Chapter 42: Passion
"Everything's just... not working. I'm irritated, I can't calm down, and that just makes things go even worse... I know there's a problem with my state, but I can't seem to fix it… Ah~ I feel like I'm caught in a whirlpool. I've lost my sense of direction…"
"I've even started to consider lowering my standards. That kind of appeasement is just so weak… If my past self were here, he'd definitely be clutching his stomach and laughing his ass off."
His fingertip rested on the glass of ice cream, watching the condensation slide down the side. Hiiro Rinko was sprawled lazily on the table, his eyes distant. His tone was less "chatting" and more "talking to himself."
Sakaki Tatsuma clearly realized this. He propped his chin on his hand and quietly listened to Rinko's calm, listless venting.
From research troubles to the dry climate, to a speck of dust falling into his glass, to a pen he bought a while ago being terrible to use... it was as if Rinko was currently dissatisfied with everything.
"Speaking of, Tatsuma-san, didn't your parents also die on a mission?"
Suddenly, Rinko looked up at him.
"I think so? I was too young to remember."
Although the abrupt question was a bit of a sore spot, in this era, it was an all-too-common story. Besides, the 'also' in Rinko's question was quite clear. Tatsuma, who had been forced to mature early by the pressures of life, wasn't the type to get angry over such a thing.
"Have you ever thought about avenging them?"
"Of course I have. Even though I barely met them, the neighbors said they were good people. I think... if they hadn't died, our family would have been very happy."
Tatsuma clicked his tongue and looked out the window, sighing. "That's why I enrolled in the Shinobi Academy."
That made sense. As the orphan of shinobi who died for the village, Tatsuma received a monthly stipend. But that money was only enough for basic food and necessities; it wasn't enough for other expenses. Buying a single kunai for self-defense was one thing, but enrolling in the Academy, one kunai was nowhere near enough. Ninjutsu tools were, by nature, consumables.
For someone as frugal as Tatsuma, he wouldn't have enrolled unless he'd steeled his resolve.
"But now, I've stopped thinking about it."
Tatsuma pulled his gaze back from the window and gave an awkward smile. "Compared to you, Rinko-kun… no, even compared to the other regular students, I just don't have any talent for being a shinobi."
"What you're not good at, you're not good at. If I just charged onto a battlefield fueled by hate, I'd probably just get myself killed senselessly, and I might even drag others down with me."
"I've already decided. After I graduate, I'll save up, open a small shop, and live out the rest of my life in peace. These six years at the Academy won't be a waste. At least my body will be a lot tougher than a civilian's, ahahaha~"
Geniuses could certainly emerge from the common people and war orphans—Pakura was the best example—but Sakaki Tatsuma was not one of them.
And yet, at this moment, his laugh held no gloom, only that same, consistent brightness.
It was the clarity and relief of someone who had 'made peace' with himself.
"You're really at ease, Ahahaha-kun."
Seeing him like this, Rinko suddenly realized he had been getting stuck in his own head.
Perhaps it was a researcher's inherent stubbornness. Once he knew the problem and the 'solution,' he always wanted to deal with it immediately. But there was no need for that.
Just like he had for the past three years, he could just peacefully enjoy his hard-won second life and do the research he loved… right?
"At ease? It's more like I had no choice but to admit my own incompetence. In this crappy world, if you don't learn to let things go, life is just too hard."
Sakaki Tatsuma rubbed his head, smiling sheepishly.
"But, Rinko-kun, the reason you're asking this... it's because of that, isn't it?"
"...Yeah. My Oyaji found a clue about the people who killed my birth parents."
Rinko pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes narrowed slightly, as he tried to process that subtle, lingering throb he had mistaken for the Binding Vow's effect.
"I know I can't do anything right now. I don't even know who the killer is. I want to just ignore it for now... but I just can't calm down like I used to."
"I... I don't understand it."
"...Actually, Rinko-kun, you seem very conflicted."
Sakaki Tatsuma's usual smile faded, his eyes filled with a trace of pity.
This kid was a genius, adopted by an elite Jōnin, with no worries about food or shelter, and overflowing with talent. And yet, for some reason, Tatsuma just felt that this red-haired young man before him was incredibly... pitiful.
"What?"
"I'm talking about you. You look like you're desperate for a family, so lonely... but you always keep yourself separated from everyone else."
Ever since receiving Rinko's subtle help, Tatsuma had paid close attention to his genius kōhai. But the more he watched, the more he felt Rinko was being overly cautious.
Not in his actions, but in his relationships.
With those two girls, with an insignificant upperclassman like himself, and maybe even with his adoptive parents.
It was as if... as if he couldn't frankly accept any kindness without cloaking it in the excuse of a 'transaction.'
"Rinko-kun… it's because you're afraid of losing them again, isn't it? As long as you never truly have them, you can't lose them again... That's what you're thinking, right?"
"——"
He was speechless.
Suddenly, Hiiro Rinko almost heard that long-lost voice. The voice of 'himself.'
The voice of the Cursed User who had been all alone, cut down by the few classmates he'd been close to.
The voice of the child who had failed to do anything, who had failed the parents that gave their lives to protect him.
The two beings that now made up Hiiro Rinko, their voices overlapping, whispering softly.
They said, 'We're not alone anymore. So please, just embrace them.'
"Ha… Hahaha… HAHAHAHA!—So that's what it was?"
I was so dull, so affected that I didn't even realize it?
How pathetic. So pathetic—
But… that's not so bad, is it?
Laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face, Hiiro Rinko clutched his aching stomach with one hand and slammed the other on the table, his head down as he whispered:
"I really… I really owe you one, Tatsuma."