March 21, 2024. The first day of spring. Japan’s current prime minister, Fumio Kishida, gave a very controversial statement. However, it did not start that way.

He first defended all of OpenOcean’s detained employees in a long speech. He claimed they had little to no knowledge of the company’s hidden agenda. All went well until he mentioned the CEO and Chōwa Minagawa.

The prime minister used the same point for the latter. For the former, he argued that he never evaded taxes and paid far more than earned from the scandal. It neared thirty billion Yen, while only gaining twenty billion from the shoddy business.

All got officially pardoned the next night.

Alone at home on the TV, something sparked within Haruto. He screamed a river of joy. Neighbors outside complained. He fell to his knees, teeth clenched as more tears hit the floor.

At the dōjō, students held a passed out Tantō by the shoulders. Still with his black attire, he drove to his wife’s location as fast as he could.

“Come on. Come on!” He beeped the horn several times. Outside the prison building, he and Chōwa yelled each other’s names in tears. They hugged each other simultaneously; smiles had no end. Alas, the world did not tolerate their reunion.

From afar, a working-class truck driver parked his vehicle. Seeing the wife more made his blood boil. “It’s all that bitch’s fault!” He gripped the steering wheel tighter. He stepped on the pedal so hard the padding broke in half. “Give me back my job!”

Chōwa gasped with wide eyes, but Tantō ran in front. Before long, citizens heard thunder on land. Everyone screamed at the bloody aftermath, hearing the truck’s alarm signal.

Forgetting to pull the brake, the driver passed out on an airbag. He had smashed right into a concrete wall. A security guard instantly became a pile of red mush.

At home, Haruto’s sweat and breathing worsened as midnight ticked. Luckily, he heard a knock on the door. His happy-go-lucky glow came back.

“Mom! Dad!” He smiled and ran with waterworks. Outside, his lips lowered, confused beyond belief.

Authorities stood and interviewed a witness of the event: Maki. She went buying ingredients for her cooking club near a strip mall. “I wanted to tell him.” She sniffled. “But my heart wouldn’t let me.”

She had walked outside the front yard aimlessly for hours, gathering thoughts until the police arrived. She could not finish the interview and covered her face. Such sorrow ached her heart.

Haruto’s own had now matched a rabbit’s. Deep inside, he still clung unto hope and believed that maybe Maki lost a pet.

The chief-of-police walked in front. “This was all we could give you, kid.” He presented him a shredded black belt and a broken-up smartphone.

His pace now exceeded its limit, sweating bullet with lit up eyes. He grabbed the two objects immediately. “Wha… wha… wha… wha… wha…?” In utter shock, he frantically repeated the incomplete words. A river flowed out of his ducts.

From afar, Maki gasped and covered her mouth with both. She ran for his aid but was startled by a loud grunt. Haruto clutched his chest enough to crush a walnut. All he now felt inside was a vice tightening.

The chief-of-police raised an eyebrow. “Kid, are you—” Before he knew it, he dropped the evidence as his body shook in place. Then, on the ground, it became more violent. His mouth frothed.

The chief rushed to his aid. “Don’t just stand there!” he turned to his men. “Call an ambulance!” Two of them had restrained a bawling Maki.

As Haruto heard voices fading, memories flashed before his eyes. During his tenth birthday, Tantō gave him his first shinai. On his eleventh birthday, he defeated his first opponent in kendo.

An afternoon longer ago, his father rubbed his back when the pet rabbit went astray. His mother stumbled upon it destroying a neighbor’s garden. They never forgot his small five-year-old hug.

As Haruto’s new life began, he was woefully unprepared. Woefully so of the whole world spitting on his face. Tragically, it did not stop here. It had more misery in store for the sorry child.

March 25, 2024. Springtime. Haruto slowly opened his eyes. The whole room had shone white, and he heard beeps beside him. He noticed a plastic tube connected to his bandaged hand. Confusion became worse once he saw the IV bag.

Moments later, nurse opened a door on the left corner of the room he was in. The nurse walked toward him. “Time for your medication, sir.” She put pills on a table. “We couldn’t give it to you orally before.”

Haruto got up. “What? What’s happen— Aaagh!” He felt a sharp sting between his legs.

The nurse corrected his posture in bed. “Please relax, sir. Don’t move too much. The catheter will fall off.”

He breathed faintly. “Miss… what happened?”

“Acute coronary syndrome. In layman’s terms, you had a heart attack. A very fatal one, too. STEMI. You’re lucky the permanent damage wasn’t severe. From now on, you’ll have a slight limp on your right leg. You just need time for exercise here.”

As the nurse explained explained, Haruto moved his limb for confirmation. It had a half-second delay.

She wrote on her board. “We looked at your family records. You have a long history of STEMI on both sides, and not just your grandparents. A sister on your father’s side passed away. Same for your mother’s cousin.

She replaced his IV bag and went for the door. “I know it’s not my business. But we don’t fault you for any association with Chōwa Minagawa. We’re here to help.”

Haruto’s heart raced over her words. He panted and banged the table beside him. “Help? Help!? Then why make it sound like Mom was a criminal!” His eyes narrowed.

She raised her hand in front. “Please, sir, calm down. I’m really sorry if she was your whole world. I only got my info from the news. So, I thought that—”

“Shut up!!” His breath became louder. “You don’t know anything. If you did for even a second, you would’ve—”

Haruto felt his stomach turn, and also felt lightheaded. Throat on fire, he leaned over a bed railing. Chunky, white liquid splashed on the floor. For the third time, it turned dark red. The nurse quickly rubbed his back. More went inside the room.

Hours later, they took him outside via wheelchair. During physical therapy, he past the parallel bars test, albeit he almost fell. Back inside, the doctor told him to touch his chest with his finger, then touch her palm repeatedly. He showed no motor loss on both hands.

