Allowing myself to be consumed by the singular, primal urge to slaughter, I tore through the Cursed Spirits that lunged at me, their killing intent thick enough to drown in. Even as the bloodlust began to ebb, I kept my senses sharpened to a razor's edge, anticipating the next strike while letting out a hollow, derisive laugh at the sheer depravity of the Zenin clan.
"I knew they were trash, but to think they'd hide Cursed Spirits in a corner of the estate... just to torment someone."
It was truly an 'exemplary' household. This pathetic excuse for a clan deserved nothing less than total annihilation—that was my firm conviction. Though I was barely the age of an upper-elementary student in normal society, my physical muscle density had already reached a state of near-perfection. Yet, if I ever hoped to crush these people in the future and walk out of this place on my own terms, physical conditioning alone wouldn't suffice. I needed combat experience.
"To do that... I just need to grow stronger while using these bastards as stepping stones, right? Hahahaha!"
I wasn't merely fighting these Cursed Spirits to survive; I was fighting to hone my instincts and refine my tactical senses. The moment that realization took hold, the invisible monsters lurking in the shadows began to look like gifts. Once again, I surrendered to instinct, focusing entirely on the senses awakening within me.
How much time had passed? Sensing a presence, I turned my head toward the creak of a sliding door. I found myself staring at an Elder (male) who wore the expression of a scientist witnessing a successful experiment.
"Tch. You lasted three days without breaking? How boring. I'll have to replenish the stock. Come out, Toji Zenin. Hand over what you're holding."
Despite his words, his face was anything but bored. The urge to swing the Cursed Tool in my hand and crush his skull dominated my mind, but I shook the thought away. I handed the weapon to the Elder and, without a word, dragged my aching, battered body toward my room.
"Dammit... that hurts. I guess medical treatment is too much to ask for. Should've known better."
By the time I reached my room, I couldn't even think about the food I hadn't touched for three days. All I wanted was rest. The moment I hit the bed, I collapsed into a deep sleep that lasted two full days. When I finally woke and checked my injuries, the results were staggering. My dislocated shoulder and the arm I'd broken while fighting the spirits had already knitted back together. Even the recovery rate of this cursed body was inhuman.
"Ugh... I'm starving... Food..."
Only then did a tearing hunger claw at my stomach. I managed to pick myself up, stepped out into the hallway, and grabbed a passing attendant.
"I'm hungry. Bring me some food."
The servant (unknown) I grabbed scowled at me for a moment before silently bowing and disappearing.
"What the hell did I ever do to them? They grimace the moment I even speak. Dammit!"
It was a familiar reaction, but after what I'd just endured, it was hard to stomach. About thirty minutes later, a young attendant (unknown) arrived with a meal. As he set the tray down and made the mistake of meeting my eyes, he scrambled back in terror, tripping over his own feet before bolting out of the room.
"Hah. One looks at me with loathing, the other with terror. I guess being treated like a human is asking too much."
The thought was fleeting, overshadowed by the hunger. I began to shovel the food into my mouth. The menu was drastically different from what others in the clan ate, but right now, I was grateful for anything. I finished every scrap in five minutes, finally feeling like I had returned to the land of the living.
That's when he crossed my mind. That blessed brat. I wanted to see the face of the one who was so different from me. While I suffered through this hell only to be met with loathing and meager rations, he was likely surrounded by people, enjoying a blissful childhood. The thought ignited a flare of inferiority that I felt a desperate need to vent.
'Dammit. One child is hated and locked in a room full of monsters, while that brat...'
I stood up and headed straight for his room. It seemed the visitors had already left, as he was lying there alone. I watched him from outside for a moment before our eyes met. After scanning the area to ensure no one was watching, I slipped quietly into the room. The infant turned his heavy head toward me, staring blankly before breaking into a bright smile. That untainted, innocent smile only served to sharpen my anger.
'To think they call a mere infant the "Hope of the Zenin"... ridiculous.'
"Tch. I came to see the brat they call the future of the clan. What kind of future can you see in a runt like this? He's just a baby. What a joke. So a person's fate is decided from the moment they're born, is that it? Future? Disgrace? What a pile of trash... a clan where Cursed Energy dictates everything..."
Just as the rage threatened to consume me, I looked back at the baby's face. He was still smiling at me with pure radiance.
"Hmph... what's so good that you're laughing like that? Are you mocking me too? Dammit... no, that's not it. What am I doing? Losing my temper in front of a baby. Living in this garbage house is rotting my mind too."
A wave of self-loathing washed over me. I felt like I was becoming just as pathetic as the rest of the Zenin trash. As I turned to leave, I saw the infant opening and closing his tiny fists, as if reaching out. Entranced, I reached down and grasped that small hand. Realizing what I'd done, I snapped out of it and bolted from the room. On the way back to my quarters, I stared at my palm, still feeling the lingering warmth of his skin.
'Why did I do that? I didn't even think... I don't know.'
But one thing was certain. That small, soft hand had been warm. And that warmth... hadn't felt bad at all.
Even after lying down in my room, the sensation of his hand lingered in my mind. Perhaps, despite my denials, I had been starved for human warmth. I felt the sharp edges of my resentment beginning to soften. That night, I slept more soundly than I ever had before.
The peace was shattered the moment I woke up. Two Elders (male) stood at my door, which they had swung open without knocking. Before I could even clear my head, I was seized and dragged to that all-too-familiar door. One of the Elders shoved a familiar Cursed Tool into my hand and thrust me back into the darkness.
"Try to last longer this time. If you want to live, that is."
The heavy thud of the door sealing shut signaled the return of total darkness. Once again, I forced my senses to awaken and loosened my muscles. Having grown accustomed to the spirits' patterns, I began to tear through them with more efficiency than before. Days passed. Fatigue began to set in, leading to minor wounds from mistimed parries. My lip was torn and stinging, and the blood loss made my head swim. Just as I slumped to the floor in exhaustion, the door opened, and a shaft of light pierced the room.
"Ho... you lasted five days. You'll have a rest for a while, Toji Zenin. Mostly because you've slaughtered every spirit we had in there. Get out."
The Elder took the blood-stained nunchaku from my hand and turned his back on me. I stumbled, dizzy and swaying, trying to make my way back. An attendant (unknown) who had followed the Elder spoke up.
"I will treat your wounds, Toji-sama."
'You just don't want to clean the blood off the bedding,' I thought bitterly. 'Don't pretend to care.'
"Don't bother. Just leave me alone so I can rest. I'm exhausted."
When Toji looked up, his eyes met the attendant's. Seeing the demonic, bloodshot gaze of the child and the dried gore caked on his lips, the attendant froze, taking a sharp breath and forgetting to exhale. As Toji turned and walked away, the servant's legs gave out, and he collapsed, gasping for air. 'That killing intent...' the servant thought, 'that didn't belong to a human.'
Reaching his room, Toji collapsed onto his bed and fell into a death-like sleep.