Chapter 52: Akazawa Hina and Her Father

There was a tension in the air that didn’t feel like a family reunion at all.

"You probably already know this, but… I’m a hero. Inferna."

"…Yeah."

Hina said it to her father, who had come to visit her at home. He didn’t explain why he was here. But somehow, Hina understood—this was the conversation he wanted to have.

"I figured as much. I also wished it weren’t true."

Her father spoke plainly, without even pretending to be surprised.

"Thank you for telling me your secret. In return—though it’s hardly equal—I’ll share one of mine."

Saying this, he took off his glasses. Before Hina could ask anything, her father’s head suddenly burst into flames.

That form looked so much like Hina’s—like Inferna’s.

"N-no way. All this time, not once—"

"That’s right. I never showed you, never once mentioned it. I’m sorry."

"But…! If we’re the same! If you’re like me, then all my suffering—"

Her words faltered as she realized the tips of her own hair had begun to catch fire.

Her father had hidden this perfectly. Not once, in thirty years, had he ever let his head ignite in front of her. Not a single failure. Which meant… for him, hiding the flames wasn’t suffering at all.

"I understood your suffering well. That’s exactly why I couldn’t say anything. Living while constantly worrying about your head catching fire—it must have been so hard for you. But… for me, I was able to manage it. I didn’t want you comparing yourself to me and getting hurt."

He quickly extinguished the fire and slipped his glasses back on. Hina could only stare, mouth agape.

For her, hiding her flames had been unbearable agony. Nothing in the world felt harder. She had believed no one would ever understand her pain.

But her father was here. He had done the same thing—and carried it off as if it were only natural.

Hina felt like her insides shrank to nothing. Was she really such a hopeless failure? Was she the only one in the world who couldn’t even manage this?

"…Doesn’t it hurt?"

"Of course it does."

He said it with the same flat expression. He didn’t look like someone suffering. But if he could hide his secret this well, maybe he could hide his feelings too.

And this—this wasn’t his true face. Hina knew. To extinguish the flames, he had to seal away almost all of his emotions.

Ah. So that’s why his smiles had always felt faintly false.

"I couldn’t find a path that would let you live as yourself. Watching you act as a hero, I was always worried—would you get hurt, would you die? At the same time, I was proud of you for helping people. But if possible, I wanted you to live an ordinary life. Still… if being a hero gives your life meaning, then I want to support you."

For the first time, he voiced his thoughts about her being a hero.

"Hina, you probably think I’m perfect. But I’m not. I just couldn’t bear to show you my flaws, because it made me happy to think you saw me that way."

It was true—Hina respected her father. He had lost his wife and raised alone the child who had killed her. He was an outstanding doctor, already the director of a hospital at a young age.

Hina had once admired him enough to try becoming a doctor herself. She failed, ended up working medical administration—but she couldn’t even stick with that.

"There are more people like us than you might think. In Japan, our existence is kept secret. But if the government recognizes you, they’ll force a choice on you—submission or death."

Hina had already heard about the government and Public Security from Inori.

"I chose submission. I worked for the government… no, there’s no point softening it. I killed whoever they told me to. Even now, while working at the hospital, I help cover up the truth for them."

That her father was connected to Public Security—Hina had never even imagined it.

"Stopping you from going into medicine wasn’t because I doubted your intelligence. Nor was it only about the prejudice against female doctors. I was terrified you’d follow my path—and be forced to do the same for the government."

What had she really been looking at all her life?

"I wanted you to live as happily as possible, without knowing the darkest, dirtiest parts of the world. That was my wish. But in the end, I only made you suffer."

Her father’s voice stayed calm even as he confessed his regrets.

"If you can’t hide your flames, the government will come for you just as they did for me. Submission or death. Either way, you won’t be happy. I thought if I could keep the government away from you, let you live normally, that would surely make you happy. I clung to that belief because it was convenient for me."

By now, Hina was listening almost hazily. It didn’t feel real.

"There could have been another path—one where you didn’t have to hide your flames. But I was too afraid you might choose it, so I never suggested it."

