I Was Kidnapped by a Book and Ended Up Saving the World - Chapter 9

“Don’t be afraid.” Oda Sakunosuke adjusted his hold on him, carrying the boy higher in his arms. Although they had taken a different path, he still didn’t seem to catch the meaning behind Suzuki Yuu’s earlier words.

The child in his arms clung tightly to Oda’s collar, suddenly whispering:
“A few days ago, we came here.”

Oda’s steps faltered for a moment. The twisted buildings here did indeed show faint traces from before, but Suzuki Yuu couldn’t even see them—how was he able to identify buildings nearly swallowed up by flesh and bl00d?

Perhaps it was simply that a blind child’s other senses were sharper. Oda didn’t dwell on it.

He only nodded and said:
“Lately, a lot of mafia members have gone missing. They must have all come through here.”

Oda knew this world harbored cursed spirits—he had encountered them long ago, but never of this caliber. At this moment he was still groping for a way to respond.

He understood that only sorcerers could exorcise curses, so he never intended to rush forward and settle things directly. All he wanted was to find a way out, carrying the child in his arms.

Like headless flies, the two wandered aimlessly through the maze of paths. Occasionally, just before Oda was about to step into one corridor, Suzuki Yuu would quietly say:
“Let’s take another way.”

And every time, Oda would change direction without a word.

Originally, Suzuki Yuu had been waiting for a chance to admit—at least in vague terms—that he could foresee deaths a few hours into the future. He had no plan to reveal everything, only to confess he could “sense danger” if questioned.

But Oda carried him for nearly half an hour and never asked a single thing.

As they walked, Yuu was sometimes poked by the gun holster under Oda’s arm. The short child silently shifted positions in Oda’s arms. Oda’s grip was remarkably steady—even after so long, he showed no sign of fatigue.

Next time Yuu spoke, Oda once again naturally changed direction, but the child lying against him could no longer keep quiet. He asked softly:
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I keep telling you not to go that way?”

Maybe it was the influence of his small body—Yuu puffed out his cheeks as he asked, unaware how childishly he looked.

“Do you want to tell me?” In the lightless, bl00d-soaked tunnels, Oda left the choice entirely in Yuu’s hands.

The boy hesitated at the question, shifting uneasily in his arms, even his breathing turning lighter. After a long silence, he whispered:
“I have an ability… it lets me sense danger.”

Now Oda was genuinely a little surprised. He hadn’t expected the child he picked up in the middle of a battlefield to possess an ability.

In Yokohama, such people were rare, but nearly every one of them could find a place in some organization or another.

Suddenly Oda understood Yuu’s extraordinary talent for disguise and self-defense. He had already noticed the thin, sharp pieces of metal hidden up the boy’s sleeve, but had chosen not to comment.

Trained to hide and protect himself, clinging to his ability, this child had wandered alone into a battlefield—like someone who had long since given up hope of ever being reclaimed by family.

Countless words formed in Oda’s mind, and he realized Yuu must have suffered far more than he had imagined. He said nothing, only tightened his embrace.

The moment Yuu finished speaking, he found himself crushed in a fierce hug. The warmth made it hard to breathe—he struggled to wriggle free, but the strength of a child couldn’t compare to an adult, especially when Oda suddenly tightened his hold.

“I’m not used to being hugged like this,” Yuu muttered.

His cheeks flushed—part embarrassment, part shame. Who would have thought a day would come when he couldn’t even break free from someone’s arms, forced to speak in this pleading tone?

But hearing this, Oda only loosened his grip slightly, without letting go. His chest was like a warm furnace, and Yuu, thinly dressed, found himself leaning into it almost instinctively.

“Are you happy with the shopkeeper and the children?” Oda asked in a casual, almost domestic way.

Though the sudden shift of topic confused him, Yuu still answered:
“Yes, I feel very happy.”

In truth, his time resting with Oda was the happiest he’d felt in a long while. No endless work, no crises to solve. As a five- or six-year-old foster child, he didn’t even have to worry about food or a place to sleep. He could sleep late and spend mornings playing with toddlers learning to speak.

“That’s good.” Oda nodded. “I won’t tell anyone about this. You can keep being just a normal child.”

This man truly had no interest in his ability—and his first thought was to protect his secret. Yuu tilted his head as if to look at Oda, but blind as he was, he couldn’t see him, and lowered his head again.

