Chapter 3 - The Far Away City...


    <i>He crept around quietly, making sure no one saw him this time. He needed no one to see him. He was embarrassed to be naked and dreaded being seen that way again.</i>


    <i>In reality, Ima had no idea what he was doing. He had died of a heart attack—and peed himself while doing so. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on him. He hadn’t passed away wrinkled and surrounded by his grandchildren, but instead, in a packed meeting room at his job, facing his biggest fear. It felt unfair. He wasn’t anyone special. He had no redeeming qualities aside from being a coward.</i>


    <i>And he knew that. He hated that about himself. Whatever god had sent him here should’ve just let him die and reincarnate, erasing the memory of his pathetic existence.</i>


    <i>From the shadows, he spotted a clothing rack not too far away. Pants, shirts, underwear—perfect. He looked left and right.</i>


    <i>“Nice! No one in sight.”</i>


    <i>Like a ninja, he ran to the rack and grabbed a set of clothes in one swift motion.</i>


    <i>Ima had stolen for the first time. A pang of guilt hit him, but survival came first. The owners would understand, right? Then a sudden thought made his stomach twist.</i>


    <i>This world’s state was equivalent to the medieval era back on Earth. What if the owner had HIV or something?</i>


    <i>His expression twisted with disgust as he stared at the clothing in his hands.</i>


    <i>“Oh right, I have no d*** or p****. I’ll be just fine.”</i>


    <i>Shaking his head, he shoved the stolen clothes under his arm. First, he needed to wash up. Running around in his current state would only draw more attention.</i>


    <i>After sneaking around for a while, he finally found what he needed, a well.</i>


    <i>It was a small stone structure near the back of what looked like an abandoned shop. A wooden bucket hung from a frayed rope, swaying gently in the breeze.</i>


    <i>“This’ll do,” he muttered, scanning his surroundings one last time.</i>


    <i>With no one in sight, he set the clothes down and reached for the rope. Lowering the bucket into the well, he listened for the splash as it hit the water below. As he cranked it back up, the wooden pulley groaned in protest.</i>


    <i>Through clenched teeth, he hissed, "Come on, don''t be so loud."</i>


    <i>The bucket emerged, sloshing with water. Without hesitation, Ima doused himself. The shock of cold hit like a punch, and he bit his lip to keep from yelping. He scrubbed away the dirt and grime with his hands, then dunked his head, letting the water cascade over him.</i>


    <i>Now soaked but at least clean, another problem arose. He had no towel.</i>


    <i>He stood there dripping, the cold seeping into his bones. The breeze only made it worse. He shivered violently, cursing his lack of foresight.</i>


    <i>With a resigned sigh, he shook his head vigorously, trying to shake off some of the water. Then he slid his arms into the sleeves of the shirt.</i>


    <i>“Dressed or not, I would still catch a cold.”</i>


    <i>Sliding the pants on, he muttered a silent prayer hoping that he wouldn’t somehow catch a disease from them.</i>


    <i>Stepping onto the streets of the city, Ima’s eyes widened in amazement. The architecture, the people, the clothes, the tools—everything felt like he had been sucked into a movie. The only difference?</i>


    <i>Everything was filthy, and the air reeked of waste and unwashed bodies.</i>


    <i>He paused frequently, staring at things or people, mesmerized by the strange world around him. He had no direction—just endless curiosity guiding his steps.</i>


    <i>Then he felt it.</i>


    <i>A small hand grasped his own.</i>


    <i>Startled, he turned around, his heart pounding. </i>


    <i>Had he been caught? Did they figure out he set the fire and stole the clothes?</i>


    <i>"It wasn''t me!" he blurted out. "I didn''t do it!"</i>


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    <i>He looked down.</i>


    <i>A girl.</i>


    <i>She had the face of a child, her body covered in rags, her skin caked with dirt. Her eyes brimmed with fear, her tiny hand trembling as it clutched his.</i>


    <i>"Please... help me.”</i>


    <i>Ima stared at her incredulously. Was she a beggar? Had she mistaken him for someone kind? Sadly, she had chosen the wrong person—he was even poorer than her. He had nothing at all.</i>


    <i>Before he could shatter her hopes completely, two men emerged behind her. Their faces were full of anger.</i>


    <i>One was tall and broad-shouldered, a deep scar running across his left cheek. His gaze burned with rage as he locked onto the girl.</i>


    <i>“That bitch.”</i>


    <i>He cracked his neck left and right before lifting his hand, aiming it at her. The girl froze, her face pale with terror. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tugged at Ima''s hand desperately.</i>


    <i>“Please help me. I beg of you, they''re going to kill—”</i>


    <i>A violent explosion of fire erupted from the man’s hand.</i>


    <i>The flames roared to life, engulfing the girl before she could finish her plea. Ima barely had time to react. The fire consumed her in an instant. Her small body disintegrated before his eyes.</i>


    <i>A heap of black ash fell to the ground.</i>


    <i>The world around him blurred. His ears rang. His stomach twisted into knots, and his breath caught in his throat.</i>


