The temporary room at the community center was even smaller than the hospital ward, but it had a window overlooking the old locust tree in the courtyard outside, its leaves nearly all gone.
Lance Blue set his old backpack in the corner against the wall.
He did not touch anything inside, leaving it where it was. Elliot brought him toiletries and several changes of clothes.
"Stay here for now. Whenever you want to move to Hero Tower or find a place of your own, that’s fine," Elliot said. After patting him on the shoulder, he said nothing more.
Once the door closed, the room fell quiet.
Lance Blue sat beside the bed for a while, then got up and walked to the window.
He could not see the street in District 70 from here, only the quiet courtyard of the community center and the hazy skyline in the distance.
Hero Tower should have been in that direction, but he could not see it.
He lowered his gaze to the pale blue glow on his wrist.
[2,801,080]
The number had risen a little since he was at the hospital, very slowly.
It felt strange.
Then suddenly—his terminal vibrated.
A new message.
[Hero Association Announcement: The confirmation process for heroes participating in the 12th Hero Ranking Matches will begin next week. Heroes ranked in the top ten will automatically qualify to participate. If you are unable to participate for any reason, you must report it in advance...]
What followed was a lengthy list of detailed rules.
Lance Blue gave it a glance, then dismissed the notification.
Hero Ranking Matches.
Something he had seen countless times in the news and in Elliot’s files.
Only the top ten heroes were eligible to compete for the title of "X." He was currently ranked seventh.
Should he be excited about this?
Like those children who dreamed of becoming heroes?
Lance Blue returned to the bed, lay down, and stared at the ceiling.
His body no longer hurt.
The restorative power brought by Trust Value had reduced the burns on his back to a faint patch of pink new skin. The doctor said there might not even be scars left behind.
This was probably part of the "miracle" as well.
He rolled over and took the gold Union Coin from his coat pocket.
The coin spun between his fingers, reflecting the light from the window.
He opened the public database built into his wrist terminal. Its permissions had automatically been unlocked in accordance with his rank.
Among its vast records, he entered the keywords: Hero Ranking Matches, Union Year 13.
That was the year he had been born.
As if realizing something, he changed Union Year 13 to Union Year 12.
The search results appeared. At the top was a title: [Union Year 12 Hero Ranking Matches Finals: The End of a Legend and the Rise of a New Star]
[MG—Soul Current vs. DOS—NINE]
Lance Blue opened it.
After watching the video, he was somewhat inclined to withdraw from this year’s Hero Ranking Matches.
"Uncle Elliot, could you help me contact Uncle Grant? There’s something I want to talk to him about."
...
For the next two days, Lance Blue did not leave.
He stayed in his room at the community center or went to the library to read.
Elliot found him materials on the history of the Hero Association and the fundamentals of ability classification theory. He leafed through them, but did not really take much of it in.
The people at the community center had subtly changed their attitudes toward him.
Before, he had been "that clever child who lived at the newsstand." Everyone had been kind to him, with a trace of pity.
Now, he was Hero Miracle.
There was more curiosity and scrutiny in their eyes, even a touch of barely perceptible distance.
Even the kitchen lady who always gave him an extra scoop of food hesitated when handing him his meal box, as though she did not know whether to speak to him normally or more respectfully.
Only the children had not changed much.
Several children who often came to the community center for classes crowded around him, chattering away with questions.
"Did you really rush into the fire?"
"Did it hurt?"
"Do heroes not have to go to school?"
Lance Blue answered them perfunctorily, but felt relieved inside. Talking with children was simpler instead.
On the afternoon of the third day, he went to the hospital.
Mrs. Carter had already been moved to a regular ward. She looked much better. The moment she saw him, she smiled, took his hand, and talked to him for a long time before finally wiping away tears.
Chloe’s leg still could not bear weight, but she was in good spirits. She said that once her mother was discharged, they would move together to their new home in District 7.
"Come visit when that happens. We’ll keep a room for you," Chloe said.
Lance Blue nodded and said all right.
After leaving the hospital, he returned to the street in District 70.
The fencing was still there, but workers were already measuring and marking out the burned ground.
Jake said the reconstruction plan had been announced. The area would be turned into a small plaza with greenery and benches, with a little fountain in the middle to commemorate the incident.
"There won’t be a place for a pancake stall anymore." Jake scratched his head.
"But I leased a little snack shop on the next street over. I’m planning to open a general store that sells breakfast too. From now on, breakfast is on me whenever you come by."
Lance Blue looked at him and remembered the yogurt hidden beneath the convenience store counter.
"All right."
That evening, he returned to the community center.
Elliot was in his office. When he saw Lance Blue return, he took a note from his desk drawer.
"Reporter Grant came by this afternoon, but you weren’t here. He left a time and an address."
Elliot handed him the note. "He said you could find him there. He has some things he wants to show you, too."
The note listed a time: ten o’clock tomorrow morning. The address was an old warehouse district on the edge of District 12, with the building number too blurred to make out clearly.
Lance Blue took the note, folded it, and put it in his pocket.
"Do you want to go?" Elliot asked.
Lance Blue thought about it, then nodded.
"Be careful."
Elliot did not say much more, only adding, "Grant is a stubborn man, but he can be trusted. The plane crash left him with certain views about the hero system, but he isn’t cynical about the world."
"He wants to uncover the problem, then do something about it."
...
At nine-thirty the next morning, Lance Blue followed the address on the note and found the warehouse district.
It was far from the main roads, filled with discarded construction materials or materials waiting to be processed. Few people came here under normal circumstances.
He passed between rusted iron gates and disorderly shipping containers. At the far end of a row of old warehouses, he finally found a side door left slightly ajar.
Light shone through the crack in the door.
Lance Blue pushed it open and entered.
The space inside was large, but cluttered with old furniture, document boxes, and the wreckage of electronic equipment, like a chaotic storage room.
Only an area in the center had been cleared out. It held an old table, several chairs, and a whiteboard propped up on a stand.
Grant stood before the whiteboard with a marker in his hand. The board was covered with photographs, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes, linked by strings of different colors into a complicated web.
Hearing the sound, Grant turned around. He was not wearing his jacket today, only an old sweater. He looked more exhausted than he had at the hospital, but his eyes were bright.
"You’re here." He set down the marker and pointed to a chair. "Sit."
Lance Blue walked over but did not sit. He looked at the whiteboard first.
Its contents were a mess. There were photos of the plane crash site, some taken from highly concealed angles and clearly not officially released; file excerpts on Vortex and Fracture; an organizational chart of the Hero Association; and several names and Hero Office names circled and marked with question marks.
And in one corner of the whiteboard was a small, slightly blurry photograph.
It showed a side profile sitting on a swing at an orphanage, cyan hair bowed low.
Lance Blue’s gaze lingered on the picture for several seconds.
"How is she?" he asked.
He meant the cyan-haired girl who had somehow survived the plane crash.
"She’s stabilized. She’s very quiet and doesn’t speak much, but she plays with the other children."
Grant walked over to the table and picked up a folder. "There’s nothing wrong with her physical examination. She remembers nothing, including her own name."
"I named her Cyan."
Cyan.
Lance Blue silently repeated the name.
Lance Blue looked at him. He knew that this was not what Grant truly wanted to say.
"You didn’t bring me here just to tell me this," he said.
Grant nodded.
He returned to the whiteboard and pointed at a cluster of names and incidents connected by red string.
"After the plane crash, the Association established a special investigation team. On the surface, it was meant to investigate the cause of the accident and assign responsibility. But in reality..." His finger tapped the names "Vortex" and "Fracture."
"The focus of the investigation quickly became ‘how to control public opinion,’ ‘how to minimize the impact on the image of the two major Hero Offices,’ and ‘how to use this incident to adjust the allocation of hero resources.’"
"The 147 people on that plane, including this child, were nothing but numbers in the report." Grant’s voice was calm, but Lance Blue could feel the suppressed fury beneath it.
"More ironically, because of your appearance, the focus of this matter was even shifted away."
"Right now, the public and the media are more concerned with the birth of Hero Miracle. Discussion of the crash itself is declining instead. For some people, that is practically a dream come true."
Lance Blue was silent. He remembered the notification about the Hero Ranking Matches on his terminal. The timing was indeed suspiciously convenient.
"What do you want me to do? Use my rank and the attention on me to bring this back into the spotlight?"
"No." Grant shook his head. "Doing that would only drag both you and that child into a more dangerous situation."
He walked over to stand before Lance Blue, looking straight into his eyes.
"I called you here because I want to ask you a question. Lance Blue, you are now Hero Miracle, ranked seventh. You have influence. You have public attention."
"What do you plan to do with that identity?"
Lance Blue did not answer at once. He looked at Grant, then at the complex network on the whiteboard and the photograph of the cyan-haired girl in its corner.
"I don’t know," he said honestly. "I never thought things would turn out this way."
"Then think about it," Grant said.
"Do not think about how to become a good hero, how many missions to complete, or how much to improve your rank. Think about what you have seen, what you believe in, and... what you are willing to take responsibility for."
Lance Blue looked at his wrist. The terminal screen was dark, but the number beneath it weighed heavily on him.
He had seen the despair in the fire, and he had seen life beneath the rubble.
He believed the key Mrs. Carter had handed over should not have become a keepsake. He believed the cyan-haired girl’s existence should not be erased.
What was he willing to take responsibility for?
He remembered the final thought that had flashed through his mind before he rushed into the fire:
At the very least, I can’t just stand by and watch.
It was the same now.
The truth should not remain hidden, and the cyan-haired girl should not go uncared for. That would be far too unfair to her, and to all the people who had died in the plane crash.
If he wanted to protect the people he wanted to protect, he needed the strength to defeat every powerful enemy.
"I want to become X."
"I want to change all of this."
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