Episode 9: The One Who Walks the Back Alleys
Deep in the slums.
The illegally constructed, vertically built, and tilted shacks resembled the Kowloon Walled City of old China.
And the back alleys, secluded with unclaimed corpses…
A textbook example of a slum.
In a narrow alley of such a town, a bald man with one leg, squatting down, said to me:
“Oh… if it isn’t the Teacher. Rare to see you here, what brings you around?”
This guy is “One-Leg.”
Those who live in the slums either have no names, or don’t give them, or can’t give them…
So, they call each other by their characteristics, like this, or give each other nicknames.
“Is Val here?”
“Val, you say…? Ah, those kids! Skipping out again?!”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
I sighed and gave a small smile.
“Haa… just a moment, I’ll go get him right away.”
The one-legged man said, and then, putting on his prosthetic leg made from scrap wood, he skillfully stood up and walked into the depths…
And five minutes later.
“Ouch! Hey, One-Leg! What’s the big idea?! Why’d you hit me?!”
“Shut up! The Teacher’s calling for you, hurry up and get over here!!!”
“Teacher…? Ah! Oh crap…!”
“Hey! Don’t run away!”
After such a conversation, a small shadow tried to pass in front of me…
“Eei.”
“Hogyah?!!!”
I tripped him and caught him.
“Yo, Val. Looking lively, aren’t you?”
“T-Teacher…? H-hehehehe, y-yes, I’m doing great…?”
The one rolling on the ground was a kid.
About twelve years old, with short, roughly cut black hair.
He wore a patched-up adult coat, forcibly adjusted with a belt, and a tattered cloth wrapped around his head like a bandana.
His face looked cheeky, with cuts on his nose and cheeks.
If he were a girl, I’d spoil him rotten… but girls either go to brothels, become private prostitutes, or become cooks for thieves…
“Well, of course. You’re skipping work, so you’re not tired, you must be doing great.”
I stepped on Val’s head.
“Adededededede!!! Wait! There’s a reason! There’s a reason!”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I-I was training! To become a Strider!”
Hoh.
Certainly, if a slum kid wants to make an honest living, becoming a Strider is about the only option.
They can’t read or write, they don’t know how to cultivate fields, or how to cook.
They have no guarantee of status, no citizenship.
Such a person has no choice but to become a Strider.
But, you see…
“That’s no excuse for skipping work.”
I stepped on him again.
“Itteeeee!!!”
“Besides, waving a stick around isn’t training. You don’t have time to be playing around, do you?”
“Ah, it’s not playing! It’s proper training…!”
“Who are you studying under?”
“W-well… a slum kid like me can’t learn proper swordsmanship, can I?!”
“Really? There are former swordsmen all over the slums. What you should be doing isn’t self-satisfying training, but learning from the elders around you, and steadily working to save money.”
“That’s…”
“The job of cleaning in front of my store, I don’t really need it. So, do you know why I bother to hire you guys?”
“…I don’t know.”
“Because the boss of the slums, ‘Hookclaw,’ lowered his head and asked me to. He said he wanted you kids to have a chance. It’s your choice if you don’t want to work, but if that happens, who do you think will have to lower their head instead?”
“…Hookclaw-san.”
“That’s right, Hookclaw. That man protects not just you, but the entire slum. In other words, he’s a benefactor. …If you can’t understand something that simple, even if you become a Strider, you’ll be abandoned by your comrades sooner or later. You should give up.”
“…I-I didn’t mean to! I-I’m sorry!”
“If you’re going to apologize, apologize to Hookclaw. I don’t care.”
“…I-I’ll go apologize! Then, I’ll go clean properly! Sorry, Teacher!”
I watched Val’s back as he ran off…
“…Sorry, One-Leg. And Hookclaw, for causing trouble.”
I apologized to “One-Leg.”
“No… kids are all like that. The fact that he can apologize properly means he’s better than most.”
“One-Leg” sat down on the spot with a wry smile, and took off his prosthetic leg.
It was a prosthetic leg made from scrap wood that didn’t fit his body.
Probably, when he wears it and walks, it catches and his leg hurts.
“Here, this is wild boar ham that we made. Give it to Hookclaw.”
“Ah, always sorry for the trouble, Teacher.”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s leftovers. Besides, I was once saved by Hookclaw myself.”
“Haha… Hookclaw always said he was saved by you, Teacher.”
“Then, I guess it’s mutual. Besides, I wasn’t born in this town either. I want to value horizontal connections.”
“…Thank you, Teacher. Are you going to go meet Hookclaw?”
“No… he probably has work to do. It’s distasteful for someone like me, who lives playing around, to show my face.”
“The boss wouldn’t mind.”
“Well, maybe someday, then.”
Saying that, I left the slums…
And headed for the main street…