The heat was overwhelming as Kuroi burst through the front door, flames licking at the walls and ceiling, turning the once-cozy home into a blazing inferno. The thick, harsh smoke filled his lungs, making it difficult to breathe, but he pushed forward, his mind set on one thing—finding the child.

“Yuki!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the roaring fire. “Where are you?!”

No response came, only the crackling of flames as they devoured everything in their path. Kuroi covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, trying to filter out the smoke. His eyes stung, tears streaming down his face as he squinted through the haze.

He moved deeper into the house, each step more treacherous than the last. The floor beneath him creaked ominously, threatening to give way at any moment. He scanned the room, searching for any sign of the child.

“Yuki!” he called again, more desperately this time.

Then, faintly, he heard it—a whimper, soft but unmistakable, coming from down the hallway. Kuroi’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t too late.

He stumbled toward the sound, the smoke growing thicker as he neared the source. Finally, he reached a small bedroom, the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, he found her—a little girl, no older than five or six, curled up in a corner, her small body trembling in fear.

“Yuki,” Kuroi said, his voice as gentle as he could manage despite the chaos around them. “I’m here to help. We need to get out of here.”

The girl looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with terror. She didn’t move, paralyzed by fear.

Kuroi dropped to his knees, crawling toward her. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to reassure her. “We’re going to get out of here. But you need to listen to me, okay?”

She nodded, her tiny hands clutching a stuffed toy to her chest.

“The smoke is dangerous,” he explained, keeping his voice calm. “We need to stay low and crawl to the door, okay? Follow me.”

Kuroi turned and started crawling toward the door, keeping his body as low to the ground as possible. He could hear Yuki following him, her movements hesitant but determined.

They made it to the hallway, the heat intensifying with each passing second. The flames were closer now, consuming the walls around them. Kuroi could feel the sweat pouring down his face, his skin prickling from the intense heat.

“Almost there,” he muttered to himself, trying to keep his focus. The front door was in sight, just a few more feet.

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But as they neared the exit, a loud crack echoed through the house, followed by a deafening crash. Kuroi turned just in time to see a section of the ceiling collapse behind them, cutting off their escape route.

“Run!” he shouted to Yuki, pushing her forward. “Get to the door!”

The little girl hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide with fear, but then she sprinted toward the door, her small legs carrying her as fast as they could.

Kuroi followed, his heart pounding in his chest, but before he could reach the exit, another beam from the ceiling came crashing down in front of him, blocking his path. The impact threw him to the ground, the force knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Yuki… go…” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. Through a small gap, he saw the girl make it the outside. She turned back, her eyes filled with worry, but Kuroi forced a smile, nodding for her to keep going.

Kuroi heard a faint but distinct voice calling from outside. “Yuki! Yuki, over here!” It was her mother’s voice, strained with fear but filled with hope. “Mommy!” Yuki cried out, running toward the sound. Kuroi felt a brief sense of relief wash over him as he watched Yuki’s small figure disappear into the night. He could just make out the sound of her mother’s voice again, this time filled with overwhelming joy, followed by Yuki’s muffled sobs of relief as they reached each other safely.

Kuroi tried to follow, but his strength was fading fast. The smoke filled his lungs, burning his throat and chest. His vision dimmed, the world around him fading into darkness.

Desperation clawed at Kuroi as he searched for an opening, any way to escape the inferno that surrounded him. He stumbled through the smoke, his eyes burning, but all he could see was darkness and the flickering shadows of flames. Every path he turned to was blocked, consumed by fire, leaving him with no way out.

He tried to get up, but the smoke was too thick now, suffocating him. His vision blurred as he gasped for breath, his body growing weaker with each passing second.

In his final moments of consciousness, Kuroi’s mind raced back through the years he had wasted. He thought of his life, spent in the confines of his small, dark room, immersed in his own world of anime and games while the world outside moved on without him.

He remembered how he had watched from the shadows as his mother tended to her bonsai and the ornamental grass in their front yard, her hands moving with care and love. Sometimes, he had even helped her, feeling a fleeting sense of purpose.

Now, in these moments of clarity, he saw her again, taking care of him throughout the years, her face lit with a gentle, protective love. It struck him—she was a real hero, someone who faced life with strength and grace, while he had done nothing but hide.

Tears streamed down his face as he lay on the floor, the heat and smoke pressing in on him. The realization of his own uselessness washed over him like a wave. He thought again of his mother, the warmth of her embrace, and how he had never appreciated her fully.

With his last bit of strength, he whispered, “Mom…I'm sorry...” his voice barely audible over the crackling flames. It was a cry for comfort, for a life he had missed out on, for a chance to be something more.

In the distance, the faint sound of sirens wailed through the night, growing louder with each passing second. But for Kuroi, they were just a distant echo, too far away to change what was already happening. The fire had moved too quickly, the smoke too thick, and the rescuers too late.

And then, the darkness closed in. The world faded away, the sounds of the fire growing distant until there was only silence.

And then, there was nothing at all.