Malphegor
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GSiN: Ch. 03
🕑 Added 2025-02-07 01:13:22 +0000 UTC---Third POV---
Just like countless promises broken by the endless war, Ken's final words to his son would remain unfulfilled.
He had lived and died beneath the dark clouds of conflict, never getting the chance to return home.
He was unable to protect his wife, unable to resolve misunderstandings with her, and even missed celebrating his son's last birthday with him.
Thus, this man's life ended full of regrets.
---Ryouma's POV---
I lowered my head as I sorted through Father's final belongings, which were delivered by the ANBU. Their masked faces betrayed no emotion as they performed this grim duty, but their movements were gentle.
Strange how death came wrapped in such formality...
They were just a few personal items, as his body would be handled by the ANBU and buried in the Konoha Cemetery after the funeral. Before this, the family could visit the wartime recovery unit to see their loved ones one last time. The thought of seeing him there made my chest tighten.
Among the belongings, one rectangular gift box stood out, distinctly different from the war-worn and weathered items around it. Its condition was almost jarring among his other possessions.
It was clear this was a birthday gift he had prepared in advance for me.
After a moment of hesitation, my fingers trembling slightly, I decided to untie the ribbon and open the box.
How long did you spend choosing this?
Although I had guessed what it might be based on the exterior, the contents still surprised me, leaving me momentarily speechless.
Previously, I had casually mentioned to Father an idea for a Lightning Release jutsu. I had speculated that if a weapon were made from chakra-conducting metal, it might be possible to perform a jutsu without hand seals.
It was just idle talk, an attempt to create a conversation topic between us, just one of many attempts to bridge the gap between father and son.
Unexpectedly, he had taken it seriously. Inside the box was a sword, sheathed and spotless, its great craftsmanship visible even at first glance.
I unsheathed the blade. It was a straight sword, about 30 inch long, on the longer side for a sword.
The blade gleamed with a cold, white light, and when swung, it gave the illusion of slicing through the darkness of the night.
Father, how much did you sacrifice for this?
Considering he was an elite jonin, one of the highest earners in Konoha and even the shinobi world, a weapon forged entirely from chakra-conducting metal would still have been beyond his means.
I recalled that only Kage-level figures or Asuma in the future had used such high-grade ninja tools in Konoha. The rarity of such a weapon made it even more precious.
Could this be a battlefield trophy of Father's? I thought.
As I examined the sword more closely, I noticed a tag tied to its hilt.
"Happy Birthday - Gift from Uchiha Homura and Dad."
The name Homura rang a bell for me. He had been one of Father's teammates and had always sent gifts on my birthdays.
With this connection, everything made sense.
The Uchiha clan had a close relationship with the ninneko, who controlled much of the crafting and trading of high-grade ninja tools in the shinobi world.
Given this relationship, the origins of the sword were now clear. However, it also hinted at a deeper bond between Homura and my father. I found myself wondering about the stories behind their friendship that I'd never heard.
But none of that mattered anymore.
I sheathed the sword, placed it back into the gift box, carefully re-tied the ribbon, and resolved to open it again on my birthday.
I held the box, my fingers tracing over its edges. For a second there, it felt like Father was still here somehow, as if some part of him remained in the things he'd left behind.
As I packed up his belongings, my mind became cluttered with scattered thoughts, blocking my focus. Each item seemed to carry a memory, a moment I hadn't appreciated enough at the time.
I lay down on the living room floor, pondering whether I truly saw him as my father and was grieving because of that.
The ceiling above seemed to spin with my thoughts.
Or was it just his death that reminded me of my family from my previous life, stirring my sorrow? The lines between past and present began to blur.
To be honest, when I first received news of his death, I hadn't been overcome with grief to the point of breathlessness. That fact alone brought its own kind of guilt.
Why wasn't I crying?
Shouldn't a child be crying right now?
Although I had intended to embrace my new life with a fresh perspective, the reality was that Father and I hadn't spent much time together.
After Mother's death, he had thrown himself into battles, venting his pent-up guilt and hatred on the battlefield. This phase lasted until I turned three years old, after which things began to improve. But those early years had left their mark on our relationship.
As a result, we barely got to spend much time together. And most of our conversations were initiated by me, as he was a man of few words.
But was that truly the case?
