Innocent World: Chapter 1

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

While you may already be familiar with these terms, I’ve provided their English definitions for those who may not be.

1. さん (san): This is a general, respectful suffix used to address or refer to someone. It's similar to "Mr.," "Mrs.," or "Ms." in English. It's commonly used for people of all ages and social statuses in both formal and informal contexts.

2. 君 (kun): This suffix is often used for addressing younger males, or in a more familiar or casual setting. It can be used with people of the same or lower status, and it's commonly used among friends, students, or in professional settings where there is a clear hierarchy (like between a superior and a subordinate).

3. ちゃん (chan): This suffix is used to express affection or endearment, typically towards children, pets, or close friends. It conveys a sense of familiarity and warmth, and is often used with people who are younger or of the same age but with whom one shares a close, informal relationship. While it can be used for both males and females, it is more commonly used for females and children.

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"Also, ma'am, it seems that the water purifier you're currently using might not meet the standards anymore. We can check it easily now, would you like to give it a try? Oh, don't worry, it won't take much of your time."

"Ah, look at this, ma'am. Can you see this? If you keep drinking this kind of water, you'll get sick. See, the test paper has turned pink like this..."

"There's chlorine in tap water, ma'am. Chlorine. It's the same thing that's in bleach, right? If people drink bleach, people die, don't they? It's the same substance that's in the water. Your current purifier can't remove that chlorine. Isn't that scary?"

"Please think carefully, ma'am. Health is important, isn't it? Sure, replacing the purifier costs money, but if you think about it as buying health and safety, it's not that expensive, right? Plus, this product can be financed. It's only 3,800 yen per month. Don't you think it's a good deal to buy your family's health for just this much?"

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The alarm on his phone was annoyingly loud. Still lying with his face buried in the pillow, he fumbled around blindly in the direction of the sound. His fingers must have flicked it, because there was a dull thud as it hit the floor. Shifting only his upper body, he stretched out his right hand.

9:17 AM. Yamamura Hitoshi clicked his tongue. He had stayed up drinking late, telling himself it was okay since tomorrow was his day off, and only went to bed after 3 AM. Why had he set the alarm for such an early time? He had no idea what he'd been thinking.

Even though the sun had risen, the room was still dim. Clutching his phone, he closed his eyes, intending to go back to sleep.

‘…So, at the office, on the 10th at 10 AM…’

He remembered why he had set the alarm. The exhaustion felt endless. If someone could take his place right now, he'd gladly pay them 10,000 yen. Maybe 5,000… After wrestling with himself for a while, he gave up and slowly sat up. He scratched his head, the itch reminding him that he hadn’t taken a bath before bed last night.

His colleague Nishida, still in his clothes, was curled up like a cat on the tatami floor. It was May, so he wouldn't freeze to death sleeping on the floor, but it must have been a bit chilly. He sniffled and let out an oddly cute sneeze.

Nishida’s waist was slim but firm, with just the right curve. Wow, young people really do have nice, shapely butts, Yamamura thought, staring at the smooth line. Realizing what he was doing, he shook his head lightly. This was no time to be admiring butts. He was going to be late.

He stepped over his junior colleague, who was using a magazine as a pillow on the tatami. His left foot slipped. He barely managed to avoid a back-drop onto Nishida by planting his feet firmly. The culprit stuck to his foot was a convenience store bag. He scraped it off against the tatami and kicked away the scattered plastic bags and empty beer cans in his path.

In the bathroom, he showered, letting hot water run over his head. He shaved, brushed his teeth thoroughly, and drank two glasses of water. He hoped the alcohol still lingering in his system would be flushed out like a push-through system, but the world wasn’t that kind.

He put on a pinstripe shirt freshly returned from the cleaners, then donned his navy suit. After some deliberation, he chose a modest maroon tie. A muffled voice came from behind him. Nishida had woken up and was rubbing his eyes.

"Why are you wearing a suit on your day off?"

"I have to meet someone."

Yamamura approached his yawning junior.

"Hey, do I smell like alcohol?"

"Hmm... not really, I mean, kind of?"

Nishida’s vague response was equally vague in tone. Yamamura took a deodorizing tablet out of his briefcase and swallowed it. He always kept a supply handy for work.

"Is it a date?"

Nishida crossed his arms and grinned.

"No way. Anyway, I’m leaving at 9:50."

