Chapter thirteen

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They stood at the edge of the forest, Makoto scrutinizing the busy highway while Mandy's fingers absently danced on a nearby tree trunk. It had taken them a while to reach civilization, but they finally made it out. 

The sun was setting, bathing the city stretching out before their eyes in a warm orange glow. The buildings on the other side of the road were small and neatly lined up with white walls and red roofs – a typical residential area. Makoto could make out skyscrapers beyond, the last rays of the sun reflected on their glass panes.

From his limited experience as a fugitive, this was the type of place that was big enough for people like them to hide in, yet small enough for more lenient security measures. He grabbed the steel rail separating him from the pavement and the dense flow of cars, patiently waiting for their chance to cross. 

Amanda took a step forward so as to stand directly beside him. There was no clear interruption in the heavy traffic, but there came a moment when it eased up, allowing them to sprint across with indignant honking following them over to the other side.

They stepped over the barrier and slid down the grassy slope. Makoto was forced to sit down once they reached the bottom as pain flared in his shoulder. He took deep breaths, silently willing it to stop. Amanda stood beside him, her head tilted in his direction. There wasn't much she could do besides offer wordless support.

Luckily for them both, the bullet had gone clean through, for they would have had neither the knowledge nor the means to deal with such an injury otherwise. While Makoto could heal most wounds – in some cases even life-threatening ones –, his ability didn't work on his own person, which had left Amanda to treat him to the best of her capacity and with what little supplies they had.

As the pain slowly abated, Makoto threw a glance at their surroundings. They were on a grassy patch next to a curve in the street. The road up ahead led into the suburbs, while the right seemed to join the highway. 

He stood, mindful of his right shoulder, and started up the street, assuming it would eventually lead them into the city itself. Residential areas didn't offer any decent hiding spots and he wasn't inclined to break into a house only to stare down a barrel of a shotgun – they'd done more than enough of that with the CS.

Street lamps flickered to life above their heads. Their steps were hurried but assured as they tried to keep up the appearance of two high school kids on their way home. 

The lights were turned on in most homes, Makoto catching glimpses of happily chatting families gathering for supper. It made him wonder what his own mother was currently up to. Probably still at work and doing her damnedest to forget about her only son, who was now not only a disappointment but a criminal too.

He shot a bitter glare at the family in the next house, sitting around a table with their youngest energetically waving her arms as she told them about her day. 

His lips turned down as they all began laughing, the father fondly ruffling the little girl's hair. Makoto had never known his father and as far as he could remember, no one had ever ruffled his hair – affectionately or otherwise.

A quick glance at Amanda brought the waves of guilt back. She was also watching the family interacting, though her lips were curled up in a gentle yet melancholy smile. She'd had that life – the animated family meals, energetic siblings, caring mother and hair-ruffling father.

He tore his gaze away from her face, opting instead to shoot a sullen look at a group of teens riding past them. The closest one, a young blonde perched atop a silver bike stared right back at him, her eyebrows raised in a 'what's your problem, dude?' fashion. A yellow band was wrapped around her left wrist, the sight of which caused Makoto to pull the sleeve of his hoodie lower over his own.

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