Chapter 94: Rest in Peace - part 1

It was raining.

Without even holding an umbrella, I simply stood there. My pitch-black suit… the mourning clothes getting wet didn’t matter anymore.

Raindrops or tears—it was impossible to tell. They ran down my cheeks, mixing together.

The overcast sky was the same as my heart: dark, with no future in sight.

From a jet-black limousine, a coffin was carried out. Inside that coffin… she was there. They said the body was in a gruesome state… parts of it even missing.

After that day, I never saw her face again… she was sealed away in the coffin.

“U-ugh…”

I was overcome again. Sadness, frustration at my own weakness, the pain of it all.

The people around me felt the same. Gwen stood frozen, disbelief on her face. Flash was crying loudly. Harry kept his head down… and Ned… though still hospitalized, if he were here, surely he would be the same.

Gathered here were classmates and teachers. …But not her family. Maybe she never had one to begin with… she never once spoke of them.

The coffin was lowered into a hole dug in front of the headstone.

Soil was shoveled in. Covering her. Burying her.

I wished this funeral would stop.

Once she was buried… I would have to face the truth that she really was gone. I didn’t want to believe it. But when I closed my eyes, burned into my retinas was her broken, dismembered form.

So I opened my eyes and faced reality. That was at least a little better.

On the headstone, the name 『Michelle Jane』 was engraved. There was no one left who could call her by that name.

If I closed my eyes, I could still see her smile. If I clenched my fist, I could still recall the feeling of her touch. Her voice, her smile, her warmth… all would fade with time.

There were things I wanted to tell her. Things I wanted to know. Things I wanted her to know. Places I wanted to go together, things I wanted to do together.

But now, none of it would ever come true.

The sense of loss tore my heart apart. If only I… if only I had…

I knew Michelle had secrets. But I didn’t press her… no, that’s not it. I was afraid she would hate me… so I pretended not to see. I should have forced the truth from her.

The reason she died… the reason she was killed… was surely because I exposed her true identity. Michelle—Redcap—I had some idea she was involved with some organization. I suspected that because of them, she was forced to kill against her will.

And I was probably right.

Her guilt was real. Her tears, her suffering… a side of her I never knew. But she had no choice… if she resisted, she would have lost something.

…For example, her life.

If the reason she was killed by the organization was because I revealed her identity—

Then—

It was my fault.

The rain kept falling. …I hate the rain.

With great power comes great responsibility.

Those who possess power… must bear responsibility. I should have been able to save her.

And yet, I failed. I was too late. I ran away. Pretended I understood her, when I didn’t.

When Uncle Ben died, I swore… never again. That I would never let anyone die within reach of my hands.

Soil piled on.

More soil, more and more.

Until the coffin could no longer be seen… and the burial was complete.

Along with our precious memories, she lay deep beneath the earth, sleeping.

My knees gave out and I collapsed.

“Ku…ugh, aaah…”

Soil clung to my suit… my fingers clawed into the ground. The rain had turned the earth to mud, filling beneath my nails.

“Ah…ahh…aaahhh…”

Wordless cries of grief spilled from my lips. My voice was drowned by the rain, my tears flowing with it.

Even as my throat burned, I forced out the sound. Pouring out all of the grief in my heart, all of my anger at myself—everything.

I was powerless. I couldn’t protect even one girl I loved.

A friendly neighborhood? A superhero?

No… I was nothing but a pathetic, miserable child.

I curled up.

“…Ugh…guuh…”

Cold rainwater seeped down my neck.

And I thought… maybe it was fine. To just quietly grow cold like this… and never move again.

---

I opened my phone.

The camera roll was lined with pictures I had taken together with her.

When I closed my eyes… I thought I could almost hear her voice calling me.

『Gwen, this… looks tasty.』

『Let’s go here again, together.』

『This outfit doesn’t really suit me, maybe…』

『Gwen…!』

『Gwen.』

…Opening my eyes, I closed the phone. For now, I still couldn’t face those photos. What I had lost was too great, too painful.

I pressed the sole of my shoe against the rain-soaked ground. It squeaked.

We were at the church… after the burial, we had returned here. On the table, the catering food lay untouched.

I saw a sponge cake topped with white cream… and without thinking, I placed a piece on a plate. Then I remembered there was no one left to share it with, and it felt empty.

I had no appetite. But I thought it would be rude to put it back, so I took a bite. It was just sweet.

It wasn’t a flavor I particularly liked. But right now… my heart felt bitter and sour. So in a way, it felt fitting.

In the wide room, there were others too… each of them thinking of Michelle. None of them seemed able to accept it.

And above all. Especially.

Him.

From across the room, I saw Peter leaning against the wall, dazed. He was in bad shape.

…They said Michelle had been killed by a random assailant. And among us, Peter was the only one who had seen the scene.

I didn’t know what the body looked like. He never told me.