Nishida stretched out his response with an exaggerated "Okaaaay" and lit a cigarette from the pack on the table.

"You don't have a girlfriend, right, Yamamura-san?"

"So what?"

Yamamura noticed Nishida’s gaze sweeping around the room—the tatami floor was so cluttered, you could hardly see it.

"You gonna say the room’s messy?"

"I mean, I’m in no position to talk, but this place is really something. You can’t even see the tatami. If you had a girlfriend, she'd probably help clean it up."

Nishida picked up a scrap of paper from the trash on the floor.

"Wow, this is rough."

"Don’t look at that!"

Yamamura snatched the loan statement from the consumer finance company out of Nishida’s hands, crumpled it, and threw it aside.

"Mind your own business. People don't die from a little trash."

Yamamura returned to the mirror for one last check. He scrutinized every angle to make sure he wasn’t overdoing it, wasn’t too plain, and just looked normal. Finally, he put on his silver-rimmed glasses.

"You look like a fine young man today. But wait, I didn’t know you wore glasses."

"They’re fake. My vision’s 1.5 in both eyes."

Just before heading out, he lit a cigarette, tempted by the lingering smell in the room. When he opened the door, he was met by a light drizzle. He hadn’t heard the rain, so he’d assumed it was just cloudy. Carrying an umbrella felt like a hassle.

The old two-story mortar apartment was thirty years old. He rented a six-tatami room for 40,000 yen. The thin walls were appropriate for the price. The iron stairs clanged annoyingly with each step.

"So, what's going on today?" Nishida asked persistently. Yamamura exhaled a puff of smoke forcefully.

"I’m meeting a lawyer."

Nishida scrunched up his face.

"Whoa. What did you do?"

"Why do you immediately assume I did something?"

"Well, it's you. And if we mess up, it’s usually something that leads to a lawsuit, right?"

Yamamura flicked his half-smoked cigarette onto the sidewalk. He didn’t bother stomping it out; the rain would take care of it soon enough.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The law office where Arisawa, the lawyer, worked was two subway stops away from the station nearest Yamamura’s apartment. It was located on the third floor of an old, worn-out building. From the sidewalk, Yamamura glanced up at the white letters on the window that read "Sakai Law Office." Yamamura had never needed a lawyer before, so he wasn’t sure, but judging by the peeling white paint and the dilapidated condition of the building, it didn’t look like a bustling place.

He climbed the stairs to the third floor and lightly knocked on the iron door with a plaque bearing the office's name. A woman in her early twenties, who appeared to be the receptionist, opened the door. After he gave his name, she guided him to a private room. He cast a quick glance around—it was quite cramped. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and the small space was also packed with furniture, including a reception set, leaving barely enough room for three desks.

After about five minutes in the private room, a man walked in. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Yamamura had figured as much from the man’s voice over the phone. He was wearing a navy suit, his hair meticulously styled, and his expression was sharp, with the corners of his eyes slightly raised and his mouth drawn into a straight line. He had the kind of appearance that made you think this was what a model student might look like as an adult.

“Hello. We’ve spoken several times on the phone, but this is our first time meeting in person. I’m Arisawa, the lawyer,” the man said as he handed over his business card.

Yamamura made an excuse, “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring my business cards today since this is a personal matter…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arisawa said with a smile. After the introductions, the woman who had shown Yamamura in brought tea, and Arisawa laid four or five files on the table.

“First, let me confirm something. You're twenty-eight years old, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Now, to get straight to the point, this case isn’t something I’m handling through the office. I took it on personally. My client, Professor Sakaki Yasuhiro, was one of my mentors from university.”

Sakaki Yasuhiro had been Yamamura’s father’s older brother and an associate professor at a university. He had apparently been researching tropical plants, but had passed away a month ago from an illness.

Until last Friday, when Arisawa had contacted him out of the blue, Yamamura hadn’t even known his uncle had died. His parents had divorced when he was in middle school, and he had been raised by his mother. Since then, he had no contact with his father or his relatives. Actually, even before the divorce, he’d had little interaction with his paternal grandparents or other relatives from the Sakaki side.

His father was the quintessential deadbeat—fond of gambling, alcohol, and women. He racked up debts, got drunk and violent, and had even been involved in knife fights with multiple women. His life had always been chaotic. His grandparents had long been fed up with his reckless behavior and had disowned him. Yamamura’s parents had met when they were both in their mid-thirties, but even when they married, his father hadn’t introduced his mother to his family or relatives.

