A year later.
Knowledge, knowledge is power… in my mind the ending automatically sounded—hide it. Ahem, fucking Warhammer, its flashbacks don't let go even after death!
Ahem, what was I saying? It's currently 1995 and with horror I learned there's no internet and won't be for a loooong time! This moment killed me, hope was still on the library, but in school only fairy tales and textbooks. And in the city all so-called exotics are a couple Russian-, English- and Chinese-Japanese phrasebooks.
Yes a couple cult entertaining literature books in those languages. My level of bewilderment rose with each new discovery, and understanding that finding descriptions of some Celtic runes or other mystical esotericism or occultism becomes a truly epic quest.
The feeling that a whole year I strained myself with meaningless results was slowly killing me. After realizing where I ended up, I had a genius plan! I needed access to a source of knowledge and relative freedom! But a 4-year-old brat in kindergarten isn't getting that, but a schoolboy will have it easier.
As a result I strained and begged parents for school textbooks and sat grinding them—and everywhere tried to show what a genius I am! That I can count to 100, and even know multiplication and division—true all this only after I ransacked the entire math textbook for a month, scribbling in it with a pencil.
And after showed parents and requested for 2nd grade, after two months ransacked that too! With the 3rd grade textbook I decided to pretend it was difficult, but still solved it in half a year. For 4th and further decided not to ask—already stood out enough.
True with Japanese I had a real block—I knew Russian, well not to say badly… but in 9th grade passed it with a C! And that miraculously… and probably out of pity. Ahem, I wasn't a humanities guy in that life, won't be in this one! But still achieved some success!
Learning the language everyone around speaks 24/7 turns out not hard. As a result begged to go to school, and parents glowing with pride managed to push me into first grade at 5 years old, a year early.
And here I learned there's no internet, and no books I need! From which I got sad, and realizing I won't get rid of the genius in math reputation and need to maintain it—made me howl! On one hand—I don't give a fuck about school and local education!
On the other—while I'm all genius and good boy, parents fulfill my little whims more willingly. But if I openly don't give a fuck about studying and become an average dumbo—it will cause sanctions.
Yes and I won't get away from lectures and reproaches then, not that it bothers me much—but it will cause certain inconveniences and deprive some freedom of action. Weighing all pros and cons—decided I didn't stand out for nothing, because I would've learned all this only in a year! And now I learned about the problem already, true how to solve it I don't know.
School, how much pain in that word—classmates didn't like me immediately, true I didn't care about their opinion. And though I couldn't fight, giving someone a black eye doesn't require much brains—so I solved that problem, but became a kind of outcast. From relatively good—local clubs, already planning my future decided to get in shape—don't know how much physical condition is tied to magic, but it won't hurt.
True 5-year-old body imposes limitations, so decided to join the local swimming club—doesn't need strong physical shape, will learn to swim properly and develop lungs! Because with the last two I had problems in previous life, no I could swim!
Doggy style, for 5 minutes, and not far from shore, because panic set in and I started drowning… yes, at almost 30 I couldn't swim, well and lungs… again, almost 30, what lungs? Climbing 2 floors without panting is already a feat, and if my side doesn't hurt it's a holiday. I hate stairs.
But enough of the sad, the search for paths to magic continued, and I decided to change approach! Since no literature was found, worth going experimental! And no, it's not downing half a liter and trying dubious mushrooms—though I don't rule out that development either! I'll be a kind of part-time shaman.
But for now let's leave radical methods of comprehending the world "of MAGIC" for later, and focus on something less radical—meditation, blood magic, necromancy and… mmmmaaah, paper talismans.
If I explain everything in more detail, it doesn't come out that impressive! I've been meditating for a year now at every opportunity, and haven't felt anything yet. Blood magic is too loud a name, sometimes I prick my finger and collect a couple milliliters in a cup and sit straining over it in meditation.
Usually after that I sit doing local calligraphy, the set for which was bought for me because I'm all genius and cutie! I comforted myself remembering Naruto and seals. I already tamed my pride and try to imagine I'm doing, mmm, fuinjutsu?
Seems that's what it was called there, so I imagine myself a ninja and that finally calms me! Of course I don't just sit drawing incomprehensible crap, I always pour my blood into the ink and usually draw the word "barrier." Wanted to draw "explosion" too, but wisely fear for safety.
About necromancy, well… even more modest—once a month I go to the local temple to look at various hanging talismans and try to figure out their secrets. And also stare at graves hoping to feel at least something! No progress yet, so decided to do something more radical—commit my first murder! And try to feel at least something. Yes, yes—I started my path as a maniac!
That's why going from school I turned into the local park, where deep inside, where rarely anyone goes, in the most gorgeous bushes I found—set a primitive trap from rope, box and bread crumbs! Hope at least today someone gets caught—counting on a bird or mouse.
Of course a stray cat would be easier to lure and grab, but I'm a cat person so no. Dogs… I'm afraid of them and somewhat hate, especially their barking. So everything in its time. People though I'm almost 6—but not my weight class, and too much hassle—especially disposing of the body.
But this stage I must pass, later… maybe at 15-16, I need to learn to kill, especially people. Seems I heard there's some inner barrier and fear, and after the first human kill it gets easier—don't know, maybe. Not sure I'll even need experience killing people, but have a feeling yes—will need it!
The world is a complicated thing, and for those who wish to comprehend the abyss of magic… ahem, in short I haven't seen a single book about mages where it went without battles and murders—at least of competitors or for knowledge. So I already mentally prepared myself.
But killing innocents causes some inner protest in me, no if for a cause, then with creaking I'll do it—but just for fun—no, don't think so. Here it's not even about that ephemeral topic that life is sacred, it just seems a meaningless waste of valuable resource to me—or maybe that's how I justify it to myself. Pondering all this, I approach my trap and hear chirping, looking around I don't see people—means first will be a bird. Sighing I crawl into the bushes and look at the box—sturdy one, heavy, wooden. From under which chirping comes.
Here's the moment, I take the stick stuck in the ground and raise it over the box. Yes maybe I should do it with hands to feel life slowly leaving the body, but here immediately 2 points—first I weakly believe in all this lofty and poetic crap, though I'm about to do it. And second, I counted on a bird or some mouse, and they can quite injure me while I strangle them with bare hands, and who knows where they've been—yes, I'm squeamish! Phew, enough delaying the moment—raise the stick a bit higher and strike the sharp end into the gap in the box, hit? Um, seems not…
After a couple minutes
Seems done. Aaaand… I felt nothing except irritation and anger—extremely tenacious creature got caught, especially when I missed and hit probably the wing? After which it thrashed inside the box. I stick the stick back into the ground and carefully lift the box—damn, what a bloody mess. Eh, whatever—hide the box in the bushes and take out a couple bags from my backpack, originally I thought to arrange a mini cemetery here, but couldn't find a sturdy enough shovel, so dropped it. Put a bag on my hand and with it stuff the carcass into another bag, then tie it and stuff everything into another bag—on the way home just throw it in the trash, main thing not to get blood on myself.
Well, I'm Akihiro Yamagi and in a week I'll be 6, today I committed my first murder! Sounds like some maniac's confession, haha. And seriously, I still didn't feel a gram of magic or mysticism, and that saddens me.
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