Invincible (2)
Back when my short life had been nothing but despair — when it was about to burn black and vanish like trash nobody cared about — a hero appeared like a miracle, and for a moment, time itself seemed to stop.
"Haha! You're not hurt anywhere, are you? I'll take you to your parents!"
Why was it, I wonder…
Even then, Smile was still young enough that he should have been the one being protected. And yet he strode straight through those roaring flames as if they meant nothing to him — flames that had to have seared him, no matter how strong he was. He gathered my trembling body into his arms with such gentle care, even though the fire could have surged up again at any second, and checked over my wounds.
Maybe it was the way he looked at me then that moved me so deeply. Or maybe it was that strange, aching, warm feeling I had never known before. Whatever the reason, I found myself wanting to pour out my worries to the shining hero standing before me — and so, to a boy only about five years older than myself, I asked, as calmly as if it were nothing at all:
"…Um. They say I'm going to an orphanage now. Do you know what kind of place that is?"
It was such a pitiful question, even looking back on it now.
And of course, I only learned the truth much later, after I became a pro hero and saw the documents filed with the Ability Management Bureau — but Smile, who had seemed like a perfect hero to me then, had grown up in circumstances far harsher than mine. Unlike me, he didn't even properly know who his parents were.
When he heard that sad little question of mine, the Smile of those days made a faintly complicated face. He carried me out to safety, and then said:
"…Hmm. Listen, kid. When a person is sad, they're supposed to cry as much as they need to. If a little one like you starts holding back tears and making a face like that already, it'll only hurt that much more when you grow up."
He was barely past childhood himself, and yet he comforted me with those old-soul words.
"Then… do you cry when you're sad too, big brother…? Even though you're so strong and brave…?"
"Well, sure — even I tear up a little when I'm sa— ngh!"
His body, freshly burned, must have flared with pain just then. He winced for the briefest instant, then immediately broke into a bright smile again. As if swearing some solemn oath before speaking the truth, he planted his hand firmly over my heart and said:
"…Hahaha! Crying isn't a bad thing at all — but a hero like me never cries. I have to always look strong, so people can feel safe."
He said it with the most upright eyes in the world, as if it were a promise every hero was simply meant to keep — words that even the most famous heroes of that era would have struggled to speak so easily. And he had far less experience than they did.
"Then being a hero must be really hard…? Why do you do something that hard, big brother? Do you make a ton of money or something…?"
"Haha. Money doesn't matter at all. And it's not hard in the slightest. When I save kids like you who are in danger, this incredibly strong feeling wells up inside me — strong enough to blow every last bit of sadness clean away. And when that happens, weak little things like tears all run off and hide."
"Really…? If I become a hero, I really won't be sad anymore…?"
"Hahaha! Of course. Heroes are the toughest beings there are, after all."
"…Um. Then… could I become a hero who saves people, like you? Even if it's for a weird reason — like I just don't want to be any sadder than I am now…?"
Pat, pat.
"Ahh, of course you can. Whatever reason you hold in your heart — as long as the wish to save someone else is in there too, you're already a fine hero."
It was the first kind words, the first gentle touch, I had ever known in my life.
Maybe that was why. Smile's hand wasn't as large then as it is now — and yet, when he said those things and softly stroked my head, it felt enormous and impossibly comforting.
Wrapped in that warmth I had never felt before, I thought to myself that if I ever got the chance, I truly wanted to become a splendid hero like the one standing before me — a hero who knew nothing of sadness at all.
In the end, the fire was put out through Smile's efforts and those of the nearby fire station. I was sent to a local orphanage after all. But Smile must have kept worrying about me, because even with how busy he was, he carved out time to visit me again and again.
And for some reason, every time he came, his pockets were stuffed full of dirt-caked potatoes he claimed he'd grown himself. He'd tell me a kid my age needed to eat well, and always press the roundest potato of the bunch into my hands.
"…Um. The doctor said my ability is really strong. But he also said controlling it is going to be really hard. Do you think I can actually become a hero? What if I start another fire like last time…?"
Smile, who had been quietly roasting potatoes for the two of us over the fire, thought for a moment. Then, as if it were nothing at all, he held out the prettier of the two roasted ones to me and said:
"Hmm. Then every time you mess up and start a fire, I'll come running and save you. Not just you — everyone there. I promise I'll save them all."
Pat, pat.
"So don't worry about that stuff, kid. Just do what you want to do."
"Hngh… U-um… Why are you so nice to me…? I don't have anything. I'm not even good at anything…"
At that anxious little question of mine, Smile took the hand resting on my head and ruffled my hair into a complete mess.
"Hahaha! Well. Partly because it bothers me when a kid walks around with a face that gloomy — and this kind of thing counts toward the Status Window's quota— no, wait. It's just part of a hero's job. And besides—"
He brushed his fingers lightly over something.
"You gave me this wonderful present earlier, didn't you, Sua?"
I had stayed up all night folding it, truly believing it might grant a wish. Looking back now, it was worthless — the kind of thing that was awkward even to throw away. It wouldn't even fit properly into the little glass drink bottle, so I'd had to mash it down until the shape was completely ruined and it looked anything but pretty. And yet he held that gift as if it were something precious.
"I've never received a present this fine in my whole life. So when my precious first fan is in danger, there's no way I could just look the other way."
