Why is my journey to the world of anime a strange tale of rules?

If Kita and I could go back to the band, if "The End of the Band" could be reunited, but Kita is already...

Yes, that's right. You still long to return to your wonderful life with your friends, but that wish is now impossible to fulfill.

It was that man named Takami who deceived you; he killed Kita Ikuyo; he killed your friend.

He never intended to help you; he was just using you. You should take revenge on him while he's currently sensing things, and plant this seed in his mind.

The voice in my head grew louder and louder.

Ever since he realized Kita was dead, and from the moment his mental defenses were breached due to the immense blow he received, the constant commotion has grown louder and louder.

Is this my own voice?

I always feel like someone is telling me, saying that this is my own idea, that this is what I want to do.

Could such a strange sense of self exist?

Pfft!

A muffled thud jolted Goto Ichiri out of his daze.

Through the shared vision of her clone, she saw that Nanakawa Ren and Hayashibe Kenta had reached the gap in the glass wall of the blood pool. Hayashibe Kenta, a slightly overweight man, struggled to climb over the gap, then jumped into the blood pool without a second's hesitation, completely submerging himself inside.

Nanakawa Ren herself was sitting at the gap, holding a hemp rope in her hand, the other end of which was connected to Hayashibe Kenta.

A pool of blood brimming with divine blood is not a place to be entered lightly. As the prototype material for "strange tales," this substance has the power to fundamentally distort humanity. Even with protective suits and the superhuman physical strength of a Red Moon-level player, the inherent danger of such an act remains undeniable.

In fact, Takami, who had already begun drawing Morihara Koji with his obsessive pencil, knew very well that this player named Hayashibe Kenta would not be able to surface alive in the blood pool as a human. Well, even if he went, it wouldn't matter; from the moment he entered the blood pool, his life was already sealed.

Or are they destined to be sacrificed? Just like the rescue team members who lead other players out in the normal solution of Shirakawa Apartment, and the people who lure away the White Dress to ensure the survival of other players in the normal solution of Red Nut Gray Hole, there are always people who take on the role of sacrifice if you want to pass the dungeon.

But in Gao Hai's opinion, that's just bullshit.

He simply doesn't want to acknowledge this solution; he simply won't accept this choice.

Even if the situation has truly reached a dead end, he will start everything anew and he will surely find a different path.

As long as you haven't been truly defeated by fate, and haven't faced the despair of being unable to make any further changes, you must never choose to give up or compromise.

At this moment, as he listened to the sound of Hayashibe Kenta entering the water outside the door, Takami's expression remained unchanged. He simply stared silently at the wall in front of him, at the boy named Morihara Koji that he was gradually sketching out stroke by stroke.

He didn't know what Morihara Koji looked like as a high school student; on those stages, Takami saw the boy as a child. Perhaps because of this, Takami's impression of the boy leaned more towards the childlike side, so much so that the children he drew were also children.

"..."

Gao Hai watched in silence as the boy on the wall gradually became complete.

The boy, his face covered with gauze, his arms burned by cigarette butts, dirty and always silent with his head down.

He also seemed to be watching Gao Hai.

The boy, whose experiences Gao Hai only knows fragmented so far—who knows he went through a family divorce, grew up amidst violence and harm, and ultimately destroyed everything—seems to be watching Gao Hai now.

Or was he looking at something else?

Having lived such a short and painful life, experiencing setbacks and hardships time and time again, and never truly seeing a turning point until the end of his life, never tasting happiness, what was he gazing at?

【teacher】

The boy looked up at his side, at the blurry figure whose very existence was uncertain.

I actually think everyone is really strange.

His gaze was fixed on the distance, his voice soft yet hollow.

They say that every morning when you wake up, you should give yourself a smile in the mirror and tell yourself that you should also make the most of today. Keep going!

Why can they say that? How do they motivate themselves? I don't understand.

[Falling asleep, waking up, nothing has changed, nothing has changed at all—how can I keep going? What's the point of trying? What's the outcome? The result is still the same, isn't it?]

He was gloomy, his messy hair covered his eyes, and there was not a trace of light in his voice.

The bright sunshine shone on the earth, with green leaves, colorful flowers, and people dressed in brightly colored clothes.

But he was the only one covered in gray, as if he were the only one in the world who didn't fit in with everyone else, as if he and the whole world were mutually rejecting each other.

Gao Hai did not hear a reply.

That vague, that "empty" thing, which had become the "teacher," did not provide an answer.

silence.

All he saw and felt was a silent stillness.

The boy looked up, and after he finished speaking, he just silently stared at him, simply watching him in silence.

Should I say something?

Gao Hai suddenly felt a little dazed. He should have been using the [Pen of the Obsessive] to sense information related to the core obsession of [Morihara Koji], to sense the existence of this strange creature. But now, he inexplicably felt that the other party was talking to him, that the boy he had drawn stroke by stroke was waiting for him to communicate with him, to say something to him.

