A Pure Child
I was a little startled when the reply came in the same instant I hit send — but either way, calling Batori had worked.
I had no real idea what was going on outside. What I did know was that heroes showing up within five minutes of something like this kicking off was a tall order. Until a broadcast came through saying the situation was resolved… this felt like the right call.
Last time, when the Association itself got hit, I'd ended up summoning the heroes on duty without meaning to. This time, calling them here was entirely deliberate. Saran could be in danger, for one thing. And I had no idea how many heroes were actually standing by nearby, or how quickly any of them would reach the department store. Calling the people I could call was the most obvious thing in the world.
Calling in Baek Eun-hwa — an A-Class hero — felt just as obvious. I didn't know exactly how her strength stacked up against Saran's, but she ranked among the upper tier even within A-Class. Of course she'd be a help. In a situation like this, you'd be crazy not to use her.
This wasn't some minor incident at a department store. The building kept shaking hard enough that the whole place felt like it might come down. Even on the way down the stairs, the floor had lurched under me so badly I'd nearly fallen.
And just like that, I'd called in the rest of the heroes under my care as well. I felt a little guilty about imposing — but responding to a call like this was what heroes did. That was the job.
The last time I'd seen Baek Eun-hwa, she'd been talking like someone impossibly important and composed, so asking her for help like this was a little embarrassing.
"…Haa."
It couldn't be helped. It really couldn't.
"…I should buy them all something good to eat next time."
That was about the only repayment I could even think of. I wasn't anyone special, after all. Even now, I was just an ordinary person sitting quietly in a shelter, waiting for the situation to resolve itself, unable to do a single useful thing. I had a job that involved helping heroes, sure — but at the end of the day, I was a regular civilian. Then again, heroes were regular people too, in their own way.
"Nngh……."
None of which made the guilt go away.
"Waaaaaah! Mommyyy!!!"
"……?"
"Mommyyyy!!!"
I'd just finished calling the heroes and was about to pull up the news to figure out what was happening outside when a child's wailing cut through the shelter. My head turned toward the sound before I could think, and there she was — a tiny little girl, sobbing her heart out.
She couldn't have been older than preschool. All by herself, sniffling and calling for her mom over and over.
"……."
"Where'd you go… Mommyyyy……."
She'd been crying so loudly, and now her voice was shrinking, worn down, still searching for her mother.
Did she lose her mom?
Maybe she'd let go of a hand on the way down here, and only the child had made it to the shelter. Or maybe they'd gotten separated somewhere other than the stairs, and she'd barely managed to find her way here alone. I had no idea how it had happened — but looking around, not a single person was approaching her. Which meant her mother almost certainly wasn't in here. And that was why the little girl was getting worse.
"Hey. Did you lose your mom?"
"Yeees…."
"Do you remember where you got separated? Was it on the stairs? Or while you were walking around the store?"
I couldn't just keep staring. Of course I knew this world was full of children who'd lost their mothers, and that villain attacks left no shortage of people suddenly alone. The people in the shelter weren't paying the children much attention. It was sad, but it was ordinary. You didn't want to get used to things like this — but everyone reacted like they already were.
They ignored it. Distancing yourself from anything troublesome, anything that might land you with responsibility — that was how people made their lives easier. Helping someone out of pity and then getting burned for it was common enough. In a world where just looking after yourself was already more than most people could handle, the crowd around the child had started edging away, putting space between themselves and her.
"We were looking at clothes together, and then the siren went off and we ran, but… I let go of her hand……."
"Okay, okay. Do you remember exactly where you got separated?"
"On the seventh floor…."
"I see."
I knew how much that kind of indifference could hurt a person. I knew this was meddling I didn't need to do — that I didn't have to get involved at all. I asked her anyway.
The shelter was enormous, bigger than most underground parking garages. Even if a child screamed herself hoarse in here, there was a real chance her mother wouldn't hear it. And this little girl wasn't the only one. Kids separated from their parents. Parents separated from their kids. There were quite a few of them.
"Want to go look for your mom together? I'll help you."
"Really…?"
"Yeah. Don't worry too much."
So I meddled. Even if she turned me down, she'd already look a little more settled than she had a moment ago. Children were like that — pure. Sometimes a single small kindness was enough to pull them back together. Sometimes they got back on their feet faster than any adult could, even in the worst situations. She looked up at me with an expression that asked if I meant it — if I was really going to help.
"When you see your mom again, you don't want your pretty face all puffy from crying, right? Let's wipe those tears. There we go."
"Thank you…!"
"Hehe. Then take my hand, and let's go find your mom."
I wiped the tears still clinging to her lashes with my sleeve, took her hand, and started walking. Her mother might not be in the shelter at all. But not even trying felt just as sad. Once things outside were resolved, they'd find each other somehow — I knew that. I just didn't want her spending the wait trembling and crying in the dark. Maybe it had something to do with things from my own past. Mostly, I just wanted to do it.
"Mommy!"
She held my hand and called for her mom as we made a slow circuit of the shelter, and I called out the name she'd given me, over and over. We walked a fair amount. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.
The child had made it down here alone from the seventh floor — but maybe her mother hadn't been able to. Had she gotten lost? Had she been knocked down in the crush of people fleeing and never gotten back up? The little girl still hadn't given up. I, on the other hand, was starting to think the worst. I didn't have much choice.
We kept walking, kept searching, and the longer we went without finding anyone, the more my mind drifted somewhere else.
"Sweetheart, can you look at me for a second?"
"Hm?"
She was much, much calmer than when I'd first found her. She was still looking for her mom with everything she had — but she'd settled enough. If we kept going like this, we weren't going to find anyone, and I could already picture her bursting into tears all over again the moment she realized her mother wasn't here.
"Hoo…."
So I snapped my fingers in front of her eyes and used hypnosis. Ordinarily you'd want someone far more settled than this before trying it — but with children, the barrier was lower. They slipped under so much more easily. Calm enough was calm enough.
The moment my fingers snapped, her gaze went hazy and she fell quiet. I told her to sleep.
"You can sleep now. This is a safe place, so just relax, and when you wake up you'll feel better. Okay?"
She mumbled a soft little answer and drifted off on the spot. I startled a bit when she went under standing up — but she was asleep. I'd put her to sleep.
"I'll just leave her like this."
This was probably the right call. I felt a twinge of guilt for knocking a kid out so suddenly, but in the end this would be easier on her.
She was asleep. That didn't stop the worry. She'd called for her mother with everything she had, and her mother had never appeared. Which meant she was still outside. She hadn't made it to the shelter.
"……."
I knew this was meddling I had no business doing. I still couldn't shake the thought that I ought to go out there and look for her myself. I knew it was dangerous.
"…Mm."
I made a lap pillow for the child so her head wouldn't hurt, and sat there thinking about it alone. And then—
"…Ah, dammit."
I didn't know if this was right. I was seriously worried.
"…Whatever. I already texted Batori."
She'd been thoroughly bewildered — but she'd already confirmed she was coming. So I stepped out of the underground shelter.
Leaving a shelter in the middle of a terror attack was a first for me, and I was scared. I really was.
But I couldn't stand the thought of a child that pure — so pure a single snap of my fingers had put her under without the slightest resistance — losing her mother.
"Haa…."
I knew it was stupid. I knew.
I just couldn't help it.