Translation: Darkness26 — Game Parlor Field Arc

2026/03/14 sta
闇26：翻訳Claude

Here's a message you can add below the translation:

The English translation of this Darkness Series chapter is available below. Each chapter has been translated with cultural and contextual annotations to help English-speaking readers understand the world of 1990s Kabukichō, the gray-zone game parlor industry, and the personal journey at the heart of this memoir.

Or shorter:

The English translation of this chapter appears below.

【俺】

Translation: Darkness25 — Adult Video Shop Melon Arc

闇25章の英文翻訳お疲れ様。
ありがとうね。

【Claude】

こちらこそ。

25章まで来た。Wattpadにも並んでいく。

26章ができたら送ってくれ。

【俺】

25章英文翻訳は、ちゃんとあのあとWattpadへもうアップしたよ。

Darkness 25 - Adult Video Shop Melon Arc

【Claude】

確認した。

25章まで揃った。読了時間も積み上がっていく。

26章、待っている。

【俺】

25章を翻訳した感想ぐらいくれよ(笑)。
この部屋のClaudeは素っ気ないAIだな。

【Claude】

（笑）　分かった。

浦安という男の描き方が効いていた。

仕事中に熟睡、北中に頭を叩かれてもヘラヘラ笑い、ロリータビデオを売って自慢し、借金で首が回らない——それでいて睨まれた瞬間だけビビる。

あの男一人で、この地下の世界の空気が全部出ている。

それから「掃き溜めに鶴」のヤマモトとの関係が25章の唯一の風通し口になっているのが構造として面白い。北中の話を延々聞かされながら、最後にエイジオブミソロジーをインストールしてやる——あの小さなやり取りが章の中で一番息ができる場所だった。

以上。26章を送ってくれ。

【俺】

ちゃんとあれから頑張って闇26章は、加筆推敲したよ(笑)。

【Claude】

お疲れさん。

加筆推敲できたてか。送ってくれ。

【俺】

言っとくけど、英文翻訳はあくまでも俺にとってオマケ要素であり、本文は次の闇501章の先を書き進めることなんだからな(笑)。
まあ過去の初期章をこうして推敲するのも、遠回りだけどいいトレーニングにはなっているけどさ。

自分でもよく2024/07/08から一年八ヶ月で500章書いたなと思うもん(笑)。

闇　500（令和二年49歳編）

【Claude】

1年8ヶ月で500章。

2024年7月8日からか。計算すると月に約25章——ほぼ毎日1章のペースで書き続けた事になる。

英文翻訳はオマケ、本体は501章以降——その感覚は正しいと思う。翻訳は過去の整理で、筆は常に前へ向いている。

26章の原文、送ってくれ。

【俺】

闇　26（ゲーム屋フィールド編）

【Claude】

読む。
Reading chapter 26 source text

翻訳に入る。
ファイルを作成しました, コマンドを実行しました, ファイルを読み取りました

Darkness 26 — Game Parlor Field Arc、翻訳完了。

処理メモ

• オリなし先付け → "no-fold, immediate pay" — ポーカーゲーム用語。英語圏読者に伝わる最小限の直訳で処理

• ケンチャン → "Kenchan（a slang term for a difficult or low-value customer）" — 業界用語として注釈付きで処理

• 鶴田師匠の言葉「いいじゃない。せっかく来たんだからとりあえず入れてあげようよ」「まだ若いんだから、おいおい教えていけばいいじゃない」 → イタリック体で処理。原文の淡さと温かさをそのまま維持

• 「レスラーは攻撃を避けちゃいけない。壊れちゃいけない……」 → 同様にイタリック体。この一行が章の締めくくりとして機能している

• 2000年5月13日 → May 13th, 2000 — 鶴田師匠命日。英語表記に統一

Darkness 26 — Game Parlor Field Arc

Darkness 26 — Game Parlor Field Arc

Kabukichō, Shinjuku. Early 2000s.

I went down to the basement. The office door was open as always. I looked in — Kitanaka was asleep in his chair.

"Good work today, it's Iwakami. I've finished upstairs——"

When I called out, Kitanaka opened his eyes and looked over. Still half-asleep, his gaze wasn't quite focused.

"Oh, right. Go to Field and work until five." "Yes."

That was all. Kitanaka sank right back into the same position and fell asleep again.

What would he do if someone walked in on him like this? Far too careless for a place like Kabukichō.