Which meant… it must have been so terrible he couldn’t even bring himself to describe it.

I felt sympathy for him.

I walked over and sat down beside him.

I didn’t speak. I just sat next to him.

No words. Only sharing the pain, understanding it together. That was enough.

Peter glanced at my face… and a tear rolled down his cheek.

The grief of losing someone close… you never really get used to it. When my mother died, when my father was murdered… and now, even now.

I couldn’t pretend to be calm.

…I thought of her, taken from us so cruelly. Was she afraid, was she in pain?

The depths of my chest grew hot. I clenched my fists.

Counting the things we’ve lost, feeling what remains—we have to keep living.

Because that is the duty entrusted to those who are still alive.

---

I had returned to the apartment I lived in.

Passing through the entrance, I walked down the hallway.

Still in my soaked suit, I just kept walking.

The past few days were a blur.
Ever since she died, my heart had lost its color.

The days that had once been so vibrant now felt… nothing but monochrome.
The morning routines, the paths we walked together, our conversations—everything.

There would be no more.
All that was left was for those memories to fade and wither away.

"Hey, you."

It was someone—the building’s manager.
When I turned around, the manager looked a little startled.
…Do I really look that awful?

"When are you going to finish cleaning out that room? You were close with the girl who lived there, weren’t you?"

"Ah, um…"

"If the room isn’t cleared, I can’t put in a new tenant, you know."

She had no family.
Even the funeral expenses… we had to split them ourselves.

So of course, there was no one left to clear her room.

"…I’ll clean it out."

"Ah, I see. I’ll give you the key then… Just have it done by the weekend."

"…Yes. Thank you."

The key to her room was placed in my hand.
I gripped it tightly and bowed to the manager.

With the sound of the continuing rain in my ears, I stepped into my own room.

Stripping off my mourning clothes, I took a shower.
If only I could wash everything away like this… even the grief.

…It had been over a week since I last went to the laundromat.
I wiped my face with a towel I rarely used and put on clothes I normally never wore.

Coming out of the changing room, I stuffed the mourning clothes into a plastic bag.
…I’ll take them to the cleaners tomorrow.

I placed my belongings on the desk—

And from the desk, a wristwatch… Spider-Man’s suit, slipped off and fell.

"Ah—"

It dropped into the trash bin, rattling as it landed.
The sound echoed through the quiet room, making the emptiness feel unbearable.

…For some reason, right now,
I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and pick up that watch-shaped suit.

I had been arrogant.
I thought that with this power I’d been given, I could save anyone.

But that was a mistake.

Was I really… being Spider-Man because I wanted to help people?

What burns in my mind is the memory of when I let rage take over… and struck her down.

The joy of victory, the thrill of crushing evil.
The craving for recognition, for validation.

Wasn’t that all I was really after?

Helping people—wasn’t I just doing it to soothe myself?

I had misunderstood what responsibility meant.
I was just an immature fool.

I couldn’t even pick up the suit.

I wasn’t worthy of wearing it.

This power was a curse.
No matter how hard I fought, the ones who always paid the price…
were the people I loved.

…Closing my eyes, I exhaled deeply, then turned on my heel.

I left my room and unlocked the door to the one next to mine.

The room looked the same as when I had last seen it days ago.
I unfolded the cardboard boxes I had brought from my own place.

Looking over the books lined on the shelf, I noticed they were coated in dust.

Old biographies and books of fairy tales—I began packing them into boxes.
…Then I found one without any dust.

"…Isn’t this the book Ned lent her?"

A while back, Ned had loaned Michelle a comic.
I reached out and picked it up.

…I’ll have to return this to Ned.

I set the book down on the bed.
The bed was still neatly made, as though waiting for its owner who would never return.

…If I kept thinking, my thoughts would just spiral negative.
Better stop.

Once the bookshelf was empty, my eyes turned to the scrapbook on the desk.
I picked it up… and flipped through it.

Photos of me in the suit.
Photos of Spider-Man.

…Why had she made something like this?
If she hadn’t meant to kill me, then why… why was she investigating me?

"Because… I’m a Spider-Man fan."

…Ah, I see.
That’s what she truly meant.

She loved me—loved Spider-Man.

"Not the big, flashy things… but the smaller, everyday stuff… where you expected nothing in return… It’s hard to put into words, but… that’s what I liked."

I wasn’t the kind of person worthy of being liked like that.

I flipped through the scrapbook again.
The detailed notes, the clipped newspaper articles… now that I understood they came from affection,

They no longer looked like the ominous files of an assassin.
They were the handmade book of a teenage girl, overflowing with love.

I set the scrapbook down on the bed.
I didn’t want to throw it away—that much I knew.

I felt guilty for reading it without permission.
If she knew, she’d probably flush red with embarrassment… and scold me.
But since she was kind, I think in the end, no matter how much she got mad, she’d forgive me.