By the time his uncle passed, his wife and grandparents had already passed away as well. His grandparents had both been only children, so there were very few relatives left. Arisawa had apparently been trying to track down Yamamura’s father but couldn’t find him. It was during this search that he learned about Yamamura’s existence. Despite the fact that Yamamura hadn’t been in contact with his father since the divorce, Arisawa had managed to find him—a feat Yamamura found quite impressive. However, Arisawa had admitted, “It was just a coincidence.”

Arisawa had visited the site of the house where Yamamura’s maternal grandmother had lived, and there, he ran into someone who had known Yamamura in middle school. That person recalled seeing him working at a bar a few years back. When Arisawa visited the bar, the manager didn’t remember Yamamura, and there was no record of his contact information left on the staff list. However, when the manager asked one of the more senior employees, a man who had worked his way up from part-time staff, it turned out that this man, though not very close to Yamamura, still had his phone number and email saved in his contacts. By following these thin, tenuous leads, Arisawa had finally reached Yamamura.

When the phone call first came, Yamamura felt his palm dampen with sweat from the sheer tension. It was because Arisawa had introduced himself by stating his profession right away. The moment Yamamura heard "lawyer," he was 99% certain it was related to a lawsuit about his work. Yamamura’s job, as most would label it, involved unscrupulous door-to-door sales. They sold water purifiers that would typically cost forty or fifty thousand yen in a store for nearly five hundred thousand yen. Though he had faced the threat of lawsuits several times before, they had always been directed at the "company" rather than at individual salespeople like him. Yet, here was a lawyer, contacting him on his personal cell phone, having gone through the trouble to track down his number. The level of preparedness and persistence terrified him.

When he found out it was about an inheritance—a windfall of money that would fall into his lap without him having to lift a finger—he was practically jumping for joy. Although he hadn’t heard any specific details aside from “we’ll talk in person,” his imagination ran wild with possibilities.

The next day, for the first time in a while, he went to the racetrack. He had been restraining himself ever since the consumer finance companies had started pressing him harder for payments, but now he felt confident, emboldened by the news. He ended up blowing the 80,000 yen paycheck he had received the day before. The loss left him furious and depressed, but also strangely calm.

Yamamura’s uncle had been an associate professor, but teaching jobs weren’t exactly known for paying well. Realistically, Yamamura guessed the inheritance might be four or five million yen. Even so, that would be enough to pay off his debts. If he was lucky, maybe there’d even be some property or land involved as a bonus.

Now, Yamamura sat facing Arisawa, caught between the mix of reality and his growing fantasies.

"So, Yamamura-san, you work for a consulting firm, is that correct?"

At the bar where Arisawa had tracked down his contact information, Yamamura had lied to the manager and his coworkers, claiming he was a university student. It was easier to get well-paid night jobs if you said you were eighteen or older. Arisawa seemed to have believed that lie without question, saying, “I was told you were working there a few years ago as a university student, so I wasn’t sure if your phone number would still work…”

"Yes, three years ago, a senior from university and I co-founded the company. We help local specialties get placements in city department stores, and we also work extensively with privately-owned businesses."

The lie slipped smoothly from his lips. It was almost like second nature at this point—occupational hazard. Yamamura had dropped out of high school and had never attended university, let alone worked for a consulting firm.

When asked over the phone what kind of work he did, he hadn’t been able to say the name of his real employer. As a lawyer, Arisawa might have known that the company engaged in predatory sales, charging exorbitant prices for water purifiers. If he knew that, Yamamura’s reputation in his eyes would be ruined. And since their interaction was likely to be brief, Yamamura wanted to keep things pleasant and smooth.

"Are you married?" Arisawa asked.

"No, I’m single."

"I see," Arisawa murmured, dropping his gaze to the open file in front of him. Then, silence. Yamamura gulped nervously. Had he made a mistake by saying he was single? Was there some rule that said only married people had the right to inherit?

The longer the silence stretched, the more his anxiety grew. Even the way Arisawa tapped his fingers on the file caught Yamamura’s full attention.

"As I mentioned on the phone, this matter is somewhat complicated. Well, maybe not complicated per se, but it does take some time to explain," Arisawa said, his brow twitching with irritation. His serious expression suddenly appeared a lot sterner and more difficult to read.