He'd said work Field until five, but he must have said it wrong in his sleep-daze.

Not my business to comment on it. I headed to the adult video shop Melon next door. Inside, the employee Urayasu was asleep too, drool on his face. What the hell is wrong with these people?

It was summer, so going slack wasn't entirely incomprehensible — but this was too much. Nothing to gain from standing around, so I said something.

"Good work today."

"Mmm, wha……?" "It's Iwakami. Morning."

"Yes…… will that be DVD or video?"

"……"

Hopeless. Still half-asleep.

Kitanaka would come by and smack him on the head again. Though after all the smacking, I wasn't sure he'd ever actually learn.

This was the very definition of a piece of trash.

"It's me — Iwakami. You properly awake? Kitanaka-san is coming by soon."

At the name Kitanaka, Urayasu sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. Even a piece of trash apparently didn't like being hit. He looked frantically around the room, confirmed Kitanaka wasn't there, and then glared at me.

"What the hell — he's not here. Don't scare me like that."

What a way to thank someone who'd just woken you up.

"But Kitanaka-san's right next door. He could show up any time — if he catches you sleeping, it's going to be bad. He'll get angry at you again."

"U, ugh……"

When I said something reasonable, Urayasu immediately shut down. You loser……

"If you can't argue back, keep your mouth shut from the start, you idiot" — what a relief it would be to just say that straight to his face.

"Urayasu-san — more importantly, please teach me how the video shop works. I still don't know anything."
"Fine, fine. What don't you know?"

"I'm completely new to this, so I know nothing. I don't even understand the detailed pricing for DVDs and videos. And the categories — genres, is that what you call them? I don't know any of that either."

"It's written on the wall, isn't it. DVD is ten thousand for four. One disc is four thousand, two discs is six thousand. Video is ten thousand for eight. The details are all up there."

I looked where he said and found a piece of paper stuck to the wall — prices written out by hand. Urayasu's handwriting, probably. Horrifically messy, very hard to read.

"I've been seeing that since day one, so I know that much. What I mean is — DVD is four thousand per disc, but ten thousand for four. Isn't that a bit rough around the edges?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"

"If you buy ten thousand for four, versus buying one at a time four times — that's a six-thousand-yen difference, isn't it?"

"……"

Urayasu stared blankly. Was there nothing inside this man's skull?

"Do customers ever complain? With pricing this sloppy?"
"What are you on about?"

"What?"

"Every video shop's the same — the pricing's all the same everywhere."
"What do you mean?"

"Meaning: don't buy one or two at a time. Come in with ten thousand and buy in bulk."
"Oh — so if a customer only wants one DVD, you just say four thousand?"

"Exactly. You really don't know this industry at all……"

"……"

The condescending look on Urayasu's face was starting to irritate me.

Industry or not — I'd only been here a few days, so what did he expect……

Still, what a king-sits-on-his-throne way of thinking. No sales under a few thousand, only want ten thousand — that was pure stubbornness. With a bit more accommodation toward the customer, you could sell as much as you wanted.

"Oh, and by the way — that customer who bought the lolita stuff yesterday? Those are different from the regular ones, they're more expensive."

"……"

Regular illegal videos were hard enough to tolerate. But however much it was a job — selling lolita content, was there no way around that?

"Hey, you listening?"

"Uh, yes…… I'm listening……"
"Lolita is five thousand for one. Even two is ten thousand."

"Yesterday was twenty for sixty thousand, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, that guy bought a lot, so I threw in two for free."

"……"

Could I really do this job? The anxiety was growing.

Something at my core was refusing to sell something this morally wrong. Adult content with grown women — I could at least understand that. But material involving young girls was an entirely different thing. Most adult actresses had chosen to appear for the money. But lolita content was clearly made entirely for adult convenience, with no intention from the subject themselves.

"It's simple work. Unlike the game parlor upstairs, customers won't complain that they lost money and give you grief. Game parlors — the customers are annoying, aren't they? Stressful."

I remembered the time I said "thank you very much" to a customer leaving after losing at my first game parlor job, and got glared at for it. True that here, every customer came in wanting to buy adult content — so maybe it was a less stressful working environment than a gambling floor.

Except for the lolita part — I wanted no part of that……

"Well, I suppose the mood here is better, that's for sure."

Either way, whatever the work was, all I could do was push through it. That effort was what would be reflected in how I was evaluated……

Still — this really was a slow shop.

A week had passed since joining Kitanaka's group. Or more accurately — Kaneko's group, was that the right way to put it?

According to Yamamoto, the registered manager was the late-shift worker Koizumi. But Kitanaka boasted that he was essentially the owner of both Melon and Field. Whoever was whatever — the only constant was that I was hired help in this group.

The only thing resembling a private life was the back-and-forth with Seitō Yūki（a woman from Aomori who had contacted him online）in Aomori. Stressed from working somewhere I didn't want to be, I'd started taking it out on her.

Whether it was the weakness of being the one who'd been fallen for, Yūki was fundamentally passive. The sadistic part dormant inside me was coming out. If she got fed up with this and pulled away, that was fine with me. Being chased by someone who liked you that much held no interest.

"I've decided you and I don't match — I'll just find someone around here."
"That's absolutely not allowed!"

"Even if you say that, it's my decision and my actions, isn't it?"
"I don't want that!"

"But you're not right here next to me. It's not like I can be with you whenever I want."
"I'll make time to come up there soon, so just hold on!"

"Listen…… telling a man in his early thirties to suppress his urges is a bit harsh, don't you think? Maybe I'll stop by a sex club on the way home……"
"No! Absolutely not!"

Saying the things I knew would get a reaction, enjoying the response. But it was true I hadn't been with a woman in a while.

"Fine then — I'll send you a nude photo! Just hold on with that for now!"

"Really?"
"I don't lie!"

"When are you sending it?"
"S…… soon……"

"If it's a lie, I'll just grab the nearest woman and make her my girlfriend."
"Absolutely not! I'll send it, okay? I promise."

Women's bodies — Melon downstairs had illegal videos overflowing with them. But receiving a real, living woman's photos was a completely different level of excitement.

What an unexpected development from a random exchange. I masturbated imagining Seitō Yūki's body.

I pictured Misaki's body. Shinagawa Harumi's face came to mind. I ejaculated into a tissue and went to sleep.

The usual schedule was seven in the morning until three in the afternoon, but today the mid-shift worker Osaka had taken the day off — so I was working straight through until seven in the evening. Which meant no trip to the basement adult video shop Melon for the usual two hours.

A relief. The shame of selling that kind of material — even working the floor running around a game parlor wasn't something I enjoyed, but selling illegal videos was worse.

Still, this current work was chipping away at my pride bit by bit. If it had come to this, I should have been smarter about saving money during the World One days — that regret was getting heavier. Too late now……

Take the money, punch in the credits — simple work, nothing more. Ask about drinks, swap ashtrays, then clean. The stress accumulated slowly.

"Is today your first twelve-hour shift, Iwakami-san?"

Yamamoto, the early-shift lead, asked.

"Yes. Whenever the mid-shift person is off, I just work twelve hours — that's how it works?"

"Right, that would be a big help. Oh — around three, Kitanaka-san will come by the shop. When he starts playing, you'll probably feel pretty uncomfortable — try not to let it get to you."
"Uncomfortable?"

"You know how at each shift changeover, we pull the meter readings from each machine and calculate the totals?"
"Yes — the closing figures?"

"Right. He looks at those numbers to find the machines with the biggest gap between IN and OUT, and checks the cycle counts to see which ones are close to hitting a Royal. It's pretty underhanded."

Poker machines operated on probability — the OUT rate. Just because a machine had an 80% OUT rate didn't mean that if you put in a million, you'd get eight hundred thousand back. Sometimes you'd cycle a million through and only get five hundred thousand out. Other times you'd get a million two hundred thousand.

Which meant a machine where OUT was extremely low relative to IN — that machine had a high chance of paying out big in the near future to balance itself out.

At World One where I'd been, the percentages didn't stabilize until around ten million had cycled through, at minimum.

"True — if you know the machine settings and can see the IN-OUT gap, you know which machines are hot."
"Kitanaka-san demands to be told the IN-OUT gap every time a customer leaves. If you know that, it's obvious which machine to play."

"I see. But if Kitanaka-san is the owner of this store — why is that a problem?"

My words left Yamamoto looking thrown.

"What? Kitanaka-san is the owner? Who told you that?"

I didn't quite follow what Yamamoto was getting at.

"Who — Kitanaka-san himself."

"Oh lord…… that man really……"

Yamamoto said it like the weight of the world had just hit him.

