《Cosmic Saga Gaiden: Golden Shin》


 Chapter 1: Better Days

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    ¡°Sorry, kid,¡± the manager mumbles, turning his back to me. The envelope he casually slid across the table feels like it has shrunk compared to the last one.


    ¡°There has to be some kind of mistake, Leo,¡± the words fumble out embarrassingly. This can¡¯t be happening. Peeking inside the faded yellow envelope, I don¡¯t want to believe what I¡¯m seeing. This can¡¯t be it. ¡°I thought my sick day was covered?¡± The balding old man sighs and pays me no attention, instead gazing out the parlor¡¯s window at the depressing outside world. ¡°I-I can¡¯t work with this, if it can help, I can work some extra hours as make-up¡­¡±


    ¡°Boy,¡± Leo¡¯s droopy eyes never once cross paths with mine, ¡°that¡¯s all I can do,¡± he rests upon the counter, stroking his silvering goatee. ¡°I¡¯m having to pinch nickels and dimes here, too. It¡¯s a troubling world out there, boy.¡± With a grunt, Leo props himself up against the table. ¡°Running a business like this isn¡¯t going to cut it anymore. In all my years of running this place, my token of gratitude is in that there packaging.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I mumble. Leo doesn¡¯t so much as flinch. ¡°No, mister Leo¡ªI swear, t-there has to be an error, there has to be!¡±


    ¡°My boy,¡± Leo interjects, a bunch of no-good hooligans speed by outside, briefly obscured by the neon, half-functioning CLOSED sign covering the cover. ¡°I counted it myself, thrice. It made my heart throb knowing I made no error. It¡¯s a fact that I cross-checked just as much with the book.¡±


    The pressure in my chest intensifies. ¡°Surely¡ªokay, but¡­ surely I can pick up more hours? My other job is cutting hours, too, Leo¡ªplease, you can¡¯t do this to me. I¡¯ll work whatever shift you give me¡ª¡°


    ¡°This is your last day here,¡± Leo responds. The aging manager slowly reaches for the cabinet and also for a small glass, to which he pours himself a drink.


    I let it sink in. I let the words pierce and soak in as I agonizingly watch Leo smack his lips and down the hatch in one shot. The glass is let down gently¡ªmore forgiving than Leo¡¯s treatment of me in recent memory. Come to think of it, Leo has always been sort of distant to me. Everyone that I thought I was acquainted with has been acting the same way.


    The two of us remain silent and not once does Leo look up to see if I¡¯m still present. No, maybe my aura has simply never been sensed by Leo in the first place. I show up for work, stand here, clock out and go home¡ªand maybe drop by for the paycheck.


    Leo doesn¡¯t so much as offer me a drink, either. I watch the caramel-like liquid pour out of its crystal clear container, splash into the drinking glass, and mend together with the pinkish soft drink Leo had on hand. And much like my allowance, disappears into the abyss as the cocktail drains through his lips through tiny sips here and there.


    Leo continues to pay me no mind. Instead, his focus is on the television; a demonstration in our city. Anti-war protests on the war on Perdenes. Close-up of draft cards being burnt and intense stare-down with NOSP anti-riot units.


    He hasn¡¯t addressed me by my name, it¡¯s always you or boy. I feel as though he has never actually acknowledged me for who I am.


    ¡°S-sir,¡± I finally croak, but Leo doesn¡¯t even bat an eye, he merely takes a shot from his glass. It¡¯s slammed harder than before, making it a little unnerving. ¡°Am I to take it that I¡¯m being fired?¡±


    Nonchalantly, Leo answers, ¡°I did say it was severance pay.¡±


    ¡°So shouldn¡¯t I be getting this as a bonus? Um¡­ I mean¡­ the normal pay and the severance pay.¡± I realize too late I may be grasping at straws here, but it never hurts to ask. This is simply just so out of the blue¡ªso random. Or maybe I¡¯m simply so caught up in my mundane life I simply never saw it coming. But there were just no warnings¡­ why, God, why?