The nurse tucked him in bed after dishing out his dinner. She stood up. “A week from now, you’ll be picked up by your uncle and his wife on your father’s side. They always wanted a child but never could.”

As she opened the door, he got up. “They’re both dead, aren’t they?”

She turned around. “Yes, sir. It was instant. They were cremated. The funeral began three days ago while you were unconscious. Not many on your mother’s side attended.”

Haruto lied down and sighed, faintly weeping. “Good to know….”

For hours, he stared blankly at the ceiling once more. Seven days of sleepless nights occurred. Every waking moment, with every symptom, prescription, and routine, he felt extremely humiliated. He now saw himself as a weak, wrinkled, frail man nearing his end.

In the end, he never denied their methods. “Keep it together, Haruto… It’s all good for you. You’ll— Ohm!” He held his mouth and reached for his bucket.

The week had now ended. He crookedly walked out the hospital. Rays of sunshine blinded him.

Two got out of a car parked outside. Nisemono Minagawa (皆川 偽者) shook his hand. His wife Shōmei (皆川 照明) gave a long hug. Thirty-five and thirty-three years old, respectively.

The former looked similar to his father, though more youthful. On the other hand, his long-haired wife’s complexion did not match Chōwa at all. However, he would have lied to say she did not show kind smiles.

Nisemono held his shoulder. “I don’t know what to say, sport. Words can never express how you feel right now. But we’ll be a great family as well. I swear.”

Shōmei kissed his chin. “Your mom and I were very close, Haruto. We used to help each other with graphic designing. We would do it all day and night.

She pulled a Zoro figurine from her handbag. It had displayed his famed Nitōryū stance. “Chōwa wanted this badly for your twelfth birthday. The shipping didn’t make it to Ōhira. She told me to buy you one when she got her new job.”

Nisemono noticed the figurine. “Say… wasn’t he your favorite? Your dad told me. I bet you tried this style on kendo. I sparred many times with him.” He bent slightly. “Tell ya what? After lunch, let’s do some practice. Whaddya say, sport?”

Haruto sulked throughout the couple’s words, but he mustered a smile. “Alright…” he spoke softly with a nod.

“Hahahahaha…” he patted his shoulder with closed eyes. “That’s the spirit.”

Today’s lunch was ramen. Haruto noticed their bickering to be eerily similar yet still different. Shōmei complained to Nisemono never eating the Menma toppings—lactate-fermented bamboo shoots.

“Why should I?” he argued. “They don’t have much nutritional value.” His ear turned red.

This time, Haruto did not laugh softly at the scene. In fact, his eyes told nothing of the sort. During kendo in the backyard, he and Nisemono began at equal footing until the last part. The former fell on his behind after he delivered a horizontal swing.

The foster father got up and stretched. “Nice going, sport! I never beaten your dad, too. Really takes me back.” He patted his shoulder and went to the living room. Once again, Haruto squinted in annoyance. It had become the case until then.

The couple showered him with the same love he always felt. Yet, his heart did not change. Surprisingly, he never took out his frustration at them. Every time Nisemono and Shōmei smiled at him, he gave back the bare minimum.

However, in bed, he continued staring blankly at the ceiling. He copiously moved from one spot to another, failing to get some shut-eye.

April 1, 2024. Still springtime. On the first day of school, Haruto had a new reputation. Barely anyone talked to him. He would be resented and ridiculed by many. As a result, his knuckles would bruise with sweat over his face after class. He opened the office door three times at that point.

Outside the school building, a gang of four sat. “Guys, look,” one said. “It’s the son of that bitch!”

Another looked closer. “Should we fuck with him or fuck him up? He might show off more than we could chew. Plus, he’s carrying that bamboo sword thing behind his bag. Whatever you call it.”

The leader walked past them. “I say we do both. I’m still pissed off from constantly losing to that insufferable bastard last year. So glad the principal’s losing patience with him.”

His friend shrugged. “Well, that was pretty much your fault, man. We told you to never mess with Hoko– Aagh!” His stomach felt wrong for the first time.

The leader shook his head after the deed. “Let’s go…” he dictated, which made them follow from behind.

The gang surrounded Haruto from the trees. They began their bullying by showing the ready stance in kendo. His father’s career had leaked two days prior.

“Hai! Hai! Hai! Hai!” They moved their arms up and down near their crotches. It went faster and faster until they simulated loud moaning. Students from afar were disgusted over the implication.

Next, they went for his late mother. They showed him how they could simply screenshot any NFT in the online market with no repercussions. “You see this, bitch?” one presented his smartphone. “Your mommy died for a scammer’s paradise!”

They brayed like there was no tomorrow. Haruto’s eyes lit up. He dropped his bag and pulled up his shinai.

The gang leader had already anticipated. He neared his arms before the strike would hit. A punch in the gut made Haruto drop his sword. The others laughed louder.

“Alright, guys!” he grinned. “Hold him up!”

The leader’s friends restrained Haruto by the shoulders. With the shinai in hand, he battered his stomach. “Home run! Home run!” he exclaimed repeatedly. He had thanked his trophies internally.

Before the seventh swing, Haruto push-kicked him with his right. He elbowed his restraints to the chest. Reunited with his shinai, he growled his clenched teeth. Drool came out alongside fury. Every blow delivered onto the gang was with permanent intent; he yearned for them to never walk.

The agony worsened by the second. They lay on the ground in a fetal position, but he continued for two minutes. Fury came out the loudest after aiming at the leader’s face. They all stopped moving.

Haruto dropped his shinai and felt lightheaded again. He fell on his back with a hazy vision. From afar, Maki dropped her bento boxes. She gasped with her mouth covered with both once more.