Cassino's Ex-Machina

He looked his son in the eyes for the first time in many years through his glasses, staring long enough to make Takashi wonder if it was really the same person.

"The company I worked for just announced bankruptcy, Takashi."

"And what does that have to do with me? Loser."

Touhou finally looked down, his spirit seemed more broken than usual, as if his life had been destroyed.

"...And your mother just left me. Her lawyer just handed me some papers, asking us to give up the house in exchange for us to keep the rest."

The coldness in my stomach was only less intense than my breath at that moment. An interesting fact about when something traumatic happens is that your hands and feet become completely cold. That's what was happening to me. From the deepest part of my being, there was a choice in my consciousness: attack or defense. But one of the choices was obvious. After all, I was never the one to blame for anything.

"What do you mean she asked us to leave the house? You're the useless loser, the one who listened to everything mother told you to buy and do, not to mention your job that never evolved to a higher position because you were always too shy to give orders. God, I'm even sure you knew mother was cheating on you but did nothing about it—"

Takashi grabbed the black suit his father was wearing, crumpling the collar, causing one of the buttons to fly off and land inside his room, the sound muffled by a discarded tissue on the floor.

"—You disgusting dog, did you even try to fight for your things? I'm sure you just accepted everything mother asked you to do."

He punched his father in the face, breaking the glasses that had been on his face in one motion, sending them flying a good distance ahead, making him hit his head on a piece of furniture right behind.

The loud sound of the desk materials falling was deafening, but the thud of what he had just done was much worse.

"No, wait, Dad, I didn't mean to do that, please, I'm sorry—"

A large man suddenly punched Takashi, throwing him into the wall. It was his uncle. The outline of his rings was perfectly drawn on the boy's face on the floor, who was trying to get up quickly.

"Uncle? Wait a minute, I swear—"

The muscular man grabbed him by the throat, applying a military-style chokehold to suppress aggressive individuals, holding his arms behind his back to the point of almost breaking them.

"Enough! You don't have a shred of humanity left in your heart, you ungrateful bastard. Do you know what your father did for you all these years?"

His uncle pulled Takashi toward the front door, throwing him into the rain, scraping his knees.

"—All this time you stayed in this house because your father fought with your mother for one more chance for you. Bastard, you don't even have a job in your entire history, you're over thirty years old and still a damn leech! I came here to help your father with the move and offer you a job for the first time in your life, but I guess I was wrong to think that. I should have treated you like the disgusting man you are. Get out of here, you're no longer welcome in our family. The next time I see you, your ribs will puncture your lungs."

Takashi tried to explain himself, stammering with everything that was happening, but the words just wouldn't come out. It was as if his throat was blocking everything, as if he had lost the ability to speak at that moment.

Then a kick to his back activated his instinct to run. If he didn't get out of there, his uncle would surely kill him. The realization made him slide through the grass in front of the house, ruining and tearing his feet as he tried to gain some traction. Until he managed to, running out of breath as fast as he could, not looking back, afraid of what he might see.

He ran toward his fate in the middle of the street, his vision blurry and off-balance, his lungs burning like flames from hell. He didn't know what to do, and all that was in his heart was anguish and anger.

Those two bastards didn't have the right to do this to him. To ruin his life.

Now, he was walking, his legs had given up long ago, and he didn't know what else to do. Going back home was no longer an option, and the family wouldn't accept him, especially after what he had done.

He needed to drink water, his throat ached, giving a iron taste to his saliva.

Amidst the lights of the neighborhood and the reflections of the puddles of water, he searched for something he could use as protection from the rain. He saw an open gas station, with a convenience store that seemed to still be open.

Looking at the avenue in front of him, sheltered from the rain, he thought aimlessly.

I wish I were better. Not born wrong, not raised broken. But now it was too late, what had been done didn't have any kind of reset button or a way to play again.

Takashi looked around, seeing the people passing by, some with happy children, others together with friends. He had never witnessed both in his life.