    Only a heavy sigh as Leo licks his lips. ¡°It¡¯s your final paycheck, sorry, kid.¡± A mere apology. Nothing more, nothing less. ¡°That''s all I could scrounge up, boy. A fish has to answer to bigger fish, you know?¡±


    What the hell? Saying sorry doesn¡¯t solve life¡¯s problems. The thought rings so loud it¡¯s as if telepathy could also, funnily enough, fix all of my problems. My lips remain tight-lipped, and with a short bow, I excuse myself. Not so much as a goodbye, or acknowledging me by name for the first and last time. Nothing. That''s all I am in this city. It¡¯s all I am in life to others. You. That guy. Sometimes even a measly hey.


    As I leave, a man in a tan business suit and fedora bumps into me. I¡¯m quick to regain composure¡ªexpecting a rowdy customer, it¡¯s an instinct to immediately apologize in the face of immediate retaliation¡ªbut I¡¯m taken back when the man is kind enough to help me steady, A cigar hangs from his lips as he taps it and stares me with a big radiating grin. At me, of all people. He¡¯s clean-shaven for the most part, and shiny¡ªa bit of peach fuzz but otherwise a gentleman from out of this world. Whoever he is, he¡¯s the polar opposite of the fat, lazy Leo I¡¯ve known for a year. Hell, he sticks out like a sore thumb so much it hurts.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± the man says in a clear baritone voice. ¡°I believe you dropped this young man¡ªhm?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Leo, as if waking from a daze, turns his attention to the commotion¡ªcolors drain from his face and just as fast recovers. Leo practically jumps out of his skin to greet the customer. ¡°Mister Constantine! I didn¡¯t see you come in¡ª¡°


    ¡°Is this his paycheck?¡± The one called Constantine says in a less calm voice. It¡¯s like the room¡¯s atmosphere became more boiling than even the hottest summers we¡¯ve had in Yefren. He¡¯s quicker than I in swooping the pasty-yellow envelope, flapping its less-than-desirable amount in Leo¡¯s face. Leo clears his throat¡ªfor the first time in forever making eye contact with me, his pupils shaking. But our brief gaze breaks off in a matter of seconds. Leo reluctantly nods.


    ¡°Constantine¡­¡± Leo stammers, ¡°I can explain, er¡­¡±


    Constantine cuts him off with the clicks of his tongue. ¡°Don,¡± Constantine retorts with a heavy sigh, ¡°Don Constantine¡ªwe¡¯ve been doing business for how long and you still fail to respect me, Leo?¡± Leo practically gets on his knees, the color seemingly draining from his body again. Constantine looks him over, then at the counter and television.


    ¡°You lousy drunk! Drinking during the day after cutting loose your one and only employee,¡± a sharp glance at me¡ªa sly smile before he turns his attention to Leo, ¡°were you thinking of closing shop, running away¡ª¡° Leo gasps and shakes his head, beads of sweat rolling down his fat face, ¡°hoping for a new change of life in the Clusters above? Life isn¡¯t that simple, Leo!¡±


    Leo cowers by covering and shaking his head. I cannot tell rather if I should be horrified or impressed that I would ever see Leo in this state. But when Constantine looks me over, I can¡¯t help but feel a storm of intimidation crash over me. ¡°Please,¡± Leo whimpers, looking up at Constantine with a peeking eye, ¡°please¡ªplease, don¡¯t misunderstand the situation. I¡¯m simply¡­ I¡¯m simply planning on operating solo for a while, at least until I can pay for your fees.¡±


    ¡°Oh! How pathetic you¡¯ve gotten, Leo! It almost hurts my soul to see you like this,¡± Constantine cries, grabbing my former manager by the collar and setting him on his feet. Leo wobbles but uses the counter to relax as best as he can. ¡°If you need some extra muscle¡ªI have a cousin in need of some pocket money¡­ perhaps I can put in a word for him to work here?¡±


