Kapitel 215: Banquet Of The Gods (2)

Yasushi's eyes shone, a spark in them igniting as he stared at the shimmering bubble ahead, his body seeming to pulse with a surge of life he hadn't felt before. His left hand pressed against his chest, fingers gripping just above his heart, while his right arm hung loose beside him.

"In my last life, I lived like shit. Grew up with parents who didn't give a damn about me — neglectful and just plain awful. I was like dirt to them and to everyone else I came across too. What happened to not judging a book by its cover? Guess that didn't apply to me…" His voice caught, something dark settling there before he shook it off, pushing forward.

"The two people who created me? They barely lifted a finger for me. I had to scrape by, figuring out how to cook, rationing out scraps of food so I wouldn't end up starving." His expression darkened further.

"Even outside that excuse of a home, life was a damn nightmare! Everyone — didn't matter if they were older, younger, or even supposed 'friends' — treated me like I was trash, like I was some punching bag they could hit whenever they wanted. They had me beaten down every day, left me with bruises to nurse alone. But I couldn't take it forever…"

Yasushi drew a deep breath, his shoulders squared, voice raising. "After holding it all in for so long…I hit my breaking point. I pushed myself, started training, toughening up, building muscle. And when the time came, I fought back," he shouted, the weight of those memories etched across his face.

"One day, they tried it again. They tried to bully me, thought I'd just take it like before. But I fought back — I went all in, beat them down so hard they had to go to the hospital. That was the first time I got in trouble, and from there, things just kept spiraling.

"Every day after that, I ended up fighting someone. They'd start it, provoke me, taunt me, thinking they could get a rise out of me. My parents? They gave up on me. Barely even noticed I was there anymore, like I was just a body in their house. They'd be out, working or off somewhere, barely speaking to me.

"It stayed that way until I finally met someone different. For the first time, someone who didn't look at me like they wanted something. She didn't expect anything from me, just friendship," he said, eyes drifting to the ground, a look of something softer crossing his face, touched by a hint of sadness and the echo of something once good.

"She was like family to me…like the sister I'd never had, an older sister who'd actually be there for me, someone I could look up to. She talked me out of my anger, got me to pull back from all the fighting, made me think there was a better way. For a while, I actually believed her, started to work on myself, tried to make something more of who I was…but it didn't last," he said, the expression hardening, bitterness creeping back in.

"A popular piece of shit in our school drugged her, kidnapped her, did things to her that no one should go through. He kept her locked in that nightmare for nearly a month, and when it finally ended…she was never the same. She'd trust me, only me, but after what he put her through, she couldn't keep going. She ended it herself," Yasushi said, looking up at the bubble, eyes cold.

"The cops wouldn't touch him. His family had money, connections, and he walked free because of it. So I took things into my own hands, since no one else would." He paused, something dark flashing in his gaze.

"I hunted him down. Didn't hold back. Left him in a state where he'd never move right again. I won't spell it all out, but I'll say this — he'd need help for everything, from breathing to eating and even taking a damn piss. He had it coming," he said, his face set in a look of pure, cold fury.

He let out a long breath, then went on. "But doing that didn't make life any better. Things just went downhill fast. Fights became a daily thing, and even after I graduated, I couldn't get out of it. I kept scrapping with people, ended up in with all the wrong crowds, and it didn't take long for that to catch up with me. I owed a bunch of money to a bunch of small-time gangs. Eventually, they got tired of waiting and came to collect."

He paused, eyes hardening as he recalled the memory. "I ended up fighting off maybe a hundred of them, one after another, somehow staying on my feet, barely hanging on. When it was done, I was alive, sure, but more like a corpse than anything else. Funny, really, that I somehow survived it. But then…one night, drunk out of my mind, I stumbled onto the train tracks. A train came in fast, and that was it — gone in an instant. Fitting end, right? For someone like me."

He lifted his head, his gaze moving to the vast sky stretching above the arena. "But who'd have thought I'd get another chance, ending up here of all places…"

"I grew up keeping my walls high, doubting my new parents. But they broke through, kept at it, and then there was this dumbass who wouldn't leave me alone till he pushed his way in, too. He became my friend, the only real one for a long time. And then came last year — the year that flipped everything."