But.

She was gone.

I placed a hand on her desk.
When I opened the drawer, I was startled by how light it felt.

Inside was only a single envelope. Nothing else.

I picked it up.
Nothing was written on the front.

When I turned it over—

『To Peter Parker』

Her beautiful handwriting stared back at me. My eyes widened.

I closed the drawer and sat down in her chair.

With determination, I used the paper knife on the desk to open the envelope.

Inside was a single folded sheet of paper.

I unfolded it… and there were words written on it.
A letter addressed to me.

I fixed my gaze on it.

──────────
To Peter

I’ve caused you so much trouble.
I’ve told you so many lies.

No matter how many times I apologize, I know I cannot be forgiven.
──────────

"…I forgive you. I do."

From her letter, I could feel her lingering guilt… her remorse.

──────────
I am the villain you should hate.
I am not the kind of good person anyone should love.

I trampled on the kindness you gave me.
──────────

I let out a deep breath.

No.

No matter what side of yourself you showed… I loved you.
I still do.

──────────
Because you are kind, I know you must be mourning my death.
You must be depressed.

But please, don’t grieve.
──────────

I bit my lip.
I wanted the pain to overwrite this sorrow.

──────────
My existence is nothing but a stumbling block in your life.

At most, a small obstacle in the road ahead.
──────────

My brow furrowed.

Michelle… She seemed like she understood, but she understood nothing at all.
She had no idea just how much she meant to me.

──────────
Please, forget me.
Forget about me and find someone better.
──────────

That’s why she could write something like this.
Why she could bring herself to put it down in words.

──────────
Please, step over me.
Step over me, and leave me behind.
──────────

…What I had wanted most… was for her to love herself.
But she…

──────────
Please, keep shining.
To me, you are… the light of hope.
──────────

I was crying.
Crying over the truth that she could never come to love herself.

So sad. So unbearably, unbearably sad.

Unable to forgive my own weakness.

──────────
Thank you… truly, for everything until now.

And,
I loved you.

Goodbye.

From Michelle Jones
──────────

I held my breath and wept.
Clutching the letter in my hand, I cried.

"…Michelle, I…"

The tears wouldn’t stop.
I couldn’t give her anything in return.

A sob escaped my throat.

"I… I just… wanted you… to be happy, that’s all…"

I could no longer stand.
My heart was broken.

With the legs that should have supported me gone, I sank to the floor.

I was left with only me—and—

Only you—and—

Together—

---

Brooklyn.

A clock repair shop… "Fix-It."

Hanging on its door today was a sign that read: CLOSED.

At a glance, it was nothing more than a small, old-fashioned watch shop.
But there was an elevator disguised as a tiny backroom… and below it lay a vast workshop.

A place built with near-futuristic—no, truly futuristic—technology.

There, I sat at a desk.
Mask on, as always… as the Tinkerer.

I leaned an elbow on the backrest, kicked at the ground with my foot.
The chair spun around.
My gaze settled into the dim corner of the room.

『Was this really the right thing to do?』

I asked the question.
No answer came back.

『To be honest, I’m still not convinced.』

I said it flat out.

『I went to the funeral. Didn’t participate… but I watched. And I cried.』

My fingers traced the spanner in my hand.

『Especially Spider-Man… he looked broken.』

"What are you trying to say?"

Her words returned to me, and I let a faint smile slip across my lips.
I wanted to draw words out of her, even if I had to provoke.

『That was the face of someone shattered… He must have meant a great deal to her, right? But now—he’s beyond repair.』

Behind my eyes, the image replayed: a sobbing teenager, still just a child.

…It was a face I knew.
Yes, it was the face reflected back at me in the mirror.
Unable to stand… only sinking deeper and deeper.

The face of someone falling away from the light, down into the dark.
A broken heart doesn’t heal easily.
It stays twisted.

"No. He’ll stand back up."

But the reply that came was pure denial.

『…You say that so easily?』

"I do."

『You trust him that much… even though he couldn’t save you?』

"…Yeah. Even so."

From the shadows of the room, she rose and stepped closer to me.

"He’s my inspiration—Spider-Man. No matter the adversity, no matter how much he suffers… he’ll always rise again."

『…You think so?』

"I do. That’s why I admired him. That’s why I…"

I dropped my head, cutting myself short.
Exhaling deeply, I fell silent.

Seeing me like that, she finally spoke.

"I am grateful, Tinkerer."

『…Even if I’d never want to go through something like that again.』

It was I who had carved apart the organic body modeled after her—an LMD, a Life-Model Decoy.

When we decided to stage her death with the decoy, the transplant of her right arm into her body had become an obstacle.

A corpse missing its right arm… Her arm had been recovered by S.H.I.E.L.D..
It would take them time to notice the truth, but suspicion could be troublesome.