"It’s fine," Yamamura replied.

It wasn’t out of politeness. He didn’t mind listening to someone talk for one or two hours, no matter how trivial the subject. Likewise, he had no problem talking for that long in front of others. After all, "listening" and "talking" were his livelihood.

After taking a sip of tea, Arisawa looked Yamamura straight in the eye.

"Let me start with the key point. The late Professor Sakaki had a son. The condition for inheriting half of Professor Sakaki’s estate is that someone must agree to take care of his son."

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The thin walls of his apartment allowed the sound of the TV from the room next door to seep through. That much was within the usual tolerable range, but what really irritated Yamamura was the constant stupid laughter that accompanied it. The old hag living next door, probably in her late fifties, had a high-pitched voice. She laughed like a screeching monkey—ki-ki-ki—and it grated on his nerves.

Yamamura sat on the windowsill, sipping a beer. The rain that had fallen earlier in the day had stopped by evening. Though the air was still damp, the clouds had cleared, leaving a crescent moon hanging in the sky like a cat’s claw.

He thought back to his conversation with the lawyer. The more he had listened, the more the details sounded unbelievable.

"Uncle had a child?" Yamamura had asked.

He had assumed the inheritance was coming to him because his uncle didn’t have any children. He had expected to inherit everything, but reality wasn’t so simple.

"Yes, his son’s name is Sakaki Hirokuni. He’s 22 years old this year."

If his uncle had a grown son, why was the inheritance being passed to a nephew? Yamamura tilted his head in confusion.

"Hirokuni-san lived in Brazil from the age of two until last December, so he can’t read or write in Japanese."

"But he was with his parents, wasn’t he? Even if they lived abroad, wouldn’t they have spoken Japanese at home?"

"Professor Sakaki, his wife who passed away six years ago, and Hirokuni-san moved to Brazil twenty years ago for Professor Sakaki’s research on tropical plants. Soon after they settled in Mato Grosso, Hirokuni-san, who was two at the time, went missing. Professor Sakaki and his wife searched extensively but couldn’t find him. Five years later, the couple returned to Japan, but Professor Sakaki continued searching for his son during his trips back to Brazil. Then, last year, while on a research trip to a village near the Peruvian border, Professor Sakaki contracted a tropical disease and was hospitalized."

"A tropical disease?"

"I don’t remember the exact name, but it’s a common illness in that region. Professor Sakaki mentioned that it’s transmitted by flies. It’s not fatal if treated, but it requires repeated injections of medication. The side effects of the medication are strong, so regular blood tests are also necessary. While he was in the hospital for about two weeks, Hirokuni-san was brought in by chance after injuring his leg."

"Wow," Yamamura nodded deeply. "So they found him after all that time? That’s amazing."

"Professor Sakaki was apparently struck by how much the young man resembled his younger self. When he heard that Hirokuni-san had been kidnapped by Indigenous Peoples and raised in their tribe, he immediately had his DNA tested by an American scholar he was working with. The results confirmed they were father and son."

Yamamura had to force himself not to laugh. Kidnapped and raised by Indigenous Peoples? It sounded like something out of a fairy tale. But looking at Arisawa’s serious expression, Yamamura knew he couldn’t say it out loud.

"That’s quite a story. I’ve heard of girls being raised by wolves, but by Indigenous Peoples…"

He made a noncommittal response, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"I’m not familiar with the wolf-girl story," Arisawa said, "but spending time with Hirokuni-san made me realize how, without education… well, it’s obvious, but a person’s instinctual nature really stands out."

Realizing he had veered off topic, Arisawa pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "Sorry, I went off track there."

"It wasn’t uncommon in the past for Indigenous tribes to kidnap children. There are about 180 different Indigenous tribes in Brazil today, most of which have settled into a civilized lifestyle, earning wages and living in developed areas. But the tribe that kidnapped Hirokuni-san rejected modern civilization and lived deep in the jungle. They’re referred to as ‘ancestral’ Indigenous Peoples."

"Ancestral Indigenous Peoples?"

"Yes, it refers to tribes that live in a manner close to the Stone Age. The customs around clothing may differ from tribe to tribe, but what they have in common is that they don’t use money. They live a self-sufficient, barter-based lifestyle."