    Wait¡­ huh? Bewildered, I almost want to step in and ask why he wouldn¡¯t just ask Leo to rehire me, but Constantine continues before I can say anything. Leo is just as equally baffled¡ªbut then again, he could just simply be too groggy to properly process the information. ¡°Of course, I¡¯ll let you off with¡­¡± Constantine paces the room, tapping his chin. He whirls around, the jacket on his shoulders fluttering behind him. ¡°Hmmm, four months¡¯ worth of protection fees, I suppose? But in exchange, you must pay him properly¡­ he¡¯s quite the frivolous spender you know? I¡¯ll even forgive your past debts for the past couple of months as a sweetener. A fresh slate, Leo my boy.¡±


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    I¡¯m taken aback. Why is this happening? Why should Leo even accept this offer or whatever it is¡­ then the thought strikes like a thunderbolt. Leo is a victim of racketeering. I can¡¯t believe it. But the fact that our part of the city is infested with gangs¡ªit really shouldn¡¯t come as a surprise, but it does.


    ¡°And you, my boy,¡± Constantine takes long strides to wrap one of his great, big arms around my shoulders. Constantine reaches for my puny severance pay and puts it in my palm.


    ¡°Mister¡ªer, Don, sir¡­?¡± I stammer, what¡¯s the meaning of this? Before I get a chance to register what¡¯s happening, Constantine reaches into his back pocket and slaps it onto the small, crumbled envelope. At first, it¡¯s a few wads of paper¡ªand then the realization strikes me hard. Constantine must¡¯ve sensed it when I gasped since his strong arm keeps me steady. Had it not been for him I would¡¯ve most likely just fainted.


    Several dozen wads of Ruthenian marks practically spring up in my hand. Some slip out of my cupped hand but all the same, I feast my eyes upon a treasure that I would never even think would be possible. And these aren¡¯t just small chump changes like Leo¡¯s severance pay¡ªno, these colorful marks aren¡¯t just ones, fives, and tens, this is practically a huge clump of fifties and hundreds!


    My heart won¡¯t stop beating rapidly. My hands shake, and it¡¯s like jolting out of a dream when Constantine pats me on the shoulders. ¡°Ease up there, champ!¡± Constantine says with a happy grin. ¡°Consider it a parting gift from yours truly, eh? Don Constantine, that is,¡± Constantine flashes me bright white and gold teeth that are just as blinding as the wads of marks in my possession.


    This is too good to be real. This is heaven. I turn to show my gratitude to the Don but my mouth is only dry¡ªI can¡¯t express my total joy. For a moment, it¡¯s like I never got fired, it¡¯s like I own the world¡ªlike all the past grievousness until now were converted into good karma.


    ¡°Good to see you in good spirits, champ,¡± Constantine says with those gleaming eyes of his. He waves to Leo and with his strong presence, motions me out the door. It truly is no longer like I¡¯m getting laid off or fired, but otherwise welcomed into a new path in life. A path of riches. All the worries I have are seemingly swept away.


    ¡°As a further extension of my gratitude,¡± Constantine says, ¡°I want you to contact me for money¡ªfor protection, anything¡­¡± Constantine slips into my breast pocket a business card, tucking it in and patting it like it¡¯s his pride and joy. ¡°This is my side of the strip¡ª¡° Constantine whispers into my ear, ¡°I own this territory. You need something¡ªmoney¡­ I can lend, problems with a landlord¡ª¡° Constantine tilts his hand and waves to the mirage of skyscrapers, ¡°I can turn a few cheeks here and there¡­ my boy,¡± with his large hands, he makes me face him, ¡°I take care of those in need,¡± mesmerized by those emerald eyes, I take in his every word. All that fear, all that intimidation I had of this mind and the thought of illegal racketeering are like they never existed.


    ¡°Go on, kid, make as much of a living for yourself as you can. That should last you for¡­¡± Constantine cranes his neck, his eyes rolling around as he seems to decide for me how my life plays out. ¡°Half a year, a year if you¡¯re lucky. Now, I do expect some of that money to drip back to me¡± he raises a hand, flat and tilting it a bit as he talks, ¡°think of it as a¡­ spider¡¯s long web¡ªa lifeboat for those in this purgatory of a city, ready to save those one foot in the grave and,¡± he makes a fist, pulling the fist away from my face and towards the distant mirage of industrial buildings that do what I can do not¡ªreach for the skies, the very heavens themselves, ¡°propel them into a new life!¡±


    With a roar of laughter, Constantine pats my back. ¡°These are tough times, kid. Watch out for yourself. You might be on the road to the high-end life¡ªsomebody in this nobody world, or you might be waddling through the marshes of Perdenes with a heavy machine gun in hand. Riddled and face-down the dirt, gurgling in a pool of your blood¡­¡± the eerie thought looms over my mind, bringing me back into the fantasy I was presiding in.


