Mangaka: Fidxair.
Artist: nil.
Anime company: Jxst fxr.
My name is Tenshakuri —
but out here, people don't remember names. They remember the smell of burnt bodies and the sound of screams before silence.
That's my job.
Cleaning corpses after the "Tragic Incidents like war, suicide, murder and so on."
Every day, I walk through streets painted with blood and the smell of poverty and suffering. I sweep away what's left of people who killed themselves or took the life of others because someone lost control of themselves.
They say it's just a job.
I say it's punishment.
The higher rank -the kingdom's strongest people— the "Royals"— they live in the golden districts, where Rank and power is pride.
Down here ,at the southern district, we're just the ashes they leave behind to suffer, another name for the bad half,a third world area.
---
The sun never really shines in this part of the city. The shadows from the giant golden districts eats it before it hits the ground. My brown shirt is torn, soaked in black soot. My bandage covered hands… they still tremble from the last cleanup.
I bend down beside another charred body, the skin melted into the ground.
The air smells like blood and burnt flesh.
"Mehn… another one," I mutter. The battle field was filled with Dead bodies, one of the injured knights pat my shoulder." Our battles still remains victorious, also you're up kid make these fields neat, trash the body of our enemies and bury our mens honorably"he said and left on his horse .
"sigh" "You'd think we'd run out of dead by now." Sometimes I talk to them. The corpses.
They don't answer, but it keeps me sane.
I reach for the large Shovel, but my fingers twitch. My veins feel hot — too hot. A faint spark dances on my palm.
Not again.
I clench my fists. The spark fades, but the pain stays. Like fire under my bandages, begging to be set free.
---
By the time I finish, it's already dark. The others have gone home — not that "home" means much here. I walk alone through the ruined streets, thinking about the same thing I always do:
Why am I still alive when everyone else burns?
Then I hear footsteps.
Fast. Heavy. Wrong.
"Who's there?" I call out.
No answer — just a shadow, moving too quick.
Before I can react, something slams into me. My back hits the wall, and I taste blood.
A voice whispers from the dark.
"You shouldn't be cleaning corpses, boy. You should be one with the corpses."
My chest tightens. My hands are about to start burning again I could see flames forcing it's way out of the bandages — not from fear this time, but from rage.
I look down, then untie my bandages in order to let the flames roar supreme.
Flames crawl up my arms — red and yellow, twisting like living snakes.
They hurt, but they feel right.
---
The man lunges at me with a knife.
I raise my arms by instinct, crossing them in front of my face — forming an X.
The air ignites.
The fire explodes.
He screams, falls back — his body half-burned before he hits the ground. The flames fade from my arms, leaving only smoke, drops of blood and the echo of my heartbeat.
I stare at my hands, shaking. The smoke lingers around me, and I realize it's not just heat — it's something else.
The man's breathing slows. He's still alive, but weak. Too weak.
The smoke… it drains strength.
I exhale. My body feels heavy. The flames die.* Cough cough cough* I cough out blood. The street is quiet again. I use the bandages to cover my burnt wounds.
---
I should feel guilty.
But I don't.
For the first time, I feel alive.
Maybe that's what I really am —
a man who burns, and a world that deserves to burn with him. I thought as I stared at my burnt arms .
---
🔥 End of Reap 1 🔥