Bab 18: The Daily Lives of Ainz Ooal Gown: Touch Me and Ulbert Alain Odle - The Dreamer and the Cynic
December 17th, 2133.
"And this concludes the tour of our precinct." Standing in the main hallway of the precinct, a lone officer addressed a crowd of cadets.
If any members of Ainz Ooal Gown were present, they would have likely mistaken the man before them for a younger version of Sebas Tian, one of their beloved NPCs. The similarities were striking, from the man's suave white hair to his chiseled features and impressive physique. It was no coincidence that the officer bore such a resemblance to Sebas Tian; the iron butler had been intentionally designed based on Touch Me's true appearance by choice.
In YGGDRASIL, all knew of him as Touch Me, the Paladin of Justice and World Champion of Álfheim. In the real world, he was simply known as Ichirou Yukanna, a humble officer of the law.
An hour and a half ago, Ichirou took the academy cadets on an exhilarating tour of their precinct, revealing the ins and outs of the building and sharing its rich history. With meticulous detail, he emphasized the importance of each position and location, instilling a sense of due diligence in their minds. However, it was clear to Ichirou that his words went in one ear and came out the other. Some hide it better than others, but he could see that they were all tired and bored out of their minds.
They simply didn't care for his words or his message.
"I don't see why we have to bother with this boring bullshit." One of the cadets whispered to his friend.
"The reason for this 'bullshit," as you so aptly called it..." Ichirou suddenly addressed the one who commented, showing that despite the cadet's effort, Ichirou heard his comment and wasn't amused.
The officer fixed him and the rest of the cadets with a firm glare. They all straightened up at this and kept their mouths shut.
"...Is because it does matter. Perhaps not to you, but it still matters to this." The officer jabbed his thumb at the badge pinned to his uniform. "If you all intend to be officers of the law, then you must uphold the values that make it right. No matter what, is that understood?"
"Sir, yes sir!" They all saluted.
"You're all dismissed." He said.
Ichirou watched as the cadets dispersed and walked away. He watched on as they began chatting with one another, no longer afraid under his scrutinizing gaze. They would be the future, he thought, those who would too take up the badge just like him. Ichirou couldn't help but grimace at that fact.
He knew from past experience that they wouldn't take heed of his words. They would ignore it entirely, believing his words as nothing more than archaic and pointless from someone they would consider an 'old timer.' But then again, such a sight was hardly ever surprising anymore. Not after all that had changed in his lifetime. That, however, did not mean they were worthless. He would just have to set the standard and show them what it truly means to be a police officer. Lead by example and inspire them.
The white-haired officer let out a sigh before straightening back up. He walked aimlessly for a bit since he was tasked with taking the cadets on a tour, and his workload cleared up. Ichirou could have left for home right then and there, but it didn't sit right with him. Turning a corner, the aged officer bumped into someone, the two of them recoiling back in surprise.
"I'm sorry." He immediately apologized.
"Fine… Ichirou-san… just fine…" His co-worker said, in between what appeared to be fits of giggles.
"Are you alright?" He questioned seeing the odd behavior. It looked like he was recovering from a laughing fit.
"Sorry about that, Ichirou-san." Another voice chimed in. Behind the man he bumped into were three of his friends.
They were officers just like Ichirou, but a simple look at them showed that they were far younger and more juvenile compared to him. They all wore amused looks with a smile tugging at their lips.
"Is there something going on that I missed?" Ichirou furrowed his brow in confusion.
"No, we were just laughing because of this perp we brought in." One of them informed him.
"A perp, and how is this funny?" The senior officer wondered.
"Because you should have heard the things he said!" This brought on a new fit of laughter from the four young officers.
"Do you remember him muttering like some weird shit like he was going to threaten us?"
"Yeah, like how he would destroy us with the power of a World Disaster or some shit? What the hell is a World disaster anyway?"
"I also remember him saying something about being late for an, ahhh, what's the word again? Aung Ooa Guun or something like that?"
"I think it was Ainz something or whatever. I have no idea, it's funny though."
As they were rambling on, Ichirou felt his body stiffen. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of what he had just heard and learned. Hearing all these familiar terms straight from their mouths, he could only come to one conclusion.
'Could it be...?' If what he was thinking was indeed true, then that means he had one of his comrades from Ainz Ooal Gown within the station.
Ichirou made his decision then and there.
"Excuse me." He said, grabbing the young officer's attention.
"Yeah? You need something, Ichirou-san?"
"Is he still within the station? The perp you brought in."
"Er, yea. He's still locked up in the holding rooms. Why—"
"If you would like, I can take over for you." Ichirou offered.
Every time an officer made an arrest, they were required to interview the perpetrator as well as write up a report on the arrest. It was simple, if arbitrary, work, and one that his younger co-officers hated as it was seen as boring work. Which was exactly what he was banking on.
This was seen in him accepting Ichirou's offer without even asking for a reason. The young man was all too happy to shrug off his work and hand it over to his senior.
However, that fact mattered little to him at the moment. Ichirou walked silently and quickly, navigating through the precinct toward his destination. Within a minute, he arrived at an adjourning room within the precinct that was used to hold anyone they brought in. Several doors lined the walls, each leading to a holding room of their own.
The door had a small one-way window, allowing officers on the outside to have a preview of the individual inside. He found the room he was looking for and peeked through the window. Ichirou could tell the man inside was a salaryman by the wrinkles on his suit alone.
At first glance, he appeared to be an unremarkable and typical office worker, indistinguishable from any other passerby on the street. His neat, black hair was meticulously combed, and his facial features were ordinary and unassuming. A constant scowl etched across his face, as if he were silently seething at the walls around him.
However, it was the eyes that truly captured the officer's attention. They looked so dead, so hollow, and so lifeless. His coal-like eyes were like a mired mirror that, instead of reflecting a clear picture, reflected something more vacuous. It was almost as if the man was dead to the world and everything around him. In his gaze, Ichirou found a familiarity with them.