But that's not my fault, he started it all! The punch was an accident, he should know better, he's the adult, he's the older one.

What is the meaning of my life, if the primary meaning of a human living in society was something he didn't do, quite the opposite. If he didn't act like a human, could he really be considered one?

I'm a demon…

But suddenly, in front of him, something different from the distant happiness he had seen earlier appeared. Now, it was something much closer and more familiar, an unnecessary aggressiveness showed itself.

A gang of motorcycles seemed to be surrounding a small pickup truck that had stopped due to the heavy rain.

It wasn't his problem, but something told him he might do something. Before he could realize it, his steps were getting closer to the motorcycles, now running, expelling all the breath he had just gotten back.

"Hey, you useless young people for society!"

There were six men. Now close enough to notice, they were holding pipes and pieces of wood in their hands, and inside the truck, an old farmer with graying hair and drooping eyes seemed to be trying to protect himself with words.

The old man looked a lot like my father if he didn't dye his hair. This struck me, maybe that's why I did what I did next. His eyes always looked down, never meeting the faces of the delinquents, his body was hunched, aiming for submission, and he seemed to work harder than he should.

When shouting, the young men looked at him quickly, as if expecting something worrying.

"You piece of shit! I thought you were a cop or something more concerning. It's just a scrawny guy out of breath speaking like my uncle."

Said the man who had been holding the old man's shirt, now letting him go, focusing his attention on the new threat that had appeared.

Drat, they're all wearing helmets… this is a problem. But maybe I can beat their leader, then they might scatter.

The men got off the motorcycles, walking toward Takashi in an aggressive manner, their weapons a little tighter in their hands for a firmer grip, as if they were preparing for a good beating.

But suddenly, something unprecedented happened.

In front of him, the old man suddenly closed the door of his car and stepped on the gas, running off from the scene and even running over one of the motorcycles they had left behind. The motorcycle was thrown, completely crushed and scratched in front of him and the gang members, spilling gasoline all over the place. The old man had a frightened face and stared into Takashi's eyes, as if he wanted to apologize for leaving him behind, but didn't.

"Fuck, my bike! Look what you've done, you bastard!"

Takashi thought maybe he could talk it out, after all, thieves always wanted something. But before he could reason with the remaining sanity of the bikers, a piece of wood connected with his stomach, making him lose his breath and the strength in his legs, falling straight to the ground.

Dialogue might be something certainly used in social games like MMOs to avoid a fight, but the real world was much crueler and drier.

On the ground, he vomited while trying to fill his lungs, which were completely incapacitated.

"Look at this guy, it must be the first time someone's ever hit him."

I'm going to die! I'm definitely going to die here. They're soul-less killers, I don't want to die!

He wanted to apologize, but he didn't even have enough air to blow a strand of hair, so he did everything he could in that moment.

Crawling away, he tried to cross the avenue, his eyes could no longer comprehend the surroundings, the lack of air created an almost astral feeling as if the gates of hell were calling him on his last breath of life.

That's when the worst happened.

A blinding light, a deafening honking sound. People screamed senseless phrases and the ground was cold, wet, and painful.

After that, he couldn't tell what was the ground and what was the sky. A huge impact on his body, producing a pain he had never known, but so sudden that he didn't even feel it.

A truck threw flesh into the air, bloodied and lifeless. Takashi had been run over.

In the last moment of his vision, he saw the light, he felt everything turning into nothing. Then, his eyes closed like curtains of an opera, intensifying his fate in the celestial doors of heaven or the eternal damnation of hell.

Or that's what was supposed to happen.

Instead, from the light, came his cry of agony, higher, louder, and more hateful than usual. But his ears were severely changed to differ.

It was then that he heard voices and a warm embrace that made his skin burn with love. In front of his eyes, he saw people staring at him, and even worse, their chubby, fragile baby arms. He had been reincarnated.