French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 81: -Gyeong-Wan- Running

My own heavy breathing filled my ears as if I were in space. The gray air was going upwards, mixed with white. It burned my nose, pinched my eyes. Spent burning, like too many candles. The door to French Cup was still open, bright light from outside streaming in making the air look grainy, almost like a TV with nothing left to broadcast. 

Grainy... Smoke. It was smoke. I couldn't move, as if my body were frozen to the spot. 

"I don't want to be here!" Chidori. "I don't want to be here! I want to leave! I want to leeeave! I want to leeeave!" Going hysterical. Clinging to Hanako, sobbing her eyes out. His own were wide and staring, his mouth open in horror at the scene. They were near the door, and next to them a woman with short black hair was holding her forearm and her face in pain. Another woman was trying to get her hand which was like a claw off it, but she wouldn't let go. As the smoke went upward, angry red marks were all over the hand. 

My eyes darted to the left, and Ayane was on the floor with a look of shock. Hiran was trying to help her up, but his skinny form was no match for her. I wanted to go help, but I couldn't move. My eyes followed the screaming child's sound all the way to the counter. 

A little girl was clinging to a familiar woman's side, the woman holding her, too. And beside them was that same pink and red furisode and obi, making me snap back to life. His hand was over his chest, his other on his forehead. Breathing so frantically, crying so hard. 

The open door. Just at the entrance, laying on the ground, were red papers and black papers. Piles of it. Smoke still wafting up from them. Needing to see what they were. What the hell were they?!

Running. Picking one of them up. Tubing lifted up with them, all of them connected. Some of it fell off, different tubing tied to other papers. Holding one of them in my hand, I stared at the open entryway. Looking back down at them, trying to make sense of it. 

As I rolled part of it around in my hand, suddenly there was the answer. Some of it dropped to the floor on top of the others, and without any other thought I dashed out of the door, clenching the rest of it in my hand.

"Gyeong-Wan, NO!" Kazuya cried out after me, the desperation in his voice, a sobbing. 

The fresh air hit my lungs like a large wave and it was like my senses rebooted. Darting from side to side, and there on my right were two figures running. Dressed in dark, puffy coats and almost around the corner. Running, like their lives depended on it. 

The object in my hand. I knew what it was.

Running after them, all of my training in track and field leading to this. It was for a purpose. Crazily, my whole life was leading up to this moment. What I could do. I'd weight trained for this. I was this tall, with these long legs enough to break the distance between us in my long running strides. I'd worn these same types of shoes almost every day of my adult life, making it easier to move and feel them as I ran, making much more sure steps than these people were. They were clumsy compared to me.

They rounded the corner, and the Modern loomed up as I turned the corner, too. They were slowing down. Cowards. Weaklings. Pieces of shit. That's what they were. This object in my hand. I knew exactly what it was. To throw this inside Kazuya's beautiful sanctuary? When everyone was enjoying themselves, seeing family? All that work they'd done, all that joy? To attempt to be destroyed by- by what? By this- this-

My hands grabbed the hoods of the coats and I jerked to a stop. This made them fall to the ground and with their combined weight, I did, too. My hand went up into a fist, the spent firecracker tubing inside it, hanging out of it-

I gasped internally, almost choking. My fist lost its tightness, but still that shape. They were laying on the ground, one of them already trying to get up. I was holding onto one of their hoods still, and that one was crying.