I can hear it—a scream. It's sharp, desperate, and it cuts through the chaos around me. My eyes snap to the source of the sound, and my heart skips a beat. A boy—no older than me, maybe even younger—is standing too close to the monster. He's frozen in place, looking up at the towering machine, eyes wide in panic. He's a sitting duck, and he doesn't even realize it. He's going to get crushed.

Not on my watch.

I don't even stop to think. Instinct kicks in, and without hesitating, I spring into action. My feet hit the ground, propelling me upward in a seamless parkour move. I don't look back. The world around me blurs as I race toward higher ground. I need to get above it, need to get to a better vantage point, and that means reaching the rooftops. I leap from one piece of debris to the next, my hands catching ledges, my feet landing with precision. I'm moving too fast for anyone to even register what I'm doing.

I see the boy again as I reach the top of a nearby building. He's still there, still too close, still in danger. The thing is, I'm not just trying to save him anymore. No, it's bigger than that now. It's about stopping this monster. We're not just running for our lives here. We're in a fight. And I'm going to win it.

I glance down, spotting the boy one last time, praying he won't be in my way. I push forward. No time to waste. I can hear the heavy stomping of the robot's feet as it moves, but I'm not going to let it take him.

I reach the edge of the building and I don't stop.

I leap.

For a moment, it's just me and the air. My heart pounds in my chest, and my mind goes blank. It's pure instinct, pure skill, and—if I'm being honest—pure faith. Faith in myself. Faith in the years of practice I've put into my parkour, my ability to move, my ability to react. I know this.

I land on the head of the robot with a roll, my feet hitting the cold, metal surface, and I quickly regain my balance. My legs are a little wobbly from the jump, but I shake it off. There's no time for hesitation. No time to second-guess myself. The boy's still down there, and I need to end this.

I glance around, searching for something—anything—I can use to disable the machine. It's not alive. I know that. But it's got to have some weak point, some control panel, something. The head is massive, but there's a seam running along the back of the neck.

I don't even think about it. I just go.

I climb, my fingers digging into the cold metal, pushing myself up toward the neck of the beast. The machine is still moving, but I've got the height advantage now. It's slower than I expected, but I know it's only a matter of time before it notices me.

I reach the back of the neck and find what I'm looking for—a cluster of wires, exposed and vulnerable. This is it. This is my shot. I pull out the knife from my pocket, flipping it open with one hand. My fingers are shaking, but I ignore it. I'm not going to let fear stop me.

The wires are tangled, but it's nothing I can't handle. I start cutting, my mind racing with calculations as I work. The robot's movements slow slightly as I slice through the wires, and I can feel the tension building. I don't stop. The wires are thick, but they're not as tough as I thought they would be. One after another, they snap as I cut through them, each wire taking me closer to shutting this thing down.

Come on.

 Come on, just a little more. 

My mind is running through every possible scenario—what if I miss? What if I can't do it in time? But no. I won't let that happen. I just need to focus.

Suddenly, I hear it—there's a loud click, and then—nothing.

The robot stops. Its massive form freezes in place, and the roar of its engine dies down.

I did it.

I take a moment to catch my breath, and then I hear the sound of cheering, distant but growing louder. It's the civilians, the ones who managed to escape.

We did it.

I don't have time to feel proud. I've still got a mission to complete. I slide down the back of the robot's head, landing gracefully on the ground. My legs are a little shaky, but I push the discomfort aside. I look up at the boy—he's safe now, just standing there, staring at me with wide eyes. He doesn't say anything. Just stares.

I don't have time to explain. I don't even have time to tell him to be more careful.

Instead, I turn, making my way back toward the chaos. I haven't even realized that everyone stopped and was looking at me.

I glance at Iida and the girl with the short hair as they continue to move, working seamlessly with the civilians, leading them to safety. I can't help but feel a little bit of pride—we did this. 

I take a deep breath.