Mushoku Tensei's Battle Cat

Death and Rebirth

I was twelve years old, locked out in the rain with a throbbing side that felt like a cracked rib, and the only thing I could think was that I should have just gone to the funeral.

Three hours earlier I had still been inside my mother's house. The stepdad I never liked had died. His funeral fell on one of my father's custody days. I had a belt promotion that weekend and school the next day. I told my mother over the phone I wasn't going. She called me ungrateful. I got angry. That was the start.

When I arrived for the weekend visit she was quiet with grief. My older half-sister was not. She came into the room my mother kept for me, saw me reading the new manga I'd bought with chore money, and asked if I was going to pretend nothing had happened. I told her I didn't want to talk about it. She grabbed the volume and threw it across the room. When I yelled that she had a horrible way of grieving, she picked it up and tore it in half in front of me.

I kicked her out of the room. Called her as bad as the man she was mourning. Her boyfriend-eighteen, black belt-came in and beat me until I stopped moving. I didn't fight back. He was bigger, older, and I was already crying. My mother cleaned me up afterward but never stepped between us while it was happening.

The next morning the police were looking for him. My father had given them a choice: find the boy who put his hands on a twelve-year-old or go to jail himself. I told the officers the truth-she destroyed my things, I kicked her, he attacked me. They arrested him on the spot. Mom replaced the manga that evening. My sister started another fight. I ignored her. When she came at me with a paddle I broke it and told her she was next. Mom slapped me, called me spoiled, said she had no son, and forced me out of the house with nothing but the clothes I was wearing.

The words she used while the door locked behind me stayed in my ears the whole walk.

I ended up near the convenience store I knew. Called Dad. Told him I hadn't run away-I'd been thrown out. He said he was coming and that I was not to move.

Walking in the rain, the old memory came back the way it always did when Mom turned cold.

I was seven. Dad's face was wrong that night-angry, but not at me. Mom sat in the corner like a scolded child. My younger older sister took my hand and told me to do what Dad said for now. The oldest sister said I should stay and face it like the rest of them. I walked to my friend's house next door instead.

The next day Dad picked me up from school. He bought me fruit candy on the ride home. He only ever did that for high grades or bad news. There had been no tests.

He told me the truth as gently as he could. Mom had been seeing her coworker. Dad had been suspicious for a long time. A friend of his finally caught them together. Dad had seen the man himself. The same man who used to bring me presents and make me promise never to tell. Mom had been pregnant with that man's child when everything came out. That was why the divorce happened so fast. Dad said he couldn't trust her anymore and wouldn't let her put me in danger. He never blamed me for keeping the secret. He only told me never to accept things from strangers again.

Mom still tried to take me one night after the custody papers were signed. She and my sisters forced me toward the car. I screamed for help. The neighbors and my childhood friend came out with a kendo sword and got me free. Mom ended up on probation. I didn't see her for a long time after that.

The memory faded when I heard the argument around the corner.

Three high-school kids. Two boys, one girl. One of the boys had a knife. The other was trying to keep himself between the blade and the girl. The knife guy lunged. The smaller boy went down with a cut to the shoulder and got kicked into the street.