Chapter 104: One More Time - part 3

I opened my eyes.

Narrowing them against the white light... I brushed the blanket aside with my hand.

I placed a hand on my chest. …It’s beating.

There’s a heart. No wound. I’m alive.

"Why…?"

My throat ached as I looked around. Tubes were stuck into both of my arms.

Something was being pumped into my body. …But surely, this wasn’t anything harmful.

The room, covered in white panels, was… a little too futuristic to be called a hospital room.

…My brain was waking up.

And then… I realized that I "didn’t understand" what had happened.

"…!?"

My heart had been blown apart… and then, and then… why am I here, in this place?

Where is this?

…I don’t know.

Why did it explode in the first place? What was I doing just before it happened? Who was there?

…My memory is supposed to be enhanced by the serum. Memories shouldn’t just vanish.

And yet… why don’t I feel uneasy? Why do I feel as if nothing happened at all… as if it’s something as trivial as breakfast a week ago?

…Anyway, for now, I need to get a grasp of this situation—

The door opened. It slid aside automatically, and… a man walked in.

A tall man with a rugged face… wearing an eyepatch.

I know him. The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—

"Nick Fury…?"

"You’re finally awake."

Fury entered the room without any guards.

He picked up a chair from the corner and placed it in front of me.

Why so perfectly timed…? I turned my gaze away, up toward the ceiling.

With my enhanced vision focusing, I caught the glint of light reflecting off a black lens.

A hidden camera?

When I looked back to Fury, he was already sitting down—right next to me.

"I—"

"You’ve been asleep for three days."

I frowned. He answered before I could even ask.

"Where am I?"

"This is a S.H.I.E.L.D. base. I can’t tell you more than that."

"…Why did you bring me here?"

"You were badly injured. Don’t you remember?"

At his words, I touched my chest through the hospital gown.

Not a single scar.

It made more sense to assume the explosion had been an illusion.

But if this man said otherwise… then perhaps it was the truth.

"…No, I do remember. And that’s exactly why it doesn’t make sense."

It had been a wound certain to kill. A wound so severe that even a healing factor couldn’t regenerate fast enough.

I should have died.

"There are good doctors here."

"……"

So, he had no intention of giving me any real details.

But there was something more important.

"Why did you let me live?"

…I clenched the blanket.

Fury’s expression shifted to something unreadable at my words.

"Did you want to die?"

Did I… want to die?

No… that’s not it.

I wanted… I must have wanted to live.

"No—"

I shook my head at his words.

"That’s not it—"

I want to live. If I die… if I die, then—? What?

"…I must have…"

To live… live for what? Why did I want to keep living?

Watching me, Fury let out a deep sigh.

"…Seems you’re a little confused."

I touched my lips with my hand.

…Was my brain damaged from lack of oxygen when my heart stopped?

No, that shouldn’t be it. Even if my brain or organs were injured, the healing factor should’ve completely repaired them—as long as the wound wasn’t fatal.

Fury stayed silent for a while.

Silent, simply waiting for me.

…My heartbeat was beginning to steady.

No matter how much I worried, the answers weren’t coming. For now, that wasn’t the most important thing.

"Have you calmed down?"

Fury spoke, and I nodded.

"I see…"

But this isn’t like him.

Nick Fury was supposed to be a man who wove strategy and did whatever it took to achieve his goals.

So why is he acting like he’s concerned for me?

No, more importantly—

"What’s going to happen to me?"

"What do you mean?"

Fury feigned ignorance… and I lowered my head.

"Am I going to be locked up in the Raft? Or executed?"

Given the number of people I’ve killed… it’s doubtful I’d get away with just prison.

I’ve killed more than Carnage—more than Cletus Kasady himself.

Execution wouldn’t be strange. In fact, it’s more likely.

At my words, Fury gave no reply.

Wondering why, I lifted my face… only to see his eyes narrow.

He wasn’t angry.

…Then what was it?

Pity?

"No, you won’t be charged."

"…Why not?"

I tilted my head.

S.H.I.E.L.D. is a public agency. A peacekeeping organization. If they apprehend a criminal, then the law of this country should judge them. That’s the rule.

Fury gave me a wry smile at my confusion.

"…If someone committed murder while under mind control, would you hold them responsible?"

The question came out of nowhere.

…Was he talking about Ned? Something like that… of course, they couldn’t be blamed.

But that wasn’t the point of this conversation, was it? Then… ah, I think I understand.

I frowned.

"I was never under mind control."

"Everyone who’s under mind control says the same thing."

"No. I killed people of my own will."

"Doesn’t look that way to me."

