Last Remnants

"I can’t believe what I’m seeing ladies and gentlemen! It appears the hero Ogata saved a crowd of, ten, eleven… Twenty-eight people!?” The male newscaster was gleaming with the sight of the boar hero Ogata, saving many from the fire of the building. The smoke bellowed and the hero with his sheer might held them together, a pile above his shoulders.

“Apologies! I know how uncomfortable that must be.” He laughed setting them down safe on the ground, a group of medics coming to tend to their wounds and set them up to be transported to the hospital.

“Oh my, goodness!” A girl of 9-years-old sat with her group of six friends in the living room. The TV full blast, and the girl punching the air as she stood from the couch pretending to be in a scuffle. “Did you see that!? The boar hero doesn’t only fight, he can save people too, now that’s cool!” said the girl, Usagi.

“Yeah, yeah!” a boy of the same age, Okazaki pretended to shadowbox her, and she accepted the challenge, the two play fought near the other two boys, Ishimoto and Shoji.

“Hey, take it easy. You don’t want to hit us.” Shoji said laying his head to rest.

“I agree. That’ll hurt honestly.” Ishimoto laughed making the two scrunch their faces.

“Man, you guys are boring.”

“Yeah.” Okazaki agreed.

“You guys fight so amazingly too! You’re like, practically remnants!” Keiko, the girl who bounded up and down like an excited rabbit smiled brighter than anyone in the room.

“It was very cool.” Giggled Takei, the girl who sat in a proper upright position.

“Takei. You sit so good it, makes me jealous.” Keiko said.

“I just do what my father taught me to.”

“Your dad must be cool, too!” She laughed going over to the pair who were pretend fighting, now standing aside from the other two boys in front view.

“Let me join too!” Keiko took a battle stance, her hands up like she was going to chop them. “It’ll be a battle for the ages! Muhaha!”

“You’re on!” Usagi immediately took the challenge up, and Okazaki followed suit. The three now battling it out, the room started to resemble a field more than a cramped shanty-like abode.

“Kids. Dinner is ready.” The sweet voice of Usagi’s mother called.

“Oh sweet, guys let’s go!” Usagi leads the charge into the kitchen, and the other two follow.

“Hey, Shoji. Come on, time for dinner.” Ishimoto shook him awake. He lazily rose to his feet wiping sleep from his eyes.

“Darn, I was having such a cool dream about meeting Ogata too.” He tumbled his way to the kitchen, Ishimoto guiding him along.

The last one remains, Takei, she was about to rise.

“Mr. Ogata! I have to ask! Why do you do what you do!?” Takei knew why he asked that. In a world turning the way it started too, asking that question seemed like a logical one over a strange one.

“Heroes are a dying breed. Rare, and culled by the dreaded Mr. Ravage, a villain of the ages, in a world falling apart. The golden age of heroism may be a thing of the past, but that doesn’t mean there is no need for them. We need them now more than ever!” He answered with gusto.

“Right, you are. With world tensions rising everywhere from sea to sea, it’s no wonder we need people like you more than ever. Thank you so much, Mr. Og-“ The newscaster stopped in his tracks. There was a figure above the building, shadowed, nobody could make them out, only the voice of a woman.

“My, Mr. Ogata. What a wonderful deed of goodness you’ve done. If only it was enough to make a difference.” The shadow figure jumps to the ground. A good seventy-foot drop. She was unscathed. Nothing can be seen, only a dangling charm from a choker around her neck, something all remnants had holding their power; Hers, a charm of a human skull.

“Bones.” Ogata gave her a look of disgust.

“B-bones?” asked the newscaster.

“Yes. My name is Bones. Though it is only partially my name, there is no need to know more about me than that.” Part of her face revealed out of the shadow of the smoke and midnight landscape, a wicked smirk was plastered on her face. Bones. One of many names given to the villains akin to the abandonment of their old ways. Their namesake to keep others from knowing who they are, and identify with the plight of evil.

All civilians in danger of the fire were taken to the hospital, all that remained was them, bystanders, the newscaster and the cameraman who exited the immediate proximity.

“Stand back everyone!” The crowd backed up more. They knew how remnants could be when they intended to fight and everyone could feel the tension choking the air. The girl standing there seemed to allow this, letting them get a safe distance before pulling something out of a utility belt around her waist. In her finger, she held a vial, a white substance inside.

“Now that we have no interruptions. I believe it’s time for me to complete my mission.” In a swoop the vial burst open, the substance coursing the air like sand and a moment later, a crunching. The newscaster immediately runs himself in front of the camera.

“Shut the live feed, cut the live feed!” The newscaster hasted out. The screen went into a standby message, a buzzing sounded in the room leaving Takei with a sense of horror.

“O-ogata…” She said. “H-he’ll win, he always does.” There was an uncertainty in her voice. Remnants, the Remnant heroes, they were being killed.

#

Years have come and gone 'The world is to be set ablaze before the downfall of the old pretended rainbow. The deathly eyes of every man, woman, and child shall set forth the new beginnings and, in its place, a wonderful new day.' The words ring through her head. The man named Mr. Nuke Happy and his tainted view of the world. Takei Hisako heard this speech with the rest of the world. A hijacked news broadcast and social media takeover made sure every child under the sun understood. The end of the old world was near.

Takei grips the soothing blanket of her couch. The helpless feeling sets in, the one that she thought was dead and gone. She stares up at the ceiling.

The worry of her face fades away, the warming stare of her mother replacing it in her mind. “The world isn’t set in stone, child. The world is a mold set to billions of souls. We shape it, and just like the rest, your hands lay on it. Make of it what you will.” The light of her life that turned into a wick left to the wind. She never forgets her, and at this time, she never will.

“Turn off that damn news.” The man who would take the irreplaceable place of her mother walks into the room.

“Sorry, I just wanted to see what was on.” She shuts the TV off, staring at the black screen. The reflection of her father is dead set in the center.

“Go to bed. I’ve had a long day,” he demands, gripping the remote away from her and taking a sit in the middle of the couch.

“Yes, sir.” She retreats to her room, catching a glimpse of the bottle held in his hand. The one he holds like he used to her mother’s hand. He was such a different man back then.

Being a teenager now, she is still treated as a child. Her room is littered with the remains of what was a childhood long ago. Bunny plushies, grades from elementary, and the sway of an eight-year-old girl haven’t grown stained in it. A seventeen, soon-to-be eighteen-year-old girl remains. She lays in her bed, closing her eyes, dreaming of yesterday and hoping for tomorrow. She hopes for the world to keep going on, as all who live under the umbrella of this world seek.