    But still, glaring at the huge wads of Ruthenian marks in my hands¡ªthe shaking resumes, and I take deep breaths to calm myself. This is reality. This really is happening. Maybe Don Constantine is right¡ªthis could be my ticket to no longer be just a hey you to everyone. I can finally be me.


    ¡°So long, kid,¡± Constantine says, ¡°I¡¯ll catch you around soon, I hope!¡± with a chuckle, Constantine gives me one last pat and heads back into the parlor. The half-functioning CLOSED neon sign buzzes on as the door slams behind him.


    Stuffing the money into my pockets, I head off into the dusky night with reinvigoration. Full to the brim with thoughts on what I should do with the money. Invest it in stocks? Pay off the rent I¡¯ve been following behind on?


    Passing by streets and corridors, some are cordoned off by NOSP and their Legionnaire-embedded riot units. It¡¯s a sight all too common these days. If only I could¡¯ve taken the train or even a taxi home, but sadly even those went on strike. The whole downtown area has been teetering on chaos, and I should thank the stars above that I¡¯ve always been too poor to move in there. There could¡¯ve been a whole lot of prospects if I had my way in life.


    Staring at the gloomy sky baking me in its charming moonlight, I tug on my coat and breath out icy breath. Maybe I should move out of this side of Yefren altogether. It¡¯s always been too chilly here. I hear there are smaller towns and ranches on the Eastern side of the planet that are slightly warmer for most of the year. Never had the money, and never dared to do so until now.


    The sight of a rocket launch in a distant spaceport leaves me with wonder. Up above, high above the atmosphere of space, Side colonies have always been advertised as an escape from mundane planetary life. My parents dreamed of going to space, but they died old and penniless¡ªand now I¡¯ve sort of inherited that dream of theirs. But¡­ I could never accomplish that. I could never be somebody¡ªnever any more than a hey you to people with this life. I wanted to go to space in the hopes that would change¡­ but instead, I languished here, as Constantine would put it, in purgatory, reaching out into the abyss grasping blindly and desperately for hope.


    And the light answered.


    Examining the money again. My bated breath lets out the occasional icy cloud. There¡¯s enough money here that I could easily head migrate to space in a matter of days¡ªeven tomorrow if I so desire. And still, possibly have enough funds left over that I could find an affordable place and a small motorized vehicle if I¡¯m lucky. I have no real belongings to hold me down¡ªa bunch of extra clothes, mainly. A couple furniture I could sell off for a pretty buck. It¡¯ll be trivial, I could be on my way tonight for the next flight if I wanted!


    But¡­


    I squeeze the money. What about Constantine? Enamored as I was by his baritone voice, it¡¯s only now I have a nagging feeling I¡¯m falling victim to the same thing that poor Leo does. Like I¡¯m a fly nonchalantly waiting for a Venus fly trap to crush and devour him.


    Life threw me a curveball. A nasty curveball. I owe someone I barely know anything of but likely knows about me and where I live money, a potentially dangerous individual who¡¯s not exactly a law-abiding citizen of the Federation. Someone who owns an extortion network and punishes those who don¡¯t owe up to their favors. Someone capable of snipping the lonesome web of hope in a pit of eternal despair.


    I may be in a worse predicament now, than if I hadn''t bumped into him and simply tried to slog along and apply for work¡ªas incredibly difficult as it is¡ªelsewhere. I¡¯d work in the sulfuric mines if I have to.