He paused, taking in the gods who'd all but lined up to condemn him. "That year was hell. Turns out I only recently learned the full picture of why it all went down that way. And strange as it is, I'm almost grateful for it," he continued, meeting their eyes.

"Without every single thing you threw at me, I wouldn't be who I am now. I wouldn't have met the girl who changed everything for me. So I've got to thank you for that," he said, voice carrying a weight that left the gods silent.

At the edge of the arena, Hades, the Greek God of the Underworld, watched with an amused glint in his eye. He knew what his own underlings had done, hadn't scolded them, but merely reminded them to ease up after Amaterasu brought it up with him.

He never imagined the very one subjected to his tests would stand there, of all things, offering thanks. It was unexpected, almost refreshing. He'd always believed mortals would despise him for it; after all, his title alone should have been enough to make them curse his name.

But here stood this human, small yet resolute, delivering gratitude with no bitterness, just raw acceptance. It amused him. For a moment, he even felt entertained by the whole ordeal.

Yasushi exhaled, lifting his gaze back to the swirling orb, his expression sharpened, unwavering. "I want to live. Not just for me, but for those I owe thanks to — every last one, even the gods who'd sooner see me gone." He paused, his words lingering heavily. "That's it. That's all I've got to say."

And as he finished, silence fell over the arena.

Yasushi's friends watched from within the crowd, smiling but visibly shaken by his words. They knew bits and pieces of what he'd been through, but not the entire scope. What he revealed now barely scratched the surface, and they suspected he had no intention of spelling out every last horror, especially in front of the gods. Uncovering it all would've taken hours, and that might test their patience.

The silence hung heavy for a beat until Hakufubuki broke it, clapping with a rare tear glistening on her cheek. She understood what he'd endured better than anyone else here, having heard the full story from the god who had delivered his soul to this realm. That knowledge made Yasushi's words strike her deeply, leaving an unmistakable impact.

One by one, the gods followed her lead. Hachiman joined, followed by Inari, then Amaterasu, each god taking up the applause. Finally, even Fujin — one of the few who had initially opposed Yasushi's existence here — relented, joining in. He couldn't ignore the relentless fight Yasushi had waged to stand here, and in this moment, even Fujin had to respect him.

More gods joined in on the clapping. Those for him living, those neutral and even some of the gods against him couldn't help but be swayed a little. However, before anyone else could say or do anything.

A hard thud rang out behind Yasushi, shaking the ground and throwing up thick clouds of sand from the divine arena floor. He spun around to face the source, recognizing the figure immediately — the same man who'd attacked him back in Kyoto, up on Mt. Kuruma.

"Peter," he muttered, his gaze on the man.

The man — or rather, the thing standing there under the name "Peter" — was mostly shrouded in shadows. Only a grim smile broke through, stretched across his face, eyes wide and unblinking as they met Yasushi's. A cold thrill twisted through the air as Peter spoke.

"It's time," he said, his arms spreading wide, shadows swirling around them. "Time for us to play our game again."

The crowd around them shifted as another voice echoed through the arena, clear and booming. "Attention, everyone! A vote has just been cast. After this little… encounter, if you want to call it that, Yasushi Futakao's fate will be revealed to all present. But before the event begins," the announcer added, "Lord Hades himself has a message for us."

Hades rose from the crowd, his form mostly concealed by a pitch-black robe, darkness hanging over him in heavy waves. He raised a hand — a skeletal thing, bone-like, or maybe just some twisted illusion cast by the god — and pointed straight at Yasushi.

"You claim you've fought your share of battles, mortal," he said, voice low but cutting through the silence. "So prove it to us. Show us your struggle. Perhaps it will change a few opinions here. Nothing in this world is given freely, least of all your life. So tell me… will you take up that challenge?"

Yasushi held his gaze, eyes unwavering, with several gods also watching him in silence. "If surviving is what it takes, then I'll face whatever comes," he replied.

Somewhere, unspoken but palpable, there was a sense Hades had smirked, though his face remained hidden. "Very well," he intoned, sinking back into his seat. "Let it begin."

At that cue, the announcer's voice cut through the tense air, his tone shifting to a commanding pitch. "Alright then!" he roared from inside his bubble, "In three… two… one — begin!"