Fushiguro

Behind every touch he recoiled from lay a reason I cared about but dared not ask.

(1)

The stands at the Racecourse roared with voices as gamblers clutched betting tickets and threw their arms high in excitement.

Below the stands, the competition between the horses involved probability, biology, and even, to varying degrees, human interference.

"Yuanli, which one did you pick?" With all the noise around us, Megumi raised his voice to ask me, abandoning his usual cool-guy composure.

I put an arm around him, shielding him from the wildly flailing adults behind us. "Number four."

Megumi glanced at the horse running noticeably behind the middle of the pack, then at the ticket in his hand. Without hesitation, he swapped his bet with mine.

"Mine will win." After that cool declaration, he quietly turned his face away, revealing his reddening ears.

I slipped the ticket back into his pocket, his gesture unexpectedly lifting my spirits.

I didn't actually like betting on horses. Winning a bet brought me no pleasure. It was like knowing the answer ahead of time.

All ten horses on the track would run eight races today. In this race, three were certain to be overworked, and two had been given drugs during the first four races that burned through their reserves and were now barely holding up. Two-thirds would expend too much stamina because of poor jockey strategy. And the horse in the best condition today certainly wouldn't finish first in this race, because no gambling establishment's owner would lay out the key to winning money where everyone could see it.

So the dark horse was number four: the least conspicuous, with middling odds and even a sleepy-looking jockey.

The race shifted unpredictably. Just before the finish line, number eight, which had held a firm lead, fell to second. Number four surged from behind the middle of the pack and crossed the finish line just 0.1 seconds ahead of the runner-up.

The roaring crowd froze for a moment, then erupted into an even louder uproar.

Anger was only part of it. Far more of what they felt was the "craving" stirred by their hunger to win after victory had slipped through their fingers.

Holding Megumi's hand, I finally spotted Toji at the counter where we could cash in our tickets.

He had gone off on his own as soon as we entered the Racecourse, which was the main reason I was in a bad mood.

The heating at the Racecourse was turned up high. He had taken off his jacket and wore only a plain white T-shirt. His build made the short-sleeved shirt look fitted, and even without strong lighting, the sharply defined muscles beneath the thin fabric were clearly visible.

Toji leaned against the counter's glass partition with his arms folded, giving occasional replies to the woman behind it. Whether from the heating or something else, her cheeks were flushed.

Megumi, who was holding my hand, saw this and his expression immediately darkened.

"Yuanli, let me cash them in. Could you go buy me a bottle of water?" The boy tugged me aside, trying to send me away.

Megumi looked serious, his eyes betraying a barely perceptible trace of fear and panic. It was as though this scene were the trigger in a tragedy that no one would recognize until the very end.

When I didn't move, he grew anxious. Perhaps he wanted to tell me about his past, but some concern I knew nothing about left him unable to speak.

God, Megumi was so distressed that fine beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. He had even bitten through his lip.

I glanced at the woman behind the counter. The exceptional eyesight my Heavenly Restriction granted me let me read her name tag, and suddenly I understood.

The woman's surname was Fushiguro. Her name was Fushiguro Tomomi, and she shared a surname with the boy before me, whose painful memories seemed steeped in blood and hatred.

(2) Megumi Fushiguro

As he watched the police lead away the members of the Zenin Clan, watched the clan's towering estate be confiscated, watched his former senior, his former enemies, and all those men and women, young and old, who had shared his blood but never familial affection, leave one after another, Megumi Fushiguro wanted to cry even more than Toji Zenin did.

In some intangible way, he felt that he, too, had been saved.

Not from the Zenin Clan, but from the timeline he had believed impossible to shake.

The boy still hadn't laid down the burden of saving the world. He had merely learned to divide himself, giving two-thirds of himself to Yuanli. He had to keep watching her, because she was like the wind: one moment of inattention, and she would leave him. As for the remaining third, he compressed all his anxiety, guilt, and pain into the times when Yuanli was busy.

Where Yuanli couldn't see, Megumi Fushiguro sank deep into the nightmares of his past. He wrung out his physical and mental strength, developing his depleted cursed energy as far as he possibly could.

The process was agonizing. The exhaustion and pain in his body weren't bruises on the surface of his skin. They erupted from his blood vessels, his heart and lungs, and his brain.

The consequence of forcing his growth was that he often coughed up blood in the middle of the night.

Fortunately for him, Yuanli was busy with interrogations then, and Toji Zenin was nowhere to be found.

In the silent night, he was alone.

That endurance ended on the day the Zenin Clan was destroyed.

Megumi Fushiguro wasn't a naive child, yet as he watched those scenes unfold, he found himself naively wondering whether the tragedies that had befallen him, and the horrors his friends had suffered, might also quietly change from that moment onward.

The answer was NO.

Seeing Toji Zenin chatting with Fushiguro Tomomi with his own eyes gave Megumi Fushiguro the illusion that he had returned to the past.