    Would it be appropriate to return the money, though? After that little scene he did, I have a feeling he wouldn¡¯t take it so well. He went out of his way to make me feel better about myself¡ªgive me a head-start in this crappy city that¡¯d eat me alive either way. It¡¯s either I die on my terms, or I die on his terms. The money may be insane, but who knows what demands he may have in store for me in the future? If I didn¡¯t know any better¡­ I imagine he¡¯d have some muscle-men ready to collect his share of the rent. Who knows what that man is capable of if it frightens some so docile as Leo?


    I stop in the knee-high snow. The rocket¡¯s ignition still lingers like a painted line among the dark canvas of space.


    I should turn back and return the money; to apologize that I simply cannot take it out of principle. That I¡¯ll crawl out of hell myself one way or another. I don¡¯t want to live the foreseeable future indebted to someone else, knowing that what I say or do wrong might rub someone like Don Constantine the wrong way.


    I¡¯ll shoot my way to space with no one else¡¯s help. My parents had each other and no one else in even their darkest hour, doing their best for themselves and their son. I¡¯m not about to languish here forever!


    Boots crunching through the snow. Some chuckling circulates around me. A tap on the shoulder¡ªit¡¯s a bulky feel, not unlike a finger. Turning around I find myself greeted by a group of street punks. True to their nature, they wear colorful striped jackets and demonic face masks. And judging from the bats in their possessions, they don¡¯t seem like they¡¯re on their way back from a game of ball.


    ¡°Hey, you,¡± the biggest one of them, a man with shaggy hair sprouting from his red demonic mask. ¡°You lost?¡±

 Chapter 2: My Name...

    Oh, such luck. It¡¯s just one of those days, I wonder as another cloud of icy breath slips through my lips¡ªsomething that I envy I wish I could do now. Without another thought, I shove my fidgeting hands into my jacket¡¯s pockets. Freezing? Fear? Who knows at a time like this?


    ¡°Hey? You listening? The boss asked you a question, punk.¡± Something metallic lightly taps the back of my head. I instinctively let out a shudder, something the boys chuckle at. ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot of nerve walking all by your lonesome through these parts of the town,¡± the one farthest from me circles around me, letting his bat hit the snowy concrete and dragging it behind me. Any moment now I expect him¡ªany of them, to whack me¡ªan action that never comes.


    He¡¯s right. You¡¯ll never catch me dead walking around¡ªespecially not at a bad time like these. Looters, rioters¡­ NOSP agents are up to no good, you never know what you might expect as the sun starts setting. ¡°Not much of a talker, eh?¡± another one remarks. The posse laughs again.


    Glancing around, besides their questionably fashionable jackets and excessive straps they wear nothing but black or green boilersuits. Most of their jackets are embroidered with extravagant slogans of all varieties. Ranging from army Legionnaire scribbling, anti-Federation messages like a caricature depiction of the Prime Minister with his head decapitated¡ªyou name it.


    And then, of course, are their hannya masks with elaborate war paint color schemes. If memory serves me right¡­


    Another jab from behind, I stumble forward. ¡°Hey, hey, hey!¡± A woman off to my right taps my shoulder with a golden adorned bat, ¡°anyone home in that head of yours? It¡¯s freezing, but it ain¡¯t that cold!¡±


    ¡ªThe Zero Nakamura gang, some kind of biker gang that happened to foster in this troubling, unforgiving city over the years. These misunderstood misfits range from your typical troubled youth of society to returning Legionnaire veterans¡ªsome are rumored to be as old as Mars combat veterans. The Zero Nakamura have clashed with the NOSP on more than one occasion; hell, I heard they were bold enough to raid a NOSP headquarters right in the smack of town.


    ¡°You know, when someone is talking to ya, you¡¯re supposed to acknowledge them and humor them a little, no?¡± The woman says with a sneer, poking at my feet with her bat. I grit my teeth, clenching my fists but standing firm nonetheless.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Emilie,¡± A large man steps forward, his bat eagerly tapping against his wide shoulders. His jumpsuit is partially unzipped, and his elaborate jacket flutters in the cold breeze. He¡¯s nicely toned, to say the least. In comparison, I shudder and hug myself in the freeze. He has golden pompadour hair that nearly covers his hannya mask¡ªand unlike the others, its horns are torn off, and a scar-like crack zips horizontally across the mask. His oceanic eyes seem to burst at any moment through the burgundy-matte hannya mask.


