Men, Minako decided, were a lot like cancer. You could take pills to numb the pain, you could drink to forget them, and you could even have surgery to try and fix every problem you'd ever had. In the end, they'd still kill you.
That was the feeling Minako had when she left Jaded Boy's apartment building. Not that he was doing her any real harm in being an incredible jackass, and an incredibly hot jackass at that, but still. Everything about him spelled troubled, embittered, and ever slowly dying. And she could tell that he was not the type to go quietly, peacefully, or to go alone. It was better if she kept her distance.
Minako paused outside the building, and looked up to where she though his window was. She found herself thinking that she'd never seen a man drowning on the sidewalk before. And she had died, watched her friends die, watched innocent strangers die, and watched enemies die at her hand. Still, she had never seen in anyone in that much pain and in that much desperation to end it.
She pursed her lips, swallowing on a dry mouth. She felt some sense of duty or obligation to save him, rescue him, to play the hero again. But no amount of magic could help him now.
And as she shoved her hands into empty pockets, she remembered that she couldn't have even if she wanted to. She no longer had that power.
With a sigh, she turned and walked down the street and faced a world that was ever so slowly dying.