Taking in the stranger's appearance, combined with the hints that came from his fellow co-officer and the sense of familiarity he was feeling, Ichirou had a fairly clear idea of just who exactly the perp was. In the end, there was only one way to confirm his suspicions.
Next to the door were a clipboard and several documents that needed to be filled out with the arrest. Ichirou wasn't interested in that, but rather the name on it that belonged to the man in question.
"Youta Kurayami…" Ichirou read his name and committed it to memory.
Taking a deep breath, the officer braced himself for their encounter. Once ready, he opened the door and silently walked in, drawing the immediate attention of the salaryman. The two made eye contact with one another, but no word was spoken. Neither spoke, choosing instead to continue their impromptu stare-off and allowing the silence to hang between them. A silence that grew tenser by the second, for eventually, one of them will have to give.
Ichirou prided himself on his ability to discern subtle nuances in his friendships, especially with someone like Ulbert. He had known Ulbert for several years, ever since their time in Nine's Own Goal and Ainz Ooal Gown, respectively. If the man in front of him was indeed Ulbert Alain Odle, as he suspects, then the officer knew it was only a matter of time before he could make the first move. The demonic Player had always been impulsive, particularly in uncomfortable situations like the one they find themselves in now.
It paid off, as within the next second, he opened his mouth.
"Are you just going to stare at me all day or what? Seriously, did they pass on a senile old man to me?" The man, Youta, spoke with the same derisive tone Ichirou has always known Ulbert to have. It was the only proof he needed to know that it was indeed his guildmate.
Anyone else in the situation might have been offended, but to Touch Me/Ichirou, such verbal remarks barely even phased him considering their long history. If anything, it was rather par for the course.
Ichirou allowed a small smirk to break out, surprising his Heteromorphic comrade. "I see your manners still need some work, Ulbert-san." Ichirou playfully chided.
If Youta was surprised before, he was downright speechless to hear his online name being spoken by an all-too-familiar voice. For a few seconds, his eyes were completely wide, and his mouth was agape in complete shock.
"Touch Me…?" He tentatively asked once he recovered.
"Indeed. Hello to you as well, Ulbert-san." Ichirou nodded.
Staring at him for a few more seconds, Ulbert slumped back in his chair with a hand over his face. A groan escaped him as he glanced back at the standing officer.
"What the hell... This must be some joke; you and me meeting here."
"Indeed, I must admit I never once thought of this ever happening as well. It's a welcome surprise, to say the least.
"Speak for yourself, Touch Me." Ulbert huffed, clicking his tongue. "As if this day couldn't get any worse. Now I have to deal with you."
"May I call you Youta-san for the remainder of this?" Ichirou politely inquired, taking a seat in front of his guildmate.
"Call me whatever you want, Touch Me. It doesn't matter to me." Ulbert, or rather, Youta dismissed.
"Ichirou." The policeman said suddenly, catching Youta's attention.
"What?" He asked back.
"Ichirou Yukanna is my name. It seems only fair that I share mine, as I now know yours." Ichirou explained.
To which Youta couldn't help but snort in response. "Leave it to you to think of something as asinine as fairness and whatnot. I don't give a damn what you call me."
Ichirou decided to ignore his barbed words and continued forward with the proceeding.
"Youta-san, before I can let you go, I will need a recount of what exactly happened that led up to your arrest. I require your full cooperation and the truth in order to write up my report."
With his clipboard and pen at the ready, Ichirou jotted down everything he needed for his report. From Youta's account, he was minding his own business while waiting at the tram station when a pair of officers passed by. He said how they had singled him out, unfairly arrested him for no real reason, and brought him to the precinct. While telling his side of the story, he continued to hurl insults toward the officers and even threw a few snide remarks Ichirou's way.
During this, Ichirou felt his story was far too skewed.
He knew a few of them could be a bit crooked, but they wouldn't waste their time arresting someone out of the blue. Not unless said culprit did something to offend them in some way or caught their attention. Furthermore, given the knowledge that his comrade was quite antagonistic at times, it was clear Youta was leaving certain details out.
Upon further grilling, Ichirou got him to speak the truth. Apparently, upon seeing the pair of officers, Youta muttered a few insults and slurs directed at them under his breath. It seemed that he wasn't as quiet as he thought, as they managed to catch the tail of end of it and decided to teach him a lesson. The salaryman made it abundantly clear that they weren't too gentle with him when taking him into the station. Ichirou could feel the anger in his voice as his guildmate described the rough handling.
"Then let this be a lesson to you, Youta-san. You can't just speak or think ill will of someone out of nowhere and expect there to be no repercussion." Ichirou cautioned.
"Oh, am I no longer allowed to exercise my freedom of speech?" Youta fired back, twisting the police officer's words in his favor.
"No! What I'm saying is, there is a time and place for everything. Sometimes, it's better to keep quiet about certain things." Ichirou countered, slightly exasperated.
"You government lapdog would like that, wouldn't you? For us peons to just zip it and submit to your rules. Like mindless puppets." The salaryman taunted.
"That's not it either! I'm saying this for your sake, as next time you might not just be so fortunate to have me around to bail you out." Ichirou's lips pursed at his friend's stubborn and dismissive attitude.
"Whatever." Youta huffed and rolled his eyes. "Are we done here or what? Your jackass of friends already arrested me and made me late for something important."
Ichirou suppressed a weary sigh, choosing instead to look over his papers. If they continued, it would go on for hours.
"I would say so. I have all the information I need to file a report. You'll be released in short order, Youta-san." Ichirou promised.
"Finally!" He stood up and stretched as the officer walked towards the door.
As he reached for the doorknob, Ichirou stopped abruptly. A realization dawned on him that it was just the two of them. This was the perfect opportunity, a part of him whispered. An opportunity to finally ask and perhaps even answer a question that he had been wondering for years now. Unlike within YGGDRASIL, Youta could not simply avoid him by teleporting away or even logging out. Here they were, face-to-face at last, and this time, he didn't have a way out. Releasing the doorknob, he turned back to Youta.
