They had created a little boy who was ready to give his life to kill his enemies. A true Matsuda. Misaki’s head dropped onto Hiroshi’s tiny shoulder. The monster crumbled, and she was just a woman, just a mother who had failed her son. “Hiroshi…” Her voice broke. “Come here.” Gathering the boy into her arms, she held him tight, and loved him, loved him as hard as she could, and hoped it would be enough to wash everything else away. Hiroshi, as always, was cold. MAMORU
