Can We Be Heroes?

Chapter 30• Shadows In the Daylight I.

The wails of the sirens cut through the night, piercing and relentless as the police vehicles sped toward their latest crime scene. Another group of villains, another night of chaos, another vigilante making the pros look incompetent.

This time, it wasn’t Vixen.

This was Shadow’s work.

The officers arrived at the scene—an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Musutafu, its broken windows and rusted doors barely standing against the wind. As they stepped inside, their flashlights illuminated the aftermath of a one-man war.

Villains lay scattered across the concrete floor, groaning in pain, their weapons discarded far from reach. Some were unconscious, their bodies slumped against the walls, while others sat trembling, their faces pale with fear.

One officer crouched beside a handcuffed criminal, shaking and muttering under his breath.

“Who did this?” the officer asked.

The man gulped, his hands still twitching. “It was him.”

“Who?”

“Shadow.” The villain’s voice was barely above a whisper. His wide, bloodshot eyes darted around as if the vigilante might still be lurking nearby.

The officer exchanged looks with his colleagues. They had heard the name before—Shadow, a ghost in the night, known for taking down criminals without mercy. Unlike other vigilantes, Shadow wasn’t flashy. There were no grand speeches, no mocking dances. Just silence, precision, and pure terror.

Another officer moved toward a wall where a single message was left behind, spray-painted in rough, jagged strokes:

“STAY OUT OF THE DARK."

Hitoshi Shinso walked with his hands deep in his pockets, his hood drawn low over his head. The streets were loud—too loud. Cars rushed past, people talked, laughed, argued. Everything blended into a buzzing noise that made his skin crawl.

He couldn’t breathe.

The warehouse fight from the night before was over, but its echoes were still clinging to his skin. Worse, his father’s voice kept replaying in his head. The yelling, the threat, the grip on his arm, the way he’d looked at him like a mistake.

It was all mixing together now—vigilante work, school, home. His chest tightened as his breathing became shallow. His hands trembled, and no matter how hard he clenched his fists, he couldn’t stop the shaking.

Not here. Not now. Don’t lose it in public. He needed to disappear

He ducked into a less crowded side street, trying to calm his thoughts. Just a few minutes, a quiet spot, and he’d be okay. He just needed to—

Thump.

He bumped into someone.

“Ah—sorry,” he muttered, eyes still lowered.

“No way… Is that… Shinso?”

His heart stopped as he slowly, he looked up and froze. Two boys stood in front of him. Tall. Familiar. Grinning like jackals. Classmates from his old school.

The taller one gave a mocking laugh, nudging the other with his elbow. “Didn’t think we’d see you again. Thought you vanished, freak.”

The shorter one sneered. “Still got those creepy eyes? Still brainwashing people to get what you want?”

Shinso’s mouth went dry. His knees locked in place. His mask—his protection—was at home. He wasn’t Shadow now. He was just… Hitoshi. The kid who had been bullied, beaten, isolated.