The day began like any other. We all worked together, dividing tasks and researching the situation as much as possible using the internet.
Of course, we were also studying Astrad's "monster journal" in depth.
Honestly, the first time I heard about it, I found it somewhat endearing. I never saw him as the type of person who would put so much time and effort into something like a "monster journal."
If the world hadn't become this, it would probably be a story we'd tell years in the future as a "dark past" and laugh about…
But by some whim of fate, it turns out that what should have been a funny anecdote became a ridiculous hope.
And with a bittersweet smile, looking at the PDF file with its highlighted pages and random thoughts.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as a silly journal shows me a side of him I was never able to see… or maybe, one I never wanted to see.
["No, focus."]
I press my hands against my cheeks. Any possibility of reclaiming the past is something that ceased to exist long ago.
And then, for the first time in days, the feeling of my chest being squeezed returned.
The forums were a chaos of fragmented videos and digital screams. Puerto Dorado. The images were blurry, recorded with the trembling pulse of panic.
I saw the plaza, the smoke, and a tide of small, vicious creatures swarming like insects. And then, for a second that stretched until it broke something inside me, I saw her. Yumi Akito. My mother.
It wasn't a face in a photo; it was an action figure, coordinating a handful of officers behind a barricade of patrol cars. The video cut off, but the image was burned into my retina. The jacket with a poorly sewn patch on the chest, the same simple haircut she always had.
It was impossible to believe and at the same time not to believe: my mother, with blood on her sleeve and the corner of her lips tense. Her gaze was fixed on something that didn't appear in the video. Her mouth moved, she tried to say something, but the signal stopped playing her voice. But the recording cut off at that moment along with a dull noise.
Still, it didn't matter.
I had everything I needed: it wasn't rumors, it wasn't propaganda, nor a lukewarm radio report. I had seen her face. I had seen her uniform.
I quickly saved the file and left my room.
.................. ..
["We have to help my mom."]
In my house's living room, I ask my friends after showing them the video I had just found.
["I know it's from a few days ago, but you can see how they set up a safe zone around the police station. My mom told me that place was very resistant and well-equipped, they definitely won't fall easily."]
I said, although obviously, my words and my emotions don't match, or I wouldn't even be suggesting we go in the first place. Risking everyone's safety.
Still, I have to say it, I have to cling to my hope. Even if it's selfish.
["We'll go!"] – Franco, as always, was the first to support me.
A wave of relief and gratitude washed over my chest almost instantly, but then…
Carlos crossed his arms and looked at the screen with the coldness of someone calculating profits and losses on a map. His voice was a knife wrapped in silk.
["Going now is idiotic. Three days on foot, hostile territory, limited resources. If we move the whole group and fail, most will die. We can't sacrifice everything for a possibility."]
From there, for the first time, I think I could understand a thousandth of the emotions that Louise and the others must have felt, being abandoned that day at the school.
The discussion rolled like a stone down a slope: open ideological positions clashing with the visceral desire not to lose someone firsthand.
Others defended intermediate positions: wait for more evidence, send a reconnaissance team.
I stayed on the edge of the circle, watching how each argument hurt in different ways.
But I couldn't blame them.
They weren't saying anything wrong.
Just as it was logical not to risk their own lives and the lives of the rest of the group to transport a few girls with vertigo.
It's not logical to risk our group and provisions, through a long and dangerous journey, just to reach a facility that you're not even sure is still standing.
A personal desire cannot be placed before the safety of the group.
["Milia… I…"] — Finally, Franco turned to look at me. Curiously, everyone else looked away.
["We… The situation is…"] - Franco struggled to find the words, his voice low, like someone trying not to break something.
But he was still doing better than me.
After all, my now-dry throat, as I looked at the faces of the friends who were turning their backs on me, wouldn't even let me utter a word.
And the worst part is that I couldn't judge them.
Because I myself was on that side not too long ago. I myself put the "good of the group" above the lives of 5 classmates.
And Franco, the man I chose, right now, is just following the system that we ourselves chose, the one I myself decided to embrace…
["Milia… I know it's hard… We're all worried about our families… But right now, the best thing we can do is stay safe…"]
I instinctively nodded… I nodded at the decision, nodded at safety.
Honestly, they're right… I knew it…
[[[[[…]]]]]
But in my nod, the silence only grew heavier…
Curiously, it was in that pitiful situation that his face came to my mind. More specifically, I remembered a caution.
It was during one of our countless fights.