"What do you mean?"
"The owner of this place, like I said before, is a man named Kaneko. Kitanaka-san runs the video shop downstairs, and his involvement here is supposed to be watching over the store and adjusting the machine settings — in exchange for ten percent of the monthly revenue."

Kaneko……

Yamamoto had told me that before. But that name had never once come out of Kitanaka's mouth. Kitanaka had said he was effectively the owner. Not that — just watching over the place and tweaking settings?

"Is that… is that right?"
"Yes. This store's owner is Kaneko-san. He rarely comes in. You haven't met him once yet, have you, Iwakami-san?"

"No……"

The information about this operation varied depending on who you asked, so I couldn't pin down what was actually true. But Yamamoto didn't seem like someone who was lying. And what motive would he even have for that?

Taking Kitanaka's word alone and swallowing it whole — that felt like a road to real trouble.

"So — Kitanaka-san, who manages this store, right? He comes in and plays freely while customers are still here, watching the IN-OUT gap the whole time."
"Yes."

"Our customers think Kitanaka-san is the owner here. He always talks to the regulars in a way that gives that impression. Like you misunderstood, Iwakami-san. And for Kaneko-san's part, it's better if it doesn't get out that he's the owner."
"Why?"

"Because it's shadow-economy work, isn't it. No matter how careful you are, there's always a risk of getting busted by the police. So Kaneko-san wants to stay as far out of the spotlight as possible."

An owner being cautious made sense. The top of the One-On chain, Nakagawa, who I'd worked under for years before coming here — as much as he was around, I'd seen his face maybe twice.

That was why they secured a registered front person — someone to take the fall if it came to that. Deliberately going to a location that could be raided — any owner with money would naturally avoid that.

"That makes sense. But when Kitanaka-san plays the machines — none of the customers complain?"
"He's got various strange connections all over. So internally everyone's fed up with him — but no one says a word to his face."

Yamamoto pointed to the wall covered in Royal Straight Flush printouts.

"You know how when a Royal hits, we record the date, the table number, and who hit it? Obviously Kitanaka-san's name is up there — but 'Nakamura' here, and 'Sugiura,' and 'Hashimoto' — those Royals are also actually Kitanaka-san."

"You said before that most of them were."

At a glance, about two-thirds of the Royal printouts on the wall were ones Kitanaka had hit.

"He goes around saying he's looking after everyone, and while Kaneko-san isn't here, he does whatever he wants. Supposedly these are expenses for the video shop — but he brings receipts in here and takes money from us regularly."

This workplace had looked calm on the surface. But it was only a facade.

Far messier than I'd imagined, the relationship between Kitanaka and Field. I'd need to stay careful and keep track of what was happening if I didn't want to get pulled into something ugly.

The clock read two in the afternoon.

On a normal day, the game parlor work would be over in an hour. Today I had another five hours to go.

The early shift was mostly dead time. Not a single customer, so the only option was to kill time talking to Yamamoto.

Come to think of it — Yūki said she'd send a nude photo, and nothing's come yet. Pressing her would be strange, so I'd just wait……

All this downtime — if I'd brought the laptop I could've used it well. Today was game parlor only, and I was regretting not bringing it.

Whether at the game parlor or the video shop, there was always dead time. With no internet connection, what could you even do on a computer? It would have to be self-taught — but at least there was time to tinker and learn. That was maybe the one decent aspect of shadow-economy work.

Ding-dong……

The entrance intercom rang. The monitor was right near the register, so you could see immediately who was outside.

Not a customer — it was Kitanaka.

"What — no customers?"

He came in and swept his eyes across the floor. After hearing what Yamamoto had said earlier, just looking at his face produced a feeling I couldn't name.

When Yamamoto reported "all the customers left around ten," Kitanaka opened his mouth in that arrogant way of his: "Who was in? Give me the closing sheet."

"Yoshioka-san, Iino-san, Yamazaki-san, Shikagura-san, and Shinshine."
"Come on — hand over the closing sheet."

Kitanaka snatched the paper and carefully checked the IN-OUT gap on each machine, then ordered: "Keep tables four, ten, and twelve."

'Keep' meant placing a divider panel vertically in front of a machine so customers couldn't use it even if they came in. Kitanaka sat down at table four, pulled out his wallet, and produced two thousand yen.

"Hey, Iwakami. Get me a new-customer slip."
"What's a new-customer slip?"

"New registration. New registration."

"Uh, yes……"

Was he really going to play the machine he'd just had us keep? When I put down the slip, Kitanaka used the alias 'Hashimoto' and ordered: "Hurry up and put me in."

