I said nothing, silently enduring their mockery.
Despite that, I felt my fists tighten at my sides, the joints of my fingers popping one by one.
The bandana boy circled around me.
Inspecting me.
Judging me.
Sneering at me.
"You still chewing on trash?" The boy in the bandana said. "Sorry, we borrowed your meal like that. But, since you've never tasted anything besides trash, it was wasted on you anyway."
The other boys sneered.
What was their goal?
To beat me up?
Or just to make fun of me?
"But gosh, are you dirty...!" He continued. "You a walking alchemic project now? Trying to see how many diseases your body can collect?"
Laughter.
Is this seriously how they entertain themselves?
I wasn't very knowledgeable about the slum culture here.
...Or anywhere for that matter...
But it's gotta be fucking miserable for them to find this fun.
I bit my cheek and stared at the ground, but all I could see was that moldy piece of bread. The fuzzy white tendrils, the way it clung to the roof of my mouth.
"But I gotta say, it was delicious! Where did you even get it anyway?"
That was my potato.
My meal.
I looked up, and for a moment, just a brief, piffling second, I had forgotten to keep my expression neutral. My eyes met the boy with the bandana.
His grin widened.
He saw it. No doubt.
"Aww, I'm so sorry! Are you about to cry like when you were on Taltz Street?" The boy laughed.
"Taltz...?" I mumbled back.
"Haha! When you were getting manhandled. Everyone knows about it. It was the talk of the town!" The boy explained. "Don't tell me you're illiterate too? Well, that checks out."
Suddenly, he puts his vile hand on my shoulder.
"Why don't we go over there?" He said, pointing deeper into the alley, into a secluded spot.
His hand crept downward
"We can get you all nice and clean..."
I felt a shiver shoot up my spine.
Get me... Clean?
I resisted, ever so subtly, instinctively.
His grip tightened.
"Don't..." I muttered.
"Huh? What did you say?" Bandana Boy copped a hand to his ear. "I can't hear you through your rotting teeth."
I knew damn well my teeth were fine.
"I said don't," I repeated, firmer, louder, fearless.
"Aww... Is potato—"
My body moved before I could stop myself. My hand shot up and struck him in the face.
The fist landed awkwardly, like a wet rag slapping against a wall. Loud but limp as a wet noodle.
It wasn't enough to deal damage, but the alley went silent regardless.
The boy in the bandana's head slowly looked at me, his shit-eating grin gone, like it was never there.
"That's all you got?" His voice was low.
It shouldn't have felt intimidating. I was a grown man on the inside, and he was a kid. A snot-nosed brat through and through.
Yet... Why are my arms quivering?
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...
I never knew I could be this pathetic.
When you transmigrate into another world, shouldn't you be given cheats? Or at least be reincarnated into a well-off, loving peasant family, or maybe even as an aristocrat? Why the hell am I forced to dig through trash?
What did I do to deserve this? To get beaten down by literal children. Helpless.
Suddenly, I saw his shoulder jerk, and I braced for impact.
His fist connected with my cheek hard.
It wasn't a clean hit, but I still saw stars.
The force spun me around sideways, and my shoulder slammed into the damp wall behind me.
Pain burst across my face in pulses, sharp and hot. Like firecrackers under my skin.
I stayed standing, barely. I was swaying a lot, I could tell.
One of the others, the tallest of the bunch, stepped in with a hook aimed at my liver.
"Huhk!"
I managed to half-block it, but the force knocked the wind out of me.
The one who kept slapping his knee laughing, who was on the shorter side, grabbed my shirt and yanked me downward just in time for Bandana Boy to land a hit square on my stomach.
"Hahk!"
Why the fuck are they tag teaming this well?
I felt my stomach spasm and clench.
Splash
Murky colored liquid spilled from my mouth in a deluge. In it, you could still see half-digested chunks of bread.
"Yuck!" One of them shouted before punching the side of my head.
I half-fell and half-threw myself sideways onto the alleyway's dirty ground to avoid collapsing in the vomit.
As I tried to pick myself up, I suddenly came to realize, through the screaming in my muscles.
I can't do this anymore.
"Damn, this kid is skin and bones." The tall one muttered.