Though he’d gotten a basic sense of Oda these past two days, the man still surprised him. Yuu thought: He really is an assassin… but he doesn’t kill, and he’s a genuinely good man. Flawlessly good, in fact.

An interesting man—in stories and in reality alike. No wonder he was the protagonist of that strange book.

There were two other unreadable books on the shelf, blurry and indistinct. Because of Oda, Yuu even felt some faint anticipation toward the other protagonists—hoping they’d be just as intriguing.

Oda halted. Looking around, he noticed the mark he had made earlier—but he’d been walking in a straight line all this time.

His gaze moved to the writhing walls of flesh. If he wasn’t mistaken, the paths themselves were shifting as he walked.

That meant his markings were useless.

Yuu poked his head out of Oda’s arms, messy black hair framing his face, the bandages still covering his cheeks, making him look frail and pitiful.
“Why’d you stop?”

“The road is changing,” Oda said, eyes on the slowly pulsating red walls.

“I carved a mark on a stone slab… and now I’ve seen the same slab again.” The bl00d-red slab stood out in the scarlet earth, his black mark jarringly clear.

“Stone slab?” Yuu instantly recalled the place he’d hidden before.

At that same moment, Mizutani Hikaru stood before the slab in the real world. Bright sunlight poured down, bathing everything in golden light.

It was only an ordinary slab, riddled with bullet holes and sword marks, scarred by war.

Hikaru studied it quietly. Nakahara Chuuya was still trying to force entry into the domain with no success, while Dazai lounged atop a wall, legs dangling lazily, looking almost at ease.

Hikaru placed his warm palm on the battered stone. If the real world and the domain overlapped, he should have been standing right over his vest’s position. But those outside couldn’t enter, and those inside had no way of knowing what happened outside.

Drawing his gun, Hikaru clicked off the safety and fired three calm shots at the slab.

Bullets tore through the air, striking stone—and in the next instant, a strange wave erupted before him. Scarlet light and crushing cursed energy engulfed him.

His boots sank into sticky crimson mire. The warm sunlit world vanished—before him loomed pulsating walls of flesh and bl00d, drenched in shades of red. Only two figures stood not far ahead.

He holstered his gun and turned.

Oda Sakunosuke clutched the boy tightly, eyes sharp with wary alertness.

Hikaru’s gaze slid from his face to the child in his arms. Frail as a kitten, with messy black hair, a bandaged cheek, and eyes as blue and clear as a glacier.

So—that’s what his vest looked like. Just a fragile child. Hikaru looked away, addressing Oda instead:
“I was ordered by the Boss to investigate the missing mafia members.”

Then, frowning, he asked:
“…Why is there a child here?”

Oda answered seriously:
“This is my adopted son. I don’t know why, but he was dragged into this place as well.”

Hikaru nodded without comment.

“Do you know the way out?” Oda asked. “I’ve been walking half an hour and haven’t found one.”

Hikaru was silent a moment, then said:
“Chuuya-san and Dazai-san are here too. They may have a way.”

Though abilities barely worked on curses, and couldn’t exorcise them, their combat power far outstripped his own half-baked cursed energy.

Oda set the boy down, naturally taking his hand.

Hikaru turned his head away from the touching father-son-like scene.

“Do you know where the other mafia members are?” he asked. From his vest’s perspective, he already knew they were near the unformed special-grade curse. But to avoid suspicion, he asked anyway.

When Oda shook his head, Hikaru lowered his gaze.
“I see… Maybe the entry point was random. We should regroup with the others, then—”

A deafening boom! ripped through the tunnels, followed by shrill howls. Even from a distance, the sheer scale of the commotion was clear.

Hikaru’s eyes snapped toward the sound. That solved the problem of finding them—the cries gave their location away.

He ran a few steps, then turned back:
“Keep the child away from that area. Don’t let him get caught up.”

He didn’t yet know Oda’s exact strength, but he knew for sure his vest was fragile. Still, Oda would never let Suzuki Yuu come to harm.

Leaving those words, Hikaru bolted forward faster than a rabbit, vanishing into the depths.

The flesh walls twisted even faster than before, reshaping the path in an instant. When Hikaru thought to turn back, a massive slab of meat was suddenly sheared away.

“Over here!” Chuuya’s clear voice rang out.

Without hesitation, Hikaru leapt toward it. In midair, falling rubble was caught by unseen gravity, cushioning his descent.

He landed in the very scene he’d glimpsed in the monochrome visions. Overhead hung a massive cocoon of flesh.