That juice bottle full of my shabby paper cranes — he called it a treasured gift from his first fan. A fifteen-year-old boy who should still have been half a child said those things so tenderly to someone as insignificant as me.
The truth was, a hero as strong as Smile must already have had fans by the dozen even then. And yet he went so far as to tell that transparent little lie — the kind I'd see through in a second now — just for my sake.
"R-really…? You'll really come every time I'm in danger…?"
"Haha! Of course. Whenever you're in trouble again, I'll come running as many times as it takes to help you!"
And somehow…
Looking at that gentle boy smiling so brightly as he stroked my head, calling me his first — seeing the top of that glass bottle held so carefully in his kind hands, the bottle I had washed over and over for fear it might still smell of the cut, the sticky sticker residue I had scrubbed with my small fingers until it shone — I was so happy I could barely stand it.
Something strange and tender began to sprout in my little heart. It felt like my chest would burst open if I didn't do something, anything. I was still too young to recognize that feeling as love. I didn't yet know that the rough way of speaking I used to hide my embarrassment would stick to my mouth so thoroughly that it would start spilling out at other people too — or that one day I'd want nothing more than to fix it.
"H-hmph! Fine, whatever! …Th-then we made a promise, so when I'm in danger, you really have to come running right away…?"
I said it as grumpily as I could, desperate to hide how flustered I was.
"Hahaha! All right! I promise. But in return, you make a promise with me too, Sua. From now on, even when something sad happens, you won't bottle it up alone and make that painful face."
Pat, pat.
"Then I'll come running as many times as it takes and save you when you're in danger. Heroes never break their promises, after all."
And so time flowed on.
Those impossibly happy days of roasting potatoes with Smile came to an end. True to his word, whenever I nearly caused a major accident failing to control my ability, he would notice from high above, come racing down to save me, and smile that bright smile. Once I finally learned to handle my power completely, he stopped dropping by at lunchtime — but by then, the darkness that had lived inside me, the darkness raised by my parents' abuse, had already vanished completely.
It may not have been the same noble feeling Smile had described — that surge that comes when you save someone in need. But just as he had said, an emotion far stronger than any sadness filled me up, and all those weak little things like tears that had been hiding inside fled without a trace.
After that, I was able to go to school like any other kid. I studied harder than anyone at the orphanage, and when the time came, I entered the hero training academy — which had changed its name around the time I enrolled. And just before I was truly about to become a hero who saved people, the way Smile did, one clear goal had taken root inside me.
It was during that time when terrifying villains attacked the school, and Smile saved us all. Everyone else stood behind that hero, simply admiring an invincible figure they could never hope to reach — blindly cheering for the man who took every dangerous blow with his own body and still smiled as he protected them to the end.
But for some reason, what I felt wasn't that simple admiration.
Someday, I wanted to become strong enough that when my hero's strength faltered and he staggered, I could catch him from the side. Strong enough to offer him a shoulder to lean on and rest, now and then. I wanted to stand as a hero on equal ground with him.
It wasn't that I disliked that stubborn side of Smile. No — I loved it far too much. But everyone gets tired. Everyone has hard days. Even a hero as strong as Smile couldn't truly be invincible.
Someday, I wanted to stand beside him and lighten that burden.
"…And yet here I am, getting rescued again. I swore I'd become a hero strong enough that no one could beat me — so that idiot wouldn't have to suffer even a little less. And look at me."
What had I been doing all this time?
I'd grown complacent, telling myself I'd climbed high enough — and in the end, I'd only leaned on Smile once more. Far from sharing his load, I couldn't even handle the villains who'd broken out of my own jurisdiction. I was just standing behind him like everyone else, being protected.
"I'm such an idiot…. Nothing's changed since back then. I wanted to get as strong as you someday, so you could rest easy for once…."
And while I was drowning in that regret, staring weakly at the ground and blaming myself — Smile, who had left the dying villain behind now that his regeneration was fully spent, walked over to me.
Pat, pat.
"Haha. Ravi. What's with that gloomy face? Back when you were a little kid, you promised me you wouldn't make that expression."
He ruffled my hair with the same gentle affection as when I was small, stepping right up in front of me — and somehow I felt tears about to spill out against my will. So once again, like a child, I snapped at him to hide what I was really feeling.
"H-hey! What are you talking about…! D-do I still look like a little kid to you…?! Ngh— d-don't touch my head…!"
H-heh… well, at least he doesn't look hurt. That idiot always keeps his promises, after all. Hehe…
The truth was, every time that gentle hand touched me, my heart pounded so hard I wanted to bolt backward — terrified he might hear the embarrassing sound of it racing.
"…Ngh! A-anyway! Whatever face I make is my busine— wait, huh?! Wh-what?! Why are you suddenly laughing…?!"
"Hahaha! No, nothing. Just remembering the old days a little. I thought you'd changed as you grew up, but thinking about it carefully — you used to grumble like this sometimes even when you were a little kid."
"Ugh, sh-shut up…! Someone's going to think you raised me or something…! We're only five years apart…!"
Someday… when I'm truly strong enough that you can lean on me…
I want to be able to say the words I've been hiding behind this rough, made-up way of talking.
I like you.
I want to say it without holding anything back.