When Yamamura heard the term "self-sufficient," he imagined an elderly person living quietly alone in the countryside, growing vegetables in a garden and raising chickens. Was it something like that?

"Sounds like a laid-back way of life," Yamamura remarked.

For some reason, Arisawa gave a strained smile.

The tribe that had abducted Hirokuni-san seemed to be constantly moving through the jungle, so the name and size of the group were unclear. Their language resembled that of a more common tribe, but less than half of it matched. Professor Sakaki had tried to communicate with Hirokuni through an Indigenous interpreter who spoke both Portuguese and the tribal language, but it had taken a great deal of time to understand each other, Professor Sakaki had said.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Arisawa said, taking a sip of tea.

“According to Professor Sakaki, Hirokuni-san had left the tribe and was living alone. He was severely injured and on the brink of death when a passing traveler happened to find him and brought him to a hospital. Hirokuni knew that he had been abducted as a child. The adults in the tribe had told him so while he was growing up. Professor Sakaki claimed to be his father and urged him to return to Japan together, but Hirokuni-san stubbornly refused.”

Arisawa lowered his gaze.

“It was around that time that a routine medical examination for his illness revealed that Professor Sakaki had liver cancer. It was quite serious, and he had to cut his stay short and return to Japan for treatment. Fearing he wouldn’t live much longer, Professor Sakaki pleaded with Hirokuni-san, nearly to the point of breaking down in tears, to convince him to come back to Japan with him. That’s how they ended up returning together.”

“I see,” Yamamura said, his tone a little subdued as he gave a nod.

“My uncle must have been devastated. Finally finding his son, only to fall ill… But now that my uncle has passed away, doesn’t that mean Hirokuni-san no longer has any reason to stay in Japan? If he wants to, shouldn’t we let him go back to Brazil?”

“That’s the difficult part,” Arisawa replied. “Right now, the situation for the Indigenous Peoples in Brazil is dire. Dams are being built, and deforestation is reducing the size of the jungle, forcing many tribes from their homes. Even when they move into the cities, they can’t work because their values and language are so different. Many of them end up living on the streets, homeless. Professor Sakaki said that in ten years, even the ancestral tribes will likely be absorbed into a monetary economy. And when that happens, without knowledge of Portuguese or any way to manage money, their lives will become miserable. Professor Sakaki didn’t want his son to face that fate. He believed that in Japan, where his remaining assets could provide for him, Hirokuni-san could live a normal life. But professor Sakaki’s illness progressed faster than expected, and he became worried about what would happen after his death. That’s when he asked me to find someone to take care of Hirokuni-san. After Professor Sakaki passed away, I began searching for relatives to help before considering any strangers. But most of the relatives I managed to contact were quite elderly. I was at a loss until I discovered that Professor Sakaki had a younger brother. While Professor Sakaki never mentioned him while he was alive…”

“My father was the black sheep of the family,” Yamamura said. “I heard he was practically disowned.”

Arisawa, as if already aware of the rumors, gave a vague smile.

“Professor Sakaki’s wish was for Hirokuni-san to learn Japanese, find a job, and eventually become self-sufficient. He had apparently started teaching Hirokuni-san Japanese while they were still in Brazil, but after they returned to Japan, he was hospitalized almost immediately. So Hirokuni-san never really learned the language. He can speak simple words, but he can’t read at all. And even when listening, he only understands if you speak very slowly and use words he already knows.”

Yamamura took a sip of his now lukewarm tea. Along with this windfall inheritance came a cousin who, while technically Japanese, might as well have been an alien. What should I do? he asked himself. He wanted the inheritance. If he played his cards right, it could wipe out his debts. Those bills, which kept growing despite his occasional payments, loomed in the back of his mind, making him think, This is bad. Sure, he could declare bankruptcy if it came to that, but becoming blacklisted would mean he couldn’t get any credit cards. If he could clear his debt cleanly, that would obviously be the better option.

The thoughts of responsibility and money began to circle endlessly in Yamamura’s mind. What a hassle… Just as he was about to stop thinking about it, an idea flashed through his mind. There was no need to actually take care of Hirokuni. He could pretend to take on the responsibility, pocket the inheritance, and disappear. He had no attachments to his current apartment, job, or relationships.

“I understand the situation. However, when you say my cousin was raised by Indigenous Peoples, I can’t really picture what kind of person he is,” Yamamura said.