Around it lay scattered mafia members—pale, weak, barely able to speak, as if drained of life.

From above writhed vast bl00d-formed tentacles, lashing wildly at the boy floating in the air.

Nakahara Chuuya’s auburn hair streamed around him, cobalt eyes blazing like blue fire, daring none to meet his gaze.

The crimson cocoon pulsed like a heart, unleashing high-pitched shrieks. Aside from its tentacles, it seemed to have no other means of attack—but their sheer number made them terrifying.

Dazai tilted his head up, silent eyes fixed on the cocoon.

Hikaru lifted his gun, painfully aware of his meager cursed energy. If the curse’s power was a lake, his was a mere bucket—an absurd difference. The thought made him chuckle faintly, but he did not lower his weapon.

Their rough plan had been that after Chuuya and Dazai attacked, he would strike last—since only he, with cursed energy, had even a chance of exorcising it.

He stared at the enormous cocoon, ten meters tall. Soon, he would give it everything he had, successful or not.

Chuuya’s onslaught only drew louder shrieks. The unformed special-grade curse writhed in fury, the crimson walls convulsing. The ground itself threatened to collapse. Oda appeared, clutching Yuu, forced to leap down as their former refuge was consumed by flesh.

Even if he’d wanted to stay out of the fray, it was impossible now—they were swept into the battle.

Chuuya moved faster, breaking tentacles with crushing force. Gathering rubble into a massive sphere, he hurled it at the cocoon.

But the cocoon’s hide was unnaturally tough—like steel. The impact hardly harmed it, and the shrieks only grew, nearly shattering eardrums.

Tentacles whipped down with indiscriminate violence. Hikaru’s bullets only forced them back briefly.

In the storm of strikes, Oda moved like a bird, clutching Yuu yet dodging with uncanny precision—as if he knew the tentacles’ paths in advance.

Chuuya abandoned drawn-out fighting. After another massive throw, Dazai sprang onto the rubble, agile as a cat, climbing swiftly.

As Chuuya smashed aside another tentacle, he seized Dazai’s arm, spinning and flinging him upward—straight toward the cocoon.

The instant Dazai’s hand touched it, the shrieks ceased.

To Hikaru’s astonishment, the pulsating cocoon shrank to half its size. Its howl returned louder than ever, the ground heaving, the walls closing in, as if it were in desperate struggle.

Hikaru felt his body rising uncontrollably, along with Chuuya. In that suspended instant, time itself seemed to stop.

He gathered every drop of cursed energy into his fist. Small as it was, he poured in his whole being. The world slowed, and the cocoon came into crystal focus.

At the same time, Yuu’s perspective filled with countless tentacles, countless futures of death overlapping—Oda’s movements replayed in endless variations.

In each shifting vision, Yuu realized in shock: Oda’s ability was also foresight.

Oda himself had never imagined such a thing. Yet as the futures unfolded, he only held the boy tighter.

Their combined energies surged, straining to contain themselves. When Hikaru’s fist struck the cocoon, the balance shattered—an explosion thundered through all.

White light engulfed everything. Hikaru, drained, was swept away by the shockwave like a kite. Bl00d blurred his vision.

What a pity, he thought. After all their effort, they still couldn’t exorcise it. In that instant of blinding light, he saw the special-grade curse cease all attacks, wrapping itself tightly in layer upon layer of flesh.

And then—the sun returned.

Oda rolled across the ground, shielding Yuu, absorbing most of the impact. Mafia members reappeared on the ground, freed.

As Hikaru plummeted, gravity caught him again, returning him gently.

“You alright?” Chuuya’s voice rang out. Producing a bandage from nowhere, he swiftly wrapped it around Hikaru’s head.

“I’m fine,” Hikaru murmured, pressing the bandage gingerly.

Even after such a fight, Chuuya looked exhilarated, more energized than before. Clapping Hikaru on the shoulder, he grinned:
“Not bad, that move of yours.”

Hikaru half-closed his eyes. It seemed Chuuya had credited the explosive synergy of Oda and Yuu’s abilities to him.

He only frowned slightly, saying:
“But it wasn’t enough. At the last moment, it threw us all out. It’s smaller now, but that thing’s still alive.”

At least they’d retrieved the missing mafia members. The Boss wouldn’t complain.

As they rested, Dazai’s gaze slid silently—from Oda, to the young man with fresh bandages on his head.