Chapter 53: Armor Wars - Part 4

“Gwen… Are you oka──”

When we opened the door to the hospital room, we found a gaunt-looking Gwen and a dark-skinned… burly man with an eyepatch inside.

Noticing us, he gave a polite bow with a friendly smile and left the room.

…W-Who was that guy?

Clearly not someone from a peaceful background. Even as I stood there bewildered, I called out to Gwen.

“Uh, Gwen?”

“…What?”

She was lying in bed in a hospital gown.

She looked… incredibly irritated.

No, wait—maybe coming to check on her was a mistake after all.

“I, uh… I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re okay.”

“…Yeah, thanks for that.”

Her eyes looked kind of lifeless.

…Maybe she wasn’t irritated—just completely worn out.

“Um, if you want, I can go grab you a drink or something.”

“I’m good… I still feel kinda sick… Might throw up.”

“O-Oh, got it.”

Ned and I both stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

Seeing that, Gwen gave a small laugh.

“Haha, you don’t have to look so panicked… I’m just feeling queasy, that’s all… Sigh.”

“Y-You sure you’re alright?” Ned asked.

“If I were fine, I wouldn’t be hospitalized.”

“Heh, y-yeah, true…”

Ned hung his head.

I had something I was curious about, so I decided to ask.

“Gwen, that guy earlier… the one with the eyepatch, who was he?”

“Him? Oh, uh, he’s the doctor helping with my rehab…”

“…Huh? That guy?”

“…What, Peter? Are you the kind of person who judges people by how they look? That’s disappointing… especially for a nerd like you.”

“N-No! That’s not what I meant!”

Ned nudged me in the ribs with his elbow.

When I glanced over at him, he was pointing at a poster.

『Please keep quiet in the hospital』

…I silently nodded in understanding.

“I overdid it, so he really let me have it… Not that I can complain, since it was my fault.”

“Getting scolded by someone with that face must’ve been terrifying, huh…”

I imagined that stern face with the eyepatch scowling in anger… and shuddered.

Gwen gave me a suspicious side glance.

“So… did you go visit Michelle yet?”

“Uh… no, not yet…”

“…Seriously? If I were in better shape, I’d have kicked you across the room.”

Hearing Gwen grumble something that violent with a clearly displeased expression, both Ned and I turned pale.

“Haha… r-right, well, I guess I’ll go see Michelle now!”

“M-Me too…”

We both quickly made our way toward the door, trying to escape.

“Ned, you stay. The doctor just came by and there’s been a change in our summer trip plans… I also want to talk things over. Plus, let me take it out on you a bit.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am…”

I left the room, abandoning Ned.

I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who asks to take their frustrations out on others.

When I stepped out of the room, the man with the eyepatch was standing there again.

Wearing a black coat, in the middle of summer… Definitely a strange guy.

I tried to avoid eye contact and quietly slip away──

“Hey, you there.”

I was called out to.

“M-Me?”

“Yes. Who else would I be talking to? I have a question for you.”

“O-Okay…?”

I quickly turned to face the man with the eyepatch.

“In your opinion… how does she look to you? Any changes?”

“She”… He must mean Gwen.

“Ah, um… I think Gwen’s pretty much the same as always? She just seems a little tired right now.”

“…I see. That’s fine, then.”

“Uh…”

“What? That’s all I wanted to ask. You can go wherever you like now.”

He waved me off like I was being dismissed, and I frowned a bit at that.

Still, I wasn’t really eager to have a conversation anyway… and I’d rather go see Michelle, so I left him there and walked off.

---

Michelle Jane.

I stood before the hospital room with that name written on the door.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked.

…No response.

I gently opened the door and stepped inside.

The fading sunlight was blocked by pale green curtains, and the fluorescent ceiling light softly illuminated the room’s occupant.

…If nothing had happened, we’d probably be on the bus ride home by now.

I clutched the hem of my shirt and stood before Michelle.

…Her eyes were closed.

Her skin, usually pale, looked even whiter now—devoid of life.

With those delicate, well-formed features, she looked like a finely crafted porcelain doll.

But the faint sound of her breathing told me she was still alive.

From a machine in the corner of the room came a soft electronic beep.

…My chest ached, just a little.

It was my first time seeing her sleeping face… and even that was so beautiful that it felt out of place, yet I couldn’t help but think so.

“…Sorry.”

I didn’t know what I was apologizing for, or why I felt the need to say it.

I just let out the guilt that had been weighing on my heart.

“…I didn’t get to give this to you either.”

I took out a small wooden box from inside my jacket.

Its surface was slightly charred… and I grimaced.