"Actually, I must ask for another moment of your time, Youta-san."
Youta quickly turned his head in Ichirou's direction, revealing his annoyance that was barely hidden. His face contorted into a scowl.
"Oi, what the hell?! I thought you said I was free to go!"
"And you will. You'll be properly released in short order after I ask you what I would like to ask of you." Ichirou smoothly countered.
"Like hell you are! You said you've got everything you need, so what the hell do you need me here even longer for?!"
"Just a simple question I would like to ask you."
"Well, you can take it and shove it! If it ain't got anything to do with the case, then that means you can't keep me here like a prisoner!"
"You'll find that I can hold you here until I deem it right to release you from my custody. I doubt any of my fellow co-officers would be any more inclined to let you off the hook than I am. Cooperate, and this'll be over shortly. Continue lashing out, and we'll be here for a while."
Youta was gobsmacked, his mouth left agape after hearing what amounted to an ultimatum from Ichirou, the wannabe Mr. Hero of Justice himself. The officer had expected several reactions from his comrade. Angry shouting and screaming were the primary responses, but what the elderly gentleman didn't expect was for him to begin laughing. It was a burst of maniacal laughter, and the clear maliciousness in it was palpable.
The salaryman dropped back onto his chair and laughed uncontrollably, even banging his hand against the table.
"Hahaha! Oh, this is glorious! Hahaha! Absolutely fucking rich! Meeting the wannabe hero, surrounded by his equals! Hahaha!" Ichirou was able to make out Youta's words in between each fit of laughter.
Startled, but no less resolute, Ichirou attempted to continue the conversation. More so because Ichirou was curious about what Youta said to him.
"Wannabe hero? What on earth are you talking about, Youta-san."
Having made out Ichirou's voice through his mirth, Youta's chuckles die down. The self-proclaimed Hero of Justice met Youta's gaze but almost flinched from the hostility in his eyes. Youta's glare was burning with sheer intensity and accompanied by an amused sneer.
"You really are such a hypocrite." Youta said much to Ichirou's continual confusion.
"W-what? How am I—"
"A hypocrite?" Youta cut him off and finished his sentence for him.
"How about the fact that you just basically made a threat against me? All because of one selfish question, one that you must be dying to have me answer if you're willing to circumvent your oh-so-sacred regulations and rules. You're keeping me hostage, twisting the rules and laws in your favor, and forcing me to comply, knowing that I can't do anything to stop you!" Youta elaborated with a vicious smirk.
One that only grew as he watched his rival's face contort with conflicting emotions.
Loathed as he was to admit it, Youta had a point. Ichirou was keeping him rather unlawfully against his will, even after he had everything he needed from the man. He went against his promise and all but threatened him to a certain degree, forcing him to comply with his whims and questions eventually. Ichirou couldn't justify it as he knew that, in the end, the question has no relation to the case, and it was a selfish request on the police officers' part.
"Sooo…" Youta leaned back in his chair and kicked up his feet onto the table. "Is this now an interrogation, hero?" He sneered.
This managed to knock Ichirou out of his thoughts.
"I—I… Youta-san…" He began, but it fell on deaf ears.
"Should I be expecting some friends of yours to pop on in? The two who arrested me would probably like another crack at me."
"That's not going to happen! If you just—"
"Oh, I see! You'll much rather get your hands dirty than let anyone else do it for you."
"Stop and listen, I'm—"
"Man, I wonder what the others in Ainz Ooal Gown would think if they heard about this."
Every time Ichirou tried to get his words out, he was immediately rebuked at every turn by Youta. And if his smirk was anything to go by, the salaryman was well aware of his actions. He took a twisted sense of amusement, needling Ichirou on like that as the officer slowly lost his patience.
Every man had a breaking point, and Ichirou had quickly reached his.
"Enough!" Ichirou slammed his hands on the table, interrupting Youta mid-talk and staring him down. He was done playing games.
"I am sorry if I gave off the wrong impression, but I will not allow you to sit there and blindly dismiss me! So you listen here—"
"No, you listen!" Youta shouted, jumping to his feet and glaring right back at Ichirou.
"I've listened to you already, now it's my turn. So, you listen, hero." Youta growled, getting in front of Ichirou with his finger jabbing the police officer's chest.
Ichirou nevertheless complied, matching his guildmate's stare and keeping quiet as his comrade began his tangent.
"I'm sick and tired of dealing with your high and mightier-than-thou bullshit! In the game, you act like you're the moral compass of the group, with the ethical high ground on every godforsaken occasion. Every time, it's always the goddamn same thing with you! Justice this, or heroic that, and always a fucking speech to make my ear bleed! I am not dealing with any of your speeches! You fat-headed, bigoted, penguin motherfucker!"
Ichirou couldn't help but blink at the rather incredulous insult that had just been hurled his way. Out of everything Youta could pick, he decided to call the police officer a penguin. While it was true that his police uniform did bear some resemblance to the color scheme and pattern of the aquatic bird, Ichirou couldn't help but feel that the comparison was a bit of a stretch.
Beyond that, Ichirou knew better than to respond with anger, or say anything for that matter. This was far from the first time their arguments had reached a boiling point. He had lost count of just how many fights they'd been in, whether they were vocal or physical. In most cases, it was always the former. They've done this song and dance dozens of times in the past, back in YGGDRASIL. If anything, Youta proceeding with his explosive rant was actually a good thing.
From experience, Ichirou knew that Youta would eventually be winded and exhausted by the end, once he let out his entire frustration. He would be far more amiable after he got everything off his chest.
All Ichirou had to do was weather the caustic storm of insults that Youta was throwing his way. His screaming insults became almost like a white noise as the officer did his best to ignore the more hurtful words. It would be another minute or so before the angry rant would begin to die down. The policeman tuned back in to catch the tail end of it all.
