Ito Seigo

"Hmm, Mr. Ito, I'm sorry to inform you that you do not meet our recruitment criteria. Thank you for participating in the interview, and we wish you success in finding a satisfactory job soon."

Beep.

Ito Seigo tossed his phone aside, picked up his chopsticks, and peeled back the lid of the instant noodles on the table. Ignoring the heat, he began to slurp them down.

After finishing in a few quick bites, he let out a long breath, stood up, walked to the bathroom to wash his hands, and wiped his mouth.

He stood with his head bowed in front of the mirror for a while before slowly looking up. A mottled, ugly face appeared in the reflection.

Beside the mirror was a photo of a young man with a sunny smile and handsome features.

He grinned.

The face in the mirror looked as fierce as an Asura demon descended upon the human world; the saying that one looks ugly without a smile had lost all credibility on his face.

The smile on his face gradually faded.

Without expression, he was at his most handsome.

He turned and left the bathroom, tidied up the trash on the table, and walked into his bedroom.

The room was very tidy, with nothing special in it, save for a small pink bear with a cape by the bed that caught the eye; the word "Hero" was written on the bear's belly.

Sitting at his desk, he saw a photo of a man and a woman at the beach placed in a prominent spot. His finger slid over the woman's face before he gently turned the frame face down.

He opened his computer, found the official website of a news outlet, clicked in, and navigated through the numerous sections until he found a small link dedicated to himself.

["White Dragon of the Fire" discharged today, claims he has no regrets about saving lives!]

His mouse hovered for a moment. His lips moved, but he said nothing, and he clicked the link.

He skimmed past the news content and went straight to the comments section.

Checking the timestamp, he saw it had been several days, and there were only a few scattered comments.

[Hero, stay safe.]

[He only saved one person, better to thank the fire department.]

[I heard that because he wasted time saving others, he failed to save his own parents. I wonder if that's true.]

[How unfilial~]

Ito Seigo scrambled to close the page, but he accidentally clicked an advertisement. It took several clicks before he finally managed to shut down the site.

He clenched his fists on his thighs, his breathing heavy. After a few minutes, he placed his hand back on the mouse.

He opened Twitter and logged into his account.

The latest post was a photo of the hospital entrance with the caption: I've been discharged.

There were only a few comments, all of them well-wishes.

The further back he scrolled, the more comments there were.

The most popular post featured a candid shot of him in a dirty, blackened white shirt, rushing out of the apartment building while holding a little girl; one could even see the trails of smoke being disturbed behind him. There was another photo of him wrapped up like a mummy, accompanied by the caption: I have no regrets.

Strictly speaking, he hadn't posted this; his girlfriend at the time had.

There were tens of thousands of comments; the malicious ones were reviled and reported, while the well-wishes received countless likes.

He read through them one by one, his mouth curling upward involuntarily.

After a long while, he reluctantly logged out and opened his chat window.

[I hope you stay safe and sound from now on.]

This had been sent today by his ex-girlfriend.

Ito Seigo typed a line, deleted it, and after weighing his words several times, he typed [You too] and sent it.

He checked his other contacts; no one had reached out to him.

Neither had she.

He opened the history and synced it; the most recent message was from three months ago.

[Big brother, when are you getting out of the hospital? We'll play together when you do! Mom and Dad said they'd take me to see you in a few days!]

[Soon, no problem.]

[Kitten nodding.jpg]

He hesitated but did not send a message.

Perhaps her parents were just busy and had forgotten, he consoled himself.

He closed Twitter, opened a job hunting site, and searched for work that suited him.

He had a disability rating, and some companies would specifically hire people like him to take advantage of preferential policies, but because of his unique facial appearance, many companies that initially showed interest ended up backing out. However, thanks to insurance payouts and subsidies, he wasn't short on money for the time being.

Maybe he should become a freelancer? His current body wasn't suited for fast-paced work anyway.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock sounded at the door.

Ito Seigo found it strange. Logically, he hadn't told anyone his address; the only person who would know it was likely his ex-girlfriend.

He peered through the peephole. Standing on the other side was a man who looked like an ordinary office worker—someone he didn't recognize and felt no familiarity with.

He pulled away from the peephole, but then, as if struck by a thought, he looked again.

The man's face was a bit strange, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why. If he had to describe it, it was just a sense of dissonance.

He suddenly gave a self-deprecating smile.

What right did he have to judge someone else's appearance? He was a monster himself.

"Who are you looking for?" Ito Seigo asked.

"Hello, I am Kurishimoro. Is this the residence of Ito Seigo? I'm from a news agency, and I have some matters I'd like to discuss with you." The man spoke.

Ito Seigo looked puzzled. That name was far too bizarre; it was a homophone for "The Faker." Had the man's parents not paid attention when naming him?

Still, he opened the door. Since the visitor was from a news agency, he assumed the man already knew about his appearance and wouldn't need a warning.

"Wasn't it Mr. Tanaka who came last time?" Ito Seigo asked after ushering the man into the living room and pouring him a glass of water.

The man took the water, took a sip, and flashed an incredibly strange smile. "Ito Seigo, do you truly have no regrets?"

Ito Seigo's expression shifted, and he stared intensely at the man whose name was a homophone for The Faker.

The latter maintained that unsettling smile, continuing to rub salt in the wound: "I wonder, in the dead of night, do you ever dream of your father—"

"Get out! Get out of here!"

Rage caused the mottled skin on Ito Seigo's face to twist and writhe; even the flush was uneven, looking like patches of red sores.

He pointed furiously at the door, his face contorted, looking like a hellish demon ready to devour someone.

Unfortunately, the man before him was not afraid; he even took another calm sip of water.

"Do you know? After Mr. Tanaka interviewed you, he also interviewed the Fujiwara family." He suddenly dropped a piece of news that Ito Seigo cared about immensely.

Tanaka had interviewed the Fujiwara family? Was it because of his discharge from the hospital? Was that how they knew he had been released?

His expression froze, and for a moment, he didn't know how to respond.

"But because the content wasn't quite appropriate, it wasn't included in the final piece."

As he spoke, Kurishimoro pulled a long object from his coat. Ito Seigo recognized it—it was Tanaka's voice recorder.

"You can listen to it, or you can choose not to."

Kurishimoro then produced an unknown object and simply placed it on the table.

"But if you ever feel regret, you can eat this."