Maybe the timeline hadn't changed at all. The Zenin Clan still existed. Yuanli was only his imagination. In three months, that scumbag would abandon him, and he would end up living in Fushiguro Tomomi's house, being touched by that person's hands over and over...

The hand holding his suddenly tightened a little, and the faint scent of coffee beside him broke through his nightmare.

Yuanli was real.

Thank goodness. He still had Yuanli. Megumi Fushiguro felt reassured, but soon a greater terror enveloped him.

This was awful. Yuanli was still here.

He knew Toji Zenin mattered a great deal to Yuanli. So if abandonment was inevitable, what would she do?

He desperately wanted to send her away, but he had no excuse.

Was he supposed to tell Yuanli about the future?

Or tell her that their father was a scumbag who cared little for family and thought only of himself? That no matter how well they treated him, he would ultimately abandon them for a woman, for money, or for something that didn't even exist?

Megumi Fushiguro couldn't speak. It was too cruel.

While he was still trying to think of a solution, Yuanli let go of his hand and walked over.

(3)

I wasn't opposed to Toji remarrying. After all, not everyone had to spend their life hung up on Yuanyin.

But if he remarried, I would promptly take Megumi and leave him.

I could be the outsider daughter in a close-knit family, but Megumi couldn't.

I didn't want Megumi to endure the hurt of a blended family, the indifference and emotional abuse of step-relatives, much less whatever harm Miss Fushiguro Tomomi might have inflicted on him in his previous life.

For a child to instinctively recoil from women and from touch, he must have suffered something in childhood that had hurt him deeply at that age.

I didn't bring it up because it was Megumi Fushiguro's private business. But as his guardian, it was my duty to keep him from experiencing those things again.

Pulling on my hood and mask, I deliberately shot Toji a glare and walked over.

The counter was high enough to hide my figure. I held up my ticket and lowered my voice. "Hello, I'd like to cash in my ticket."

Fushiguro Tomomi paused, then smiled. "You need an adult with you to cash in a ticket, little one."

Before Toji could speak, I cut in. "Dad's gone missing. I want to cash in my ticket before I look for him."

Fushiguro Tomomi maintained her perfect smile. "Let's cash it in after you find your dad."

I deliberately insisted. "No, I want to cash it in first."

Fushiguro Tomomi was having trouble maintaining her expression. Her smile grew strained.

The makeup she applied excessively and frequently wasn't just for work. It was probably hiding something. Even while speaking to me, she kept glancing at Toji out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction. She cared a lot about what he thought, didn't she? But if that was the case, why did her gaze wander between his chest and face instead of meeting his eyes?

I didn't mind provoking her a little more. "Ma'am, could you help me find my dad? I saw the broadcasting room earlier. Could you take me there?"

Fushiguro Tomomi looked troubled, and her furtive glances at Toji grew more frequent. Apparently, she wanted to keep talking to him. That meant that during the long stretch before I appeared, her relationship with Toji could potentially have progressed through their conversation.

So Toji hadn't merely been cornered by her. He had actively responded, giving Fushiguro Tomomi an opening.

Fushiguro Tomomi came out from behind the counter. With her back to Toji, she crouched in front of me. She was close enough that I could see the obsession she couldn't hide in her eyes.

She leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Little boy, I'm very busy, understand? I don't have time to help you find your daddy. I'm not very patient, so nasty little brats who interrupt something important to me generally don't end up well."

Feigning gentleness, Fushiguro Tomomi took hold of my wrist. Then her sharp red nails slowly dug into my flesh.

There was something seriously wrong with this woman. At first, I had thought she was merely two-faced, but judging by her tone, her apparent mental state, and her actions, she was completely deranged.

Only then did I realize where Megumi's psychological trauma had come from.

Fuck.

I was so furious that I laughed. Then, pretending innocence, I asked, "Ma'am, could you tell me what happens to nasty little brats like me who interrupt your flirting? Do you use your nails to sever their hands, like you're doing now? Or do you lock them up and sexually assault them every night?"

Fushiguro Tomomi froze. Her response made my expression turn grave.

Fuck.

"Dad, call the police!"

After shouting to Toji, I caught Fushiguro Tomomi as she tried to flee and twisted her left hand until it broke.

"The address."

Fushiguro Tomomi kept struggling, staring feverishly at Toji, but she didn't say a word.

With the police coming soon, using truth serum would be inconvenient. I had to resort to the most primitive method of interrogation.

Fushiguro Tomomi would never hide someone in her own home. Since she worked at the Racecourse, she presumably rented somewhere nearby, so I could immediately rule out the area around the Racecourse.

Kyoto wasn't large. I ruled out the industrial districts, tourist areas, and neighborhoods she couldn't afford on her salary.

Six districts. When I named the last one, her body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment.

"Toji, tell the police to send some officers to Hachijo Town. The exact location..."

"The red house across from Fudodo Park," Megumi suddenly said from a distance, his face pale.