"So fuck everything! Fuck your jackass friends, fuck this shithole of a police precinct, fuck this room, and more importantly, fuck you!" With one final shout, Youta finished his verbal assault, giving the officer the middle finger.
The impromptu speech left him breathless. Panting, Youta kept his glare centered on the stoic officer, who met his glare with a look as if to ask him, "Are you done?" After a few more seconds, Youta slumped in his chair, his heavy breathing lessening. No more words followed his outburst, allowing an awkward silence to penetrate the room.
Youta scoffed.
"You know, I always had the feeling you were giving me a look whenever we had our arguments. Now, seeing your ugly mug in person, the urge to punch your face is even stronger."
Ichirou ignored his threat again, patiently and stoically keeping quiet.
Youta's glare intensified at the silent treatment the police officer was giving him. The seconds ticked by at a slow and agonizing pace, with nothing but the sound of their breathing filling the room. As the silence stretched on, Youta's discomfort grew, and Ichirou could feel his frustration rising. By the time a full minute had passed, the oppressive stillness had become too much to bear, and he finally gave in to the tension in the air.
The dead-eyed salaryman let out a heavy sigh.
"Alright, what the fuck do you want?" He asked in an 'I'm-done-with-this-shit' tone that the white-haired officer had heard him use before.
Satisfied in the knowledge that his comrade would be amiable to his words now, Ichirou began.
"Firstly, allow me to say I am sorry." Ichirou apologized. "I did not mean for what I said to be a threat of any kind. I—I had only the most honest of intentions when I wished to ask you my question."
"Whatever." Youta dismissed his apology without a thought. "Just ask your damn question already, so we can get this over with."
"Very well." Ichirou cleared his throat in preparation for what he was about to say. "I know we may not always see eye to eye, but I still hold respect for you, Youta-san. Despite the numerous fights and arguments we've had, I have always regarded you as a friend. All I ask of you is to reciprocate the same courtesy that I have shown you throughout the many years we've played together."
"Just get on with it…" Youta commented annoyingly in the middle of his sentence.
"Youta-san, do you hate me?" Ichirou finally asked, getting to the heart of the matter.
Upon hearing the question, Youta's body tensed up in his seat, caught off guard by the abrupt and poignant question. His gaze locked onto the self-proclaimed Hero of Justice, trying to discern if he had heard correctly. A single glance at Ichirou's expression confirmed that he had indeed. The man behind the helm of Touch Me was deadly serious, his face etched with a solemn visage. Youta swiftly composed his features, returning an impassive look of his own as the two engaged in a tense stare-down, the atmosphere in the room becoming palpably still.
'Do you hate me?' The question repeated in his head again, testing the words and intention as the stare-off between the two persisted, neither yielding to the other.
It was no secret that Touch Me/Ichirou and Ulbert/Youta had an immensely tumultuous relationship. Their dynamics were like oil and water, if the oil was also on fire, and that was putting it mildly. Their personalities were diametrically opposed in every possible way, from their inclinations and methods of play to their fundamental beliefs. Such stark differences could not coexist without friction, and the two had been embroiled in countless disagreements and disputes throughout their time in the same guild. The tension between them was palpable and inevitable, given their numerous differences.
It was a curious conundrum. The arguments commonly that took place between them were a clear indication that they did not hold each other in high regard or value the other seriously, particularly in the case of Youta. However, despite this, they continued hanging around and play with one another, choosing to remain in the same guild. It has nearly been over six years since they first became allies and eventually became not just clanmates but also members of the same guild.
But one would hesitate to call them true friends based on these facts. Ichirou would, but never did it seem Youta shared the same sentiment.
It was inferred that the two mutually disliked each other, and merely tolerated one another within the guild, but the matter was never brought up properly. Let alone resolved.
Until now.
The tension in the room mounted, becoming so thick that one could cut it with a knife. It only continued to escalate as the seconds ticked by.
It would be Youta who dispelled the silence with his voice, finally breaking the monotony.
"Tell me, Ichirou. Do you believe in monsters?"
Ichirou couldn't help but blink at his reply. He didn't expect Youta to answer his question with a question of his own, and certainly not with an unexpected topic. He had wanted to ask him to get back on track but the seriousness on Youta's face made him pause. Instead, he decided to wait and see where this new line of discussion might lead.
"I cannot say I do. At least, not since I was still a boy." Ichirou answered after some deliberation.
"And yet you believed in heroes. Saying the day, rescuing the princess, and ending the threat of the demon king." Said Youta, a small mocking smile worming its way to his face.
"Those are in the realm of fantasy, Youta-san. There's more to a hero than just that, for a hero can come in all shapes and sizes." The police officer countered.
"Oh yes, I know. But the same can be said for monsters as well. Not all monsters are monstrous beings." Youta retorted with a cryptic smirk on his face, as if he had secretly been waiting for Ichirou to bring that matter up for discussion.
Ichirou opened his mouth to answer back, only for Youta to cut him off and continue without any concern for the police officer.
"My mom used to tell me to beware of monsters. I was a kid back then, so I just took her words at that. She was always rather ambiguous with it, like monsters under my bed, or in the dark, and others I can't remember. I always found it odd that she never explained or went in-depth about what she meant, always keeping it vague." Youta revealed.
Ichirou shut his mouth with an audible click at how fast he did it. It was an unspoken rule, but one that held considerable weight within the confines of Ainz Ooal Gown that a member never had to reveal or talk about their personal life. After all, YGGDRASIL was a source of respite for the Players, a place where they could unwind and forget their worries. However, that wasn't to say one couldn't, but personal affairs were typically kept between the closest of friends, and some aspects of their lives were known to the entire guild, albeit in a vague and general sense.
