Hateful Ten
"Name."
"...P-please, spare me."
"I don't kill children. Name."
Did that mean he'd definitely kill me once I grew up? That was my thought as I obediently spat out my name anyway.
"...Ain. It's Ain."
"Next, address."
"... ."
This bastard. He said he wouldn't kill me, so why the hell was he asking for my address?
"If you're a man, give up your address and train with pride. Address."
"... ."
To be honest, I couldn't bring myself to say out loud that giving my address didn't exactly scream "pride." Besides, what kind of insane trainer demanded addresses first to prevent escapes?
"Last chance. Give me your address. Otherwise, I'll add another plate."
But this wasn't about being a man or acting proud. Feeling the barbell's weight barely held by my two arms, I was convinced this was a straight-up survival issue.
"Etero 37th Street, number 29... Ack! I'm dying! I'm really dy— Urk!"
"You won't die, boy!! I'll make you into a strong man no matter what!"
No way. There was actually a lunatic adding another plate even after I spilled my address.
"Sh, shit... Before that, I'm gonna di— Guh...!"
And that crazy bastard doing this to me right now existed.
"I'll personally guide you to exude intimidation without spewing curses! You can do it, boy!!"
"... ."
Ah, this insane muscle-headed freak. If I died here, I'd definitely ask the witch to avenge me. Yansen, who shoved me into this hellhole, and this muscle-headed psycho determined to kill me. Those two went straight onto my hit list.
Should I call it a relief that I somehow survived? Or misfortune that I didn't die? I wasn't sure, but for now, I made it out of the training hall alive.
Well, "made it out" was a bit misleading—it wasn't by my own strength or will.
"See you tomorrow, boy! Tomorrow, you'll become an even stronger man!!"
That was the training hall owner seeing me off. I'd been dangling limply from his hand all the way outside.
"... ."
And when I glared at him without responding, annoyed by the fact...
"If you don't show, I'll come to your house. That's my duty as your trainer."
This madman always spouted deranged nonsense in a solemn tone. And I hated myself for not being able to shake my head at such bullshit.
"...I'll come again tomorrow."
"Good, boy! Go carefully!"
He seemed pleased with how he'd wrecked me for a full three hours on my first day. Even his back as he walked away brimmed with satisfaction.
So.
I'd get stronger somehow. I'd train to death until I could lift a barbell loaded with plates no problem. And since that wouldn't be enough, I'd learn swordsmanship or whatever else. I vowed again to definitely take down that crazy muscle-head.
But.
"Wait... my legs."
For starters, I had no feeling in my legs. Whatever—getting home safely came first.
And so my hectic daily routine barely held together.
Of course, even the splintered time wasn't enough, so after consulting with Rendo, I adjusted my work hours. Now I clocked out around afternoon when the peak rush ended, without staying till closing. True to his kind, kind nature, he didn't cut my pay.
"Ain, you rascal. Push too hard and you'll collapse soon. Chasing dreams is fine, but you gotta learn to rest too."
"Ugh... Yeah, but time's short. It'll be fine once I, yaaawn... adapt after a while... ."
I wanted to, but time sure as hell wasn't waiting for me. With that, I slumped over the counter again.
"...What a stubborn brat. If you collapse and miss work, I'll dock your pay, kid."
"You won't... You're just saying that... Yaaawn."
He always pretended to be a grumpy shop owner, but Rendo hadn't been anything but kind since I started. He paid well, for one. Lately, he even packed extra food and supplies every month for "that mutt."
As I grinned half-sprawled on the counter, he shook his head.
"Clean up that filthy mess back there and get off, Ain. Time for your workout."
"Ah... Th-the shop's not busy yet...?"
"You're going anyway, so why drag it out every time, kid? Hurry up and finish, scram!"
"Ugh... ."
With that, I reluctantly dragged myself up, grimacing as I prepped to head out for training.
We'd agreed to cut hours, but I secretly hoped the shop would get swamped and leave no time for workouts. It'd only been a month since starting, but it was my earnest wish.
And speaking of which, had becoming a kid dulled my brain too? I kept believing that if I endured long enough, it'd get better eventually.
Time passed, the hectic routine dragged on.
A mere ten-year-old body inevitably hit its limit. Especially for a stupid adult who'd forgotten his body was young and pushed it like a maniac with his frail frame.
As always, he woke in the morning and tried to rise, but his body felt heavier than usual, mind foggy.
"...Ah."
He managed to get up but struggled for balance, staggering to the door on unsteady feet. He knew he was in bad shape but had to move. So much to do: work at the grocery, training without fail. And today was the once-a-month witch visit. He forced himself out, leaning on the wall to stay upright.
It hurts. I'm dizzy, gonna collapse.
Such thoughts swirled, but he lifted his head anyway. What he saw steadied him a bit.
Even early morning, Mom was always in the kitchen. The sizzle of something frying. He'd teased her about sleeping in, but she always rose before him to make breakfast—just a few steps away.
So.
