Prologue First Remaining Heat
– This is seriously bad
Feeling the hard ground on his face, he realized that he had collapsed.
There is no strength in his whole body. The feeling in his fingers was already gone.
A heat dominates the center of his body, so hot he wants to tear his throat out.
– Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot.
He opens his mouth to scream, but instead of his voice a clot of blood spills out.
Coughing, he vomits out enough from his throat that it seems like his life force itself came out. The froths of blood make a gurgling sound at it spills from the corners of his mouth. In his blurry field of vision, he could see the surface was dyed in red.
–ah, is this all, my blood.?
The hemorrhaging was enough to bathe his entire fallen body in blood. Approximately 8% of the human body is made up of blood, and losing even one third of that would be life-threatening — But it seems as if he has spilled all 8% of it.
He had stopped vomiting blood from his mouth, but the “heat” that seemed to burn his body to ashes was still active. Barely managing to move his hand, he reaches for his abdomen and realizes something.
–What, my stomach is torn apart.?
Its no wonder that it feels hot. It seems as if he was hallucinating pain as heat. A sharp laceration had cut his torso almost in half, his lower back barely connected by a piece of skin.
In other words, it seems as if he has encountered “Checkmate” in his life.
The moment he understands this his consciousness fades rapidly.
The “Heat” that had forced him to writhe in pain before disappears. The unpleasant sensation of blood and the feeling of his hand touching his internal organs also fade away with his consciousness. What was left behind was the body that had rejected to accompany the “soul”.
He urges the body to move with his vanishing awareness. His neck is lifted slightly upwards.
He sees black shoes make ripples as they step in the pool of fresh blood that covers the floor like a carpet. Someone is there. And that someone is probably the one that killed me.
Strangely, he did not want to look at the face of that person. It was the opportunity to see the person that killed him, but he did not have a fragment of interest in their identity.
The only thing he wished for – that she would be safe.
“-baru?”
He feels like he can hear a bell-like voice. [tl: as in clear, pretty]
Seeing as he was in a state where he did not know where his ears were or where his nose was, the possibility of mishearing was very high. Nevertheless, even if this was just a memory being replayed in his mind, that voice brought a pleasant feeling to him.
And so-
“—!”
A short shriek rings out, and the carpet of blood welcomes a new person. The body had fallen right beside his, and his arm that was loosely extended was close. His hand covered in blood clasps the white, lifeless hand that had fallen.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence.
It seemed as if the white fingers faintly squeezed back.
“..st wait” [tl: just guessing, the Japanese here isn’t clear as to what verb he is saying]
Grabbing his fading consciousness by the nape of its neck, he forces his body to turn and buys time. Both “pain” and “heat”, everything seems distant. It was the futile struggling of a loser.
And yet, nonetheless —.
“I will, definitely —”
—- save you.
In the next instant he — Natsuki Subaru lost his life.
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