Thomas POV

"N-no...Sho...my boy..."

My precious boy lies face down against the carpet floor, his body as stiff as ice with a pool of dark reddish blood gathered beneath him. My knees give way, and I buckle forward, slowly crumbling to the ground. I would've never thought our reunion would look like this. If I had known…why would I have left you?

Sniffle - Whimpers

"…m-m-my son…(whimpering)"

I clutch despairingly at the clothes against his back. He's stiff as a cold stone; nothing could've ever prepared me for this.

'What do I do? What do I do? Someone...anyone, help me!'

My mind races with 101 thoughts simultaneously. I know I'm in hysterics, possibly in shock, but my boy...my boy is…

"NO!" I almost roar myself free from self-hopelessness. 

I slam a firm hand against my chest, briefly ceasing the air in my lungs, bringing my torso to keel over.

I began to wheeze, falling into a state of continuous coughing. I retched, expelling the trapped air from my throat and lungs. Placing my palm against the center of my chest, I slowly started to practice an age-old breathing technique, somehow coming back to me after all this time. I remembered that foreign place, a lifetime ago, and yet her deranged wide smile still finds me in moments of need.

"P-pink...princess?" I unconsciously mutter

Slowly, I start to feel a euphoric air stirring within my mind for a few moments.

'Focus...Focus...Tom...It's not over...I...I have to save him.'

I snort the mucus back up my nostrils before wiping my eyes, but more tears fall and I end up drenching my sleeves in warm droplets.

 My entire body still feels heavy enough to stagger me once I rise to my feet. I had completely forgotten myself, naturally, seeing the chaos that had befallen my home. I lost sight of who I was for a short moment. But my own emotions held no truth against the current crisis. So all I can do is to channel the last remaining ounce of sanity I could hold onto into finding a solution. 

Knowing the secrets I knew and living in the type of world I lived in, I understood things were never truly the end.

Death is one of those things.

I sprinted out of Ringo's room, my eyes scanning the hallway briefly before my memory jolted me toward my marital bedroom. In a swift motion, I reached into my pockets and retrieved my phone. Facial recognition swiftly unlocked the screen, and I swiped my thumb across it to make a call. The sound of the dial tone offered a fleeting moment of relief, a small oasis in the chaos surrounding me.

'pickup-pickup-pickup come one... pick up the phone.'

Meanwhile, the frenetic energy inside me kept me pacing within the room my wife had inhabited alone for so long. The air felt charged with an eerie sense of unfamiliarity, as though I were a trespasser in an uncharted domain. The room, once a sanctuary to us both, now harbored the echoes of a life disrupted, a quiet battleground, one I had actively caused and ran away from. 

(Sigh) "I hope you're safe too...R-ren." I spoke aloud, hoping if there was a God, he would look after both my wife and my daughter.

"Ahem! He-hello, Thomas is that you! Have you seen the craziness going on! Are you safe! The kids! Ren! What's going on?"

The slightly disoriented voice arrived through my phone, yanking me forcefully from my previous daydreams.

"Jotaro! Don't talk, just listen." Urgency laced my words, knowing the kind of fellow he is, If I didn't take charge of the phone call God knows he wouldn't stop talking.

"My s-son is seriously hurt…(gulp) and I need your help."

There was a brief pause, no more than four seconds, before Jotaro's voice arrived again, devoid of the cloudy dreariness from before.

"…what do you need?" He was completely locked in, ready to respond to the urgency in my voice.

We cut the phone after a brief exchange, and I can already sense Jotaro's apprehension. I'm well aware of the future implications of what we're about to do, but at this moment, I can't afford to care. The only thing that matters is making sure my boy lives.

Once back by the close-to-dead body of Shoba, I kneel beside him, prying open the silver case I cradled underneath my arm, to reveal a set of vials with sparkling, differently colored liquids inside. A syringe, gauze, needles, and scissors lay within. I swiftly affix the syringe, grab the lime-colored liquid, and fill it. With practiced efficiency, I line it gently against the top of Shoba's arm and inject it slowly. Nervously, I place my ears against his back and wait. 