One such example was Ichirou's unwavering belief in the concept of heroism, which was reflected in his real-life profession as a police officer. It was also common knowledge among the guild members that he was married and led a comfortable life, indicating that his interests extended beyond the virtual realm.
Opposite him was Youta, who let little to nothing about his true life be known. Out of everyone within the guild, he was confident enough to say that only Momonga probably knew the full extent of his backstory. Even then, it was only what Youta was willing to share.
"I lost my parents when I was young. Hell, I don't even remember how old I was when they died. All I knew was that I was old enough to know what had happened." Youta told him, the story taking a dark turn.
Ichirou felt his body straighten rigidly in both surprise and shock. He was telling his backstory, and already Ichirou could tell it was not a happy one.
"Youta-san. You don't—"
"Let me finish…" The salaryman interrupted, his voice unmistakably soft. The light in his eyes was gone, back to those dark, dead eyes Youta wore when Ichirou first saw him.
"They worked on the production line for some company. It was a shit job with shit pay, and dangerous as hell. But it was the only thing available to them to put money on the table and food in our stomachs. Every day, they would come home late and would barely get even four hours of sleep and rest before having to get back to work. Yet, each day, they would make time for me. They'd tuck me in for bed and just talk about anything and everything. They were there for me, until that day." Youta recounted. His voice was monotonously hollow, as if reading from a script.
Ichirou kept quiet while also offering a silent prayer to Youta's parents.
"They died horribly. At least, that is what I imagined anyway... Working in such a dangerous place, it all just collapsed one day. They couldn't even find their damn bones. Probably buried underneath a pile of rubble, crushed into dust, or even burned into ashes. And don't get me started on the joke of a compensation that was given for their deaths. Let me tell you, the insurance payment was complete shit. It barely had enough to last me through the week. I barely finished elementary school before I dropped out and started working just so I wouldn't be kicked off into the streets." Youta let out a mirthless laugh, one that Ichirou couldn't help but shiver from. The bleakness in his voice was nauseating.
"I learned two important lessons all those years ago. The world doesn't care for people like me, and more importantly, the people don't give a shit either! It's funny, my mom always said to watch out for monsters. On that day, I realized something. She wasn't just talking about the imaginary kind. I found out exactly what kind of monster people are and can be."
Youta looked straight at Ichirou, who met his eyes unflinchingly.
"I realized something a long, long time ago. I realized that this world, this shithole of a planet we call home, is cruel. And every day, it reinforced it. I realized that it was not Monsters or even God that made this world a hellhole. It was we humans that made it how it is today. It has always been humanity's fault, from the beginning till now." He spoke, his voice raw and vitriolic.
It was no secret that Ulbert/Youta harbored a severe case of misanthropy. His disdain for humanity was evident in his frequent use of insults and biting remarks aimed at Humanoid Players. He often delivered chunni speeches about the impending doom and destruction he planned to unleash upon mankind.
Many observers would assume that it was just him playing around and dismiss his behaviors as mere roleplay or harmless banter, believing that he was simply cultivating an edgy persona to match his demonic avatar. However, the truth was far more sinister. Youta's hatred for his own kind burned deep and fierce, and he made no effort to conceal this fact. Only those closest to him knew just how far his hatred ran. How far his wroth stretched.
Touch Me/Ichirou was among the handful. But it was here, with the two sitting face-to-face with one another, that he truly realized just how deep and all-consuming Youta's misanthropy truly was. As his past came to light, it revealed the source of his festering anger and resentment.
He had been a child forced to grow up too quickly, burdened with a weight of bitterness that only grew heavier with each passing year.
"People so often believe that monsters are humanity's greatest threat. That it was the devil that tempted us to fall or its monsters that'll kill us remorselessly. I think otherwise. A monster is just that—a monster. It's evil because that is how it is; it was simply born that way. Humanity, on the other hand, is far more horrible. After all, we have the choice to be good or evil. To be a monster, if we please. People willingly make fucked-up choices. We are capable of such atrocities that even monsters fear us. We're capable of horrors that make the devil afraid of us. Look no further than the shit we call reality. A polluted and overpopulated earth, where every waking moment is suffering. Everywhere you go, it's a constant reminder of our sins. The nauseous, poison-filled sky that can kill if we're not careful. The lifeless drones that are the masses, people uncaring of anyone's plight but their own. The rampant number of deaths from exhaustion and overwork. The pampered fucks that make up the corrupt and high society that doesn't give a shit about any of us and controls us like puppets."
Youta jabbed his finger at Ichirou, but it wasn't him he was targeting. Rather, the police badge he wore.
"I realized something, that we are truly the worst. People are selfish, cruel beings, and monsters in their own rights. We're all monsters, some more so than others, but we are all the same underneath. No one is an exception to that rule, especially you." He turned his dead gaze back to Ichirou.
"But to be completely honest with your question, hero, I would have to say I do not hate you as a person."
"What?" Ichirou let out in confusion at Youta's answer.
Youta gave a nonchalant shrug in the face of the elderly officer's confusion and chose to say nothing more. He averted his eyes from Ichirou for a moment, remaining quiet as if he were collecting his thoughts for what was to come next. After a bout of silence, he turned back to Ichirou to answer his question in earnest.
"Despite my behaviors, I do not simply hate you on principle alone. If that were the case, then I would have left a long, long time ago, along with PKing your ass all the way till Sunday. When I said I don't hate you, I meant it. I dislike you and how you do things, sure, but hate? I can't say I do. At the root of it all, my animosity towards you stems from my own petty envy and rivalry."
Youta reclined on his chair, gazing up at the plain ceiling, lost in thought.
"I envy you because you are everything I'm not! I was born in this world as a natural-born loser, and I'll spend the rest of my life working to the bone and, most likely, share the same fate as my parents. While I was born to fail, you were lucky enough to be born into a well-off lifestyle that only us bottom-dwellers could only dream of reaching... But, despite my jealousy and frustration towards you, I cannot bring myself to fully hate you as an individual, Ichirou."
