The thought of escape dominated every cell in my body.
I paused at the entrance of the blood-stained room, taking a difficult, deep breath. The house was in a state of ruin, but perhaps there was something of value to salvage from this filth.
"Tuna....." I murmured the involuntary safe word.
At the very least, I needed to check the place before I left. I wouldn't get a chance to return to this hell.
I adjusted myself, forcing my aching legs to move slowly. The house was an absolute disaster. Bloated, full garbage bags were piled up in every corner, emitting a sour, rancid smell that mixed with the metallic odor of blood seeping from the outside.
I began pushing those bags aside, searching beneath the scattered chaos. At first, all I found were empty cans and debris.
As I felt around on the floor near the small, ruined kitchen area, my hand struck something familiar. I picked it up: an ordinary kitchen knife. Its blade was slightly rusty, but it was a sharp, dependable tool. I quickly tucked the knife into the waistband of my torn trousers—my first piece of salvage.
I continued searching.
Under a heap of wet wood, I found something else strange. It was thin steel wires, tightly coiled. I didn't immediately understand their use, but they looked durable and potentially useful for anything from binding to climbing. I took them with me, gripping them tightly in my hand.
Finally, while examining a rusty desk that was leaning against the wall, I saw something that wasn't trash.
It was a small, neatly folded paper note, placed atop the corroded metal surface of the desk. It looked old, but it was positioned in a way that suggested it had been deliberately left there.
I slowly reached out and snatched the note. My fingers trembled slightly.
I read the message in the faint light from the window. The words were few but clear.
When I finished reading the note, I felt a sharp chill strike me. Then, a slow, scornful smile spread across my cracked lips—it was not a smile of joy, but one of mockery toward fate.
It was an acceptance letter for the application to the U.A. Academy Entrance Exam, the academy of my hero.
The letter confirmed that this body's application had been accepted, and he was required to appear for the exam one month from now. One month separated me from entering the world of Pro Heroes, and this body belonged to a hunted "debtor" carrying a cursed ability!
I quickly folded the letter and put it in my pocket.
Then, a partially open, rusty metal closet caught my attention. I looked inside and saw an old tracksuit, but it had a strangely familiar design. It resembled the tracksuit that Toge Inumaki wears underneath his school uniform in Jujutsu Kaisen, designed to hide the signs of his ability.
I quickly put it on over my torn clothes. The suit was a bit loose but light, and its high collar hid Toge's tattooed mouth—the visible source of the Cursed Speech ability.
Now that my condition had slightly improved, I sat back down on the floor, leaning against the wall, and began to think seriously. The matter was no longer just about escaping; it had become a three-dimensional objective.
First I must find a suitable place to live. I cannot live in this filth, and certainly not in this neighborhood populated by blood and potential corpses. I need a safe place to plan and operate from.
Second I must train. I know I might not survive long in this weak body in a world of heroes and villains. I must master control over my Cursed Speech ability and strengthen myself physically to pass the U.A. exam in a month. Survival depends on power.
Third and finall: Finding Shigaraki (Shigaraki Tomura).
[I'm looking forward to finding you, Shigaraki.]
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Note:
Yes, today's lesson is short because I'm sick and couldn't even get out of bed... Goodbye