Sirens wailed in the distance.
Finally!
But by the time the police and firefighters arrived, the bar had already burned down to little more than blackened debris scattered across the sidewalk. It was still dying out, parts of it no longer burning, only glowing with red-hot coals.
Yet no one seemed to hurry. None of them looked surprised. One of the officers acted as if he'd been prepared for this and immediately started saying something about faulty wiring or something along those lines.
Kazuo growled as he got to his feet, baring his teeth.
He stormed toward the firefighters and shouted in fury, "What the hell? Where were you? People got hurt! Look at this. There's blood everywhere. What were you doing, finishing your tea? Why weren't you here when the place was burning?"
The officer only shrugged. "Traffic."
There was nothing in his answer that showed even a trace of concern or tension about what had happened. His tone sounded lazy and completely indifferent.
The paramedics rushed straight to the injured humans and beastfolk. Some of them were taken away in ambulances right away, while others sat on the sidewalk waiting for the next ones to arrive.
As for hybrids like me… we were ignored. Anyone who asked for help got, at best, a roll of bandages. If they were lucky, maybe some ointment. And all of it came with looks of open disgust, as though we were something filthy. Yes, we were hybrids, but we had been hurt the same as everyone else. So why were we treated this way?
Kazuo, still shaking with anger, tried to pull himself together. He paced back and forth, doing what he could to calm people down, trying to help however he could, trying to squeeze at least some basic first-aid supplies out of the annoyed paramedics for those who had not yet been treated.
There was a sense of hopelessness on his face. It looked as though he was close to giving up.
I sat on the edge of the sidewalk, staring at my bloodied hands. My whole body was trembling in complete shock. Everything around me seemed distant, as though it was happening behind glass, muffled and unreal. My mind was empty, unable to make sense of any of it.
Kazuo stepped up to me and put a hand on my shoulder.
"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. We got out. That's what matters. Everyone's alive. Right now, we need to calm down."
I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or to himself.
My ears were still ringing. Smoke clung to my clothes, my hair, my skin. My chest hurt every time I inhaled.
"What… what the hell just happened?" I asked hoarsely. "Is this a nightmare? What about the police? Did they catch whoever did this?"
Kazuo exhaled slowly and lowered himself onto the curb. He shook his head.
"No," he said. "I don't think they even want to listen to me. It's bullshit. We were attacked, and they're acting like—" He stopped mid-sentence, dragged a hand down his face, and pressed his paw to his forehead.
"Your hands," I said at once, grabbing his palms.
He flinched.
"Kazuo, they're burned. You need to-"
"They put something on them," he cut in. "It's fine. That doesn't matter right now."
"It does matter," I shouted. "You don't understand. Your hands matter."
Tears threatened to spill at any second. Everything shook: my voice, my hands, my whole body.
He looked at me, then sighed. "All right. Fine." He pulled his hands free and stood up. "I'll go ask them to wrap them or something. I don't know." Then he looked down at me again. "And you breathe. Slow breaths. In and out. In and out. You need to calm down… We both do."
He headed toward the paramedics, still moving between people, their vests flashing in the harsh emergency lights.
I stayed where I was.
My legs felt heavy, like they might give out if I moved. I lifted my head, trying to orient myself, trying to make sense of the scene around me.
And then I saw him.
Across the street, near a parked car, a familiar silhouette leaned against the door, a cigarette glowing between his fingers.
I didn't even realize I was moving until I was already running.
"Ed—" My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, tried again. "Ed, thank God… you're here."
He glanced at me, smoke curling from his lips, eyes cool under the streetlight.
"Luka." His voice was calm. Too calm.
I moved closer, desperate, trembling. "You saw, right? What did they do? The fire! Kazuo and I barely got everyone out. The police… they don't care. They don't care at all. But you—" I reached for him, my bloody hand half-raised before I thought better and pulled it back. "You can help. I know you can. Please."
He studied me silently, eyes flicking over the blood smeared across my arm, the burns on my side, the soot in my hair. For a second, I thought I saw something shift in his expression. Then it was gone.
Ed took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaled, then said, "And why, exactly, should I?"
I blinked, stunned. "W-what?"
He looked at me while taking another drag.
"You're covered in blood," he said flatly. "It's not stopping. You're filthy. Ash, dirt..." His eyes flicked over me. "And the first thing you do is run straight to me. What exactly did you expect?"
I blinked, disoriented. "What… what are you talking about?"
"What do you want me to do?" he went on, voice calm, almost bored. "Drive you somewhere? Wrap you in bandages? Wash you off? Fix all your problems for you?"
I stared at him, my head spinning. "I—I don't understand," I said. "Ed, I don't know what you're—"
"I think you're perfectly capable of dealing with your own problems," he interrupted. "You're not a kid. When something goes wrong, you don't run to the first person you see."
"The first person?" My voice cracked. "Ed, what are you saying?" I took a step closer, my chest tight. "We need to talk to the police," I said desperately. "They have to find whoever did this. They're not listening to us… but they'll listen to you."
He studied me for a long moment, then took another slow drag.
"Is that my responsibility?" he asked.
I froze. "What?"
I stood there, unable to move, unable to breathe properly.
"Ed… the bar burned down," I said quietly. "You saw it. You know what happened. Why are you acting like this? Why are you even here if you don't—"
He cut me off. "What's happening?" he repeated. "What's happening is I came to have a drink, and there's no bar anymore." He shrugged slightly. "So there's no reason for me to come back."
That felt like a punch straight through my chest.
He took one last drag, dropped the cigarette to the asphalt, and crushed it under his shoe. Then he turned and walked toward the car door.
"Ed—" I lunged forward and grabbed his sleeve, instinctive, desperate.
He jerked his arm away immediately.
"Don't touch me," he snapped and looked at me with something cold in his eyes. "That's not how you behave with people, Luka."
I stood there, stunned.
What the fuck was happening?
He got into the car. For a split second, through the slightly tinted window, our eyes met.
There was something in his gaze.
Pity?
Disgust?
I couldn't tell.
I didn't understand.
The engine started, then the car pulled away.
And that was it.
I stood there, covered in blood and ash, surrounded by sirens, shouting, and the crackling remains of what used to be our bar.
A world that, just moments ago, had been safe collapsed completely.
It was a nightmare.
My own fucking hell.