“I completely understand,” Arisawa replied, nodding. “When Professor Sakaki first told me, even though I knew he wasn’t the type to lie, I still found it hard to believe. But after meeting Hirokuni-san in person, I realized this was indeed the case. He’s a very pure person, but at the same time… I’m sorry to put it this way, but he’s somewhat simplistic and rough.”

A silence fell between them. Yamamura didn’t know about Arisawa, but for him, this silence was intentional. Saying, "Sure, I’ll take care of him," right away would seem, to borrow Arisawa’s words, "simplistic." If it came off that way, it might still be fine, but if handled poorly, it could raise suspicions about his sincerity. It was better to create a moment of hesitation, to show that he was genuinely considering it. That would make it all the more believable.

“I don’t have any siblings, and, to be honest, I don’t even know where my parents are,” Yamamura said, his head slightly bowed. “I’ve never had much contact with my relatives either. Some people say it’s a blessing not to have to deal with bothersome family relationships, but the truth is, not having a single relative to rely on in times of need is a pretty lonely thing.”

“Yes, I understand…” Arisawa nodded earnestly.

“That’s why I’m happy to learn I have a cousin. But honestly, I’m not sure I have what it takes to take care of him. I wouldn’t even know where to start…”

“When I say ‘take care of him,’ I don’t mean like you would a child. Hirokuni can handle most things on his own. We’re just hoping you could help him learn the language and get settled so he can eventually work here in Japan,” Arisawa pressed.

Yamamura found it amusing how desperate the lawyer seemed. Of course, if Yamamura refused, he’d have to start all over again, searching for someone else to take on the responsibility.

“I’ll also provide support where I can,” Arisawa added.

The lawyer waited anxiously for Yamamura’s reply, almost holding his breath. After a long, deliberate pause, Yamamura finally spoke.

“My uncle just passed away, so the one who must feel the most lost right now is probably Hirokuni. I can’t commit to taking care of him forever, but I’ll do my best to help him as much as I can.”

Immediately, Arisawa’s face lit up.

“I’m glad to hear that. I believe what Hirokuni needs is not money, but someone to guide him through life here in Japan.”

His voice was noticeably lighter, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Yamamura figured that now would be a good time to ask a few probing questions without arousing suspicion.

“My uncle passed away last month, right? Is Hirokuni living alone in an apartment now?” he asked, deliberately slipping the word apartment into the question. If that wasn’t the case, Arisawa would correct him, and then Yamamura would know if there was a house involved. He was eager to find out just how much property his uncle had left behind. Of course, he couldn’t directly ask, How much is the inheritance? Does he have a house? Land? so he had to fish for information subtly.

“Hirokuni-san is living in Professor Sakaki’s house in Tokyo. He’s learned how to use the gas stove, so as long as he has ingredients, he can make simple meals—boiling and grilling food, that sort of thing.”

A house in Tokyo… Yamamura thought. That alone would be worth a decent amount if sold. A man who couldn’t even read wouldn’t be able to handle the paperwork for property deeds and other documents. Yamamura could pretend to take care of his cousin, move into the house, find the property deed, and sell everything off before disappearing. Having a cousin who didn’t understand Japanese could prove useful in situations like this. Yamamura chuckled inwardly at the thought.

He was scheduled to meet his cousin next Saturday. The specifics of how he would "help" would be decided after he actually met Hirokuni.

…Looking up at the crescent moon, Yamamura drained the last of his beer. He had been feeling unlucky for a while now, but it seemed like his fortune was finally turning. A house in Tokyo, land—selling all of that would surely net him at least ten million yen. Just thinking about it made his pockets feel warm with imagined riches.

The unfortunate cousin, abducted by Indigenous Peoples, meant nothing to him. Honestly, whether the guy lived or died was irrelevant. He hadn’t even known Hirokuni existed until recently, and he didn’t intend to let him play any significant role in his life going forward. The idea of taking this man seriously, someone who had never been a part of his life, felt utterly absurd.

Footnotes

0. Content Warning: This novel contains explicit graphic content that some readers may interpret as dubious consent. The main character is deeply flawed, fully aware of his shortcomings, and takes pride in his lack of moral principles. I will not be placing a trigger warning in every chapter that includes graphic content, so please consider this a general warning.

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