Placing Yoko's mother on the floor, Kazuya straightened up and looked around the room. It was quite messy: Women's clothing scattered everywhere, including many intimate items. On a small square table, a few beer cans and leftover takeout boxes were scattered. The room was messy but not very dirty. It was clear someone had been consistently cleaning up.
Yoko's mother lying on the ground perhaps found the direct light too bright. She covered her eyes with one hand for a while, then glanced around in confusion. It seemed like she noticed Kazuya and grabbed him, saying incoherently, "Hey, handsome boy, is this your home?"
Kazuya broke free from her grasp, not bothering with a drunkard like her, "Mrs. Shirashi, this is your home."
"Call me Yumi." She continued speaking while groping around, finally reaching into the front of her chest and pulling out a crumpled business card. In the process, she tore open the originally wide neckline, revealing a patch of white and a hint of dark red, along with a few crumpled banknotes. She handed the card to Kazuya, "Take care of my business!"
Kazuya glanced at the business card. It displayed the name "Yumi" and a phone number on the front,—no surname, probably an alias. On the back, there was an address: 50 Yanagi-cho, XX Street, XX District, Nagoya.
Although Kazuya had recently arrived in Japan, judging by the style and address, he could guess that Yoko's mother was most likely a night club hostess, and not belonging to the upscale establishments.
As he was looking at the card, Yoko came over with a basin and towel, her expression uneasy as she looked at her mother, who was a mess of drunkenness and disheveled clothes. "Sorry, Onisan... I need to help my mom clean. Could you...?"
Her mother, now resembling someone soaked in pig trough water, indeed needed a good cleaning. However, Kazuya sensed that Yoko didn't want him to stay and witness her unforunate to avoid further damage to her self-esteem. He didn't mind being asked to leave and felt even more sympathetic.
Pretending as if nothing had happened, as if everything was entirely ordinary, "I'm going back... Goodbye, Yoko."
"Goodbye, Onisan." Yoko bowed deeply, never lifting her head to look at Kazuya's face.
Kazuya pat her small head to comfort her. He turned around and left. Before closing the door, he saw Yoko kneeling next to her mother, wringing out a towel. Under the harsh, pale light, her body seemed slightly hunched, burdened with something invisible to others.
Back in his own apartment, he closed the door and shook his head gently—everyone had their own hardships. His childhood had been a bit tough, and it seemed that Yoko hadn't fared much better.
He sighed a few times, sniffed his own scent and felt smelly. He changed into another casual clothes and intended to wash away the vomit. However, he heard the door rustling as if someone was trying to open it. He opened the door and found Toratoro standing there, tilting its head and wagging its tail, looking up at him with a pleasing expression.
Kazuya and Toratoro locked eyes for a moment. He shooed it away, "You can't stay here. Go out to the street." His room was just palm-sized, and even he found it cramped. He had no place to accommodate this dog. Besides, it was hard to say whether wild dogs carried fleas.
Toratoro seemed to understand his words. It drooped tail and turned to walk toward the stairs. Its small figure looked unexpectedly forlorn. After taking a few steps, it turned back, gazing at Kazuya with pitiful dog eyes. It seemed to hope he would change his mind, but seeing Kazuya's stern expression, it lowered its head again, whimpered, and staggered away with its tail between its legs.
Seeing this dog reminded Kazuya of Yoko just now, and it seemed wrong to drive it onto the street. He called out, "Hey!"
Toratoro froze for a moment, and then, with joy in its eyes, turned around and rushed into the room. But it turned too sharply and slipped. It was unconcerned and tumbled, finally rushing into the room. It panted with its tongue out at the entrance and looked up at Kazuya with a fawning expression.
Feeling a bit regretful for being too soft-hearted, Kazuya gave it a light kick, "Go to the bathroom and take a bath. If you dare to pee or poop in the house, I'll kick you out. Understand?"
...
The alarm clock rang at 5 in the morning. Kazuya reluctantly suppressed the urge to smash the alarm clock, sitting up in bed. There was no need to oversleep: too much sleep would only result in a headache. Instead of sleeping, he preferred to do other things during this time. When tired, he could find a way to get some deep sleep and rest.
