The afternoon sun warmed the small, bustling park. Laughter from the swing set mixed with the shouts of children playing tag. Near a large oak tree, a seven-year-old girl named Mio stood with her arms crossed, her brow furrowed in frustration.
"Rio, what are you doing with that stupid pose?" she demanded.
In front of her, a boy her age named Rio was a portrait of heroic intensity. One hand was planted firmly on his hip, the other pointed dramatically toward the sky. His small chest was puffed out with pride.
"Even in the deepest darkness, I shine brighter than anyone!" he declared, his voice full of passion. "I am Supa Sanita Black!"
Mio's cheeks flushed a bright pink. A few of her new classmates, three other girls she was trying to impress, were watching them and giggling behind their hands.
"You're going crazy," Mio hissed, taking a step closer. "Can't you just be mature for once? Stop acting like such a kid."
Rio finally dropped his pose, his bright, earnest eyes meeting hers. "Why not, Mio?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's fun."
"Because it's embarrassing!" she whispered, her voice tight with anxiety. "It's embarrassing when my friend acts so childish in front of my classmates. Please, Rio, just understand."
As if on cue, the other girls' giggles turned into open laughter. "Ha ha ha!" one of them chimed. "Don't worry, Mio. You two will make a great couple one day!"
Mio looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
Twelve Years Later
The nineteen-year-old version of Rio walked down the crowded city street, the setting sun casting long shadows. He'd grown taller, his frame lean but strong, yet a piece of his childhood clung to him. Dangling from the zipper of his backpack was a small, detailed doll of his hero: a figure in a black spandex suit with a sleek, iconic helmet. Supa Sanita Black.
Walking beside him, her expression a familiar mix of affection and exasperation, was Mio.
"So, have you decided yet?" she asked, adjusting the strap of her own bag. "What field are you going to take in college, Rio?"
"Animation," he said without hesitation.
Mio stopped walking, forcing him to turn and look at her. A flicker of doubt crossed her face. It was the same doubt she'd had for years, the worry that he was still the same seven-year-old boy in the park.
"Animation? But you're one of the best in our class at science and math. You could do anything. Why animation?"
A slow, easy smile spread across Rio's face, disarming her in its sincerity. "Because," he said, his eyes shining with that same old light, "I want to finally make you the hero in one of my stories."
Mio's patience finally snapped. The warmth in her eyes turned to fire. "Why won't you just stop?" she exclaimed, her voice louder than she intended. "Stop with the cartoons and the heroes! They're children's shows, Rio. Aren't you an adult now?"
Rio's smile faded, but his gaze remained calm and steady. "I can't just leave my love for Supa Sanita and shows like Kameman behind. They're a part of me."
"Well, maybe you need to leave that part behind!" Mio shot back, her voice trembling slightly. "Look, Rio… grow up. If you won't move on from this fantasy, then I… I can't talk to you anymore."
Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and final. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone on the sidewalk, the plastic figure of his hero glinting in the fading light.
As Mio stormed down the block, blinded by her frustration and hurt, she failed to notice the dented, windowless van idling at the corner.
Inside it, five men sat in the dim light.
"Look, there she is," one of them said, pointing a grimy finger through the windshield. It was her uncle. "That girl right there. She's my niece. We're taking her."
Another man, heavyset with a greasy beard, leered. "She's a hottie, boss."
Mio's uncle gave a sickening smile. "Her father, my dear brother, decided to write me out of the family business. Once he knows we have her, he'll sign everything over. After I get what I want… you can do whatever you please with her."
The van's engine roared to life. It screeched around the corner, tires protesting as it mounted the curb and blocked Mio's path. The side door slid open with a violent clang. Before she could even process what was happening, two men jumped out. A rough hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream. She was dragged off her feet and thrown into the darkness of the van. The door slammed shut, and the vehicle sped away, leaving only the faint scent of exhaust in its wake.
From down the street, Rio saw it all. The van, Mio's sudden disappearance, the sheer violence of the act. For a second, his mind refused to believe it. Then, adrenaline surged through him like electricity. A young man on a bicycle was about to pedal past. Rio didn't hesitate. He lunged, shoving the surprised cyclist off his ride.
"Sorry! Emergency!" Rio yelled over his shoulder as he jumped on the bike, pedaling with a desperate, burning strength, chasing the taillights of the disappearing van.