It was as if he had traveled through time and arrived in front of the boy, standing right beside him, having just heard what he had said.

But what should I say?

I don't really understand these things either.

I am not one of those people you speak of. I have never truly lived; I have never experienced what it means to be human. I am merely a record, a constructed illusion, constantly altered through repeated construction and deletion, until no one modifies me anymore, no one defines my existence, no one sees me, pays attention to me, or speaks to me.

Even if you call me "teacher" like the children I've seen before, I've never actually taught any students. I don't understand the lessons, and I don't understand what the adults talking in class are saying. I don't know anything. The answer you're looking for—I simply don't know.

However, I seem to know some things as well.

I know you're very sad, aren't you?

Just like the children I've met before, even though you put on a straight face and pretend to be normal, even though you try to suppress the trembling in your voices, I can hear it, I can feel it, that you are actually very sad, that you are actually so sad that you want to cry out loud.

So at this point, I would say this.

I would say:

I don't know, I don't really understand this kind of question either.

But I know a little cat around here that really likes to play with people. If you reach out your hand to it, it will rub against you. Shall we go see it together?

Chapter 137: Questions, Searches, the Future, and Unspoken Wishes

I started to think a long time ago that living is a very boring thing.

While children my age were playing and laughing, chatting about various cartoon scenes, waving toys or holding game consoles, I had to take charge of all the housework for the whole family, and I had to find ways to get along with my crazy father and try to survive under his beatings and insults.

Even if I try to understand him, sympathize with him, and help him, I won't get anything in return. I'll just finish cleaning and take out the trash, and a little while later he'll have the house littered with trash again. If I get good grades, he'll say I'm too arrogant and beat me; if I get bad grades, he'll beat me even more severely, sometimes for no reason at all, just because he sees I'm not happy, he'll come at me with punches and kicks. As for himself, he just kills time at work, and when he gets home he just sleeps all day, watches TV, smokes and drinks alone, and does absolutely nothing else.

I spent many years like that, almost every day of my life in the shadow of this father. Back then, I even preferred to stay at school, even though because my clothes were dirty and tattered, I was often injured, and I wasn't very talkative, so almost no one wanted to play with me. But at least at school, I didn't have to face that person's face or hear his voice.

I remember my elementary school teacher. She talked to us many times, telling us that people should have dreams and aspirations, and asking us what kind of people we wanted to become in the future.

I can't answer that question because I've never thought about my future.

Just surviving right now is difficult enough for me.

not understand.

Honestly, I just can't understand it.

Why are these people able to spend every day smiling?

Why are they so happy to look forward to tomorrow?

Why is it that everyone can talk so freely about their future ideals?

They keep saying they want to be astronauts and cartoonists, but they clearly don't know what they're talking about. They don't even understand what kind of knowledge and skills are required for these professions, yet they dare to shout that they want to do them.

Is it really that interesting?

I do not understand.

Every morning when I wake up, I just feel terrible and want to keep sleeping, or just die.

Every night when I'm about to go to sleep, I just feel exhausted all over. Even if I haven't done anything all day, I still feel as tired as if I can't breathe.

As soon as the wounds on my body heal, new wounds will appear very quickly.

Sometimes, even when there are no injuries, you may still feel pain all over your body for no apparent reason.

Sometimes I really feel like I'm rotting away, maybe I really have started to stink and grow maggots, who knows?

Elementary school...middle school...high school...

After all these years of schooling, I haven't made a single friend.

Not only do I have no friends, but I'm also constantly bullied. In elementary and middle school, it was mostly just being ostracized, but in high school, a bunch of people inexplicably appeared and started bullying me in all sorts of new ways every day. But compared to that person, things aren't so bad now... no, not necessarily. These people seem to have something wrong with their heads; lately, they've become increasingly vicious and insane. I don't understand why these psychopaths can roam around the school like this, but as long as I can avoid them, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Anyway, over the years, I've become quite adept at avoiding these kinds of people.

However, I still feel very irritable.

The teacher was talking about the future again, telling us to think about what we want to do in the future.

Are the future, the future, and all that important? Can we have such a joyful discussion about these things?

I can't imagine my future. I can't think of what I'll do in the future. I can't think of anything at all.

I don't even understand what I'm doing right now.

Ah, speaking of which... it seems I hadn't realized this before. I actually had no idea how I spent my days. I was just living in a daze, like turning myself into a plant, just existing.

Just living like this is already so exhausting that I can't even imagine the future.

What is the meaning of life?

Would it be better to die?

Anyway, my life now is no different from being dead...

Ah, so that's how it is. I'm actually no different from a dead person...

So that's all there is to it...

……

So, what are you doing here?

……

What, are you a teacher?