Sleeping less might seem simple, just requiring clear goals and strong willpower. However, the greatest enemy in life is laziness. Learning is difficult, and many people refuse to endure that hardship. Life is also difficult, but many can endure that hardship because one is active option while the other is passive. This leads to a situation where people can't tolerate the hardship of learning but can tolerate the hardships of life.
Kazuya struggled to neatly fold the quilt and put it back in the closet. Probably because of yesterday's excessive exercise, he felt soreness in his thighs, arms, wrists, fingers, and neck. He walked with heavy steps to the bathroom and washed his face with cold water to wake himself up.
Toratoro was scraping against the edge of a box excitedly, wagging its tail and watching him. Although Kazuya felt a bit soft-hearted, he didn't himself the best choice for a pet owner. He quickly made a makeshift doghouse out of a cardboard box, lined it with some old newspapers, and threw the dog in, locking it in the bathroom last night. He paid little attention to the dog's feelings.
He dried his face only the drowsiness completely disappeared. Checking the cardboard box, he found that the dog had been surprisingly sensible, not soiling the place. He nodded and beckoned to Toratoro, "Let's go. We're heading out."
Toratoro immediately wriggled out from theopening of the cardboard box, happily sticking close to Kazuya. With a sword bag on his back and earphones in place, he listened to an English lesson, softly repeating as he headed out for a run.
Ever since he arrived in this world, he made it a routine to go jogging every morning. Now, he had also taken up kendo practice. So he planned to incorporate 'soburi' into his morning run. Of course, he wouldn't let his mind idle during the run. He would use the time to gain experience points for his English skill, aiming for a higher score in exams.
He headed straight to a small park near the apartment, and Toratoro followed happily with its short legs. They jogged around the park, covering a few kms before stopping. Turning around, he saw Toratoro still following. Kazuya clicked his tongue, wondering if he should chase away this puppy. He had trouble taking care of himself at present, let alone a pet. He carefully observed Toratoro, finding it quite amusing-looking. It seemed to have some Shiba ancestry, with a grin that looked like a constant smile. However, its mixed lineage included something like an Akita, with fluffy fur resembling a large fox. Although its ears were triangular, they drooped, suggesting characteristics of another breed. In general, its lineage was too mixed to be valuable. No wonder it ended up as a stray on the streets.
After a brief contemplation, he pointed at a tree and ordered, "Dig a hole." Toratoro looked at the tree, hesitated for a moment, lifted a hind leg, and sprinkled a few drops of urine. Then it turned its head, looking at Kazuya, seemingly waiting for praise.
Kazuya sighed, pointed at another tree. He kicked the ground a few times with his foot and repeated the order, "Dig a hole."
This time, Toratoro seemed to understand. It approached the spot where Kazuya had kicked and vigorously scratched the ground with its two front paws, spraying soil and decomposed leaves around. In a moment, it dug a hole. It turned back to await praise.
"Now, poop!" Toratoro tilted its head, not understanding. Kazuya was speechless for a moment. He couldn't drop his pants and showed it how to do.
After some effort, Toratoro finally knew what he ordered and even learned to bury his shit. Kazuya watched it and thought it was acceptable. The dog seemed quite clever. As for food, he decided to give it whatever he had left over.
Ignoring the dog, he picked up his bamboo sword and started practicing precision. Now at level 5, gaining experience was becoming more challenging.
Soburi involved both exertion and recovery. Stable recovery was even more strenuous than exertion. Striking down had the advantage of gravity, but bringing the sword back required resisting inertia. Today's training was far less effective than the previous night, and his body couldn't bear it even after a full night's recovery. Soon, he felt his arms growing numb and out of control. The bamboo sword slipped from his hands, twirled in the air, and landed far away in the bushes.
Toratoro, squatting nearby, suddenly rushed out, buried its head in the bushes. After a while, it came back and dragged the bamboo sword behind it. It seemed to enjoy the process, thinking that Kazuya was playing a game with it.
Kazuya patted its dog head. It panted happily, rubbing its head against his hand. Looking at its behavior, he laugh and scold, "I didn't expect you to be useful for something! Let's go, it's time to eat."
Eat? Toratoro's eyes instantly lit up, drool dripping down. Kazuya gave it a disapproving look, "I'll give you what's left over from my meal. Don't expect me to spend money on you."