Smack!
7:50, Tokyo time. In a village not far from Kitano Village.
At that moment, agonized screams were coming from a house.
"Aaaah! Get away! Get away from me! Do you want to die, you stupid pig? I'm from the Sato Family, a family no weaker than the Three Great Families! I'm the Sato Family's eldest daughter! You can't treat me like this! You can't! Aaaaah! I'll kill you! Kill you! Aaaaah!"
"Heh, you bitch. What Three Great Families? I think you've watched too much Pokémon. The Three Great Families? Why not just say you're Ash Ketchum?"
"Aaaah! No! Get away from me! Aaaaah! Sob... sob... bleurgh-"
7:52, Tokyo time.
Inside the room, under the suggestive lighting, an overweight middle-aged man climbed out of bed, clutching his lower back and panting. He sat on the edge of the bed, lit a cigarette, and began smoking. His face was flushed, and he seemed very satisfied.
Beside him lay a fair-skinned woman with a voluptuous figure.
Her expression was vacant, her hair disheveled and her face filthy. Her soft, fair cheeks and skin bore numerous wounds and bite marks.
She kept murmuring things like, "Kill me, kill me, kill me."
7:53:36, Tokyo time.
After smoking half his cigarette, the man stubbed it out, turned around, grabbed the woman's ankle, and roughly dragged her over to him.
"Come on, you bitch. I spent everything I had buying you. How could a few times be enough? Tonight, I'm going seven rounds!"
7:54:50, Tokyo time.
The vacant-eyed woman offered no resistance. She was like a doll, utterly lifeless.
(I know this part has drawn criticism from many readers, but there really was nothing I could do. My first version couldn't pass review, and they wouldn't let me post it, so this was as far as I could go. I'm truly sorry.)
"What, bitch? You're getting excited too? Heh, you're even getting hot... wait, why are you so hot?!"
Under the dim lighting, the man finally made out Sato's expression.
Her eyes and mouth were stretched wide open, and faint wisps of flame were even flickering out of them.
Only now did he finally understand why Igarashi Amayo had not killed him.
"Damn it, I was played for a fool! Damn it, damn it, damn it! No... no... I can't die! I can't die..."
Fear instantly enveloped his heart. Just as he was about to put on his shoes and flee, a strange sensation suddenly appeared in his mind.
"Sa... Sato... tastes... good... no, what the hell... no... don't... it's not me..."
His face twisted, and his limbs began moving out of his control. Sato, opposite him, was doing the same. The two moved toward each other in bizarre motions, using both hands and feet.
As the village chief watched Sato approach with drool hanging from the corner of her mouth, a chill spread from the depths of his heart. "No... please, no..."
Crunch!
"Aaaah! Get away! Aaah, you lunatic! Aaah, get away... aaah!!"
"Aaah, get away! Get away! Get away!"
The two began devouring each other as they wailed.
Their gazes trembled as they stared fixedly at each other. They both knew exactly what was happening. Igarashi Amaha had not spared them. He had chosen the cruelest method: making them feel the pain of their flesh and skin being torn away while fully conscious.
A watch on a nearby cabinet sounded.
7:59:59, Tokyo time.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
"It is now August 23, eight o'clock in the evening, Tokyo time."
With nothing but bare white bones left in their chests, the two used their last traces of strength to look over.
Unfortunately, they saw nothing, only a dazzling flash of white light.
"It is now August twenty-thir..."
Boom!!! Boom!!!
Rumble!!!
A violent explosion rose, sending billowing flames and pitch-black smoke spreading outward.
Enormous horizontal shock waves surged out, spreading in rings in every direction. The houses throughout the village were instantly blasted to pieces.
The scene shifted to Shibuya, Tokyo. Igarashi Amayo stood on a pedestrian overpass, staring absently at the bustling streets below.
Night fell. Bustling Shibuya was brightly lit, neon lights flashing. Along the crisscrossing streets, streetlights shone as brightly as day. Shops lined the roads, crowds surged, and cars sped past, their bright headlights illuminating the road clearly. But compared with the road, quite a few of the passing pedestrians had Grade 4 Cursed Spirits hanging from them. In this brief stretch alone, he had seen more than he had in the previous ten years. Was this the legendary grand stage of Shibuya?
A cool breeze brought him back to reality. He rubbed his temples and glanced at the watch on his wrist.
"8:05, Tokyo time."
It was over...
With a turn of his fingers, a game piece engraved with the character for "Pawn" appeared in his hand.
Looking at the piece in his hand, Igarashi Amayo murmured to himself, "Qing... no, big brother, it's all over. Don't worry. I'm so smart and so strong. Nothing will go wrong. This life you gave me, it won't die."
Drip!
A tear struck the surface of the piece. Igarashi Amayo froze, then reached up and touched the skin around his eyes.
"Big brother, someone has shed tears over your death too..."
"Next, I'll go to Hua Capital and Spain to study, one after the other. I'll grow stronger and stronger and exorcise all the Cursed Spirits in this world. Watch over me, big brother."
Igarashi Amaha wiped away his tears, pulled up his hood, and walked off into the distance.
Just as he reached the end of the overpass, he turned back for one long look and thought, Goodbye, Tokyo. It might be a long time before we meet again.
The years were too much to count; those of old were no longer as they had been.
In the snap of a finger, five years slipped by.
April 3, 2006. La Rosaleda Stadium, Malaga, Spain.
A group of pretty girls in Malaga jerseys were staring fixedly at a black-haired man wearing sunglasses.
Under the sunlight.
A tall, muscular young man sat with his legs crossed on the perimeter of the pitch, watching the match lazily.
Under the scorching sunlight, a bead of sweat ran down his sharply defined jawline and dripped onto the black athletic shirt stretched taut over his muscles. He looked up at the blazing sun in the sky and smiled helplessly. Paired with his handsome face, it made for a striking sight.
The young women burst into cheers.
"Hey, Amaha, why are you picking up girls here again?"
Just then, a Black man even more muscular than Igarashi Amaha sat down beside him and spoke in fluent Spanish.
Igarashi Amaha folded his arms, yawned, and said impatiently, "If I'm not picking up girls, am I supposed to pick you up instead?"
The Black man shook his head and plopped down beside Igarashi Amaha. Watching the fierce match below, he said, "How's the match going? I bet two hundred euros on Malaga to win."
Igarashi Amaha grinned at that and took off his sunglasses. "It's two-two right now, but Malaga will be beaten in five minutes at most." As he spoke, he pointed his sunglasses at a man on the pitch. "That guy is Malaga's newly signed striker. Earlier, he was so eager to prove himself that he made a lot of pointless runs. Now he's at the end of his rope. He can't keep making high-frequency runs anymore, and there are still ten minutes left. Their opponents won't let this chance slip."
Hearing that, the Black man punched the iron railing beside him, denting the sturdy bars outright. Seemingly still not satisfied, he cursed angrily, "Shit, that bastard! I worked my ass off for those two hundred euros, and now he's thrown them away! I'm going to beat him up!"
Igarashi Amaha laughed. "What a shame. I bet on the away team, so I win again. Hahaha! Let's go, stop watching. There's still a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit waiting for us to exorcise it. Once this job's done, I'm heading back to Japan. Treasure this last chance to get carried to an easy win."
With that, he gave the Black man a pat on the head, stood up, and left.
Please send whatever support you can. I'd be endlessly grateful.