Right. I’d been carrying it through the fighting… so it must’ve gotten damaged.

I tried to check if what was inside was still intact…

“…What are you doing, Peter?”

I heard a voice.

From the bed in front of me.

There was Michelle, her eyes narrowing sleepily as she looked at me.

“…Ah, ah—um, good morning? Michelle.”

Caught completely off guard, I scrambled to answer. Embarrassed, I looked away.

“Good morning… Visiting me?”

“Y-yeah. A visit… I heard you were in the hospital.”

“…You’re being dramatic. It’s not that serious.”

Michelle sighed, looking a little exasperated.

…But I’d heard she collapsed from massive blood loss.

Isn’t that serious?

“So, what happened?”

“I got shot.”

For a second, my brain just blanked out.

“Y-you got shot?”

I forced myself to lower my voice and asked again.

“Yeah… Wanna see?”

Saying that, she pulled back the covers and started to lift her hospital gown.

Her pale skin came into view.

“Ah—n-no, wait, that’s okay! It’s fine, really…”

I hurried to stop her, though my eyes involuntarily drifted in that direction.

…Her abdomen was wrapped in thick bandages.

No blood or wounds were visible from the outside.

But just from the amount and coverage of the bandages, it was obvious how bad the injury had been.

“…That looks really painful.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“It’s not so bad. When the pain gets too intense, the brain shuts it off. Humans are built that way, so we don’t die from shock.”

She said it so nonchalantly, I couldn’t help but stare in surprise.

“B-but… still, I’m really glad you’re alive.”

That came straight from my heart.

If she had died… I don’t think I could’ve recovered.

…No matter how many times you go through it, losing someone close to you is never something you get used to.

“…Yeah. I’m glad I’m alive too. I think so, at least.”

…Even someone like her, with such low self-worth most of the time, still didn’t want to die.

I felt relieved that she could say she was glad to be alive.

And then, she spoke again.

“By the way… that box.”

Michelle’s sharp eyes had already caught sight of the wooden box in my hand.

…It was a blue rose accessory I’d meant to give her as a gift.

But—

“Uh, um, this is…”

I panicked and hid it.

I hid it away.

…Because I'm such a coward in moments like this.

"If you don't want to say, that's fine. I was just curious."

She said that and let it go.

She let me off the hook.

But… just this once, I didn’t want her to let it go.

No.

That’s not it.

I have to give it to her myself.

If I just hand it over after she asks and lets it slide… I’ll never move forward.

That’s why—

"Uh, actually… this is…"

I held the wooden box out to Michelle.

"What is it?"

"Well, um… I thought it might look good on you, Michelle… so, uh, it’s a gift…"

"Why?"

W-why, huh?

Because I like you—that’s why.

But I didn’t have the confidence to say that straight out, so I scrambled for an excuse.

"Because you’ve, um… always been really kind to me. So I thought, like… as a thank-you…"

"…If anything, I’m the one who should be thanking you, Peter."

"But… I mean…"

Ah, geez.

What the heck am I even saying?

Even as I fumbled, I pushed forward, trying desperately to get the words out.

"I just… thought it would suit you, and… I wanted you to have it."

"…I don’t really get it, but. Yeah, I’ll take it."

Michelle took the wooden box in her hands and opened it.

But—

The glass rose inside… had been discolored by the electric shock from Whiplash.

It wasn’t a blue rose anymore.

Its color had turned into a marbled mix of blue and white.

Without thinking, I blurted out:

"Ah—s-sorry! I dropped it while we were evacuating and… the color got weird. I-I’ll get you another one—"

Flustered, I reached for the box… but Michelle pulled it away from me.

"Ah…"

"No, Peter. This is fine… this is the one I want."

She took the marbled blue-and-white rose from the box.

There was a slight crack on its surface.

Not enough to break it, but it wasn’t exactly perfect.

The color was weird, too.

"Peter, you picked it out and bought it for me… that alone makes me happy. And the fact that you kept holding onto it all this time… means you’ve been meaning to give it to me for a while, right?"

…She saw right through me.

"Yeah, that’s right. I meant to give it to you. Not here in a hospital room or anything… somewhere nicer."

"…I see. In that case… this really is the one I want."

She put the rose necklace around her neck.

And in that moment… I almost couldn’t look away.

She was still in a plain hospital gown, and the necklace was cracked.

But somehow, just seeing her wear it made all of that feel like it fit. Like it was meant to be that way.

…To put it simply, it suited her.

"Does it… look okay on me?"

"…Yeah. I think it looks beautiful."

"Hm… thank you."

