( affiliated naegi makoto of dangan ronpa. )
[ Another in their vicinity. He sighs, a puff of air accompanying his morose thoughts. Aren’t they so lucky that he was the one that found them? Aren’t they just simply saved? And do they ever realize their faults? Do they thank him? No. Never. Not once, in his entire life, have they realized how utterly ignorant they were being. Makoto steps out from his hiding place, signaling to the boy with a beckoning hand. Is he doomed to be this guardian angel, put in the grave by those he’s saved? Perfect. ]
“Hey, you!! Come here!”
put a “define ______” in my ask to hear how they learned that concept
I’d like to think that mercy is what I’m doing, but in no way am I merciless.
Mercy is the act of saving one’s life, without asking for anything in return. It’s usually a bargain, but I’m not greedy, or I’d like to think I’m not. Mercy was hiding behind the pillars at 3:42 am the first time someone came to the back door. It was a couple months after control of Japan was guaranteed.
I had a gun in my belt that never went off that night. The man was bleeding from the mouth, and he looked scared. I asked him if he knew where he was. He had no idea. Absolutely no idea what was happening. I asked him if he knew about the Imperialists. He did. He stiffened and looked at the gun.
I gave him six loaves of bread and the largest jug of water I could find, and a kit to take care of his busted lip. He called me an angel. Mercy was my wings. The next day I pretended not to know what happened to the lost stores.
The next day another beggar came, and he was left on our doorstep, and his neck was twisted almost backwards entirely. Mercy was crying in a corner.