    At first, the woman chuckles. But it takes a stare from the man for her to back down. ¡°Sorry, Mountain,¡± the woman murmurs. And in a crunchy unison, Mountain¡¯s posse widens the circle. And for a brief moment, a NOSP armored van wails by, blinding everyone with its siren. My eyes take some time to readjust, and in that span of a second the realization hits me; I¡¯ve lost that minuscule window of opportunity to make my escape. No one comes to my rescue, no one to save a nobody. Nobody can save me.


    ¡°Listen, buddy,¡± Mountain speaks after adjusting his collar¡ªnot even glancing to check he¡¯s in the clear. His burly chest heaves with each icy breath. ¡°I¡¯ll make this plain and simple for you¡ªthat jacket,¡± he points with his bat¡ªmore like a studded metal club¡ªat me. ¡°That jacket of yours,¡± his deep eyes look me over. ¡°It¡¯s nice, it seems cozy¡­ it¡¯d look great with graffiti, yeah? Maybe a bit of spraying here and there.¡±


    I clear my throat. Snugging my jacket. Carefully wrapping my hands over my last resort to not arouse suspicion. One of the Nakamura boys squints at me but says nothing to the others. Is he catching on? ¡°You know where I¡¯m going with this, right? I don¡¯t like having to spill things out with civilians. It¡¯s not my thing. I¡¯m a nice guy. Reasonable,¡± Mountain gestures with his club towards the snow. ¡°Take it off,¡± he orders.


    ¡°I¡ªI can¡¯t,¡± I answer. Digging my heels into the snow. It¡¯s just like how those overpriced lessons were. The Zero Nakamura merely chuckles at first¡ªhesitation, maybe, not wanting to upset Mountain.


    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± The Nakamura honcho answers. My hand fidgets, ready to brandish at any given moment. I don¡¯t want to do this, it may not even work. I should run for it. I might be able to jump over onto the snowy canal below. Might hurt my legs a little, but it¡¯s better than what I have coming.


    ¡°This jacket belonged to my old man,¡± I respond. The shivering only gets work. ¡°I¡¯ve had this for as long as I could remember,¡± it¡¯s getting harder to talk, the coldness sweeps in through the jacket and makes me jitter with each passing moment. It¡¯s like the only thing I have for an identity. It¡¯s what makes me who I am in this godless wretched city. Possibly the only thing that keeps me sane.


    The Zero Nakamura only laughs in response. ¡°Ain¡¯t that adorable?¡± One of the members cries out¡ªMountain lowers his metal club and rests both hands on it, undisturbed by the snow blanketing us and the peanut gallery.


    ¡°One of my boys needs it,¡± Mountain says, I follow his gaze to a younger member who only wears a black boilersuit, plain, mostly. He has a half-mask and short brown hair. He looks bewildered, and his bat is smaller than the others. ¡°Poor momma¡¯s boy ran away from home and hasn¡¯t found his way yet in the crew¡ªonly his second day out on the prowl. You understand, right?¡± Mountain says, another icy mist escaping through his mask. ¡°I want to do this the easy way¡ªyou part ways with your heirloom and we¡¯ll be on our way.¡±


    I only hug my jacket tighter, taking a step back. The circle encloses again. ¡°Am I to take that as non-compliance?¡± Mountain asks. He blinks several times and raises one hand to gesture the others at me.


    Extreme pain reverberates from my lower body. I let out a scream that nobody hears¡ªa cry for help drowned out by the howling, uncaring wind. Then a sudden pull at my jacket as the Nakamura tries to pry it from me¡ªall it takes for me to whip free and brandish my pistol.


    ¡°Get back!¡± I cry, my hands fumble from the pain and cold. ¡°So help me god, I¡¯ll do it!¡± I wave it around at the shocked Nakamura. The barrel points at several of the individuals¡ªat Mountain, the woman, and then lastly the boy. The poor kid falls to the snow, his eyes widening by the second.