Ichirou sat in stunned silence, absorbing Youta's heartfelt confession.
To hear his guildmate, whom he has always known to be prickly and prideful, sounding humble in his admission shocked him more than Ichirou cared to admit.
It was also during this that Youta finally addressed him by his name, which he had always avoided in favor of other informal nicknames or titles. This fact, combined with his admission and tone, showed that he was being genuine in his words.
However, Youta wasn't done. Far from it, in fact, he was just getting started.
Youta closed his eyes. "You asked me if I hated you." He repeated.
"Aye, I don't hate you as a person. No, what I absolutely despised about you is your ideal and everything you stand for!"
Youta's eyes snapped open with a fierce declaration, his once dull gaze ablaze with an intense fire that glared daggers at Ichirou. He spoke with raw, unfettered emotion, his words searing with the heat of his anger.
"I hated how every time it was the same damn thing with you! Hero of justice this, bringing justice to all that, it was maddening! Hearing you parrot those moral ideals day in and day out in YGGDRASIL. They were nothing but empty words! You were nothing but a pretender, a farce hiding behind a naïve and idiotic ideal. What made it worse was that you were a blind slave to it! Ignorant of the beliefs you championed. Nothing more than cheap humanism. I hate you because the ideals you defended were nothing more than a façade! In every situation, every time we would do something together as a clan or guild, it would always be the same bullshit! I hated you because you were a blind fool!"
As Youta screamed his anger towards the target of his frustration, he felt a heavy burden slowly lift off his shoulders. It was as if he had finally freed himself from the shackles of his own pent-up emotions.
How long, Ichirou wondered, had Ulbert kept such thoughts close to his chest, and now finally a chance to let it all out? To express himself and let his voice be heard.
"You preached on and on about justice and peace. About protecting people and bringing justice to the world. About doing what's right to better the world. But where were your precious ideals when my parents died, and no one gave a rat's ass about me or them?! Where was your notion of justice when I was forced to work, a child no older than ten, just so I wouldn't be kicked out to die on the fucking streets like gutter trash? Where is the good and justice in a fucked up situation like that, huh?!"
Youta slammed his fist down on the table, rattling it from the force.
"Where the fuck was my justice, my peace?! How is it fair to let only you people preach about peace and justice?! The very same people who profit from our labor and misfortune! You've never had to work as hard as we did! Tolling away just so that we shouldn't fucking starve or worse! You've never struggled with anything in your life, knowing that you would still be well off. A luxury that we can only dream of, as every day we spend toiling away just to get by. You have never suffered, suffered like I have, once in your cushy life, and you think you know for me?
Don't give me that fucking bullshit!
What gives you the right to dictate what is fair and what is justice?! Do you think you're better than me? Better than everyone else because of those naïve and lofty ideals?
I hated you because of your naïve ideals. A Hero of Justice? Bringing peace and order to all? Please, as if someone like you could ever hope to become such a thing as lofty as that! And people call me delusional and a chunni! I accepted my place in this cruel world and made my peace with it. Yet, you choose to cling to a child's fairytale. Whether it be in YGGDRASIL or on the streets. Your naïve ideals are nothing more than that, ideals. And like all ideals, they are forever out of reach.
I hated you because you blindly and stupidly followed your selfish ideals like a chained dog. You were nothing but a selfish hypocrite, hiding behind a veneer of justice and righteousness. Yet, have you ever once thought about your ideals and what they truly mean in the grand scheme of things? Are you so blind that you cannot see that such a thing is impossible? And you still chase after it indefinitely! News flash! You can't help or save everyone, nor can you expect everything to play by your rules. After all, humans are cruel beings.
I hate you, Touch Me, because you are no true Hero of Justice or whatever bullshit you believe yourself to be! You're just a man—a human. Just like me, just like everyone else on this forsaken planet.
Nothing more than a man pretending to be a Hero…" Youta finished, glaring with all his strength.
The room was filled with the sound of labored breathing as the exhausted salaryman dropped heavily into his chair. He had just finished a marathon of talking and screaming, leaving his throat raw and burning. His entire body was gripped by a brief stint of exhaustion, as evidenced by the sweat dripping from his forehead as he struggled to catch his breath.
There was a fine line that Youta distinguished between Ichirou as a person and the persona that was Touch Me.
In simple terms, he despised the persona that was Touch Me - the side of Ichirou that championed his ideals. However, he did not completely hate the man behind the mask, Ichirou Yukanna. The World Disaster held a sliver of respect for the World Champion, though it was minuscule and overshadowed by his contempt for the naïve ideals that the police officer championed.
Youta hated not the man, but what he represented, riding a delicate line between one and the other.
Taking a quick sideways glance at Ichirou, Youta braced himself for a range of potential reactions. He anticipated anything from utter shock to extreme horror, or perhaps even a burst of furious anger. However, to his surprise, Ichirou remained completely composed, deep in thought, his face betraying no visible emotions. Youta was unable to decipher what was going through the police officer's mind at that exact moment, as his expression gave away nothing.
"I see." Ichirou closed his eyes, silent in contemplation.
Without saying another word, Ichirou stood up and walked out the door. Youta's gaze never left his retreating backside. A soft clicking noise followed suit, the door locking him in.
On the other side of the door, Ichirou remained there. It was clear from his silent and stern visage that Youta's words had left quite an impression on him.
Silently, the policeman walked away from the room. His body ran on autopilot as he made his way through the police precinct. The surroundings blurred around him as his thoughts were taken up by Youta's words.
'He's not wrong.' His mind supplied.
Ichirou was far from the naïve idiot that his guildmate made him out to be, nor was he as simple as his actions and demeanor might suggest. He had known the harsh truth for a very long time, and in some ways, he had known it from the very beginning. The changing times and the new bitter reality that have become so commonplace now. One that so many were thrust upon.