I remember how I confronted him about his attitude, I remember asking him "Why do you have such a desire to oppose the system? Why can't you give in, even just a little?"
But above all, I remember his words, those words that only today, I could understand.
"What am I supposed to reconcile with? A system that only works on the premise that everything is fine as long as the bad things happen to someone else is a shitty system that has nothing redeemable.
You want me to live in fear of being the system's next disposable pawn?
To live in fear, you might as well just kill me now."
Before I knew it, I was running.
[[[MILIA!]]]
I heard their shouts behind me, but my body didn't respond to their voices.
I opened the door and ran through the garden, the familiar house in my sight. My breath was short, and my heart was racing.
My body moved without permission, while my mind remembered the words of the owner of the house next to mine.
"If the system isn't willing to protect me to the bitter end, then it can't complain when I defend myself and my own.
Because if I die, I'll die on my feet, whether this fucking system likes it or not."
["If he's the…"]
I know it's hypocritical, I know it better than anyone… But I… I…
"Knock, knock, knock." My hand was trembling as I knocked on the wood.
["ASTRAD!"] —I shouted, my voice breaking—. ["ASTRAD, PLEASE, OPEN UP! ASTRAD!"]
The door flew open.
["Vixen, this had better be good,"] —he said, his voice filled with the same sarcasm as always.
I saw him, and for a second, the relief was so overwhelming it stole my words. Behind him, the warm light of the house, the faces of the girls who now lived with him. A world to which I no longer belonged.
["My mom…"] —I managed to say—.
His eyes showed no compassion. He leaned in, as if sniffing the air.
["What about my aunt? Is she back already? Did she bring beer?"]
The blow of his indifference to my altered state was almost physical.
["She… She's in danger."]
..........
In the living room, so familiar, yet so unknown, I explained the situation, stumbling over my own words.
Just like before, the hostility from the girls around Astrad was almost palpable. Little Alicia, sitting on his lap as if it were a throne. Louise, by his side, looking at me not with hatred, but with a possessive calm that was infinitely worse.
I showed them the videos. I explained what I knew, my voice competing with the tension that filled the room.
["What's the big deal?"] —he said, after seeing the images—. ["They're slowly pushing the monsters back."]
His analysis was so cold, so distant. I tried to explain, I spoke of the barricades, the safe zones, how the situation was getting worse. It was then that Louise intervened, her voice sharp.
["Aren't you convenient?"] —she said, her eyes fixed on me—. ["All I see is you blackmailing him into doing what you want. Aren't you the one who's always saying 'I'm not your girlfriend' and 'get over it already'? After what happened, how dare you even speak to him?"]
["That's… You don't know anything..."] —I replied, but my words sounded hollow.
She was right. I was the traitor coming to ask for a miracle. I was standing in the center of the living room, feeling the weight of all their gazes, trapped in a limbo. I had abandoned the logic of my group only to crash against the pragmatism of his. And in the middle of it all, there he was, watching me, judging me in silence.
["Astrad,"] —I said, my voice barely a plea—. ["We're going to rescue Mom… right?"]
Clinging to the bitter end, to the man I myself had rejected out of fear.
.......................
---------------- Simon's Point of View --------------------------
Once again, we are here. And once again, I cannot understand this person.
So irrational in his rationality.
["Ouch, ouch, ouch,"] —Astrad complained as he was pinched by Louise.
["Focus,"] —she replied, with a hint of a threat in her tone.
["Well? What do you want?"]
The disinterest in Astrad's voice was absolute. A question thrown out only out of obligation, or perhaps for fear of a scolding from the woman beside him. And yet, that question was enough.
["You're not going?"] —Milia's voice was a hesitant plea.
["I'll leave in the afternoon."]
The answer was instant, casual, as if he were deciding what to have for lunch. And there was the paradox that consumed me. Why? Why is the one person from whom you can expect no compassion the only one willing to risk everything for nothing?
It wasn't logical. Such a pragmatic being shouldn't act with such irrationality. But for some reason that escaped me, when he did, his actions created their own brutal logic.
["Really?"]
I could almost see Milia's soul return to her body. Her eyes lit up with a hope that we, the group that took her in, could not give her.
["If that's all, get lost. The rat kid is busy."]
But in Astrad's voice, there was no gloating, no judgment, not even mockery. Only the cold disdain of someone who has been interrupted with a stupid question.
["I'll go with you."]
["No. Now, get lost."]
["I'm definitely going."]