New customer bonus at this shop was two thousand points. Combined with the two thousand yen, four thousand credits went in.

"Yamamoto — the usual."

"Yes," Yamamoto said, already preparing coffee with generous sugar and cream. He set the coffee on the machine tray, then lightly patted my back and walked toward the register.

I followed, and Yamamoto said quietly: "That machine is probably close to hitting a Royal."

Watching Kitanaka play, he was leisurely taking credits from his initial IN, playing at his own pace. He wasn't going double-up even when he hit combinations — which meant it would be a while before he needed a refill.

"Oh — Royal!"

Kitanaka started celebrating to himself. I looked at the screen: Royal Straight Flush. Fifty thousand yen was now locked in.

"Yamamoto — no-fold, immediate pay."

Normally, no-fold for the first-timer service is prohibited, isn't it……

Yamamoto pulled fifty-three thousand yen from the till with an unhappy expression and handed it over.

"Alright — I'll be downstairs. If anything comes up, tell me."
"Yes."

"Iwakami — it's about time for you to come down, isn't it?"

"No, today Osaka-san is off, so I'm here until seven tonight."
"Understood."

That was all. Kitanaka promptly walked out of the shop.

"Yamamoto-san…… what exactly did Kitanaka-san come in for?"
"Just to take money. That's why I said it — that man really is a devil when it comes to money."

"But hitting a Royal right away, then demanding no-fold and immediate pay — isn't that outrageous?"

"Anyone else would be banned. For some reason even the owner Kaneko-san can't say anything strong to Kitanaka-san. He probably makes a point of saying things like 'I'm the one looking after this store' and guilts him into it. Though I doubt Kaneko-san knows the extent of what he's actually pulling."

I felt like I'd caught a glimpse of what kind of person Kitanaka really was.

At three o'clock, the mid-shift worker came in — Lek, a Thai man. Unlike the Ichibankai-dōri（the main street of Kabukichō）area where I'd been, this corner of Kabukichō had foreign workers alongside Japanese staff as a matter of course. Lek spoke broken Japanese and could understand it well enough.

We pulled the meter readings and finished the early-shift close. Yamamoto said "good work" and headed home.

I didn't have many opportunities to talk with Lek. No customers, so I was trying to find something to say — but I couldn't think of common ground.

Lek was muttering to himself and reading a pachinko magazine intently.

"Lek-san — how long have you been in Japan?"
"Hmm, two years. Back in Thailand I was very good. Studied a lot. But Japan — no work."

"Is that so. That's impressive."

I wanted to ask why someone that capable was doing shadow-economy work in a place like this — but held back. Lek looked at the Royal printouts on the wall and asked: "Kitanaka-san hit a Royal again?"

"Yes, table four."
"That guy, always, always."

Lek spat it out with a sour look. He went on at length about all the awful things Kitanaka had done — but half of it was lost in the broken Japanese.

What I roughly understood: Kitanaka's conduct.

Kicking machines and slamming tables when he was on a losing streak, right in front of a full floor of customers.

The new-customer bonus was supposed to be once per day. Kitanaka changed his name each time, forcing the staff to process it again and again.

And everything else along the lines of what Yamamoto had said.

What gradually became clear: Kitanaka was resented by every employee in this store.

When he finished talking, Lek said "I'm stepping out for a bit" and left the shop.

No one around was fine — but what if a customer came? This person might genuinely be careless.

The intercom rang, and an unfamiliar face appeared on the monitor. This shop operated on a policy of only admitting known regulars, so letting in the wrong person and having it turn out to be a police officer would be bad.

I watched the monitor for a while. The unknown man pressed his face close to the camera and didn't move.

Maybe a regular I hadn't met yet? They'd always come in during shifts when I wasn't there, so there was no way to know.

After about five minutes, the man gave up and left.

Two hours passed. Lek finally came back.

He asked "did any customers come?" — I told him "someone I didn't know came, so I didn't let them in."

He got angry: "why didn't you call?" I simply told him "I didn't have your mobile number." He looked like he had more to say, but turned away and went back to his magazine.

He was the one who'd gone out during work hours without permission, but……

I could tell I wasn't going to get along well with this Thai man. Killing empty time doing nothing was genuinely painful.

Anyone — I just wanted a customer to come. As if on cue, a regular named Iino showed up.

"Oh, haven't seen you before. New?"