Such a trivial reason. Clearly just some woman's back. Yet it oddly overlaid past memories, calming his turmoil. It drew him to see her as his mother.
Just facing that scene, he let hazy emotions tilt him that way. He bit his lip to stifle surging complaints, staring blankly at her back.
"... ."
Had the young body truly made him a child? A mere ache tangled and swelled his feelings. A back he'd normally ignore now unearthed buried miscellany.
He wanted to ask: Was this woman bustling to feed her tired son despite her fatigue really just a scripted character?
He wondered: Were those gentle eyes pitying his struggles mere text?
Questions he'd ignored for travel prep and witch aid resurfaced on this flimsy excuse of illness. Doubts he'd never shaken since realizing this was a novel begged answers.
Yet he swallowed them, watching her move for him.
Still, one certainty: After choking down the doubts, staring blankly brought tears.
How long he stared, he didn't know. Legs buckled as haze deepened; he thudded against the wall.
Mom, yawning over toast, turned at the noise.
"Yaaawn... Ain, eat toast and head to work... Ain? Are you crying?"
"...Mom."
Spotting tears on his cheek, she dropped everything and rushed over. That eased him oddly, and his strained body gave out, crumpling to the floor.
"Wh-what? Son...! Son, you okay? Open your eyes. What do I—?!"
Her panicked voice faded as gentle hands lifted him.
He woke sometime later.
"...Fucking hell."
"Watch the language. You look weak enough."
Opening his eyes to that muscle-bound bald head peering down, he couldn't help cursing.
"Still dreaming...?"
"No, this is reality. I came looking when you didn't show at the gym by evening."
"... ."
Crazy bastard. Glaring like he was vermin, the trainer nodded and stood.
"Confirmed you're up, so I'll head out. Come back once you're better, boy. And this is a get-well gift."
He set a large tub beside him. Protein supplement.
"When you're sick, nothing beats protein. See ya, boy."
"... ."
Truly, genuinely insane. As he left, Mom entered.
"Son, you're awake? That gym coach...? He said he came 'cause you didn't show. He's not weird, right...?"
"...Not bad, but definitely weird."
Among everyone he'd met here, the strangest, most unhinged by far.
"Oh, and the grocery owner stopped by worried when you didn't show, then left. He brought ingredients for porridge—said eat that."
"Rendo's a good, kind guy. Unlike that one just now."
Two visitors, polar opposites—quite the contrast. As he thought that, Mom approached and gently touched his forehead.
"Joking already? Feeling better?"
"...Yeah. Much better."
"Good... I was really scared. You've been pushing too hard lately, son."
She gazed down wearily. Losing consciousness at breakfast and waking near sunset? Fair enough. He apologized immediately.
"Sorry... ."
"Ain. Chase what you want, but don't collapse. I won't stop you."
This was why. Why he saw them as parents despite doubts.
"...Yeah, I will."
"Good, my smart boy. I trust you'll handle it without me nagging."
Her genuine worry, relieved smile at his reply. He nodded faintly.
"Yeah."
"Rest well today then."
She smiled softly and rose.
"Um... Mom."
But he had something to say, sorry as he was.
"Hm? Need something?"
"Can I step out for a bit?"
Unlike those two who came here, one person couldn't. The gray-haired girl must be fidgeting in the alley after a month's wait. Mom eyed him, then smiled bitterly.
"...Want me to come with?"
"No, just thanking Rendo quick and back."
Lame excuse even to him, but no better reason handy.
"...Okay. Be careful, son. Got it?"
"Yeah. Back soon."
He got up, changed, and slipped out.
"Son."
"Yeah?"
Turning at her soft call, she smiled gently.
"Mom's on your side."
"... ."
What did that mean now? Knowing where he was headed? Or an answer to his long doubts?
As he stared, she cut through as if sensing it.
"Got it?"
"...Yeah."
So he nodded, unsure of her meaning. He watched her gentle wave a moment, then headed to the alley.
A bit late. Dusk darkened the alley where a girl peeked around, waiting.
At his footsteps, she perked up like a rabbit—adorably.
"Sorry... a little late."
Then, from her plank shack, she approached—not rushed, not casual.
And asked right away.
"...You sick?"
Not why late, but worry—maybe from watching him lately. Despite knowing better than to poke her gray emotions, he answered honestly.
"Yeah... felt off today."
"Don't get sick. Can't."
He'd wanted to see that worry, those eyes. She checked him over faster than usual, like he'd done for her.
Gently touched his forehead, lifted his arm carefully for wounds. Crouched to inspect legs and feet.
Unsure, she dashed to her shack—do-do-do—and brought ointment and bandages he'd given her.
"... ."
"This, no hurt."
He chuckled.
"Thanks."
"Don't sick. Can't die."
He smeared some on his unscratched hand, waved it: "All good now." Still, her lips stayed flat, eyes scanning worriedly.
And as their month-apart meeting ended and he turned...
She softly called.
"Ain."
"Yeah."
"...Sick, no come okay."
"... ."
"I wait more."
No reply. But he gazed steadily at the witch who wouldn't look away.