His mind drifted elsewhere. Youta's words, they stirred up old memories, old feelings within Ichirou. He lost himself in the memories, reminiscing about how things have changed, and how much he has changed as well.
Among everyone within Ainz Ooal Gown, Touch Me/Ichirou was considered one of the eldest among all forty-two members, with Shizyuutensuzaku being the oldest.
Unlike many, such as Ulbert/Youta or Momonga/Satoru, who were born during the height of the dystopian world and era, Ichirou was among those to stand witness to the changing times. He was present at the end of an era and the rise of a new, corrupt one in its place.
The world before the rise of the various corporate conglomerates was by no means stable, as certain political and geopolitical events shook the foundation. The times were changing, and they were changing quickly. A change was looming in the future; people knew it was coming, but what many, Ichirou included, didn't account for was just how quickly it happened.
What Ichirou remembered most about it all was just how quiet it was.
In what seemed like a blink of an eye, much of the old world order crumbled before the new government. No longer were politicians running the show, but rather the influential businessman and CEO of corporate conglomerates. This new government sunk its teeth deep within Japan and, like a plague, corrupted all within its touch. Their spread was so quick and seamless that no one could do anything to stop them. And before anything could be done, it was already too late.
Everything they once knew corroded away, as the world as a whole took another step towards a living hellscape.
Any action taken against the new government would be met with immediate and harsh punishment, deterring any detractors. From there, their corporate overlords systematically rewrote everything, crushing all forms of opposition. None were more affected than the police force that once protected the streets. They were gutted, stripped of all they once were.
His dream job became nothing more than pencil pushing and busywork than actual enforcement of the law, like what he had done in the past. Rarely did they even do any actual policing, merely patrols and the like to keep up appearance. Before, they would go out of their way to seek out criminals or any suspicious individuals. Now, they hardly did any of that. In fact, by the ruling of the department, they were even ordered to ignore certain suspicious activities, allowing ruffians to roam free as they pleased.
It wasn't just the law, it was the people too. A pervasive coldness and lack of concern for one's fellow human beings had taken hold. The world was being suffocated by a complacent attitude, with apathy choking the life out of everything and everyone. Self-preservation had become the norm, and with the knowledge that the police force, as it stood, had done nothing to improve public safety or opinion, matters only continued to deteriorate.
The ruling corporation kept the police force around to deal with the more mundane criminal elements and activities, but nothing more. They were neutered and had no power to go against the new, corrupt government. In the end, they were forced to conform or else.
The once noble profession had become a farce, stripped of its proud roots. The creed of all police officers, "to protect and serve," had been sanitized. They no longer protected the citizenry, and the laws they had once fought to serve and uphold were now in opposition to the new world order.
How funny that the laws that he fought to uphold and keep the peace became the very chains that forced him and many others to heel.
They became police officers in name only.
Nowadays, there were very few officers that share Ichirou's sentiments left, and even fewer in the workforce. Most left, unable to accept the change, and went elsewhere. Those who would replace them weren't fit to be called police officers. Officers nowadays were merely young individuals who knew nothing before their times about the honor and tradition that came with being one to uphold the law. Or those taking the job because it was easy.
And Ichirou loathed it. But the cruel fact was, there was nothing no one could do but silently watch as the world changed around them.
Their reality became that of a textbook dystopian society from the pages of stories centuries ago.
Ichirou had been a police officer for a significant amount of time and witnessed the downfall of the profession firsthand. He was present both at the beginning and the end, observing the changing times that turned everything he once believed in to ashes. It wasn't just him who felt this way - many other passionate police officers were also unhappy with what had occurred.
Ichirou was far from pleased, but the aged officer knew he couldn't change anything, even if he wanted to try. He, like many others, tried to fight against it for as long as they could. Eventually, however, they were forced to either accept the reality of the situation or look for justice elsewhere.
It was clear which route he took. If not for himself, then to protect his family—his wife and child.
Ichirou had seen what happened to those who openly oppose and do not change their stance. Those too stubborn to change will all disappear eventually.
He acknowledged the reality of the situation—that his dreams and ideals as a Hero of Justice had no place in the new, cold world. However, deep within his heart, he never fully accepted that fact. Ichirou still held onto the sliver of hope of what he once fought for and upheld.
It was why he was still an officer even after all the tribulations that faced him, clinging to the old ways.
However, it was also in part because he was selfish. He didn't want to admit that the noble ideals that the policeman stood for were dead and gone. That his dream and beliefs were still alive, somewhere. Despite mounting obstacles, he clung to them with delicate fervor, desperate to uphold his once lofty beliefs. Ichirou wanted to believe there was some good out there, somehow, somewhere.
His stubbornness and faith in his ideals balanced precariously against reality and the cold truth of the world. And for years, they have maintained that precarious balance. A balance that would be tipped over in an event that nearly sent him over the edge.
It came about sometime after Ainz Ooal Gown won the Tomb of Nazarick. There was a homeless man that hung about a block or so from their precinct. He would stand there, dirtied and begotten, asking for any donations. Most don't even give him a passing glance, uncaring of his plight and plea. All but Ichirou.
Every time he would go to work, he would always see and encounter the man, and without fail, he would offer him a little bit of money. For someone like Ichirou, he had money to spare. Even if the act of kindness was trivial, he took some measure of pride in helping another.
After a while, it didn't take long before the two got to know each other more. The man wished to acquaint himself with the only generous person he knew, someone who didn't look at him as if he were filth. Over the short months, they learned more about one another, and Ichirou would almost call them friends.
Ichirou learned that before the man was homeless, he had a family of his own with a wife and child. The three of them lived in a relatively poor neighborhood. While their lives were hard, they were content as long as they had one another. The story then took a dark turn when the man revealed that an incident occurred at the apartment building they lived in. It turns out that a small-time gang made a base in the same apartment complex.
A shootout between the gang and the police occurred one day, and by the end of it, about thirty people died in the ensuing firefight. His wife and children were among the causalities. And the police, they just left as if the rest didn't concern them. From there, his life spiraled down, and eventually he was reduced to being homeless.