"…And if I had said that’s what I wanted?"

"Then you would have become an agent for Public Security, killing whoever they told you to."

That… no, she didn’t want that either. But living while hiding her flames had been just as unbearable, just as painful.

If that choice had been laid before her, which would she have picked? She didn’t know. Her father must have sensed that uncertainty too. That’s why he never offered it. Hina realized it wasn’t his fault—it was her own instability.

"Would you still call me your father, even now?"

Her father bowed his head deeply, so deeply that Hina could not see his face. And because of that, she felt she understood his feelings more clearly.

When she didn’t have to look at the mask he wore—when she only listened to the tone of his voice—it was simple. His feelings were easy to grasp.

Hina realized just how much she had been bound by appearances. Of course she had been. She had spent her whole life trying to erase the flames from her head, trying to appear normal.

"Tell me honestly, just this once. Don’t you hate me—for burning Mother to death?"

"I was terrified you would hate me. I knew about my flames… and your mother knew as well. She still chose me, and I was grateful for that. But that was separate from whether we should have children. I regret it."

Hina braced herself.

All her life, she had expected to hear those words someday—You should never have been born.

But her father had never said them. Not even once. And now, she wondered if today was the day he finally would.

"If my child inherited my flames, I could have predicted the outcome. Still, we convinced ourselves it wouldn’t happen, that somehow we’d be fine. Out of that careless optimism, we chose to have you. The result was your mother’s death by fire. I feared you would one day accuse me—say you should never have been born, that her death was your fault. That’s why I hid my flames from you all this time."

Why was she the only one who burned?
Why had she alone been born a monster?

She couldn’t count how many times those thoughts had haunted her life.

And yet the answer was so simple.

It was because her father was the same.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or resentful.

"Hiding it was easy, at least for me. As long as I thought of your mother, the flames never came."

He said it so simply. But Hina could never manage it like him. Her head burned even with grief—when she wanted to cry or scream, the flames would come no matter what.

"Your mother’s death was my fault, Hina. Not yours."

"No… that’s not true…"

"It is true."

Her father said it with firm conviction.

"It was me who burdened you with such crushing guilt. I knew how to free you from it, and still I kept my secret to protect myself. It’s all my fault. You have every right to kill me."

It tied back to his earlier question.

Would she still call him father? If not—then he wanted her to end him. That’s what he was saying.

Why is he always so extreme…

It wasn’t the time for it, yet Hina couldn’t help feeling strangely amused. Every choice with him always circled back to death. Perhaps… that too was inherited.

"Do you hate me?"

"No. You’re the one who hates me."

"No, that’s not true."

That day—when she hadn’t had the courage to kill him.

She was glad for it now. Even the day she rampaged like a villain and hurt the person she loved—maybe even that had been necessary. Because everything had led to this moment, this chance to speak with him.

And so, Hina finally said what she had always wanted to tell him.

"I’ve always hated myself. I knew you were doing your best, but I still resented you. And I hated myself for that. Even after hearing all this, I still respect you. You’re incredible. If I were in your position, even if I wanted to, I could never have done it so perfectly."

"I’m not perfect, Hina."

"I know. I guess I was just forcing that ideal onto you, wishing you were. I’m sorry."

Hearing this, her father closed his eyes.

"You’re no longer a fledgling, are you?"

"Father, I’ve always wanted to know—why did you name me Hina?"

She had wondered since she was a child, but could never bring herself to ask. Talking about her birth meant risking something terrible being said about her mother’s death.

Hina meant a chick, something small and fragile. Sometimes she had almost grown to resent the name, wondering if it meant she’d never become a proper adult.

"I wanted you to be a phoenix."

That was her father’s wish.

"A bird that rises again and again from the ashes. Or perhaps… part of me wished you were your mother, reborn. Pathetic as that sounds. But in the end, you’re not her. You’re you. Hina, you are a phoenix. You can be reborn as many times as it takes. And from here on, your life will surely be a good one."

Hearing those words, she felt as if she could spread her wings once more.