Arata walked slowly and heavily through the streets of Karakiri's capital.
He passed near the enormous white stone staircase where, in the previous loop, he had walked alongside the blonde girl.
This time, however, he simply kept moving, leaving the structure behind as he disappeared into the crowd.
He had given up.
After experiencing the agony and pain of death twice in a row, all that remained in his heart was the desperate desire to return to the safety and comfort of his old home in Japan.
Lost among the flow of pedestrians, he eventually reached the capital's central square.
It was a vast and clean area, adorned with a beautiful fountain of crystal-clear water at its center and the majestic statue of an ancient legendary mage.
Approaching the base of the monument, Arata stared at the polished marble block supporting the structure.
To his absolute shock, there was something carved into the stone that he could finally understand.
Written in perfect Japanese characters were the words:
"The Legendary Sage: Altair Tanaka."
Arata began sweating cold, his heart seeming to skip a beat.
Who was this man? How did a Japanese person end up here thousands of years ago...?
He wondered silently.
It was the first thing he had been able to read during his entire time in Lugiri.
The surname "Tanaka" left no doubt.
He wasn't the first person from Japan to arrive in this world.
Someone from his homeland had already been here and left an eternal mark behind.
Around the statue, several citizens and demi-humans silently approached, placing colorful flowers upon the marble.
Driven by confusion, Arata tapped a nearby man's shoulder.
— Excuse me... Why is everyone doing this?
The man looked him up and down, surprised by the question.
— What do you mean, "why"? He was the hero who saved us. Our greatest savior.
With the help of the four witches and even the demons, Altair Tanaka managed to defeat and seal the evil being known as One.
Whenever the twelfth day of each month arrives, we bring flowers to honor him.
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You must be quite a strange outsider not to know something like that.
— And why specifically on the twelfth? — Arata insisted.
— You ask too many questions, boy. Do you lack even the slightest bit of historical knowledge? — the man sighed, pointing toward the monument.
— Thousands of years ago, on the twelfth day, the final phase of the war against One began.
It was thanks to Altair's purified and colossal power that Lugiri was torn from that damned entity's grasp.
Ever since then, that heroic deed has been celebrated every month.
Arata felt a knot tighten in his throat.
He looked away, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned pale.
Grinding his teeth, he lowered his head, consumed by a corrosive and uncomfortable feeling.
Pure envy.
Altair Tanaka represented everything Arata wanted to be, yet believed he could never become because he saw himself as weak and pathetic.
What did he have that I don't?
He was Japanese, just like me... The difference must be that I'm nothing more than a cowardly hikikomori, full of insecurities, partially amnesiac, passive, and selfish.
Feeling his legs weaken, Arata walked toward a park bench painted in shades of green and gold and collapsed onto it.
He pulled his cellphone from his pocket.
Although the signal, GPS, and Bluetooth were completely dead, the device still turned on, allowing him to access functions that didn't require the internet.
He opened his contacts app and stared at the screen.
There were the names of his adoptive parents:
Karasu Ryusei.
Shiori Ryusei.
The instant those names appeared on the screen, his eyes filled with tears.
The crying came heavily, silently, painfully.
I'm sorry, Dad Karasu... Mom Shiori...
I don't think I'll ever see you again...
He covered his face with one hand as sobs escaped between his fingers.
I'm garbage, aren't I? I can't even remember who I was before I turned twelve...
I abandoned you.
You must be desperate right now... and you truly loved me. I know that.
I keep pretending to be strong, but deep down, I'm dying inside because I'm so useless.
Before I left, I should have at least said goodbye...
A painful memory crossed his mind.
On the day he was transported, when he had left home just to buy some ramen, he had heard Shiori's voice echoing through the hallway.
She had told him to take care of himself and said that, although she knew how much he was suffering, she and Karasu would always be there to support him.
At that moment, consumed by resentment and isolation, Arata hadn't even answered.
He had simply crossed the threshold and slammed the door in his mother's face.
And now, because of that cruel twist of fate, he had been thrown into another world and might never have the chance to correct that mistake.
— I'm sorry... Karasu... Shiori... I was a terrible son, wasn't I? — he whispered toward the darkened phone screen, tears dripping onto the glass.
— I lived under the same roof as you and barely talked to you. And you were both so incredible to me...
Even though I'm just a damn hikikomori who abandoned everything because of partial amnesia.
I'm such a coward...
I'm so selfish...
I just want to go home, but that's no longer possible, is it...?
With clumsy movements, he used the sleeve of his sports jacket to wipe his wet face.
Then the image of the blonde girl and Buck invaded his thoughts.
They had been the only people he had truly spoken to since arriving in Lugiri.
Was he really going to let them die in this loop?
If he did that, what would separate this new act of surrender from the cowardice he had lived with back on Earth?
Am I really going to give up on everything again?
What would make me any different from the person I was in Japan?
Wasn't I brought here to become better?
If I retreat now, I'll only be digging myself deeper into my own hole.
Didn't I say I was going to create a new version of myself...?
I have to get back up...
I have to become a hero capable of protecting that blonde girl...
While the internal conflict crushed him, Arata raised his eyes and spotted the black-haired little girl walking happily hand in hand with her mother, passing right beside his bench.
— Daughter, that girl who helped us earlier was really nice, wasn't she? — the mother commented.
— Yeah! She saved me! — the girl smiled, hopping excitedly. — Mommy, now I want to dye my hair blonde! I loved her hair color!
Arata froze, watching the two of them walk away.
It was the same little girl they had helped during the first loop.
That proved something.
No matter how urgent the blonde girl's own problems were, her instinct was still to help anyone in need.
She had a pure heart.
Something finally awakened deep within Arata's soul.
A new and genuine determination began burning inside his chest.
In his mind, the firm and encouraging voice of Karasu Ryusei echoed, bringing back the advice his father had given him whenever he was struggling:
"Hey, Arata! Don't give up! We Ryuseis never back down!"
"No matter how difficult the situation or how big the problem is, we keep moving forward until we succeed!"
"We're like a lineage of mages, son."
"Our magic isn't controlling water or firing magma from our fists... We don't have any grand tricks like that."
"Our true magic is the ability to never give up!"
Arata used the backs of his hands to wipe away his remaining tears and jumped to his feet.
His eyes, which had been melancholic and lost moments ago, now shone with renewed inspiration as he stared at the clear sky.
— Dad... I swear I'll try again — he declared aloud, pointing toward the horizon.
— For you and Mom Shiori. I promise, even if you can't hear me right now, that I'm definitely going to save that girl!
Even if, at this exact moment, she doesn't even know who I am.
He took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs without the weight of panic.
— I'm going to save her because she saved me first.
I'm going to help the person who has become important to me!
Completely recovered and with his heart finally at peace, Arata straightened his posture and smiled genuinely.
— Let's go! Now I need to hurry to the slums. We still have plenty of time before sunset!
Without looking back, Arata took off through the streets of the capital, running with all his strength toward the outskirts.
End of Chapter 7.
To be continued in Chapter 8...