He blamed the officers for the tragedy. He blamed them for the deaths of his family, saying that if they were better or more competent, their deaths could have been avoided. He recounted how heartless they were, not only to him but to his plight. All because it wasn't part of their job. Ichirou could feel the hatred and vitriol as he described it all. One that reminded him of a certain demon of disaster.
One day, the man asked Ichirou out of the blue if there was ever a day he wouldn't come to work. At the time, the officer never gave the question much thought and answered him freely. Days passed, and on one of his days off, he received a call early in the morning asking for him to come in to help cover a shift. Agreeing, he headed to the station, and as he was nearing the precinct, the sounds of screaming echoed through the air. He raced as fast as he could, gun in hand, for what was to come.
However, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
There, standing in front of the station, was a group of his fellow officers. All their guns were trained against the homeless man Ichirou knew. The very same man who was holding one of the officers hostage and pressing his gun to the officer's head.
The reason why the man asked when Ichirou wouldn't be at work was to spare him from what he was about to do that day. Ichirou would later learn that the man assaulted the precinct, attacking one of the officers as he was walking in with a shiv. He killed the man, stole the officer's issued gun, and proceeded to attack and shoot everyone within the station. Four were killed, while another six were left wounded. It eventually led to him grabbing one of the officers, using him as leverage, and preventing the others from filling him with lead.
A standoff ensued, with the police and the gunman waiting for the other to make the first move. Throughout, the man screamed insults and vitriol at the police. Ichirou witnessed it all — the frightened young man he held captive, terrified for his life, the tense and nervous atmosphere among his fellow officers, and the crazed glint in the man's eyes. Ichirou could still recall the raw, burning bitterness in the gunman's voice as he screamed, unleashing all his anger at them.
Ichirou came to a frightening realization: the man had no plan on actually making it out alive.
Tension only grew, and it seemed enviable that the man would pull the trigger and kill his hostage, thus forcing the police to fire upon him. If Ichirou hadn't intervened that was.
Ichirou was hidden at an angle that was completely invisible to the assailant. From where he was, he had a clean shot at the man. Had the situation been any different, he wouldn't have hesitated, but he did.
Ichirou was beyond conflicted. Two sides of himself raged within him, desperately trying to figure out what to do in the situation. The man was a victim. He knew and understood the man's plight and his anger, but that anger was misdirected. Those responsible for his tragedy weren't the officers he killed or the hostage he held. However, he'd already taken lives, and that meant his life was already forfeit. Ichirou would be the first to admit that those he worked alongside were not officers by his standards, but they were still innocent and were not at fault.
The man was lashing out in grief, and he needed to be stopped. Ichirou knew that, but that didn't make the decision any easier. Pressure mounted as seconds ticked by, the situation deteriorating ever faster. The internal debate stormed within his mind and threatened to make him insane as he struggled to find an answer but couldn't.
There was no right answer, no decision that would result in a satisfying conclusion. If Ichirou hadn't taken the shot, then he would've allowed the young officer to die on his watch. And without a hostage, the man would die regardless, courtesy of the rest of the police officers. If he did take the shot, then he would save the young officer's life, but at the cost of the man he would consider a friend. And despite what he did, Ichirou couldn't find himself to wholly hate him.
It was too late for a peaceful solution, he'd already stained his hands with blood. There was no option where everyone walked away alive.
The weight of the decisions weighed heavily on him. His moral obligation versus his duty. Either way, he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.
Either two more people would die this day or just one.
That choice fell on him, and Ichirou made his decision.
The memory of his action was burned into his memory and would be with him until the end of days.
In the end, only a single shot was fired.
Ichirou had done it. He pulled the trigger, ripping a hole through his throat from the back, catching the man completely off guard.
He staggered, reeling from the fatal wound, enough for his hostage to break free, knocking him to the ground and the gun away.
His hands desperately clung to his neck, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. The sound of wet chokes and gasps filled the dark air as he writhed in pain on the cold ground.
Ichirou strode forward, his gun leveled at him. He intended to put him out of his misery and grant him a painless death, sending him on his way.
Before he could pull the trigger a second time, the man turned, facing the elderly officer. For what seemed like an eternity, the two locked eyes, the homeless man's fading eyes recognizing who it was that shot him.
So many emotions flickered through them, surprise and sadness before anger settled in. His last ounce of strength was channeled into a damning stare.
A bloody gargled noise escaped his compromised throat, mouth parted with bloody teeth on full display.
He was trying to say something, but no words could form, and yet, Ichirou heard his intent clearly enough. The officer watched as the light left the man's eyes, his body stilling as death finally caught up to him.
Ichirou remembered just standing there, his eyes locked onto the unmoving body of the man he grew to know over the months. He was unable to look away from that condemning gaze.
Everyone else was happy and celebrating, especially the young officer who was the hostage. The mood was upbeat, or as upbeat as it could be. Everyone praised him as a hero, praising his name and giving him happy shoulder claps.
Ichirou didn't feel like a Hero at that moment.
He'd fought criminals before, even killed a few in the line of duty, and never seemed to mind their deaths. It was always circumstantial, rather cut-and-dry, and devoid of any genuine moral ambiguity. They were the bad guys, while he was the good guy.
Simple, easy.
But this time, things were different.
Guilt rocked him and filled him with shame. For the first time in his long career as a law enforcement officer, he killed an "innocent" man. A victim of circumstance and one out of both of their control.
The rational side of him told him that what was done was done. The man was responsible for the deaths of those officers, that he was too far gone. Yet, Ichirou couldn't find himself to just coldly dismiss it, to put it behind him. In the days to come, he pondered it all, trying desperately to find an answer that could somehow make things all right. But the thing was, there wasn't an answer, and Ichirou agonized over it until he reached out to someone. The only one who could understand his plight.
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Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone