Before the Battle

Scars 4/4

Under my hand, pressed against Shira's chest, I could make out the regular beating of his heart.

A calm, slow thump-thump. Mine, on the other hand, beat furiously and wildly. Every word that came out of his mouth, however terse and devoid of unnecessary detail, burned into my memory with the force of a red-hot wire.

A little to the right was a small circular scar on his chest. It looked innocent, almost unnoticeable. I touched it with my fingertips, running my fingers lightly over it before Shira's hand overlapped mine, making that small movement impossible.

"When I tried to get into the car, one of the guards shot me, right here," he said matter-of-factly. "I hardly felt it at first. I got rid of them, started the car and thought I was free. But then... such a stupid mistake," he sighed, shaking his head. "Suddenly I lost my grip on the wheel, couldn't control the steering and crashed."

//

The blow to the head nearly knocked him unconscious. He could taste blood in his mouth and was breathing heavily. More red fluid was slowly oozing from a small wound on the right side of his chest, forming air bubbles. A sign of lung damage.

Shaking, he tried to move. Only slowly did he realise where he was. His first instinct was to reach for the weapon, but even when he found it, his fingers were shaking so badly that he couldn't hold it. 

He gasped for breath, shivering all over, cold sweat breaking out on his skin. There was blood everywhere. His blood.

He looked with hazy sight at his left leg jammed under the shattered dashboard of the crashed car, the broken femur protruding from the gaping wound. He should have felt pain, terrible pain, but he felt nothing. That could only mean one thing. His body was giving up, he was dying.

A memory flashed through his mind of a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking back at him with tears and hope. A soft voice whispered: "Come back to me, I'll wait for you."

His trembling fingers tried in vain to reach for the weapon a second time.

"For... give me, Taira," he whispered inaudibly, the movement of his lips almost indistinct. "I won't make it."

//

I let go of his hand and turned away from him. Everything inside me clenched with cold fear and panic. I couldn't listen to this anymore. I couldn't stand it.

I breathed heavily and sat down on the bed, my eyes lowered and fixed on the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes. Maybe it was better not to know.

Shira came closer and knelt down beside me. He took my face in his hands and forced me to look at him.

//

"Fight, Yoshi! Get up and fight!"

The memory of his father and those words flashed through Shira's mind.

"I can't fight anymore, Dad."

"Once you tell yourself you can't, it's really over. Remember that. The body can take a lot, it's the mind that gives up sooner. So do it! Get up and keep fighting!

Yes, that's what he has to do. Keep fighting. For every breath, for every heartbeat. For Taira. To see him again.

His trembling fingers gripped the cold metal of the weapon with determination. 

He knew his enemies were close. He raised himself to a sitting position and cried out as the pain hit him hard. The previous moments when he had felt nothing had brought him relief, but the fact that the pain had now returned paradoxically filled him with confidence.