Chick 224

224

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Seated on the lounge sofa in Orchestra’s break room, Kazuki fiddled with an acorn.

Next to him, on the sofa, his mobile phone displayed a Japanese news article.

There was breaking news: Prime Minister Norio Takahashi had been in a car accident early that morning, rushed to the hospital, and pronounced dead soon after.

Kazuki exhaled deeply, fatigue clear on his face.

The one who had cast the curse was dead.

And yet…

He rolled the acorn in his palm.

[The owner is suffering a critical status ailment. Would you like to use the Elixir?]

The curse had not vanished.

That left only two paths now.

Kill his father.

Or use this acorn.

“Elixir…”

The legendary item, spoken of only in oral tradition, was now truly in his hands.

He closed his eyes. The lone acorn, small as it was, felt immensely heavy.

Suddenly, he found it laughable—how determined he’d been to break the curse.

He had traveled the world for Haejoo, bearing witness to countless lives and deaths.

Yet instead of someone out there dying helplessly, it was he who held the acorn now.

Unconsciously, he was hesitating—wondering if he was really someone worth saving, even by means of the Elixir.

Even now, he hadn’t found the answer.

His thoughts grew somber and dark.

Creak, creak—

A teddy bear, the size of a basketball, clattered its way into the lounge.

“Groo-chan…?”

…But it didn’t look like her.

It was much too small to be Groo.

The only unusual thing about the little bear that waddled up to him was that it was clutching a timer. The bear turned its head with a creak and, opening its mouth, emitted a strange robotic voice.

— This doll will explode in one minute!

“Groo-chan? Y-you really shouldn’t make dangerous things like this…”

— If you don’t want the bomb to go off, help Groo modify her drone.

So that’s why she’d suddenly gotten so stubborn.

Kazuki smiled wryly, troubled.

After building the Criteito Reactor, Groo had wanted to replace her drone’s mana stone with the reactor instead.

But the drone itself was a repurposed toy: rather than using the mana stone as-is, they’d need to convert it into a battery of standard size.

Plenty of pre-made mana stones existed in battery form, but there was no such existing product for the just-developed Criteito Reactor.

And Groo simply didn’t have the dexterity yet to convert the Criteito Reactor into a battery.

That’s why Kagzuki’s help was needed.

Kazuki avoided the bear’s gaze, offering an apologetic smile.

He hadn’t helped Groo until now because Joorim had expressly warned him to ignore any requests about drones, since they were already dangerous as they were.

Kazuki had agreed with that judgment.

So whenever Groo asked for help, Kazuki would always distract her with some other game.

No matter how smart she was, Groo was still a young child.

Blow some bubbles, and she’d quickly forget about the drone, running off to chase bubbles. That’s how Kazuki had always wriggled out of her requests—until now.

“All right, all right. I’ll help you, just come to Sabu.”

— Liar. I know you’ll end up shooting water rockets or blowing bubbles again, even after you say yes.

…So that didn’t work anymore.

Clever kid. Kazuki, caught red-handed, raised both hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Not this time. I promise, Sabu’s word.”

He held out his pinky finger.

— That’s a promise with Groo. If you break it, you’re a dummy.

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doll’s eyes flashed with triumph.

— But I’m still going to explode!

“…Eh?”

Pop!

The doll burst like a balloon, and colorful paper scraps fluttered through the air.

Kazuki couldn’t help but laugh weakly—until he spotted something left where the bear had been.

There, sitting alone, was a toy train.

‘…This is.’

Kazuki picked up the train.

[“How—?”]

It was an old, well-loved object.

He hurried out of the lounge, clutching the train, but out in the hall, only a few employees who recognized him walked by, offering nods of greeting.

After returning their bows, Kazuki went quietly back into the lounge and shut the door.

“….”

The train, with its chipped corner, was his own.

He’d loved trains in grade school.

Back then, unable to go anywhere on his own, he’d longed for objects that could travel freely.

‘…I thought I lost this when I moved to the orphanage.’

He had a good idea whom Groo had received it from, though he didn’t know why that person had kept it.

Kazuki turned the train over thoughtfully.

“…?”

There were words inscribed on the body he didn’t recognize from before.

[Remember the footsteps you have left behind.

Syria, Yemen, Afghanistan, Gaza, Kenya…]

Kazuki chuckled softly as he read the names of the countries.

Every nation listed on the train was somewhere Kazuki had served: connecting capitals, building schools, providing all kinds of support in the course of NGO work.

‘So you’ve been watching me all this time?’

A strange feeling welled up within him.

A sense of recognition, pride—and the reassurance that he was forging a different path than his father.

In truth, he’d always been keenly conscious of his father, as though the old man was a part of him.

A paternal legacy. As if the burdens passed down by blood were his alone.

He felt responsible for ending his father’s chain of sins.

Digging into that feeling, he was faced once more with the child he’d been.

If not for him, his aunt’s family wouldn’t have died.

Devoting himself to humanitarian work was just an extension of that feeling—a way to atone for that debt.

But Reiji, it seemed, was telling him, ‘You’re a good person, unlike me.’

“Footsteps…”

Reading the inscription again, Kazuki felt a rush of fullness—then a wave of confusion.

He, who had once declared so boldly that he’d come to kill his father, was, in truth, still a child foolish enough to long for his father’s love.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Kazuki’s eyes went wide, still holding the train.

A cute little face peered in, just her head sticking around the doorframe.

“Groo-chan, how did you meet Sabu’s dad?”

“We ran into each other while grocery shopping…”

“You only brought me this train? Nothing else… happened?”

His worried tone prompted Groo to nod.

“If you have this, Sabu will be a little bit happier.”

“Happier?”

Groo’s gaze dropped to the acorn loosely held in Kazuki’s hand.

“Groo and Sabu’s dad, we both want Sabu to be happy… And not be sick. For a very, very long time.”

“Ah…”

Groo was clearly perplexed at his hesitation to be cured right away.

All of a sudden, Kazuki’s heart swelled.

Here he was, searching for a reason to live, while the child was trying her best to bring him happiness.

“Sorry for making you worry, Groo-chan.”

Groo lowered her gaze and shook her head.

Kazuki hugged her gently.

“Sabu, please don’t be sick.”

Her caring words filled his chest with warmth, deep affection nearly choking him.

Suddenly, he was struck by a fleeting vision: that last time his father had covered his eyes to shield him from seeing their dead relatives, then pulled him into his arms.

‘Was that love, too…?’

Did his father long to do everything for his small child, just as Kazuki now felt?

Even after ten years, treasuring his child’s toy train, watching his journey—and now, sending this message: remember your footsteps?

“….”

Suddenly, he wondered—had there ever been a time he’d wanted to live more than now?

All those nameless distant deaths felt less heartbreaking than the affection being directed at him now.

Before he knew it, his guilt and worries had melted away in the love of those who cared for him.

Kazuki resolved, at last, to do what he could for those he loved.

[Would you like to use the Elixir?]

Yes.