Michelle gave a faint smile.

And just that was enough to make me feel—

That this summer trip hadn’t been such a bad experience after all.

---

Peter left the hospital room.

I took the rose necklace at my chest into my hands.

Held it up to the light.

Its colors were a blend of blue and white.

Inside, countless tiny cracks had formed, scattering the light in all directions.

It sparkled and shimmered. I narrowed my eyes.

It was beautiful.

…Peter had said the same thing.

It was probably once a purely blue, beautiful rose accessory.

I never saw it in that state, but maybe most people would say it looked prettier that way.

But I… pure things don’t suit me.

A flawless, pristine piece of glasswork—something like that doesn't belong with someone like me.

I held the white and blue rose in both hands, gently, so as not to break it.

…Peter gave this to me.

Why?

He said it was because I’d helped him. That we’d gotten close.

But I know that’s not the real reason.

He said he’d wanted to give it to me somewhere more scenic.

If it were just a gift, that sort of thing wouldn’t matter.

A boy, at his age… giving a girl jewelry—what that means is…

Even someone as dense as me can figure it out.

He… Peter…

I'm sure of it.

He’s in love with me.

I could feel the heat rising in my face.

I kept my composure while he was here, but honestly… I’d been embarrassed the whole time.

He still thinks I haven’t noticed his feelings… so I pretended not to notice on purpose.

…When did it start?

When did Peter start seeing me that way?

Someone like me—gloomy, unsociable, unfeminine?

Why?

…Was it my looks?

Well, I do have confidence in that area.

I’m probably what most would call a beautiful girl.

But is Peter really the kind of guy who falls for someone just because of their looks?

No… no, he’s not.

Definitely not.

Then… what part of me drew him in?

…I don’t know.

And when I think back on how I’ve acted—

“Ugh… uuuugh…”

I buried my face in the pillow and groaned.

Not just since we came on this trip. Even before that.

I recalled my interactions with him.

The times I touched him, let him touch me, talked to him, let things slip without realizing.

I’ve done so many things that could’ve led him on.

“Th-this is… I’m just a horrible girl playing with his feelings…”

If that’s what made Peter fall for me… then I’m an awful, manipulative woman.

Even so, a small part of me was… happy about his feelings.

Because…

I feel something for Peter, too—

No.

This isn’t about whether I like him or not.

I’m someone who’s lived by killing others.

And he’s someone who’s saved more people than I can count.

…I still remember what it was like being a man.

Even my sense of identity is shaky—a jumbled, unfinished person.

If you tore open my chest, I’m sure something black and wicked would come pouring out.

Someone like me… he’s just too bright.

…I’m not someone worthy of him. I can say that with certainty.

Anyone would agree, wouldn’t they?

If I were an outsider looking in, I’d say it myself—she’s not the right one for him.

That’s why Peter’s love can’t bear fruit.

It mustn’t.

Besides, the time will come when it all falls apart.

A farewell is inevitable.

Will I leave before he finds out? Or will he learn the truth and walk away?

Either way, Peter will be the one who suffers.

If that suffering is inevitable, then maybe… maybe I should push him away now.

But… I can’t.

If I did, this warm connection between us would shatter.

And I… I don’t want to let go of this feeling.

It’s foolish. Pathetic, really.

But I just can’t let it go.

Being loved by him makes me happy.

Not being able to return his feelings… is painful.

I admire his purity.

And yet, it makes me sad.

It hurts.

It feels… disgusting.

A swirl of emotions tangled together.

Like the rose accessory in my hands—blue and white, blending into each other.

I wish someone would give me the answer.

…Though, I doubt anyone ever will.

I don’t know what I should do anymore.

---

"What a disaster."

I’d gone out of my way to leave home… all the way to Miami, just to sell accessories.

Rubbing my lower back, I sat on a bench beneath a relief tent.

It was a small mercy that I’d managed to retrieve all the merchandise from my stall.

…Thud. A book fell.

It was something like a dictionary of flower meanings.

"Oops. I’ve got no interest in flowers, but without this, nothing sells."

Using knowledge to stir a customer’s heart—that’s the skill of a merchant.

And for that, I never hesitate to study.

I picked the book up from the ground and brushed off the dirt with my hand.

Then, by chance, I glanced at the page it had opened to.

It was the section on roses.

…Come to think of it, that boy who bought the rose accessory the other day—did he ever manage to give it to the girl he liked?

The thought crossed my mind as I skimmed the contents.

Red roses: "Pure love", "Beauty"

Blue roses: "Miracle", "Blessing from God"

A rose of mixed colors—

“I will never forget you.”