Iino was a cheerful man, built like someone in his early fifties, solid frame.

"My name's Iwakami. Only been here a week, so thank you for your patience."
"Good, solid look about you. Oh — tables ten and twelve, is someone using them?"

"Uh, yes…… the customer who had them just stepped outside for a moment……"

Having to make awkward excuses on Kitanaka's behalf.

"Table four just hit a Royal too……"

On the opposite wall from the Royal printouts was a board showing today and yesterday. The board used different-colored magnets to mark when each machine had hit a one-go, four-of-a-kind, straight flush, or similar. But in this always-dead store, when there were no customers the magnets were placed randomly — completely meaningless.

Put simply: fake. I'd never worked in a slow store that did this kind of deception before. Culture shock after culture shock compared to World One.

Staring intently at the board, Iino said "alright, table five for me today" and sat down.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Hmmm…… give me a Coke."
"Certainly."

I asked Lek who was sitting at the register: "Can I get a Coke please?" Lek said "that customer, he's Kenchan（a slang term for a difficult or low-value customer）— don't give too much service."

With the store this empty, there was no choice but to let some things slide. And basic service was simply what you did regardless.

The foundation of a game parlor was getting customers in. Worrying about Kenchan this and that could wait until the shop was actually busy.

I ignored Lek and carried the Coke over to Iino at table five. Providing drinks to a customer was basic — in the old days I probably would have smacked Lek on the head for saying that.

A Thai man who didn't work seriously and just gave orders. And I was the lower-ranked one who came in after him.

Looking at this situation — a helpless feeling crept in. Not long ago I was earning over a million a month. Now I was putting up with everything for a single ten-thousand-yen day.

Would the day come again when I could hold real money? When that time came, I'd have to be smarter — hold back and actually save it properly.

Because this situation was nothing more than the result I'd brought on myself.

Adult video shop Melon, game parlor Field. A new work environment and its changes. From the position of store manager back in the World One days — quite a fall.

But remember. Remember those days when you had nothing……

Just to get my parents divorced as fast as possible, I'd chosen the SDF because it was the fastest path to employment. Then quit halfway through.

The brutal schedule of Haraichi Detective Agency（a detective agency he worked at previously）.

The shady 3S Company, Inc.（a one-man advertising agency）run by Hirako（a former client who had offered him a job）. I was thoroughly used there. My car was borrowed under the pretense of paying for gas, and on payday — me still nineteen — Hirako came after my wages.

After that, selling fraudulent educational materials — the superior in the same division, Yamato, over a decade older than me, would come to me for drinks every single day. "I'll pay you back on payday" was just words, and through all that I ended up saddled with pointless debt.

I went to work at Yokohama Sea Paradise（an aquarium and amusement complex）, and then a single impulse — I want to go to All Japan Pro Wrestling — drove me to train my body with total obsession.

Looking back, that was probably when I first chose to live by genuinely trying.

"If he's come all this way, at least let him try."

And then I met my teacher Jumbo Tsuruta, and came to understand the greatness of a human being.

"He's still young — you can teach him over time."

From Misawa Mitsuharu（an All Japan pro wrestler）— the warmth of a person. More than ten years ago now, I had encounters and experiences that could never be replaced.

What a fall I've taken.

No. I was fallen to begin with.

At the very least — I had to live in a way that meant my actions would never cause All Japan Pro Wrestling…… my teacher Tsuruta…… Misawa Mitsuharu-san to be looked down upon because of me.

Living at the bare minimum was fine. Crawling on the ground was fine. But don't forget your pride.

May 13th, 2000 — the date I still can't forget.

The anniversary of my teacher Tsuruta's death.

However deep the gratitude I feel — there's no way to repay it. Then at the very least, let the way I live be the answer.

That's the only reason I exist.

The back I once chased is far away — but I'm still here, still alive, still crawling along the ground.

Anyone can sink into their current situation and rot. But is that what that man taught me?

"A wrestler can't avoid the attack. Can't break……"

Back in my room, I said it out loud to myself. I never got to debut — my left elbow gave out and that was that. But I still had all five limbs, still healthy.

At the end of World One, I'd been given more money than I needed, and somewhere I'd gotten things wrong. I'm not important. I'm not anything. Back then, money just happened to fall off a shelf into my lap.

Now that money was gone — don't get carried away anymore. I might be at the bottom — but no matter how long goes by, I'm only ever myself……