Chapter 9.2: A Man Drenched in Blood II

Chapter 9.2: A Man Drenched in Blood II

Pleaseishow up in front of me and say something if you had something on your mind.

Feelifreeito laugh at me. Say You understood my feelings, right? or even curse atime.

Youiwere such a pure person and I

Hey, senior.3e

Aivoice abruptly reverberated from behindime.

WhyTranslator: MadHatter

The voice of familiarity startled me, and I turnediaround.

Withilong black hair, a knee-length skirt, and a sailor uniform, she was wearing a pair of red-framed glasses.

Aniexpression of somewhat uneasiness lingered on her childlike face.

Hyugaiwasistanding there.

Why didnt you trust me back then?

Hyuga2ewd

Evenithough I figured you would believe me

Sheiwas still looking at me in the same way she did back then.

Hyuga Were you Hyuga?

I wasisad.

Fromithe forehead of Hinata who said so, red blood spilled out. Lines and lines of blood streaked from Hyugas forehead as she stood still

Withia gulp of breath, I backed away in abject horror at the sight of my junior, who appeared in front of me without warning.

However

Inimerely one blink of an eye, in that single moment

Sheidisappeared out of my sight.

Hyuga!!Not shared on aggregator sites

Evenithough I called out to her, she was nowhere to be found. Regardless of my efforts of searching around, I couldnt spot her anymore. Theiempty cemetery was filled with the sound of my voice. A cool breeze swept across the place, drying the perspiration from my forehead.

Whatiwas that earlier?

Wasithat Hyuga?

Really, Hyugaiwas

Didishe respond toimy call

[I wasisad.]

No, if it wasnt Hyuga, then what was it?

Iiclenched my fists in front of the grave.

Thatiperson was still in the same state as back then and still retained lingering regrets for this world.

[Evenithough I figured you would believe me]

Afteriall, that guy about me

Damn3erc

Whatiwas I supposed to do? What should I do to be forgiven, Hyuga?

If I letihim go on, he was going to start spouting off a hundred ghost stories about this convenience store, so I covered my ears and pleaded with the manager to stop.

Its hot, so I figured it might chill you out.

I dont wantithat kind of chill!

Goodigrief.

Eveniwithout listening to that, I watched something terrible every day, you know.

A legless man. Headless children. A woman with only the lower half of her body. None of them could be called customers but were wandering beings who stayed in this place.

Ah. Please, I beg you, dont let anything strange befall today. Peace was the utmost, for everything. Oh, for heavens sake. Since I was all alone with the manager today, to say I was twice as anxiety-ridden as usual would not be an overstatement.

In the midst of praying this, the automatic door opened and the chime rang. It was a customer. By the looks of it, it was a young man in his 20s.

That guy walked into the store, didnt even bother to look around, but rather strode forward, stopped in front of the cash register and said, Give me a steamed azuki bun

This guy What was wrong with him?

That was my initial impression.

Indeed, Nico Nico Mart operated year-round selling Chinese steamed buns, but on this midsummer, with the weather brutally hot, I had not seen a single person who went out of their way to buy one of these buns since the beginning of this summer. Furthermore, it was not a standard meat bun, pizza bun, curry bun or this summers new product, Tropical Fruit Bun.

He chose a bun with anko filling, which was an irregularity.

As a staff member, I would typically be internally researching this subject. However, digging deeply into this matter was not the point. The fact that he came all the way to such a place in this hot weather and wanted to buy a hot bun with anko filling was not the only aspect to be poked at.

At around 1:00 a.m.

A customer, presumably a young man of about 20 years of age.

His eyes were as searingly piercing as the delinquent who had his way with me in front of the convenience store the other day. He had long, black hair that reached his shoulders and long bangs that hung inconveniently about his eyes. A red sleeveless hoodie, a black tank top, and loose-fitting damaged pants.

Aislender yet muscular physique.

At first glance, he appeared to be the type of young man you would come across anywhere.

Andiyet

Foriwhat reason? He was carrying something so heavy in one hand that I wanted to ask him where in the world he had obtained it.

On a bright red wooden bat, numerous nails had been driven into it.

Thatiwas the so-called spiked bat.

Withithat alone, my spine tingled as I wondered what kind of clan he belonged to, but this was only the beginning.

Theigreatest part of the situation, which made both me and the manager freeze, lingered with the customer.

Afteriall, that customer

Hisihead was dripping blood. In large volumes, so much so that the sound effect was a whoosh.

Itiappeared as though he had been severely struck in the back of the head by someone or that he had engaged in combat with a person who intended to murder him.

Heiwasitruly drenched in blood. That was the only word I could use to describe it.

Thoughithis was my impression objectively, I was now standing in front of a bloodied man who had come in as a customer.

Notia meter across the counter, not even a meter away.

Hey, imagineithat.

Howicould this not be terrifying?

Rightiin front of you.

Franklyispeaking, I could pee my pants.