CHAPTER 7 - Unforeseen Transformation (4)

A couple of days had slipped by, and the nurse who had regularly attended to Ichiro entered his room to check on him, only to let out a horrified scream at the sight of the empty bed. Her shock threatened to overwhelm her, and a wave of dizziness nearly sent her collapsing to the floor.

"Where did he go?" she muttered, her voice tinged with panic as she surveyed the vacant room. Filled with anxiety, she was on the brink of running to seek help when she collided with someone in the hallway.

"Mr. Takahashi, is that you?"

"Oh, Nurse Aoi, you're here early today," he replied with a sheepish smile, guilt coloring his expression.

"Where have you been?"

"I was just taking a walk to get some fresh air."

"Fresh air, my ass. Does getting fresh air mean sweating like you've been caught in a torrential downpour?" Nurse Aoi's exasperation was evident as she voiced her frustration.

Ichiro's attempt at an innocent expression faltered under her scrutiny. Realizing he had no excuses left, he hurried back into his room, preparing himself for the impending lecture.

Seated in the chair, Ichiro half-listened to Nurse Aoi's scolding. His mind, however, was far more occupied with the regimen that the system had designed for him.

'Hmm, some sit-ups and planks after this,' he mused internally, his focus divided.

"Mr. Takahashi, are you even paying attention?" Nurse Aoi's voice pulled him back to the present.

"Yes, I'm sorry," he responded, offering a half-hearted apology.

Nurse Aoi observed him closely, sensing a change in him since his awakening a few weeks prior. "Anyway," she continued, shifting topics, "we received a call from your family. Your uncle will be visiting you soon."

"Oh, I see…" Ichiro's response was neutral, though internally he wasn't thrilled by the news. His family's impending visit didn't fill him with excitement. In fact, he had been contemplating finding his own place after his discharge. The prospect of having his own space, free from the watchful gaze of his family, was appealing to him. It would offer him the peace he needed to concentrate on his personal development and the new skills the system had brought into his life.

However, the prospect of having his own place brought Ichiro face to face with a challenge: the need for finances. Despite his mother's considerable fortune, he had no access to it due to his underage status. Several more months stood between him and his coming of age. Coincidentally, those months also marked his impending graduation from high school. It was during this contemplative period that he made a decision—to enroll in the same academy his mother had attended.

Yet, the prestigious academy demanded more than just desire; it required exceptional abilities. As things stood, he struggled to even complete the distances the system had set for his training.

'Damn you, system. Why must you increase the training intensity every week?'

-One must not grow complacent, or else the progress stagnates.-

Ichiro didn't argue back. He knew the truth in the system's words. If the regimen remained static, he would plateau in his improvement. As much as the training felt like a relentless grind, he acknowledged its necessity. The distances he needed to run were still formidable challenges that pushed the limits of his capabilities.

'Then stop subjecting me to this torture. Is this some kind of cruel punishment?'

The punishment he referred to was his loss of appetite. Attempts to eat left him with the sensation of consuming ancient medicine. The flavor was unpleasant, the aroma worse, and the appearance reminiscent of gelatinous sludge.

-One requires motivation to achieve their goals.-

'Motivation, my ass,' Ichiro muttered under his breath, his frustration evident.

After the nurse had departed, Ichiro decided to take a refreshing shower. Once he had completed his shower, something remarkable happened—he was able to access his stat screen without relying on the system's assistance. Weeks of exploration and questioning had finally borne fruit, revealing that he could access certain functions on his own. He could now recall his memories without enduring the excruciating pain that accompanied them.

"Seems like my physical stats have increased, yet my stamina still hasn't improved," he mused, analyzing the information displayed before him. The screen showed progress, a testament to his dedication and hard work.

Making his way to his bed, he reexamined the regimen for the day. His efforts had borne fruit this time, as he saw that all the tasks had been completed. Fatigue tugged at his muscles, but a spark of satisfaction warmed his chest. Regardless of the intensity of the training, the prospect of being able to savor food again provided ample motivation.

"Mr. Takahashi, good morning," a cheerful voice greeted him as the food tray was delivered to his room.

Ichiro's excitement was palpable, and he was practically bouncing as he hurriedly stepped forward to take the tray from the delivery person.

"I'll take it from here," he declared, his enthusiasm evident.

"You seem quite hungry, Mr. Takahashi. Is it because Nurse Aoi scolded you?" the man inquired with a chuckle.

"Ha-ha, yeah, I suppose so," Ichiro admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Ha-ha, don't take it to heart, Mr. Takahashi. She's just worried about you," the man offered reassuringly.

"Anyways, thanks," Ichiro replied with gratitude, his hunger nearly tangible.

"Enjoy your meal," the man said before leaving him to relish the sustenance before him.

With his appetite keen and his spirits lifted, Ichiro eagerly dug into his meal, savoring each bite. It was a small victory amidst his challenges, a reminder that progress could be both fulfilling and rewarding. As he savored the flavors, his mind wandered to the journey that lay ahead, one that demanded dedication, growth, and the fulfillment of his aspirations.

After finishing his meal, Ichiro found himself struggling to digest the food when the door unexpectedly slid open. His uncle stood in the doorway, his presence casting an uncomfortable atmosphere in the room.

"You seem to be living well," his uncle commented, a tone of mild surprise underlying his words.

"Thank you for your concern, uncle," Ichiro replied, mustering a forced smile even as he sensed the hidden disdain in his uncle's gaze. 'Yeah, right. I know how disappointed you are that I'm still alive.'

The uncle's thoughts raced, perplexed by the contrast between the reports from the shrine and the sight of Ichiro before him. 'How is it possible that he's alive? The people at the shrine said he was gravely wounded, lying cold in his own blood. Yet, here he stands, smiling as if nothing happened.'

"Hmm, I've processed your discharge. You can leave anytime you want," his uncle stated, his words carrying an undertone that Ichiro couldn't quite decipher.

"Thank you, uncle," Ichiro responded, his tone polite but lacking any genuine warmth.

'Such a waste, if only he had died,' his uncle thought privately, his frustration with Ichiro's survival simmering beneath the surface.

Ichiro didn't see his uncle out, and his uncle made no indication that he desired a farewell. He departed without delving into any further discussions about Ichiro's future.

"I guess I'll start packing up," Ichiro mumbled to himself, his thoughts a mix of relief and resignation. He didn't have much to pack; his family's indifference had left him with few belongings to gather. Yet, there were a few exceptions. Some of his mother's friends from the shrine and a couple of family friends who were close to his mother's side had visited him during his stay, bringing with them tokens of encouragement and comfort.

Ichiro began to gather these items, his heart warmed by the kindness these individuals had shown him. Amidst the solitude and familial discord, their gestures had provided glimmers of solace, reminding him that not all ties were broken and that a network of support still existed beyond his immediate family.