So, I mutilated it.
If the remains were missing more than just the right arm, it would be harder to connect the dots.
A shift in perspective.

But… yes, the act cut deep into me.
I never showed it, but in the middle of the process, I nearly vomited.

It wasn’t like attaching her arm for medical reasons.
It was pure desecration of a body.
Even if the body wasn’t real… it sickened me.

"…So what happens to me now?"

『Well… you’ll be sent back to HQ for a scolding, I imagine.』

"I see."

He calls it a "scolding," but the reality was much—

I shook my head.
Banishing the images flashing through my mind.

『…I did try to find a way around it.』

"No, it’s fine. You’re not obligated to go that far for me."

…But I am.
I have my reasons—why I must save you.

"That’s why—

That’s why, I—

"Thank you, Tinkerer."

I don’t want your gratitude.
Not from someone like me—someone who stole away even the fragile happiness you’d finally found.

『…Sorry, I’ll step out for a bit. Do you want anything to eat?』

“No, I’m fine.”

Since then, she’s only been taking in what’s necessary for survival.
Nutrient gels, water, nothing more.

It doesn’t seem like she’s planning to die, but still, she has no will to enjoy food.
No—that’s not it.
She’s restraining herself. “I must not enjoy it.”

I set the spanner I’d been stroking back on the desk and left the room.

Footsteps echoed in the silent hallway.
I walked away from the small chamber, let out a breath.

…And opened the small memo I kept with me.
On it was a single phone number.

Leaning my back against the wall, I pulled out a personal device—not for work.
I pulled off the mask, let it drop to the ground.

Then, I made the call.

“…Hello?”

I would not regret this.

“…Who is this?”

“Come now, don’t be like that. You’re the one who gave me this number, aren’t you?”

Even if it costs me everything.

“You’re—”

“Nick Fury. I have something to discuss with you.”

If it’s to make this right.

---

I cried until there were no tears left.

With a broken heart, I slowly stood up.

I hadn’t turned on the lights. In the dim room, I… stood.

Michelle.

In this room that still carried traces of her.

I didn’t want to clean it up. Even if she never came back, I wanted to believe that she could.

I pressed a hand against the wall and choked back a sob.
…Just a short break.

As I tried to leave the room, my eyes glanced at the cardboard box—

And I felt like I’d overlooked something.
A faint sense of wrongness flickered through my mind.

Like I had forgotten something. Like I had failed to notice something.

This wasn’t some super Spider-Sense.
Not a Spider-power, but the human part of me whispering that something didn’t fit.

I scanned the room.

Normally, it was the kind of feeling I’d shrug off as nothing. But this time, I reached for it.

What is it?
What’s "different"?

There was the bookshelf.
The books I borrowed from Ned.
The scrapbook.
The will still sitting on the desk.

…The scrapbook?

That was the same one I saw the day I learned the truth about her.

So then… what’s bothering me?

…My eyes drifted to the desk.

It wasn’t there.

It wasn’t there.

"The picture of us…"

The photo we took at the birthday party—me, her, Gwen, and Ned.
The frame that held it was gone.

Why isn’t it here?
…Who took it?

It could only have been taken after I learned her secret, but before she died.
Or… during the funeral.

Who? And for what reason?

My tears dried up.
What filled my mind instead was a faint glimmer of hope.
No—more like a desperate wish.

"In the fight against Carnage, she lost her right arm… but just a few days later, it was healed."

I didn’t know why.
I didn’t need to know. Even if it was a stretch, even if it didn’t make sense.

I remembered the horrific sight of Michelle’s murder.
Among the fragments of her body… her right arm was missing.

"…If that wasn’t really her…"

The organization she belonged to was massive… and their science was incredible.
If they had the power to fake a corpse—

"…She’s alive."

That’s the conclusion I reached.

"Even if it’s only because I want to believe it…"

As long as there’s even the slightest chance, I—

I stepped out of her room and returned to mine.
I tore off my jacket and reached for the trash bin beside my desk.

"…I did Stark a disservice, didn’t I."

He’d gone through the trouble of making it just for me.

I picked up the wristwatch-shaped suit.
And fastened it around my arm.

No matter how painful, no matter how sad.
Even if I have to pay in sacrifice, even if I lose what’s most important.

Because of my inaction, someone else getting hurt…
That must never happen again.

With great power comes great responsibility.

That was the vow I inherited from Uncle Ben.

I stood tall.
Even with doubts, even if I faltered again and again.

I will not lose.
I will rise in the end, and I will win.

『You are my light of hope.』

Then I have to save her.

This isn’t over.
Neither my fight, nor her suffering.

If my neighbor is in pain, I’ll use this power to carry out my responsibility.

That is the fate I’ve been given.
Even if this power curses me.
Even if it tears my life apart.

I will fight.
I must fight.

Because—no, precisely because—

I am—

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.