    <i>That... that just happened. He wasn’t imagining it. The heat still lingered on his skin. The acrid stench of burnt flesh filled his nose, making him gag. His trembling hands clenched at his sides, unable to process what he had just witnessed.</i>


    <i>A second man, shorter but just as menacing, stepped forward with a smirk. He had dark, unruly hair and weathered features. He placed a firm hand on Ima’s shoulder, chuckling.</i>


    <i>“Take it easy, will ye?” He leaned in, his voice almost teasing. “How ''bout ye head on back home and take yourself a long, hearty nap? It’d do ye some good.”</i>


    <i>“It would,” the tall man added.</i>


    <i>Ima’s gaze flickered past them into the alleyway. A group of girls huddled together, bound and trembling. </i>


    <i>His breath hitched.</i>


    <i>His feet moved before he could think. He bumped into people, shoving past them as he ran. His heart pounded, but he didn’t stop.</i>


    <i>She was right there.</i>


    <i>She was holding my hand.</i>


    <i>She…</i>


    Ima stumbled back behind the old shop, his legs giving out as he collapsed beside the well. His hands dug into his hair, his breath ragged and shallow.


    His mind replayed the scene over and over—the girl''s desperate plea, the raw terror in her eyes, and then… nothing. Just fire and ash.


    His stomach twisted painfully. His hands clenched into fists, shaking.


    <i> "Why am I here?"</i>


    His chest felt tight. He wanted to scream, to throw up, to run—but there was nowhere to go. He buried his face in his hands, shaking violently.


    <i>“Why didn’t I do anything?”</i>


    <i>He laughed, “That’s right, there was nothing I could do.”</i>


    <i>“What could I have done? I''m weak and pathetic. I couldn''t have saved her.”</i>


    He could not bear the fact that he had done nothing. He wanted to save them and to lessen the weight of the guilt that was tearing him apart from inside.


    <i>But what could he do?</i>


    He got up and marched back into the streets, walking around  aimlessly like a zombie.


    His mind was spinning, consumed by guilt and fear. The image of the girl turning to ash replayed over and over in his mind, a sickening loop he couldn''t escape.


    Ima wandered the streets, his body moving on instinct while his mind remained trapped in the memory of burning flesh.


    The acrid stench clung to his nostrils, making him want to retch. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her terrified face, her outstretched hand, and then—nothing. Just ash.


    She had begged him to help. He had done nothing.


    He should have ran faster. He should have grabbed her and bolted. He should have—


    His stomach clenched painfully. There was no undoing it. No bringing her back. But the others were still alive. He had seen them—huddled together, bound, afraid.


    His fists clenched.


    If he left now, they’d all die. Just like her.


    A sick, heavy weight pressed down on his chest. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to disappear, to curl up somewhere dark and cold and pretend none of this had happened


    <i>He wanted to go home.</i>


    His legs carried him against his better judgment, back towards the alley where the men had stood. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs as he peeked around the corner, keeping himself hidden. The two men were still there, speaking to a third—a wiry man with a hunched posture and a calculating stare.


    <i>“I’m tellin’ ya, the boss doesn’t like delays,” the wiry man said, scratching his stubbled chin. “Move ‘em quick, before they cause more trouble.”</i>


    <i>“The last one didn’t cause any trouble,” the tall man chuckled darkly. “didn’t even scream.”</i>


    Ima’s breath hitched. His stomach twisted into knots.


    The shorter man glanced toward the alley. “Fine, we’ll take ‘em . Just make sure we get paid proper.”


    The wiry man and the tall man left. The short man turned toward the captives. The girls shrank back. Ima’s body tensed. He had to act now.


    <i>But how? He had no weapon. No strength. No plan.</i>


    He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his skin.  Those girls needed to be saved. They were only being watched by a single man. He could do it. He thought since ultimately this was his only chance to do so.


    His eyes darted around, searching for a weapon—anything.


    <i>Then he saw it.</i>


    A broken wooden beam, likely fallen from an abandoned cart, lay near the gutter. It was thick enough to swing with force, splintered at the edges but solid in his grip.


    Ima gripped the wooden beam tighter, his knuckles turning white. The midday sun bore down on the street, casting sharp shadows beneath the buildings. The alley wasn’t hidden in darkness—it was right there, in plain sight.


    <i>And yet, no one did anything.</i>


    People walked by, some glancing in the direction of the struggle, but their eyes slid away just as quickly. Others didn’t even look. Their faces set in expressions of forced ignorance. A group of men leaned against a storefront, deep in conversation, while a woman across the street adjusted the fruit stand she was tending to, never once pausing.


    <i>It wasn’t as if they couldn’t see.</i>


    <i>Ima’s pulse pounded in his ears. How could they all just ignore it?</i>


    He swallowed hard, the rough texture of the beam biting into his palms. If no one else would do something, then he would. He crept behind the man with silent footsteps


    This was it.


    He had no plan, only the fire burning in his chest and the weight of the wood in his hands. But he knew he had to do it.


    <i> </i>