One hundred and twenty seconds pass…nothing. He's still not breathing. 

'Not good—not good.'

I resort to plan B, swiftly extracting the stainless disks along with a thick white wristband featuring a dial affixed to its middle. Before securing the band onto myself, I delicately maneuver Shoba onto his back. The sight of blood gushing from his open wound tightens my chest, and upon closer inspection, my gaze rattles from the sheer shock of what I'm witnessing. His wound is this grievous—a deep laceration extending from the collarbone to the upper abdomen. 

"If I don't hurry…he won't make it," 

I grit my teeth, suddenly finding solace in vocalizing my thoughts. My eyes narrow as I attempt to calm my racing heartbeat and intensely focus on the task at hand. I couldn't make a single mistake.

 A second slower than what I needed to be and...Shoba will...

Prying open Shoba's half-torn vest reveals his bony and slightly defined torso. I carefully take hold of the silver discs, gently placing each one against his chest. After securing the control dial, I steady my breath before activating the defibrillator. The whining sounds of electric currents fill the air, and Shoba's entire body is jolted upright. His eyes flash open, a groan breaks free from his dried mouth, and tears well in my eyes as I drop everything, clutching my only son close to my chest.

"Shoba! It's me! Can you hear me? Shoba?" He feels so cold and fragile right now; I'm scared I might break him if I hold on too tightly. His eyes move around erratically, disoriented, confused, and scared. After a few seconds, he finally finds focus on me. I see a look of surprise flash against his face, confusion, pain, and then...sadness, a deep swell of anguish glazes his eyes. He attempts to say something, but feint whispers creep painfully through his slightly opened mouth. His mouth splutters blood onto my chest; he's trying to speak but finds no strength. 

I could do nothing but watch agonizingly while his eyelids slowly shut once more.

I fight the feeling of anguish threatening to swallow me whole, taking a small comfort in knowing he's just unconscious. '

His heart is beating… at least I have some time now.' 

I wipe my eyes and begin to clean and treat the gaping wound, a small sense of pride birthing in my chest seeing him fight on despite the horrific injury.

"Stay strong, my boy… stay strong."

I meticulously wrapped Shoba in a thick gauze, ensuring another shot of the refined body-healing liquid flowed through his veins. My foot pressed firmly on the accelerator, unleashing the full power of the engine. The tense drive to the off-site laboratory consumed only 10 minutes. The car park, usually bustling, lay empty with rows of empty parking spaces. It was strange to know that 5 years had gone by since I last saw this place, and things were very different at that time. My marriage for one, was perhaps at the most stable it had ever been five years ago. One single choice I made, changed everything.

Without restraint, I steered wildly to the front of the twin doors, swinging my car door open before the car itself came to a full stop. Shoba lay in the backseat, a makeshift drip with a long tube attached, providing him with oxygen. Leaping out, I yanked open the backseat, cradling his cold body gracefully against my chest. His skin felt as cold as ice, and a bluish-purple hue formed around his mouth. Understanding the gravity of these signs, I hastened my footsteps, standing in front of the sliding doors just as Jotaro appeared with impeccable timing.

He was a short fellow, but tonight I noticed a more hunched outline to his stocky frame. His walk seemed stiff, and the events around Tokyo had clearly taken a toll on him too. He swiped a card against a hidden panel, and the sliding doors opened, unleashing a cooler air with a hint of mint bathing against my sweaty and stiffened body. Combing his small silver strands to one side in a lazy attempt to conceal his bald spots, his half-closed eyelids framed a flat nose with grey whiskers resembling wings flying away from the top of his lips.

"You got here fast," he remarked hoarsely, glancing at Shoba in my arms. A pained expression flashed across his serious gaze.

"Sigh… Well don't just stand there, get in Tom. We have some work to do."