A Man Like a Stray Dog

A Man Like a Stray Dog

After a refreshing night's sleep, Arima Shizuya considered himself fairly lucky; the dormitory he had been assigned was rather secluded.

Since he did not have to interact with Noble Lords, he often did not need to worry about distinctions of status and could act more casually.

Moreover, neither of his roommates was in the same class as him, so Arima Shizuya could completely avoid their schedules.

While he did not particularly enjoy being alone, at this stage, learning as much as possible was still more important to Arima Shizuya.

After all, once he graduated, he would no longer have such a convenient environment for asking questions.

A commoner had to act like a commoner—he had to fleece the Academy for all it was worth! Since it was only the first day of classes, the school had not yet introduced anything too intensive, which was naturally good news for Arima Shizuya.

After all, aside from Kendo, Arima Shizuya was practically illiterate when it came to the other three "required courses."

For someone like him, others might have come here just to pad their resumes, but Arima Shizuya was different.

He had truly come here to study.

"Hakuda refers to techniques for close-quarters combat. As one of the Four Great Basic Skills, I am sure you all understand its importance..."

"Shunpo is a technique that allows one to move their body at incredible speed, instantly appearing beside an opponent or somewhere farther away, too quickly for them to see..."

"Kido..."

After a full day, although Arima Shizuya did not recognize a single teacher who had taken the stage, he had filled an entire notebook with notes.

His ability to gain attribute points through instruction proved immensely useful at this moment.

You were introduced to the basics of Hakuda. Hakuda +2

You were introduced to the basics of Shunpo...

All attributes except Kendo +2!

Arima Shizuya happily looked over the impressive gains in the three major disciplines, feeling the joy of a bountiful harvest.

Seriously, this place was absolutely worth coming to.

If he had not gotten into the True Spiritual Arts Academy, Arima Shizuya would never have encountered this material in the Kusajishi District.

After finishing the day's lessons, Arima Shizuya could be said to have reaped a full harvest.

Aizen seemed to have business outside today, so he had been temporarily replaced by a stern-looking middle-aged man.

Most of the class began groaning at once, leaving the guy at the podium utterly baffled—Am I really that unpopular? "That concludes today's lesson. Starting tomorrow, classes will be arranged around two disciplines per day, and there will be regular examinations afterward, so everyone..."

The long string of instructions made it clear that the academic burden was no small matter, and people in the class had already begun to complain.

After all, not everyone could learn these things easily.

Given the difficulty of both the coursework and the assessments, those who could not place highly would ultimately be stuck muddling through unimportant positions...

Wow, their futures were looking grim!

By comparison, Arima Shizuya had no such worries. He had no time to mope around; getting stronger was the proper path.

The boy left the classroom in high spirits and took a detour to the Kendo Hall.

He had not expected the damn place to be unusually lively today—it was already ten o'clock. What the hell, did none of you sleep? He asked the guard uncle about it, and the man disdainfully picked at his earwax before launching into a ramble.

"What else could it be? Some Noble Lord suddenly decided he wanted to practice swordsmanship, and all those lackeys of his came crowding over. Of course it got lively."

So that was it.

Nobles...

Arima Shizuya sighed with something like emotion.

Even without more than twenty years of living as a slum dweller, Arima Shizuya could somewhat sense the difference between commoners and nobles.

Rukia from the original story had been an example of that.

Though she had gone unnoticed after entering the Academy, once she had been given the Kuchiki surname, she had likewise become the center of attention.

The teachers' expectations, the envy of her classmates... Such things were everywhere. Some people saw them as pressure, but for more people, they were an indescribable kind of restraint.

A very typical Japanese class hierarchy.

But no matter what, it had nothing to do with Arima Shizuya. Those lofty lords would be in for it soon enough.

You liked showing off, did you? Aizen would send you flying!

Arima Shizuya returned to his dormitory and pretended to sleep for two hours. Only after his roommates had fallen asleep did he get up.

He could not let his training plan fall behind... I refuse to believe Noble Lords would still be in the mood to practice swordsmanship at midnight!

He jogged back to the dojo. Though it was still brightly lit, it had indeed become completely quiet.

"Sorry, as usual, I'd like to borrow a dojo uniform and a wooden sword."

The uncle checked his identification, then gave Arima Shizuya a somewhat impressed look.

"You're only a first-year, right? You came yesterday too. Do you have to work this hard?"

"Heh, the slow bird has to start flying early."

People were always a little more tolerant toward those who worked hard. The uncle chuckled and tipped his chin toward Arima Shizuya.

"Room 5 is empty right now... It won't hurt if you go practice for a while."

Strictly speaking, Arima Shizuya was only allowed to train indoors, but the man was clearly making an exception for him.

What a good man! "Oh, thanks."

Arima Shizuya carried the wooden sword and his change of clothes into the dojo at a brisk pace.

He had intended to head straight for his destination, but a figure lying in the corner caught his eye.

The man looked utterly miserable.

His body was covered in bright red welts from being whipped, his dojo uniform was torn, and his wounds were swollen...

Right now, he looked like an injured stray dog, slumped limply against the wall.

Like a fish that had slipped into glue, he breathed in a pitiful yet greedy manner, clutching at what little life remained in him.

...The guy was not dead yet, but he already had one foot through the gates of hell.

Arima Shizuya studied him in confusion for a moment before the uncle's voice came from behind him.

"Ah, you'd best not bother with that guy. A Noble Lord came in to practice swordsmanship earlier. That idiot insisted on pestering him for a spar... With skills like that, it was only because they were fellow students that he was not beaten to death."

"...Is that so?"

"It happens sometimes. Those overconfident idiots think entering the Academy makes them equal to Noble Lords. They have no idea what they're worth."

Arima Shizuya watched the man shakily rise to his feet and stagger toward the exit.

His steps were unsteady, his expression grave. His eyes seemed unfocused, as though he might collapse unconscious at any moment.

Arima Shizuya merely watched him leave without doing anything overly "enthusiastic."

Everyone had their own choices. If this was what the man wanted, then all he could do was respect it.

Besides, Arima Shizuya had not yet grown strong enough to help others.

As usual, he changed clothes and entered the room.

Familiar Suburi, repeated drills... Since there were targets indoors as well, Arima Shizuya took the opportunity to conduct several rounds of slashing tests.

He kept at it for more than two full hours.

You swung a wooden sword. Kendo +1

Figuring he could still catch a little sleep before class if he went back now, Arima Shizuya thanked the guard uncle and headed back from the dojo.

The sky was still dark when Arima Shizuya spotted that miserable figure on his way back.

He had fallen in a corner, his entire body curled into a ball.

It seemed he had lost consciousness on the way back and collapsed here... Someone would find him after daybreak and send him to the First Aid Station.

It was fine if Arima Shizuya did nothing.

After all, he had not been the one to attack him. Morally and logically speaking, he had no place to intervene.

Having grown up on Slum Street, Arima Shizuya understood the law of the jungle even better.

Rebels who refused to follow the rules and swam against the current would sooner or later die without treatment, because rules were the steel chains binding one's body.

The more they struggled, the deeper the chains would cut into their flesh, until their tendons snapped, their bones broke, and their breathing ceased.

So it was fine to leave him there. That was how it ought to be...

Yet even as he thought that, Arima Shizuya unconsciously stopped walking.

He half-turned and stared at the stray-dog-like figure.

After tossing aside the bloodstained towel in his hand, Arima Shizuya watched the man's expression twitch before he slowly sat up.

"You're awake?"

The man did not answer immediately. He instinctively reached toward his waist, and only after touching something familiar did he relax slightly.

"...Who are you?"

His voice was tense, but more than that, it was wary.

"Class 5, First Year. Arima Shizuya. This is my dormitory, and you're currently sleeping in my bed."

"That's not what I'm asking..."

The injured man had brown skin, short messy purple hair, and protective goggles. He seemed to have some kind of visual impairment.

He tilted his head slightly instead of looking toward Arima Shizuya, angling his ear toward him instead.

"Why did you help me?"

The man in question helplessly folded his arms across his chest before finally letting out a soft sigh.

"As for why... I just thought it would be a shame."

"A shame?"

Arima Shizuya wrung out the towel, his gaze lowered to the basin of water.

"You should cherish your life. Once you die, you have nothing left. I don't know what grudge you have against that Noble Lord, but if you die like that, wouldn't it be too much of a waste?"

He had lived through two lives, and in this one, he had been reborn somewhere like Slum Street.

Though he knew Soul Bodies could replenish themselves by absorbing Spiritual Power, their bodies could still grow hungry.

They could still die without food or water, and in Slum Street, such things happened all the time.

If you did not steal, you starved to death. If you did not fight, you were eliminated... Living in such an environment,

Arima Shizuya understood more than anyone how precious life was.

"Even if you truly have some kind of grudge, is it really something you cannot endure for even a moment? Build up your strength first. Once you can stand on equal footing with others, it won't be too late to think about taking revenge."

Arima Shizuya turned and poured a cup of warm water, then handed it over and gently pressed it against the man's lowered hand.

"Well, I'm no good at long speeches... What you do afterward is up to you."

But no matter what, at least right now,

"Drink some water, at least. Your body won't be able to hold out otherwise."