Hearing Igarashi Amaha's words, his mother burst out laughing. "Hahaha, that's my child! Work hard, and when you grow up, buy a big house in Tokyo to show your devotion to me and your father."
"Yes, Mother."
After dinner, both returned to their own beds to rest without saying much.
About two hours later, the door opened, and Igarashi Amaha's "father" returned. As for why he had come home so late, it certainly wasn't because he had been working. For someone so lazy, only gambling at cards could make him forget to eat and sleep.
He said nothing. After grabbing a quick bite by the stove, he went to bed. Unless something unexpected happened, those two stupid pigs would start making noise again.
Before long, the shoddy bed frame creaked in protest.
"Ah... Ichiro..."
"Ah..."
With nothing better to do, Igarashi Amaha started counting the seconds.
"10"
"48"
"89"
"101"
"121"
"129"
The panting stopped. Igarashi Amaha wasn't surprised, though it seemed he had been in good form today. He had actually lasted 129 seconds. Heh.
The farce of a day ended there, and Igarashi Amaha drifted off to sleep, mentally exhausted.
Early the next morning-or rather, nearly noon-Igarashi Amaha returned from exercising and looked helplessly at the two people in bed. It really was a miracle that he had survived this long. Sure enough, once a human's thinking changed, his needs for survival would fall in line with those of livestock.
Igarashi Amaha quickly washed up and set off for kindergarten. Along the way, he watched people working hard in the distant fields and felt somewhat moved. There were still normal people in this village. They weren't all idiots.
The cycle repeated, and Igarashi Amaha lived like this day after day. Although his quality of life left something to be desired, at least he was safe for now. Of course, that had been his view before. His old routine was shattered today.
July 2, 2000
As usual, Igarashi Amaha walked twenty minutes home, followed the rules he loathed, and said the words that sickened him.
"Thank you for the food," Igarashi Amaha said, pressing his palms together.
Just then, his "father" returned. Unlike usual, he looked utterly drained. Although he also looked dejected whenever he lost all his money, at some point his condition had started worsening by the day, as though his vitality were being sucked out of him.
"I'm home," Ishii Ichiro said listlessly.
"Come eat."
Igarashi Amaha didn't spare him another look and simply ate his ramen in its murky broth. But when he raised his head to speak, he froze.
"I'm fin... A mon... monster..." Igarashi Amaha froze at the sight of the one-eyed lizard on his "father's" shoulder, the words slipping out uncontrollably.
Clatter!
The sound of falling chopsticks instantly snapped Igarashi Amaha out of his shock. He whipped his gaze toward his "parents" and found them staring at him with vicious eyes.
Just my luck.
Crash!
Without thinking any further, Igarashi Amaha overturned the table and bolted out the door. He ran toward the woods with every ounce of strength he had. Coming to their senses, the couple looked at the noodles covering them and stopped hiding their intentions. They ran outside and began shouting.
"Someone, come quick! This noble brat is an 'inauspicious one'! Someone, come quick!"
The man's coarse voice sounded especially grating in the quiet evening. All the men from every household came running out and charged after Igarashi Amaha.
"Catch him, quick! Don't let him get away! Hurry!"
Igarashi Amaha's expression darkened as he saw more and more people behind him. "Damn it, years of planning ruined in an instant." Cursing his own stupidity, he picked up a fodder-cutting blade lying nearby and prepared for a final fight to the death. Some villagers had already brought out motorcycles. However fast he ran, he couldn't outrun a fuel-powered machine.
As he stopped, the crowd quickly surrounded him. "You little shit, run! Why aren't you running anymore? Who would've thought you were so good at pretending? I didn't notice a thing all this time." His "father" pointed at him and hurled abuse.
"Get him!"
At a shout from the crowd, everyone rushed him at once.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
"Ah! My hand! Aaaah!" Igarashi Amaha hacked off one man's hand and looked toward a nearby motorcycle. As long as he could seize it, he could escape. His gaze hardened, and his grip on the blade tightened.
"Damn brat! Everyone, get him! He's only got one blade. Let's see how he dodges us!"
Relying on the jujitsu he had learned in his previous life and the weapon in his hand, Igarashi Amaha began taking down the crowd one by one.
In less than ten minutes, everyone, including Igarashi Amaha, was wounded. But at the cost of a broken arm, he had won a temporary victory. He dragged his aching body toward a motorcycle. It was small enough for him to ride even with his short legs. Filled with joy, he started the motorcycle and prepared to leave.
Brrr-brrr-brrr!
The engine's loud roar echoed his heart as he began looking forward to the world outside. He started planning what he would do after escaping and pondering the term "inauspicious one." It's unfamiliar. Looks like this isn't any of those "hypothetical worlds" I listed. Things have gotten troublesome.
"Strange. Why am I getting sleepier? What's going on?" As Igarashi Amaha rode, he actually began feeling increasingly exhausted, his eyelids sinking shut against his will. He bit his tongue to fight off the drowsiness while trying to work out what had gone wrong. Was it that bowl of noodles? No! Impossible. They couldn't have known anything was wrong with me before that. Then what was it...?
Crash!
The motorcycle veered out of control and slammed into a tree. Igarashi Amaha felt his body flying through the air. In the final instant before his eyes closed, he saw a syringe sticking out of his broken arm. So that was it...
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself somewhere unfamiliar. His surroundings were utterly silent, with only a few candle flames flickering. He raised a hand to rub his head, only to feel pain in his arm and hear chains rattling.
"This is..." Fighting back the pain, he slowly struggled upright. Looking at the chains covering his body, he felt somewhat hopeless. His neck, both wrists, and both ankles were all shackled.
He began to resent himself, hating his stupidity, his carelessness, his weakness. If only he hadn't spoken, if only he had noticed the sedative, if only he had been a little stronger. Damn it, years of scheming ruined in an instant. Damn it.
"You have Cursed Energy too, don't you?"
Just then, a voice suddenly sounded behind him.
Please support me in any way you can. I'd be endlessly grateful.