Looking back, perhaps I hadn't tried hard enough to understand his way of showing care. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was stirring within me, taking root and beginning to grow. A deeper understanding of who he had been, perhaps.
---
A knock on the door woke me.
I had unknowingly fallen asleep on the living room floor the night before, and I was grateful for the visitor. Otherwise, lying there all night, despite my young and healthy body in this life, I would likely have fallen ill.
I stood up, swaying slightly, and went to open the door.
Outside stood Misaki's daughter, Rin.
I immediately recognized her from my memories. In this reality, however, we had met at the care center. Her hands were gripping a lunchbox too tightly, and I could see the concern in her eyes.
Misaki must have told her.
Rin's mother initially started helping at the care center for one main reason: she wanted to find Rin some playmates.
"Good morning, Ryouma. You probably haven't had breakfast yet, right? My mom made some tamagoyaki before heading to work. It's a bit lonely eating by myself... Do you want to eat with me? Is that okay?" Rin spoke cautiously, her gaze slightly evasive as she looked at me.
She was trying so hard to act normal... just like I would have in my past life.
But I could tell this was a lie.
The real reason must have been because she had heard from her mother about Father's passing.
Although I considered myself emotionally stable, it would be impolite to keep her standing at the door. So, I invited her in.
"Now that you mention it, I haven't eaten yet. I guess I overslept. Thank you, Rin, you're a lifesaver. Come on in." I stepped aside, glancing at the messy house. "The house is a bit messy... I haven't had time to..."
"Don't worry about that!" Rin quickly interrupted, stepping inside. "Let's just eat while it's warm."
She carried the lunchbox into my home.
I was indeed starving and began devouring the perfectly cooked tamagoyaki. "Misaki-san really outdid herself with this tamagoyaki," I said between bites. Her tamagoyaki was truly exceptional, not only was the balance of egg and milk impeccable, but the presentation was also exquisite.
When poked lightly with chopsticks, the tamagoyaki jiggled like pudding, showcasing its incredible texture and elasticity.
"Mom made it specially..." Rin started, then hesitated. "She said you might need..."
"Need what? A friend?" I smiled gently at her awkwardness.
I noticed that she wasn't eating from the corner of my eye. Instead, she rested her chin in her hands, staring at me absentmindedly.
What's going on? Is she shocked by how I eat? Strange… wasn't I eating like this back at the care center too?
In the Land of Fire, devouring someone else's cooking enthusiastically was the ultimate compliment to the cook.
At the care center, whenever I ate like this, Misaki would smile brightly and even jokingly say: "Oh, Ryouma-chan, if only you were my daughter! Then I could watch you eat like this every day at home."
As for why she said "daughter," well, I'd rather not dwell on that.
Seeing Rin lost in thought, I lightly cleared my throat and reminded her, "Tamagoyaki gets tougher once it cools. Didn't you teach me that, Rin?"
"Ah! Sorry, sorry!" Rin snapped back to reality and began eating the tamagoyaki in front of her.
I could tell she hadn't heard a word of what I had just said. But she was too embarrassed to ask me to say it all over again. Instead, she focused on eating to cover her awkwardness.
This was something I had once taught her: When you feel awkward, find something to do. It'll make you seem busy.
I sighed internally. What are you, an eighty-year-old granny giving life advice?
Despite the minor interruptions, my mood had significantly improved. After all, life had to move forward.
Deep down, I reminded myself, I'm an adult at heart. I can't act like a child, stuck in place. Pull yourself together, Ryouma. If life gives you a second chance, make it count and show what you're really made of.
With that resolve, I reached out with my chopsticks, stealing a piece of tamagoyaki from Rin's plate and stuffing it into my mouth.
"Hey! That was mine!" she exclaimed, finally showing some real emotion.
Hearing her soft gasp of surprise, I chewed and mumbled through my mouthful, "Consider it payment for cleaning services. Rin-okaasan, could you help me clean up the house? I've been cursed with a condition, if I do too much housework, I'll die."
This time, she understood me perfectly. Initially puffing her cheeks like an angry pufferfish at my act, she quickly deflated like a balloon upon hearing my request.
"Fine, but Ryouma, you'd better stop teasing me. Also, what kind of disease is that? It's so obviously made up!"
"That might be difficult, but I'll try," I replied with an innocent look.
"Ugh!"
