I Don't Want To Be A Hero

Chapter 12 Who Are You?

Davina sat at a small round table draped in white linen, the soft glow of chandeliers casting warm gold across the high‑class restaurant. Crystal glasses chimed gently with every movement, and the low murmur of elegant conversation filled the air like background music.

Across from her sat a beautiful woman in her early forties, her hair the same deep black as Davina's, cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. Her hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned forward, laughing at something Davina had just said. Beside her, a handsome man with warm brown eyes and a scruffy beard—early fifties, rugged in a gentle way—rested an arm along the back of the woman's chair. His smile was wide, unguarded, the kind that reached his eyes.

The three of them shared a moment that felt suspended in time—forks clinking, soft laughter, the comforting familiarity of family. Davina felt lighter than she had in years, as if the world outside the restaurant didn't exist.

Then—

CRASH.

Glass shattered behind her, sharp and violent, the sound slicing through the warmth like a blade.

The restaurant fell silent.

A voice—smooth, mocking, unmistakably familiar—echoed behind her.

"Who wants to play a game?"

Davina's breath caught. Her heart lurched.

And then—

She jolted awake.

Her body snapped upright in bed, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. The room around her was dark, quiet, still. Her sheets were tangled around her legs, her skin damp with a cold sheen of sweat.

She exhaled shakily and fell back against her pillow, draping an arm over her eyes as if she could block out the lingering images. The laughter. The warmth. The shattering glass. That voice.

It wasn't just a dream.

Not really.

It was a memory...

The watch on her wrist suddenly began to ding, its soft chime cutting through the quiet of her bedroom. It wasn't a normal alert—this one pulsed with a sharper tone. Siren's attention was needed.

Davina pushed herself up from her bed, rubbing a bit of sleep from her eyes before reaching for the nanite device on her nightstand. The cool metal felt familiar in her hand.

The moment she activated it, the nanites rippled across her skin like a wave of liquid silver. They crawled over her arms, her torso, her legs—reweaving fabric, tightening seams, shifting color—until her suit formed cleanly around her. The transformation took seconds, but it always left a faint hum in the air, like static fading.

With a simple press of a button on her watch, she headed downstairs. By the time she stepped out of the mansion's front doors, her motorcycle was already waiting—engine softly purring, headlights glowing against the driveway.

She swung her leg over the seat and sped off, following the blinking arrow on her watch.

"Just leave me alone!" a girl screamed, her voice cracking as she clamped her hands over her ears. A small calico cat crept toward her, tail low.

"But I love you…" a voice whispered inside her mind, soft and pleading.

"G-get away from me!" the girl cried, shoving the cat back with trembling hands.

They were on the rooftop of a tall building, the wind tugging at the girl's hair as she stood dangerously close to the edge. Her knees wobbled.

"Please get away from the edge…" the voice in her head begged.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" she shouted, stumbling. Her foot slipped, and she gasped—catching herself just in time. Tears streaked down her cheeks. "Please… just stop…"

"I can help you," a calm voice said.

The girl blinked and looked up. Siren stood a few feet away, hands lowered, posture gentle and nonthreatening. The glow from a nearby rooftop vent cast a soft halo around her hood.

"No one can help me," the girl whispered, arms falling to her sides.

"Please," Siren said, kneeling so she was eye-level. "Tell me what's going on."

"Cats can't talk," the girl said shakily. "It's all in my head… and it won't stop."

Siren glanced at the small orange, black, and white cat sitting in front of them, its green eyes wide and unblinking.

"What's your name?" Siren asked.

"A-Ali," the girl murmured.

"And the cat?"

"C-Cece."

Siren wiggled her fingers gently. "Ps ps ps ps ps." Cece trotted over, brushing against Siren's glove.

"I think I have a way to prove whether this cat of yours can really talk to you," Siren said, lifting Cece carefully. The cat relaxed in her arms.

Ali swallowed hard but nodded. "O-okay…"

Siren leaned in and whispered something into the cat's ear.

Cece blinked, then meowed twice.

Ali stared at Siren, stunned. "S-she said… you said you love the night sky in the countryside of Welson because it's the only place you can see the stars."

Siren set the cat down gently. "I have good news, Ali. You're not crazy."

Ali's breath hitched.

"I think you're an Ability," Siren continued, stepping closer. "I think you have the power to speak to animals."

Ali shook her head. "I don't… I don't want this. It's a curse."

"I don't believe you were given this ability as a curse," Siren said softly. "I think it was given to you so you could help others."

Ali hesitated. "How do I do that…?"

"By letting me help you first," Siren replied, extending her hand.

It was another normal day.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a soft gold over the city rooftops. A light breeze brushed past Siren's suit as she stood there, steady and calm, the hum of distant traffic drifting upward from the streets below.

This was the kind of saving Davina remembered most.

The quiet kind.

The human kind.

The kind that didn't involve fighting other Abilities, or stopping a bank robbery, or throwing herself into another exhausting brawl. No explosions, no villains, no dramatic chase scenes.

Just a girl who needed someone.

This was the kind of saving that made Davina feel like what she was doing truly mattered. This girl wasn't being attacked by a villain, and she wasn't one herself. She was just overwhelmed, hurting, and alone.

She needed to be saved from the person who was causing the most harm to her.

The person who pushed her past her limits.

She needed to be saved from herself.

And there was nothing wrong with that.

Because sometimes…

"...How are you so sure you can help me?" Ali asked, her voice trembling as she took Siren's hand. Her fingers were cold, her grip hesitant, like she wasn't sure she deserved to be held onto.

Siren squeezed gently, grounding her. The rooftop wind tugged at her hood, but her voice stayed steady.

"Your worst enemy isn't the person who put you here," Siren said softly. "It's the person who listened to the words that hurt you and let them sink in until you believed them."

Ali's eyes flickered downward.

"Your own worst enemy is yourself," Siren continued, her tone warm but firm. "And sometimes you need someone to pull you back up when you fall. And that's okay."

Ali swallowed, her shoulders shaking as she exhaled.

For the first time since Siren arrived, she didn't look like she was about to break.

TO BE CONTINUED