One year later.
Knowledge, knowledge is power... the ending echoed in my mind—hide it. Ahem, damn Warhammer, its flashbacks won't let go even after death!
Ahem, what was I getting at? It's 1995 now, and I was horrified to learn there's no internet and won't be for a looooong time! That killed me; my hope was on the library, but the school one only has fairy tales and textbooks. The city library's "exotic" stuff is just a couple of Russian-, English-, Chinese-, and Japanese-Japanese phrasebooks.
Yeah, a few cult entertainment books in those languages. My mind was blown more with each discovery, and realizing that finding descriptions of Celtic runes or other mystical esoterica or occultism is a truly epic quest.
The feeling that I'd strained myself for a whole year with zero results for me was slowly killing me. After realizing where I ended up, I came up with a genius plan! I needed access to a knowledge source and relative freedom! But a four-year-old brat in kindergarten doesn't get that; a schoolkid would have it easier.
In the end, I pushed and begged my parents for school textbooks and sat there cramming them—trying to show what a genius I was everywhere! That I could count to 100, and even do multiplication and division—though only after shaking through the entire math textbook in a month, scribbling in it with a pencil.
Then I showed my parents and asked for second grade; after two months, I shook that one too! For third grade, I pretended it was tough, but mastered it in half a year. I didn't ask for fourth and up—stood out enough.
But Japanese was a real block for me—I knew Russian, not saying badly... but graduated ninth grade with a C! Miraculously... probably out of pity. Ahem, I wasn't a humanities guy in that life, won't be in this one! But I made some progress!
Learning the language everyone around speaks 24/7 turns out not hard. In the end, I got into school, and my beaming-with-pride parents pushed me into first grade at five, a year early.
And that's when I learned there's no internet, and no books I need! Got depressed; realizing I couldn't shake the math genius reputation and had to maintain it made me howl! On one hand—fuck school and local education!
On the other—while I'm this genius goody-goody, parents fulfill my little whims more readily. But if I blow it off openly and become a mediocre dumbass—it'll bring sanctions.
And lectures and reproaches—I wouldn't escape them, not that it bothered me much—but it'd cause certain inconveniences and limit freedom. Weighing pros and cons—I stood out for a reason; I'd only learn all this a year later otherwise! This way, I know the problem now, though no idea how to solve it.
School, so much pain in that word—classmates disliked me right away, but I didn't care about their opinion. I couldn't fight, but punching an eye doesn't take much brains—so I solved that problem but became a Pariah. The relatively good part—local clubs; planning my future, I decided to work on fitness. Not sure how linked physical form is to Magic, but it won't hurt.
But a five-year-old body has limits, so I joined the local swimming club—no heavy fitness needed, learn to swim properly and build lung capacity! Those were issues in my past life; I could swim!
Doggy paddle for five minutes, and not deep, 'cause panic hit and I'd drown... yeah, at almost thirty I couldn't swim; lung capacity... almost thirty, what capacity? Climbing two floors without panting was a feat; if side didn't grab, a holiday. Hate stairs.
But enough sad stuff; the search for magic paths continued, and I changed approach! No literature found, so experimental way! And no, not downing half a liter and munching dubious mushrooms—though I don't rule that out! I'll be a part-time shaman.
But save radical world-"MAGIC" cognition for later; focus on less radical—meditation, Blood magic, Necromancy, and... mmmmaaaahhh, paper talismans.
If I explain in detail, it's not that impressive! I've meditated a year whenever possible, felt nothing. Blood magic—overstated; sometimes I take a couple milliliters from my finger into a cup and strain over it meditating.
Usually then I do local calligraphy; they bought me a Calligraphy set for being such a genius cutie! I calmed myself remembering Naruto and seals. Tamed my pride, imagining I'm doing, mmm, fuinjutsu?
Something like that; so I imagine myself a ninja, calms me fully! Of course, I don't just draw crap; I mix my blood into the ink and usually draw "barrier." Wanted "explosion" too, but sensibly fear safety.
Necromancy... even more modest—once a month to the local Jedi Temple to stare at hanging talismans and pry their secrets. Also zone out on graves hoping to feel something! No progress, so onto more radical—my first kill! And try to sense something. Yeah, yeah—started my Maniac path!
That's why heading home from school, I turned into the local park; in its depths where few go, in the fanciest bushes I found—primitive trap of rope, box, and bread crumbs! Hope someone falls in today—betting on a bird or Field mouse.
Stray Cat easier to lure and grab, but I'm a cat lover so no. Dogs... fear and kinda hate them, especially barking. So everything in time. People, at almost six—not my weight class, too much hassle—especially body disposal.
But I must pass this stage later... maybe at 15-16; need to learn to kill, especially people. Heard there's some inner barrier and fear, and after first human kill it gets easier—not sure, maybe. Not sure if human killing experience needed, but feels like yes!
World's complex, for those seeking magic abyss... ahem, never saw a mage book without battles and kills—at least rivals or for knowledge. So mentally prepped.
But killing innocents causes inner protest; if for cause, grudgingly yes—but just for fun—no. Not even the ephemeral "life is sacred"; just seems wasteful resource spend—or how I justify it. Pondering this, I approach my trap and hear chirping; look around, no people—first one's a bird. Sigh, crawl into bushes, look at box—sturdy, heavy, wooden. Chirping from under it.
Moment's here; grab stick stuck in ground, raise over box. Maybe should've hands to feel life ebb, but two issues—first, weakly believe that lofty poetic crap, though doing it. Second, expected bird or mouse; they can hurt while I strangle barehanded, and who knows where they've been—yeah, germaphobe! Fuh, stop delaying—raise stick higher, jab sharp end into box crack, hit? Um, seems not...
A couple minutes later
Seems done. Andiii... felt nothing but irritation and anger—damn resilient critter, especially after miss into, probably, wing? Then it thrashed inside. Stick back in ground, carefully lift box—mda, blood everywhere. Eh, whatever—hide box in bushes, pull couple bags from satchel; planned mini cemetery but no sturdy trowel, so skipped. Bag on hand, shove carcass into another bag with it, tie, into third bag—toss in trash on way home, main thing no blood on me.
Well, I'm Akihiro Yamagi, turning six in a week; today I committed my first kill! Sounds like a Maniac's confession, hah. Seriously, still no gram of Magic or mysticism felt, bums me out.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan