For a lot people, life simply sucked. The world was dark and gloomy, days blurring together into nothing but a smudge in his inner eye. Really, it was safer to say that life was boring after awhile. Waking up, get ready, go to work/school for 8 to 10 hours before coming home to eat and sleep before doing it all over again the next day. It was no wonder there was an genre of media that practically worshiped the idea of escaping such a gray hell.
From being sucked into a magical world filled with a slow life surround by beautiful women, to being summoned by a kingdom haunted by the shadow of a demonic god. It didn't really matter, people just wanted any reason to acquire even a smidgen amount of freedom, thirsty for adventure and life not so bogged down by the necessities of living in this type of world.
Even he, Tatsuo felt this. There had always been a strong desire to just escape from all this, from all the debts his mother piled onto him, from the village full of people that saw him as nothing more than a troublemaker. Many times now, he'd drunken himself into a near coma in hopes that instead of waking up on that dower world, there would instead be a beautiful goddess just waiting just on the other side offering him a chance to be reincarnated in a new world...preferably with a list of carefully curated perks and abilities to make his next life easy.
But even with this new found hope swelling deep within, the facts of his cruel reality came flooding back in. Crashing and crumbling the walls of that hope.
Despite wanting to believe the crazy old man, real life wasn't so convient. Like really, what were the chances that his great...great-great grandfather was some disciple of a cultivator? And that somehow, both the teacher and token stuck around long enough to line up this scenario perfectly.
Wasn't he technically the perfect main character candidate? Poor, in debt, mistreated, disrespected and just coming off a heavy binge? If only this Yamato Iori was trapped in a ring, then he could've allowed himself to dream.
"Sure," Tatsuo replied carefully, slowly lowering his makeshift weapon. The geezer was senile and there was no way he was going to jail just to get some senior citizen off his property. If called the police now, maybe they could get this old man the help he desperately needed. It was clear he was off what medication he was suppose to be on. "Do you have someone you want me to call?"
"…It seems a demonstration is required."
Iori only shook his head, disappointment plane to see. Thin, gray locks shook in an unseen breeze, blue eyes seeming to pierce through the outer layer of reality. The young man blinked once, more like eyelids twitched, obscuring his vision for just a moment but in the moment, a shocking pain ran up through his entire body. Freezing nerves in place, causing muscles to blaze and lungs to seize like a massive hand was gripping it tightly.
He couldn't even feel the hoe slip from suddenly numb fingers, nor could he hear it clatter noisily to the ground. All he could do was silently fight against against his own muscles contracting against themselves, squeezing every vital organ.
The world began to darken around the edges, black dots spawning across his vision. Slowly growing until they threatened to consume the entirety of his consciousness. There was no time for thoughts nor the moments of his life to come flashing past, it seemed that was yet another thing movies lied about. And just as he was well prepared to accept that all encroaching darkness into himself,
A gust of clear, beautiful air came squeezing in. Flowing through his gaping mouth, down a constricted throat and into lungs that had forgotten how to function all together. Like a drowning man, that vital organ latched onto the lifeline and pulled with all it's might. A ragged breathe escaped, greedily choking down air as he tried to cling tightly onto life.
One breath. Two. Three. With each passing moment, his lungs remembered their initial function and began to pump away without his conscious prodding. As the world came back into focus, all he could see were blades of grass and a pair of sandals not too far away. Suddenly, through the tears and snot running down his face, a deep wrath overtook him. Like a bonfire running rampant, swelling and consuming his rationale like dry kindling. It didn't matter that a single blow had nearly killed him, it didn't matter that this old man did it without much effort, all that matter was shattering that stupid lofty expression that was surely on his face right about now. Especially after watching someone heads and shoulders taller than him wriggle around like a worm.
"You b-bastard!" Fists wrapped tightly in long blades of grass, his teeth laid bare in a wide snarl. Chest heaving, skin growing warm to the touch, he tensed his jello-like muscles to action.
"I'll ki-"
"It's not done yet."
Instead of seeing an arrogant look on the old man's face when he looked up, all that was seen was a cold, apathetic mask. Like this wasn't even worth this time, that he'd seen it so many times that everything had begun to blend together in a continuous blur. If anything, it made Tatsuo's mind pulse in anger, swelling in his veins like lava.
But, that's when the world spun. His stomach churned, throat burned and teeth ached. And beyond his control, something forced itself from the very pit of his being. Dropping his head low, abdominal muscles clenched as he heaved. It was scolding, nearly reaching the point of forming blisters in his mouth and throat.
It was pure suffering, beyond anything he'd ever experienced in his life. Like someone had sunk a harpoon through his throat and latched onto his stomach and begun pulling. He didn't care about the sludge covering his hands, nor the smug bastard standing over him, all he wanted in that moment was for someone to end his miserable existence in that moment.
After what felt like an eternity, the stream petered out. Leaving him holding himself up on wobbly arms, his mind frayed enough to ignore the absolute foulness running a foul of his taste buds and persistent ringing that did nothing but splint open his head. Tears rolled down unbidden, hatred replaced with a mere whimper of fear.
Opening swollen eyes, the blur didn't matter much when it came to identifying color. There, but to his elbow was a viscous black substance with yellow curdles bubbling away. The smell hit him next and if he had anything else to vomit, he knew for sure it would've came up explosively. Rolling over to avoid the puddle, his back slammed against the soft ground.
"It's not what I like doing." Iori, the old bastard loomed over him, blue eyes shimmering unnaturally as he looked over at his handiwork. "An assisted cleansing doesn't teach you youngster the importance of hard work. You simply aren't talented enough for me to add you as a disciple...but you did need this for your inheritance and for what comes after when all the vultures come by to take. You're welcome."