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    ¡°All it takes is one shot and NOSP will be over the scene like flies!¡± My lungs burn with each word. ¡°Is that what you want? Is that what it¡¯s worth over a goddamn jacket?! Is that what this city has come down to?!¡±


    It¡¯s a bluff. The pistol can be hardly qualified as a pellet gun¡ªI could never be bothered even paying a pretty dollar for the ammunition. Those crazy bastards in Terra outlawed guns well beyond my time and expect spacenoids to live pretty little lives. And look at where that¡¯s gotten me¡ªthis facade of a world into!


    Several steps back, ¡°nobody move¡ªand I¡¯ll be on my way,¡± I sneer. I grip the pistol as tightly as I can in this numbing cold. Just a few more steps¡ªand I¡¯ll be on my way to¡ª


    I nearly black out as I crash to the snow bedding, insane pain prevails from my lower back. I hear a grunt as the pistol is kicked over the railing.


    It failed. I¡¯ve failed. The Zero Nakamura hone in on me like vultures and beat me senseless¡ªripping my prized jacket off me. Soon enough, only the snow is left to bring me solace as my back becomes a practice target for the Zero Nakamura.


    But this feeling of twisted paradise doesn¡¯t last long. I¡¯m propelled up from my snowy grave and given the full-frontal treatment. I can¡¯t wrestle away, I can¡¯t so much as turn. It¡¯s as though I¡¯m lobotomized, hanging only from the hydraulic grips of several Nakamura members keeping me upright. My vision blurs in and out¡ªand all I can make out is Mountain standing from afar, resting with his metal club as his goons make work.


    And the beating stops. The pain lingers¡ªmy knees give out, and the slayers of snow cushions my collapse. Painful gasps escape me as I realize the only breathtaking thing about this city¡ªthe pure, blissful snow now stained crimson. I slump forward¡ªbut my hair is pulled back by the woman. The Zero Nakamura remarks something to one another, and the young lad steps forward.


    Someone helps him raise and shadows him as he practices swinging his bat. We make eye contact¡ªtime has frozen for the two of us. He takes one foot forward, then the other.


    The bat shakes in his hands. He¡¯s as scared shitless as I am. But in my case, all I desire now is death¡ªan end to this torture. Most of my life has been varying degrees of suffering. All I¡¯ve wanted is a paradise¡ªand maybe this kid and his bat is the key to it.


    My heart beats rapidly¡­ progressively, as the kid takes a few more steps. I can¡¯t make out anything else anymore. My vision narrows to just the kid and nothing else. The world is a blur, and soon enough it won¡¯t be even that. To be done in like this¡ªis merely misfortune. Even as a child I faced nothing but hardships¡­ in these fleeting moments fueled by pain and misery I can only wonder if I ever truly experienced a genuinely happy moment in my life. I¡¯ve never once considered suicide¡ªI merely soldiered on, for my sake and my parents.


    Where did I go wrong? Where did they go wrong? They did their damn best. And I¡¯d fault them over nothing. I can only wonder how I should apologize that I¡¯ll be seeing them sooner than expected. I have no idea what I should say or do. I failed to carry on with their dreams of getting to space. I¡¯ve never been religious, much less believed in the afterlife.


    As the kid raises his bat over his head, I close my eyes one last time. I draw what may very well be my next breath, and ponder; maybe in the next life, I¡¯ll live in a world where I and others can achieve our dreams with ease.


    My shoulders suddenly light, and I find myself once again embraced by the snow. I can make out shouting¡ªjust barely¡ªand a stampede through the snow¡ªit¡¯s not long before it fades and ringing takes over. My head throbs relentlessly.


    Using what energy I can, I crane my neck and see a pair of black boots in my periphery. I hear nothing but muffles drowned out by the ringing¡ªand as the ringing stops, I can hear a man¡¯s voice. This person seems to shake me, and I¡¯m slowly but surely coming back to my senses. A surprise, given the shock I¡¯m enduring.


    I¡¯m cold. I¡¯m so cold. I want to say, but the words never form. Whoever this person is¡ªit could be an angel for all I know¡ªthey sit me up straight and pat me down. My battered mind only simply wonders. Are they another thug? Perhaps someone chasing after another¡¯s prey? Are they operating alone? Who of all people could scare off the Zero Nakamura?


