Chapter 53 — So What If You Fail? Just Get Back Up Again.
A ceiling he didn't recognize.
When Bullet opened his eyes again, he found himself lying in a small, private room. All around, heaps of empty sacks gave off a faint scent of food.
"…I failed."
He clenched his fists and tried to summon the power he'd felt before, but no matter how he strained, he couldn't bring it back.
He could clearly feel that his body had grown much stronger—far more than just a little. The hot, visceral thrill of grappling with that monster still lingered in his mind.
And yet…
He'd failed.
Even after giving everything he had, in the end, he still couldn't defeat that terrifying little Sea King.
He could still remember how Ross had looked at him as he lost consciousness.
No emotion whatsoever.
As if his success or failure simply didn't matter.
But for someone who saw himself as a tool, he couldn't accept defeat.
Because back then, failure only meant death. There was no other consequence. If you didn't succeed, you didn't survive.
Bullet recalled with perfect clarity what Ross had once told him:
"Give yourself a name. I'll take you away from this place and start a brand new life for you. I'll train you to become the tool that will protect my family."
Ross had given him the right to choose his own name.
And with that, a life began—one so bright he could never have dreamed it.
Even the training was gentle. Just fighting a monster, without any real risk of dying.
How…kind that was, for a tool like him. After all, when a tool broke, you simply found a new one. Wasn't that the way of things?
But he had failed—twice, no less.
Even though he'd given it everything, almost managing to kill the beast in return—failure was still failure. No excuse could hide that.
"…Power."
Bullet whispered, clenching his fists tighter.
Only strength could ensure he never failed again.
"How can I become stronger?"
He asked himself this question.
In his memory, a version of himself—a ghostly, grinning shade—watched him coldly.
"Abandon your worthless emotions."
"Beasts are always alone."
"Power is the only truth."
Then another voice cut in—Tocos, his warm, patient tone echoing in his head:
"The rest of the time is yours now. Here, take this money. Do whatever you feel like. From today on, try to be a little kinder to yourself."
The bundle of Beli still sat untouched on his table.
"This was my first failed attempt at making a bomb. It won't explode, but my father used to say failure is the stepping stone to progress—and the fuel that keeps you moving forward. So it's a pretty precious memento, you know!"
Mona's smiling face flashed across his mind. That dud bomb lay neatly in the cabinet by the wall.
Finally, he remembered the little garden.
He'd stood there awkwardly, holding fertilizer and a watering can, trying to take care of the pretty plants.
He'd stopped in front of a strange little sprout, poking at it with fascination.
"Useless. Worthless."
The ghostly version of himself had sneered, spat those words, and slowly dissolved.
Grrr—
His stomach growled, snapping him back to the present.
Bullet lifted the white blanket, climbed off the hospital bed, and went to find the exit.
The hospital, built in the central district, was enormous—but sparsely populated. As he walked its long corridors, he passed only a handful of faces.
He glanced at the wall clock: about half an hour before mealtime.
First, he went home.
When he opened the door, he didn't go in right away. He simply stood in the doorway, staring at the two keepsakes he'd left inside.
"…Hey, big guy, you're so weird."
Mona floated over, her voice bright with curiosity.
"Two days ago, you were standing here at this exact time too. Why are you just spacing out again?"
She tilted her head, then went on without waiting for an answer:
"And what did you and my dad do yesterday? You were lying in the hospital all day! Don't tell me you just got discharged?
Seriously, my dad is so mean. Whether it's Brother Moxxi or Brother Sakazuki, I remember they used to get treated like this too.
Good thing my dad and mom always spoiled me. No way I'd ever work that hard—hehe!"
"…Joyful ghost."
Before he could say anything more, Mona produced a small ghost from thin air and, without any explanation, pressed it into Bullet's body.
A few moments later, the little spirit floated back out, looking forlorn.
Mona stared, dumbfounded.
"Huh? Wait—Bullet, you—"
"…I'm sorry."
Bullet spoke first. It was the first time in his life he'd ever said those words.
He didn't even know why—only that he'd heard others say them when they did something wrong.
He thought maybe…maybe they fit here too.
"…Thank you. I feel better."
Mona's Joyful Ghost had carried away the sorrow hidden deep in him.
And then, for the first time in a long while, Bullet found more words:
"Yesterday, I failed my mission. The task Ross—sir—gave me…it was hard. But there was a chance to succeed. And…I failed twice."
He paused when he called Ross "sir," unsure how to address him. In the end, he used Tocos's respectful term, "sir."
He didn't know how to finish. He wanted to say I'm sorry. But sorry didn't matter—because for a tool, there was only failure and success.
Everyone who had said sorry to him…eventually disappeared from his memory.
He didn't want to say it again. Didn't want to vanish from this place that felt almost like paradise.
"Huh? Sir? Why are you calling my father that? Didn't he bring you home himself? Whatever—just call him 'Mister' like my brothers and sisters. Got it?"
Mona sounded delighted. Talking to this big, silent man made her feel a little like an adult herself. Giving advice was so much fun!
So she went on:
"But failing isn't such a big deal, you know. My dad's really nice—he wouldn't scold you.
If you really feel bad, then next time, just try harder! Failure is the ladder to success!"
Her bright smile never seemed to leave her small face. Every day, she lived wrapped in warmth and happiness—something Bullet couldn't even begin to understand.
"…If you fail, you just get back up. Anyway—bye-bye! Remember to eat!"
Without lingering, Mona drifted away as lightly as she'd come.
Bullet watched her go. For the second time, he stood in the doorway, watching her until she disappeared.
"…Failed."
He lowered his head, clenched his hands, and murmured:
"…But can I really stand up again?"
"I think…I've already died three times."
The first death was when he abandoned his past.
The second was the Sea King's unexpected counterattack.
The third—his total defeat in that final, frontal battle.
He wasn't sure anymore…
He didn't feel quite like a tool at all.