I desperately tried to pick myself up, but my arms were shaking so bad it looked like it was vibrating.
"Yeah, but she's got some kick. Pretty fun~" The Bandana Boy jeered.
She?
At those words, I felt a chill crawl down my spine.
A sick feeling made itself at home in my stomach.
A sense of foreboding.
I tried to hoist myself back up, but a shoe pressed down on my shoulder, causing me to roll over.
And then another shoe pressed down on my sternum.
One of them yanked on my robe.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying this wasn't real.
The cloth unfurls from my body pitifully, without any resistance.
"Wait... What the hell?! Is she a guy?!?" One of them exclaimed.
I felt my face light aflame.
I had a feeling this would be the case, but I didn't want to believe it.
My new body was quite effeminate. They probably believed I was a girl and intended to rape me.
Despite that, I didn't feel as scared as I thought I would. Perhaps I hadn't quite realized the gravity of my situation.
I mean, it feels unbelievable.
"Shit, now what?" One of the boys pipes up, looking toward the bandana boy.
Silence.
Rumination.
"Tch, forget it." The bandana boy said.
Relief.
Luckily for me, they—for whatever reason—decided to stop short.
Perhaps they didn't swing that way.
"Instead..." The bandana boy continued, catching me a bit off guard, "We can have fun in other ways."
"Wuh?" A stupid sound came from my mouth as I watched a shoe collide with my cheek.
++++++
I don't remember what happened afterward. Everything was just kind of a blur of hits, kicks, and punches. I lashed out, but I'm uncertain that my hits did anything.
Luckily, while I escaped, I was able to snatch my robe at the last second. And, outside a few small tears, it was still in decent shape.
Honestly, rather than escape, it felt more like they got either bored or tired and decided I wasn't worth chasing.
Gulp
Gulp
"Haaa~"
I took a big gulp of water from the basin in front of the shrine.
I swear, it might be magical. I don't think it's rained a single time since that typhoon when I arrived here.
I wiped the water trickling down my chin and tried to get back into the corner where I was resting.
Since that night with the monster, I've decided it's too dangerous to sleep out in the open. Thus, I've fashioned a suitable, although a bit cramped, sleeping spot.
Although sleeping in that cramped spot makes me feel rather anxious.
At first, I thought it was claustrophobia, but I was never claustrophobic in my past life, so it had to be something else.
So strange.
Thud.
"Ah..."
Without realizing it, I had lost my balance and fallen over. I became too engrossed in my thoughts, and my body was too weary to stabilize itself automatically.
Growl~
Right... I ended up puking out the bread...
Meaning my stomach was once more empty...
I hope I was at least able to digest some of the bread.
I rubbed my stomach, wincing at the tender pain that shot up my spine. It was all black and blue. But luckily, my ribs didn't seem broken—maybe bruised.
I was lucky that my injuries only consisted of bruises and a few small scratches, which I made sure to clean.
If a bone had broken, it would have hindered my movement and would've ultimately led to my demise.
Even more so, I'm glad I didn't get raped.
It felt odd to say that as a man. The possibility hadn't even occurred to me, even when they misgendered me.
Morality seemed to be in short supply here.
It was strange. In my old world, I'd never witnessed acts like that outside of the news. And even then, it was heavily censored and told from a second-hand account.
Nor have I ever been on the receiving end of a groping, either.
Though molesters usually went after women, which I am not.
Squeek!
I jolted up, chest heaving.
Something... What was that?
I squint against the darkness further inside the shrine.
And there it was.
A fat rat, easily the size of my forearm.
Just what did it eat to get this big?
And where can I find some?
It crept across the floor, sniffing the shattered urns, piled boxes, and stacked crates.
I stared at it, enthralled, unable to peel my eyes away.
My mouth moved before my mind caught up. Saliva was pooling.
Slurp.
I brushed the saliva from my chin and scrutinized my hand in revulsion.
No... This is insane... That's a... Rat!
Who knows what kind of diseases I could contract if I ate that? I heard stomach bugs are serious issues for people in underdeveloped countries.
They literally shit themselves to death.
But before I could reason with my body, I was already shifting. I lowered myself down to a stealthy crouch, like a house cat ready to pounce. My fingers spread on the floor, my hips raised, and my legs tensed.
And I pounced, my robe fluttered, and undid itself.
My foot slipped and I tumbled, shoulder first, but I didn't let go of what I had grasped. My fingers had closed around warm, squirming fur.
It squealed for its life. But I didn't stop. The growling of my stomach overshadowed all reason.
I bit down. My teeth sank into its furry back.
The skin didn't give at first. It stretched and resisted, with the tension of rubber and with the texture of coarse, dried leather. The fur slid and stuck uncomfortably against my tongue and palate.
But the resistance of the skin didn't last forever; with a wet pop, the skin tore.
Warm blood flooded my mouth, thick, pungent, and metallic. Far more bitter and vile than I had imagined. I gagged, nearly dropping the rodent. But my jaw refused to stop.
I ripped a chunk free. The meat felt stringy and slick with fat and bile. It was far more disgusting than any cooked meat I've ever eaten.
The hair clung to my throat as the chunk of meat went down.
It twitched in my grip, hard, nearly breaking free.
I bit down again, this time into its neck. Something cracked between my teeth, and like a switch being flipped, the thrashing ceased.
I didn't stop. I tore off its legs, stripped the fat off its belly.
I have to avoid eating its guts. The shit and bacteria-filled intestines would undoubtedly get me sick.
My lips and chin were soaked, blood cascading down like a macabre waterfall. Staining my bare knees. My fingernails darkened with blood and grime.
I ate like I hadn't eaten in weeks.
Somehow, this tasted so much better than the bread.
At one point, I could even swear the blood began tasting sweet.
++++++
The seasons passed and changed.
In the blink of an eye—
Six months had gone by.
My hair had elongated, reaching down to my shoulders in greasy, uneven clumps. The only days I'd get to bathe were when it rained. My already graceless appearance had become even more scraggly.
I'd stopped paying attention to my reflection months ago. I couldn't bear to meet the gaze of the one trapped in the reflection.
How had I managed to survive this long?
Every morning, I made the same hopeless loop. Down the cracked cobblestone streets, past the fishmonger's cart, and eventually toward a little bakery tucked behind the chapel.
I managed to build a decent rapport with the baker, who took pity on me.
His name was Thom. Not Tom, tripped me up a couple of times.
I remember the first time we met. I had fainted outside his shop, and he brought me in. Gave me a loaf of bread.
Since then, he's been giving me bread every day.
He always carried this seemingly aloof smile on his face whenever he saw me. But from time to time, I'd see it. This veil of guilt, or perhaps pity, would loom over his expression every so often like a graceless cloud.
I don't know why he feels sorry. A loaf of bread did a lot for me.
I was also able to find some berries that, miraculously, weren't poisonous.
Probably.
I realized I have a very tough stomach.
A blessing.
Perhaps this was my cheat skill? The indomitable stomach.
And thus, I've managed to secure a rather stable lifestyle. However, I feel like the nutritional imbalance will kill me off sooner or later.
Yes... This kind of life is one I'm content with. I don't need anything more...
This monotonous, continuous, sedentary lifestyle.
No rent. No taxes. No job. No schedule. No purpose or expectations.
Sure, the cold made my joints ache, and I can't even remember the taste of beef anymore.
But what else do I really need?
"...I... I'm fine..."
Cling
I heard the pendant around my neck jiggle, as if begging for attention.
After weeks of trying, I realized no one would buy my pendant. I've even had the city guards called on me once.
Growl~
"Haaa..." A weary sigh parted my lips as I lazily picked myself up.
It was time to look for some food.
++++++
I managed to find some berries to eat.
"Lucky~"
As I walked back to the shrine, I popped a berry into my mouth, chewing slowly as the bitter, acidic mass turned into paste in my mouth.
As a wise biologist once said.
"This is fucking sex!"
My sudden, obscene outburst prompted some weird sidelong glances from other street goers.
Ignoring the weird stares, I climbed up the steps of the shrine, patted the Ygros sign for good luck, all the while eating my berries.
Then suddenly a sound, a voice, made me pause in my steps.
"Has someone been... Living here?" It was a feminine voice. Soothing but exuded an air of maturity
The voice was faint and off into the distance. But it was unmistakably coming from inside the shrine.
Worries began swirling in my mind.
Would I be forced to leave?
What will I do then?
With hesitant steps, I reached the entrance of the shrine.
The scent of cherry blossoms.
"Oh my...!"
That day, I saw her. A face I'd never forget.
A woman adorned in a black habit. On her head was a black, slightly transparent veil that framed her long brown hair. Beneath her bangs were a pair of silver eyes shielded behind a pair of thin rectangular glasses.
And, with a voice that seemed to hold an infinite kindness, she asked: "What is a child like you doing here?" while crouching down to my level.
As she got closer, I could also make out the white gloves she was wearing.
She smelled nice... Like cherry blossoms...
"I uh... I live here..." I meekly eked out.
I felt my face grow slightly warmer at the pathetic display.
I was acting like a child who's being forced by their parents to introduce themselves to guests.
"You live here?" She muttered.
I could hear an inkling of fascination in her voice.
She stared at me for a moment, her sweet smile never leaving her face.
"You. What's your name?" She asked, before suddenly gasping and holding her glove-covered hands to her lips. "Oh, my apologies! Where are my manners? You can call me Sister Marrow."
I nod before saying, "I'm Kai—" I pause.
Was using my real name the right choice? A Japanese name is rather unusual here.
I mean, names like Thom and Marrow?
Should I perhaps try to conform?
Right, the less I stand out, the better.
At least for now.
"I'm Rhys... Rhys Sinclair." I say, rectifying myself.
The name I saw on the gravestone.
The name that belonged to this child.
I'm sorry, but I'll be borrowing your name.
"Rhys, huh? That's a very nice name," Sister Marrow said with a warm smile.
"But you live here, huh?" She continued, her tone shifting. "That'll be a problem..."
Instantly, I felt my stomach drop.
"P-please let me stay here!" I blurted, voice trembling. "N-no one uses this place, right? It shouldn't be a problem if I just stay here!"
I knew how selfish I sounded. Who would be alright with a homeless kid squatting in one of their properties?
But if I lose this shrine, I'll lose my only respite, a place to call home...
A place to hide from those... Things.
"Oh no!" Sister Marrow waved her hands wildly. "I'm not saying you need to move out—per se…"
She trailed off, scratching her cheek awkwardly.
"It's just… I'm here because this shrine is scheduled for… demolition…" she muttered, the words clumsy, as if ashamed to say them aloud.
This woman... Sister Marrow...
She's...
Kind!
I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward, a rare warmth threatening to show. And then, like a knife to the back, her words sank in.
"D-demolished?!" I parroted, a beat late.
I feel my knees grow weak.
Wobbling.
"W-why?!" I snapped, voice cracking with disbelief.
"Wai—"
But before she could answer, I was pacing in circles, repeating, "What am I going to do?" over and over like some broken wind-up doll.
Is there any way to salvage this situation?
Could I even stop this?
Maybe I could try to persuade whoever's trying to get this shrine demolished?
But with what negotiation power?
What leverage does a kid like me have?
A familiar sensation set over me. One that shook my heart, froze my legs, and plunged my soul into fog.
Despair.
Then, out of nowhere, like a sudden headlight cutting through the dense fog—
"Listen to your elders!"
Sister Marrow's voice boomed through the shrine like a dropped stone. It was a voice I couldn't even imagine belonging to her.
Like a rat trapped before a cat, I froze, standing at attention.
"Oh–Uh!" It seemed Sister Marrow herself couldn't quite believe her voice as her face grew redder and her subsequent words fell out in stammers. "I-I didn't mean to yell!"
She picked at the strands of her hair, thinking of her next words.
"Ahem..." She cleared her throat, the faint redness fading away into her pale cheeks. "Are you listening now?"
I nod.
Suddenly, she placed her hand on her hips, and, with the tone of an adult explaining to a kid, she began to lecture me.
"You see… this world runs on give and take."
I nod.
What did that have to do with anything?
"So…" She crossed her arms. "Let's make a trade. You give up this shrine… and in return, you can live in our church-run orphanage."
...
"…What?"
[CH END]
(Author notes: It's time for the story to speed up. Want me to upload more per week? Consider supporting me by following and commenting on this work.)