"What's going on out there?" she thought, her gaze fixed on the wooden barrier that boxed them in, denying them even a glimpse of the outside. Maybe that was for the best.
The crowd within the barrier was anything but silent. They stood in small groups—twos, threes, sometimes even fives—murmuring words she couldn't quite make out.
She sat alone in the midst of it all, feeling their eyes on her. All she could do was grip the armrests of her wheelchair and remain silent.
From time to time, she looked up at Juro. Though he always seemed lost in thought, he would meet her gaze without fail—and that alone managed to calm her, even if only for a moment.
The sounds of crashing and sparking from outside only made the unrest worse.
It was then she noticed a woman moving frantically through the crowd, stopping people, asking questions with clear desperation etched across her face.
"Are you okay?" Mei asked as the woman passed by them.
The woman stopped. Then, with a furious look, she turned and grabbed Mei by the robe, lifting her slightly.
"Hey!" Juro shouted. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
She didn't answer.
Juro wasn't about to stand by. He shoved her back to force her to let go—but she lost her balance and fell.
"Are you okay?" Mei asked, reaching out toward her.
"Don't touch me!" the woman yelled, her eyes welling with tears, her face twisted in frustration. "It's your fault! Your fault that my son, Yuto, is missing! All because you and your group dragged us into your fight!"
"Hey, watch your mouth!" Juro snapped, his tone sharp. "Being a negligent mother doesn't give you the right to start pointing fingers!"
"At the first sign of danger, you should've gone to find him—but here you are, hiding away while he's out there alone!"
"Juro!" Mei shouted. "Stop!"
"If you cared that much, you wouldn't be here blaming others for your own negligence!" he continued, his expression dark. "You disgust me. People like you only realize what something's worth after it's gone!"
A heavy hand suddenly gripped his shoulder.
Juro turned to see a burly man looming behind him.
"Watch your mouth, young man," the man said, his voice low, his gaze sharp. "Or I'll shut you up myself."
Juro didn't back down—if anything, he leaned into it.
With a cold glare, he replied, "Take your hand off me before this conversation ends with my fist in your face."
The man didn't budge.
So Juro turned fully, ready to strike. The emptiness in his eyes was enough to unsettle even the man—but he held his ground, prepared to retaliate.
Just before Juro could move, he felt a sharp tug on the back of his robe.
He turned to see Mei, straining as she tried to pull him back from her seat, her eyes shut tight.
"Just stop!" she pleaded. "Please! This isn't how you usually act. What's wrong with you?"
Juro pulled himself free—but instead of attacking, he turned away and gripped the handles of her wheelchair in silence, a vein pulsing on his forehead.
The murmurs around them grew louder—loud enough for him to hear clearly.
"What's wrong with that guy?" someone whispered. "Coming into someone else's village and acting like that."
"It's Ichiro's fault," another said. "If he hadn't taken them in, none of this would be happening."
Juro said nothing.
Then came the words that made him stop.
"That bastard should take that useless crippled girlfriend of his and get lost," a voice muttered. "They should go back to whatever hole they crawled out of—and take these attackers with them."
"I agree. It'd save us all the trouble. Who cares what happens to damaged goods like them—especially the girl."
His jaw clenched in fury as he turned toward the source of the comment, a thin tear unknowingly trailing down from his one eye.
He clenched his fist, ready to snap back—
—but then he heard a soft sniffle.
Turning forward, he saw Mei hunched over in her wheelchair, her body trembling.
He rushed to her and knelt in front of her, the fury on his face vanishing completely. From this angle, he could see the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.
He reached out to her—but she pulled back.
"Don't look at me… not like this, not with that look on your face."
"Don't listen to what they're saying, Mei," he said, his tone softening. "What do they know about us?"
"It's not that," she replied, her voice breaking with a quiet whimper. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry that I hold you back so much."
"It's just like they say. What is someone like me even worth to a person like you?" she continued. "I'm nothing but a burden holding everyone back… so please, just leave me behind."
Her expression froze in shock as he suddenly pulled her into an embrace.
"Never—never say anything like that again."
"You're worth more to me than everything in this world combined," he continued, gripping her arms firmly. "So never think like that again. I'm nothing more than a dead man without you."
Then, with a tear in his eye, he said:
"One day, you will walk again—I promise—"
"—even if I have to tear off my own leg for it, I'll make it happen. So never think like that again."
Then with a soft smile on his face he said," Now I'll go and teach those pea brained idiots not to spew crap like that again."
Then, with a soft smile on his face, he said, "Now I'll go and teach those pea-brained idiots not to spew crap like that again."
"How about I give them some additional facial features?"
"No, it's okay," she replied, her face still drenched in tears, though a soft smile lingered. "Maybe we can do it later."
A loud crash shattered the fragile silence that followed. The wooden barrier began to splinter, cracks racing across its surface—and with it, the crowd's calm broke apart.
Juro stepped in front of Mei, his jaw tightening. For some reason, the hole in his left eye burned intensely, so much so that he couldn't keep his hand away from the cloth covering it.
Within seconds, the entire barrier collapsed. Through the falling debris, his one eye caught a glimpse of a silhouette in the air.
The figure crashed into the ground before the crowd, landing in a crouch. The symbol on his back was torn and soaked in blood, as was the rest of his body.
Even so, something about him felt… off.
Beyond his back, Juro could make out another figure held in his arms—
one more feminine.