Fury gave a thin smile.

I bristled, feeling mocked. I opened my mouth—but he spoke first.

"Then let me ask you. Did you enjoy killing?"

"That’s…"

My lips clamped shut.

…There was nothing enjoyable about it. Even when I tried to kill someone myself, it was because of the rage I felt at a friend being hurt. But that was no excuse.

Seeing my silence, Fury sighed.

"You should stop putting on that façade of evil."

"…No, I really am a villain—"

"Villains don’t declare themselves villains and then insist on being punished."

…Talking to him is irritating.

Nick Fury. This man really has a silver tongue.

I don’t feel like I could ever win an argument with him. …Or maybe my own words are just incoherent.

Another sigh.

"Good grief… you’re seriously wounded. You need mental care."

"Don’t treat me like I’m some patient…"

"You’re trying to sound menacing, but you’re not scary at all."

Fury laughed. Then he pulled a tablet out from under his black coat.

"Let’s leave that aside for now."

"…Tch."

I clicked my tongue, but he ignored me.

"It’s about your identity registration."

"…Identity registration?"

"You’ve been listed as deceased, haven’t you?"

At that, I realized—ah, of course. I had dismantled my LMD—Life Model Decoy—and faked my death.

Which meant… an official death certificate had been filed. Michelle Jane is, in public record, considered dead.

"That’s why, retroactively, we’ll create a new ID for you."

…So S.H.I.E.L.D. can forge identification that easily? No—S.H.I.E.L.D. is a state-recognized organization. They don’t forge. They can issue.

"Not necessary."

"No. If you want to live in this country, it’s necessary."

…What is Fury planning to do with me?

As I wrestled with the thought, he pressed forward, not giving me room to object.

"First, your name. What will it be?"

He looked at me while keeping his eyes mostly on the tablet.

A name.

The unique identifier for me… is "Redcap." But I’ve had several others. I changed aliases each time I relocated.

But yes. There is one. One special name. The name I actually want to be called.

My—

"My name is… Michelle—"

"……"

"Michelle Jane."

Fury entered it into the tablet.

Watching him, a memory surfaced.

Words from my brother.

"My real name is Franklin Watson."

…That’s right. I have another name as well.

"And… Watson."

"…Hm. I see."

He touched his chin, then turned the tablet toward me.

On the screen was the name:

『Michelle Jane = Watson』

This is my name.

"…That’s fine. No—this is right."

"Understood."

Fury kept entering the rest—age, gender.

When he asked for my date of birth, I couldn’t think of one, so I gave him Michelle Jane’s birthday. The one my brother had chosen for me… I wanted to keep that.

Bit by bit, the fields on the tablet filled in—until he stopped at the address section. Then Fury looked up at me.

"Michelle Jane… you have two choices."

"Choices…?"

"That’s right."

Fury straightened his stern face and spoke.

"One—you return to New York City and live an ordinary life."

Return? To that place?

For a fleeting moment, a calm warmth washed over me… before I bit my lip.

"Impossible. I—"

I was already aware. Aware of my sins… of my ugliness.

I couldn’t hide that and go on living.

"The other choice… is to work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"…What are you talking about?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

Fury tilted his head with a look of mild puzzlement… which only made me more irritated.

"…I’ve killed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents before, you know."

"That happens."

I found myself staring at his face.

"…I’m not someone who—"

"I rushed things. You don’t need to decide now."

Fury rose from his chair, and I looked up at him.

"You have time. Think it over, slowly."

Leaving the chair where it was, Fury walked away from the bed.

"…Fury."

One question—something that had been gnawing at me—I threw it at his back.

"Why are you… trying to be kind to me?"

Fury stopped, then turned around. His black coat swayed.

"The first reason is that you’re a victim. But there’s another—"

His eyes narrowed, a look of regret crossing his face.

"Atonement."

He left me with an answer I couldn’t understand, then opened the automatic door.

Outside, he turned his head slightly and spoke.

"You can come in now."

At his words, a figure stepped past him and into the room.

Blonde hair, held back by a black headband.

My face stiffened before I could stop it.

It was a face I wanted to see… and didn’t want to see.

The longing to meet her and the dread of meeting her twisted together, choking my mind to a halt.

"Michelle…"

Gwen Stacy.

I instantly averted my eyes from her face. I couldn’t bring myself to see what expression she was wearing.

Footsteps approached. I could hear them, feel her drawing closer.

But still, I had no confidence I could face her.

Surely Gwen must hate me now. Surely she already despises me. I didn’t want to accept that truth.

My breathing grew rough, sweat breaking out. Even though I was breathing, the tension made me feel suffocated.

And then—Gwen reached me, and wrapped her arms around my head.

"Ah—wha…?"

Her reaction caught me off guard, and I turned my face toward her.

Gwen was crying.
Tears streamed down her cheeks in a flood.

…It had been a long time since I’d seen her cry.
The strong-willed Gwen, breaking down like this—it was rare.

"Michelle…"

She pulled me closer, her hand rubbing firmly across my back. Then, right against my ear, her voice reached me.

"I… I was planning to scold you so hard once you woke up…"

Her hand stroked me gently, tenderly.

"Why did you try to leave without saying anything? Why would you do that… why didn’t you trust me?"

"A-ah…"

Her arms wrapped tighter around me, completely enclosing me.

"But when I saw you awake… all of that just disappeared."

Her embrace loosened, and she lifted her head so we were face-to-face.

"I’m just glad… that you’re not dead. Really… really glad."

She was crying.

Who?

Gwen.
…And me.

My vision blurred.

Because my hands were still clinging to her back, I couldn’t wipe the tears, and they spilled freely—dripping one by one, soaking the sheets like raindrops.

"…I’m sorry… Gwen."

"It’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry… I didn’t see how much you were hurting."

Her arms tightened around me again. Warmth spread through me.

A little too warm, even.

But it was the warmth of someone alive—the heat of life itself.
Her warmth, and the heat rising from somewhere deep inside me.

It was unbearable in the best way. And I couldn’t stop crying.

"I’m sorry, Gwen… I’m sorry, I…"

"It’s okay… it’s fine. You’re safe now."

By then neither of us knew what exactly we were apologizing for, or what we were forgiving.

"I’m sorry… Gwen… I…"

"Mm. It’s okay. Everything’s okay."

The emotions overflowed, and we clung to each other.
Drifting in that comforting heat, carried away by it.

The tears just wouldn’t stop.

I could feel her breath, her heartbeat.

"Welcome back, Michelle."

And I cried.
Like a child, sobbing out loud.

Not knowing anything, not thinking anything—just letting go, swept away by pure feeling… and crying on and on.

---

I spotted a man leaning with his back against the wall, right beside the door.

"Fury."

When I softly called out, he turned his face toward me.

"...Captain."

I stepped closer to Fury and glanced through the one-way glass into the room.

Redcap... she was hugging her friend and crying. Her expression was like that of a child—and in truth, she was still young, not even an adult yet. It was the face of someone crying their age.

Seeing them holding each other so tightly, I averted my gaze. Watching like this could hardly be called good manners.

As I walked past the door, Fury motioned with his chin.

The two of us began walking down the hallway. Fury was the first to speak.

"You came to check on her too?"

"Yeah... but—"

In that state, there was no way I could go in. Conveying that without words, I got a wry smile from Fury in return.

"Captain, she’s suffered a heavy blow to her mind."

"I figured as much."

"She needs mental care."

Fury turned to face me. ...One eyebrow rose.

"...I’m no psychiatrist, you know?"

"But you’re familiar with PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder, aren’t you?"

"Only a little more than most."

It was true... back when I ran across battlefields, it was an everyday sight. Fighting for your life—robbing others of theirs—it wore down the mind quickly.

My role as a symbol of the nation had been to lift the fighting spirit of such people, to encourage them.

But still... I wasn’t a doctor.

"That doesn’t matter. Right now, it’s less about what’s being done and more about who does it."

"...It’s that bad?"

"She was trained by her organization in techniques for maintaining mental stability... But that’s ironically keeping her from recovering from her current state."

"...A group that breaks people, and still burdens them afterward."

"Like a stain on a white sheet. Easy to leave, hard to wash away."

Fury said that with a faint smile tugging at his cheek. ...I couldn’t help but speak up.

"What are you planning to do with her from here on?"

"...Well, who knows."

I tilted my head at that vague answer.

"That’s unlike you."

Fury was the kind of man who made everything go according to plan. It was hard to believe he was being aimless now.

"She’ll choose her own path. I’ll only show her that there are choices to begin with."

"...That’s really unlike you."

"Does that bother you?"

"No, that’s not what I said."

If anything, if he always carried himself that way... people might trust him a little more.

I laughed as I spoke.

"But... yes, ‘freedom.’ She can fly anywhere she wants now."

And it’s the job of adults to teach her how to fly.

"That’s why, Fury. I’ll help too."

"Yeah. I’m counting on you, Captain."

Compared to saving the world, it was small... and yet, it was a great accomplishment. We felt a sense of hope for the future.

Helping people—that’s the true duty of a hero.

We had pulled her up from the darkness. All that remained was to help her walk under the light.

From here on... it would be the path she chose.

---

They held each other tight.

Deeply, deeply embracing.

They stayed that way for a while—hugging, crying, apologizing, and forgiving.

Eventually, they let go.

"...Phew... but really, I’m glad."

"...Mm."

Gwen went to the water dispenser in the corner of the room, got some water, and brought it over. She had a cup for me too.

The way she did it without even looking around told me she’d been in this room more than once. ...She must have come to check on me while I was asleep.

I took a sip.

"Feeling better?"

"...Thank you."

After being asleep for days, my throat felt dry and coated with mucus. The water tasted refreshing.

I looked at Gwen sitting in front of me. She was smiling faintly.

It was... the same smile as the last time we met.

"Oh, that reminds me—"

Gwen pressed her palms together, as if an idea had popped into her head. I tilted my head, and she continued.

"One of your coworkers was hospitalized until yesterday too."

"Coworker...?"

I tilted my head. Who could she mean?

"You know, that rough-looking guy, the one in yellow—"

"Herman?"

"Ah, yes, that’s him."

...I see.

So Herman also fought to try to save me.

I hadn’t realized...

"Next time I see him, maybe... I should thank him."

Though I don’t know if I’ll get the chance.

I don’t know what’s going to happen from here.

I don’t even know what I want for myself. All I know is that I want to atone for the sins I’ve committed.

The guilt still lingers in my chest. And the thought, 『I have to live happily—』

I tilted my head.

Since waking up, thoughts keep coming to me—ones I never would have had before the explosion.

Why is that?

"Ah, and there was one more thing."

Gwen’s words pulled me out of my confusion, scattering the question.

She went to the small bedside cabinet, pulled open the first drawer, and took something out to show me.

"Look, this was inside your suit."

...Oh, right. Now that I think of it, where did my suit go?

Probably confiscated... right? At the very least, they wouldn’t keep it near someone as untrustworthy as me.

While thinking that, I looked at what Gwen was holding.

It was... a photo.

A picture taken at my birthday party.

Me, Gwen, and Ned—all three of us together. ...The edge was stained red-black, probably from blood.

"...Michelle, you really treasured this, didn’t you?"

"...Mm."

Embarrassed, I nodded.

Then I spoke.

"Back then... I thought I’d never see everyone again..."

"Michelle..."

"So at least, I wanted to hold on to this photo..."

Yes. This photo was proof that we were friends.

It was the one thing I couldn’t throw away...

...Ah.

"Who took this photo again?"

"Hm? I don’t remember... but does it really matter?"

Gwen answered casually, nodding like it was nothing. She didn’t seem like she was hiding anything.

But still—me, Gwen, Ned... if all three of us were in the shot, then who took it? Even if it was on a self-timer... did we even own a camera like that?

I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember.

The faint contradiction tugged at my thoughts.

But Gwen seemed to decide it wasn’t worth worrying about, like she’d already given up on figuring it out.

I too... dropped the subject, and checked the other thing that had been inside the suit.

The other item was... what? Shards of broken glass. Shattered pieces, some in blue, others clouded white, shaped like petals.

"Ah, that... did it break?"

"...Yeah."

I had worn it around my neck, as a necklace. It must have been caught in the blast when the bomb inside my chest went off.

I arranged the shards, piecing them back into their former shape. A rose of blue and white. A beautiful artificial flower made of glass.

"............"

Why had I thought this was important? It was a cheap trinket... why would I treasure it as much as a photo with my friends?

Where had I even bought it? ...On a trip, maybe.

That memory—or something like it—lingered vaguely, more like an assumption than a true recollection.

But why would I have bought it? I wasn’t the kind of person to buy something like this.

And I wasn’t the kind of person to cherish some accessory I bought for myself.

"Blue and white roses, huh..."

Gwen was tapping at her handheld device, looking something up.

Meanwhile, I just... stared at the broken glass fragments.

...Am I forgetting something?

What did I forget? What did I lose?

...Right now, I should feel fulfilled. Sitting next to my best friend, thinking about the future.

Someone like me... I should already have everything I could possibly want. There shouldn’t be anything missing.

And yet—why?

Why this strange sense of loss? Why does my chest feel like it’s been hollowed out, leaving behind only emptiness?

It feels like... I’ve forgotten something important.

"Ah, Michelle, look at this."

Gwen showed me her device screen. On it was a picture of blue and white roses. A rose where the colors had blended together... and its meaning in the language of flowers.

『I will never forget you』

That was the wish woven into the glasswork rose accessory. And now... it lay in pieces.