His lungs were on fire and his legs screamed, but he never lost sight of them. The chase led him to the industrial outskirts of the city, to a shady, abandoned warehouse crumbling from neglect. The van pulled up and parked in the deep shadows along its side. Rio skidded to a stop behind a stack of rusted barrels, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He watched as the men dragged a struggling Mio inside. Thinking fast, he pulled his black hoodie up and a simple face mask from his pocket, covering his features. His eyes darted to the van. He saw a spare can of petrol sitting just inside its open door. An idea, reckless and dangerous, sparked in his mind. It was a plan worthy of Supa Sanita Black.
He crept over, grabbed the petrol can, and found a discarded glass bottle on the ground. He carefully poured some of the fuel inside, then stuffed a rag from his own pocket into the neck. He had his distraction.
He circled the building, found a broken window, and slipped inside, moving like a shadow through the dusty, cavernous space.
Deeper inside, Mio was on her knees, crying, her clothes torn. Her uncle sat on a crate in front of her.
"Your father thought he was so clever," the uncle sneered. "Today, I get all his property. Everything he stole from me."
Mio looked up, tears streaming down her face. "Why? Uncle, why are you doing this?"
He let his eyes drift over her body with a perverse smile. "I just want the property, of course. But look at you… you've grown into such a beautiful young woman."
The other men chuckled, stepping closer. "If your father doesn't hurry," one of them growled, "we're going to have some fun with you first. You know exactly what we mean."
"No!" Mio screamed, a raw, terrified sound that echoed in the huge, empty room. "This can't be happening!"
That was Rio's cue. From the upper catwalk where he was hiding, he lit the rag in the bottle with a lighter from his bag. The flame erupted. He threw the Molotov cocktail down onto a pile of wooden pallets and cardboard boxes near the main entrance.
WHOOSH!
Flames exploded upwards, creating a wall of fire and smoke. The kidnappers yelled in shock and panic, turning away from Mio to deal with the sudden inferno. "Water! Find something to put it out!"
In the chaos, Rio ran. He vaulted over the railing, landing silently behind them. He rushed to Mio's side.
"Don't worry," he whispered, his voice low and urgent. "I'm here."
She looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief and hope. He pulled her to her feet and half-carried her toward a side staircase. As they started down, her uncle spotted them through the billowing smoke.
"Stop him!" he roared. But the fire was between him and them, a raging, impassable barrier. "Dammit!" Enraged, he pulled a pistol from his jacket. He aimed through the haze and fired.
CRACK!
A bullet tore through the air. Rio instinctively twisted, shielding Mio with his own body. A searing, white-hot pain exploded in his back. He grunted, stumbling, but did not fall. Blood instantly began to soak through his jacket.
His blood dripped onto Mio's arm as he kept moving, pulling her down the stairs. The other men, seeing their boss's action, also pulled out guns and fired wildly into the smoke. Another bullet grazed Rio's side, but his focus was absolute. Get Mio out.
He burst through a side door and into the cool night air, finally clear of the burning building. He gently set Mio down on the cracked pavement before his legs gave out and he collapsed.
As Mio sobbed, her hands trembling, she cradled Rio's slumped form in her arms. The blood on her palms was warm, too warm, soaking into her skirt, her heart pounding in terror.
"Rio! Your back… there's so much blood!" Her voice cracked, tears streaking her soot-smeared cheeks. "Don't leave me… Please, not like this… please!"
Rio looked up weakly, his eyes struggling to focus. The pain etched deep lines in his face, but there was something else there too—a glimmer. That same spark of childhood foolishness that had once made her so angry… and now made her heart break.
With slow effort, he raised a shaking hand. His index finger pointed up, just barely.
"To the sky…" he murmured, a soft cough cutting him off, a thin trail of blood sliding from the corner of his lips. "Even in darkness…"
He took a ragged breath. His voice was so faint it could have been mistaken for wind.
"…wasn't I… a cool hero?"
And with that, his arm went limp. His head drooped forward, resting against her chest, motionless.
"Rio?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Rio…?"
She shook him once. Twice. No response.
"No… no…!" her voice cracked into a wail. "Come back! You idiot… you can't leave like this! I didn't even get to say I'm sorry…!"
Her words were swallowed by the approaching sound of sirens, growing louder with each passing second—echoing through the night like distant, mechanical cries.
She buried her face into his shoulder, holding him tightly as if her warmth could tether his soul to the world. Around them, red and blue lights began to strobe across the walls.
And in that moment—between the burning warehouse and the screaming sirens—she realized:
The boy she once called childish… was the only one brave enough to be a hero.