothing I could imagine she’d have to apologize for.

And yet, she opened her mouth.

"I'm sorry."

The words slipped out softly.

I had no recollection of her ever harming me.
Still, in her gesture… I could feel genuine regret, and real remorse.

Before I knew it, I found myself asking:

"What are you apologizing for?"

Because if she was going to give me a sincere apology, I needed to respond in kind.

"…For hitting you. For kicking you."

"Who?"

"You."

I tilted my head again.

She hit me? Kicked me?

While I struggled to make sense of it, the girl continued.

"I attacked you with violence… I hurt you badly, so badly you had to be hospitalized…"

I blinked.

Hospitalized. Serious injuries. A girl.

"…Hold on, wait a second."

In my head, I yanked open a mental filing cabinet and pulled out a certain file.

Given the circumstances, there was only one possible answer.
But accepting it—that was another story.

This small, frail-looking, almost delicate girl in front of me—

"…You’re telling me you’re 『Redcap』?"

That villain in the red mask I’d fought tooth and nail against.

I wanted her to deny it.
To laugh it off as some ridiculous mistake.

But instead, she nodded. She confirmed it.

A quick glance toward Matt showed him nodding too.

"…I see."

I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes for a moment before opening them again.

"…………"

The girl—this supposed 『Redcap』—sat there with her head bowed, trembling.

Yes, it was true. I’d been seriously injured.
She had punched me, kicked me, even shot at me.

But—

"Well, whatever."

"…Whatever?"

"I’m saying, I forgive you."

I let out a long sigh, crouching down so my eyes were lower than hers where she sat.

"Jessica…"

"Everyone’s got scars on their shins, big or small. That includes me."

Her fingers gripped the edge of her clothing.
I gently wrapped both my hands over hers.

"Being spotless is admirable, sure. But you don’t have to be spotless."

"…………"

"What matters is what you do now. If you admit your mistakes and keep moving forward… then I have no reason to hold a grudge."

"…Thank you."

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she whispered her gratitude.

I softened, stood, and placed a hand on her head.

"It’s the adult’s job to forgive the mistakes of children. Live your life leaning on our shoulders when you need to."

…Wow. Her hair was ridiculously smooth. Like silk, honestly.

She looked so young, so delicate, so very much a girl her age.

That someone like her… had been forced into such a brutal world.

"And besides, I’m used to taking hits. I’m way tougher than you think. So stop worrying about it."

I took her hand and helped her to her feet.

"And also…"

She blinked in surprise as I reached out—then pulled her into a hug.

"Ah—Je… Jessica…?"

"I’m just glad you’re safe. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help you."

When she’d been cornered, and the Defenders had rushed in to save her… I’d still been stuck in the hospital.

I couldn’t shake the guilt.

For a moment I held her, until I felt her small hand on my back.
Tentative, but returning the embrace.
And just like that, the heaviness in my chest lifted.

…After a little while, I released her and stepped back.
Matt was smiling warmly at the sight.

Heat rushed to my face, irritation following right behind it.

"We’re not a show, you know?"

"No, sorry. I just… couldn’t help following you with my eyes."

It wasn’t a mocking tone.

He probably just felt genuinely… relieved.

…Well, I’d probably feel the same if the situation were reversed.
I didn’t press the matter.

A question popped into my mind.

"Your name?"

Right.

She was no longer 『Redcap』.
So, she must have another name… I asked.

And—

"I’m Michelle. Michelle Jane-Watson."

She introduced herself.

I tasted the sound of the name, then swallowed it.

"Nice name."

I complimented her, and Michelle’s face lit up with genuine happiness.

"Thank you. I’m glad. My brother… gave it to me."

Her eyes carried a faint tinge of sadness.
I didn’t know the details.

"I see…"

But I could tell it wasn’t a memory of just sadness.
Her brother was probably no longer in this world.

Yet she didn’t see her time with him as merely sad—she treasured it as something irreplaceable.

…I spoke.

"So? Was your apology to me the only reason you came?"

"U-uh… um, yes. I’m sorry."

"Heh. I’m not blaming you."

Sure, I was busy right now.
And yes, her violence had caused some of that.

Still, I had no intention of reproaching her.

"Not just me… you’re planning to apologize to others too, right?"

I turned to Matt.
He folded his hands and nodded.

"Yeah, that’s right."

"You’re going to see Luke and Danny too?"

I looked at Michelle.
She nodded softly.

For a moment, I felt a pang of worry… but Luke and Danny wouldn’t harshly blame her.

I smiled and patted her head again.

"Eh, um… don’t pat me."

She protested, but her hair felt so soft that I had no intention of stopping.

"It’s your head’s fault for being in such a convenient spot."

"…I-it’s not like it’s small or anything."

Objectively, it probably was small.
But if she was self-conscious, it was better not to mention it.

A few months ago, I never imagined we’d have this kind of relationship.
We hadn’t even met face-to-face before, and we’d fought to the death…
Yet now, those things felt trivial.

Compared to the smile on her face right now…

"Still, your way of speaking is very different, huh?"

"Yeah, that’s true. I noticed that too."

Matt agreed with me.
Michelle glanced at me, fidgeting nervously.

"U-uh… well, on the job, I… kind of switch into this mode."

She went on to tell me things I hadn’t known about her.
Matt, apparently unaware as well, listened with genuine interest.

…Someday.

When she finishes making amends, I hope there will come a time when we can talk about the past without worry.

---

Night, Manhattan. My apartment… my room.

I ran my fingers over my phone, exchanging messages.

With Peter. Sharing information back and forth.

I… am living with a kindness far greater than I deserve.

Matt, whom I met today, and Jessica…
None of them blamed me.
Even after all the times we’d fought to the death, still…

After finishing my exchange with Peter, I set my phone on the charger atop my desk.

In the darkened room, I exhaled deeply.

I am a sinner.
Yet the law will not punish me.
Neither will the victims.

The cross I carry on my back cannot be lightened by simple punishment.

I live burdened with guilt.
Perhaps that, too, is a kind of punishment for me.

I had decided to help others…
Yet I am living because someone has helped me.

…Someday, I want to be able to share the kindness I have received with someone else…

"…Thank you."

The words of gratitude slipped out.
Unconsciously, softly.

…I reached for the giant teddy bear at the edge of my bed.
A body pillow Gwen had given me, worried about how wildly I tossed and turned in my sleep.

I pulled it close and hugged it tight.

It was big, and hugging it felt almost like it was hugging me back.

Strongly, yet carefully, so as not to break it.

"…Peter."

The name slipped out without thinking.

Peter is busy.
Hero work, studying for his high school equivalency, part-time jobs to cover living expenses…

So we can’t see each other every day.
It wouldn’t be good for either of us.

So I released the frustration in my heart—born from restraint—by hugging the teddy bear.

"…………"

I thought of the times Peter had hugged me, and my cheeks grew hot.

I let my consciousness drift, and sleep slowly claimed me.

What should I do tomorrow?
What must I do?

Such thoughts… I couldn’t have entertained them until recently.

I simply let go… and slept.
So that I could wake up again tomorrow.

I do not dream.

I still cannot dream, even now.