    My vision is still blurry, they face me and pat my frozen cheeks. Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? The words slowly come to me. Questions I try to answer, but the dizziness makes it hard to formulate an answer.


    They get up and shuffle around as if looking for anything valuable before coming back to stand in front of me. They pat my cheek¡ªroughly, this time¡ªand out of reflection I slap their hand. The man pulls his hand back and chuckles¡ªand, oddly enough, that is enough to jolt me to life.


    ¡°Am I dead?¡± I whisper, squinting as I stare up at my angel retrieving my soul. Maybe the last couple of seconds were hallucinations. Maybe¡­


    The man ponders¡ªa little chuckle. He only grins, extending a hand out to me. It¡¯s practically¡­ the single nicest thing someone has done to me in my life. Someone who notices me¡­ who offers their support¡ªif only briefly¡ªto someone whose life is literally on the thread. I must be dead.


    But his words defy that. Truly, this man is a magician, capable of reviving a pathetic little fool straight from his frozen tomb.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not dead,¡± the mysterious stranger answers ¡°so¡­ er, this may be an odd time to ask, but¡­ what¡¯s your name?¡± My eye ducts are frozen the moment my emotions attempt to pour out of them. And yet¡ªand yet, my body is warm. It blazes as fiery as ever, like a phoenix igniting its surroundings in a fiery blaze of reincarnation.


    My name? A question so mundane¡ªso typical, but for me, it feels like being asked a million-dollar question. I cannot even remember the last time I¡¯ve been asked my name¡ªthe last time I even recall ever thinking about my name.


    It¡¯s almost like the first time I¡¯ve genuinely been asked the question. A question so simple in its very nature, yet colorful.


    My name¡­?


    ¡°Shin,¡± I splutter; we lock eyes as my lips tremble. ¡°Shin¡­ Araki.¡± I use what little strength I¡¯ve regained and clasp his offering hand.


    ¡°Shin Araki,¡± the man repeats, nodding and smiling. Just hearing those words uttered by another gets me riled with emotions. We work together slowly, keeping me on my feet. But I nearly fall over¡ªto which the kind individual is quick with carrying me by the shoulder.


    It doesn¡¯t snow as much. The night feels calmer. Like a still moment. A moment that I couldn¡¯t express to this kind stranger. The familiar silence makes me at ease¡ªmy body disperses all negativity. The kind warmth of this man is my spell over this hellscape we live in.


    ¡°I¡­¡± the guardian angel looks at me in curiosity. He seemingly takes a moment to answer, perhaps coming to the same contemplation one way or another. ¡°I never got to ask for yours¡­ your name, I mean.¡±


    A long trail of silence follows. Dawn begins to break, and I see for the first time a colorful view of the world. Our word. This world that Shin Araki and this man of integrity soldier on through. And the man ponders, concentrating full speed again. Where were we going? It didn¡¯t matter.


    And like the snap of a finger, I¡¯m brought back to reality when the angel clears his throat¡ªperhaps out of embarrassment. I¡¯ll never know, it doesn¡¯t matter. ¡°My name,¡± he begins, ¡°is Karwoski.¡±


    Karwoski¡­ it¡¯s a name that practically imprints itself on me. Struck by profound eureka, I spring free of Karwoski and find myself rejuvenated¡ªJoy? Adrenaline? My mind races at such an exciting speed that I have no idea what it could be. Whichever the case, I find myself struck by awe, extending a proposition of sorts to the equally captivated Karwoski.


    ¡°Karwoski!¡± I proclaim, oddly caught in the moment by my sudden excitement, ¡°I present to you this: the two of us, binding together to fight and survive in this city! One¡¯s back to the other¡ªbrothers-in-arms in this unfateful world!¡± Karwoski, thunderstruck by the bewildering question, stumbles back and nearly loses his balance.


    Karwoski scoffs and gets up to take my offer by the arm. This mutual promise is predestined for the two of us¡ªfor Shin Araki and Karwoski.