["Yeah, to your house. Goodbye."]
["I'm going with you to rescue my mom."]
The conversation that followed was a predictable push-and-pull, but my mind was no longer on the words. It was on the equation. The brain, Astrad, was launching himself on a suicide mission, while the heart, Milia, tried to stop him with arguments that no longer held any value. The more I thought about it, the less I understood.
["I'll go too."]
["Franco…"]
["Even if I'm not convinced… I can't let you go to a dangerous place alone."]
["Ahhh… what am I going to do with you all. I guess I can't leave you alone."]
["Hehe, I won't be left behind."]
["Count on me."]
["Guys…"]
Without realizing it, the dynamic had changed. While I was submerged in my thoughts, my companions, emboldened by Astrad's decision, began a strange bond-strengthening routine, offering to join a mission they had considered impossible minutes before. None of them seemed to notice that their newfound courage was not born from their own conviction, but from an instinctive trust in the very boy they so loved to criticize.
Still, I felt relieved. Regardless of the reason, the group easing the tension was beneficial in the long run. However, it was at that moment that I knew things would soon go wrong. Astrad's plan was a solo one. It didn't include an entourage.
["Well, have a safe trip home. Goodbye."]
["We're going with you to save my mother. I can't be at peace while she's facing such danger."]
["No. Out. I have important preparations to make."]
["We're going. No matter what."]
A shiver ran down my spine when Milia stood up. Not because of her determination, nor that of the companions who supported her. I trembled because, for the first time that day, Astrad's eyes were looking at us. Really looking at us. And in them, there was no indifference. There was calculation.
["Well… since you put it that way, I guess you leave me no choice."]
And as if the universe demanded to prove me right, he struck Milia without hesitation.
["Milia!"]
["You bastard!"]
The chaos was immediate. Franco shouting, the others getting to their feet, ready for a fight they couldn't win.
Are they stupid?
I have nothing against my group, but sometimes, I can't help but understand why Astrad prefers us far away.
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR."
Luckily, they at least understand the eloquence of a possibly homicidal giant wolf. The challenge died before it could begin.
["Did you really think I was going to say something like, 'I guess it can't be helped, I'll have to protect them with my life on the line'? Do you think you're in a Naruto manga? The most important thing to the rat kid is the rat kid's life. Why should I increase the rat kid's risk to satisfy your damn whim?"]
And there it was, finally, the face I knew. The cold, methodical logic, a reasoning so damn impeccable that it was infuriating.
["What are you supposed to bring to the table for the rat kid? The power of love and friendship? Do you think you're in My Little Pony? Get out of my house. What you do is not my problem, but if you follow me, you'd better do it from a distance where I can't see you. Let me be clear: you're just a hindrance, and as such, you will be eliminated if you get in the way."]
Astrad was rationality made person. And someone like that shouldn't launch himself on a suicide mission for a single life. He shouldn't.
["I…"]
["Is there something else?"]
[[….]]
["You… You will bring my mother back?"]
["…We rat kids take care of our own. Now, get lost."]
And yet, there he was. Doing exactly what his own logic dictated he shouldn't do. And without a shred of hesitation.
["Ah… that reminds me. The rat kid had something to tell you before you go."]
But even in the midst of such a flagrant act of heroism, worthy of a hero deserving of getting the girl.
["The rat kid has a limit to his patience. What I'm trying to say is that if when I get back, someone—anyone, without a single exception—has so much as touched a single one of my belongings for even a second…"]
He has no qualms about taking the time to remind us. That messing with him means facing the hell of a villain.
["I will kill them."]
"GRRRRRRR"
In that moment, I think I understood him a little better.
Astrad wasn't a hero or a villain. He was a different equation. While my group spoke of "humanity," he spoke of "his own." And he wasn't referring to the same species. You could be an alien from Uranus; it didn't matter. Being human didn't guarantee you a place in his circle. And if you weren't one of his, then, in his eyes, you were a nobody. A variable without value.
But if by some miracle you managed to get in, if he accepted you... you became indispensable.
His actions were never irrational. The punch, the threat... they weren't the acts of a madman. They were the actions of a being who applied a tribal and ruthless logic: we weren't worth the risk. We were not of his clan.
His irrational heroism and his territorial cruelty weren't a contradiction. They were two sides of the same coin. That's why the same person is capable of launching himself on a suicide mission for a single individual, and at the same time is capable of letting us die at the hands of a mutant rat without batting an eye.
We, simply, were not part of his circle.