I Made a Dum Dum

Soo yeah, because I'm a dum dum man. I forgot to make the first chapter of Tenkomori in this blog.

Soo... here it is...

Chapter 1. I Have a Home to Go Back to

As soon as my toes catch the crosswalk, the light turns green.

Three, two, one…….

This is the point of the race.

The next step, 152 meters ahead, is the most difficult part of the course: the push-button signal.

Calculating my stride, I look at the sidewalk ahead.

The only person in sight is an old woman with a cane.

Thank God.

If I had to push the button myself, that would be the end of my challenge for the day.

Now I just have to decide when to push the button.

Depending on that, I need to adjust my speed.

Slow is out of the question, and even if I’m fast, I’ll be forced to slow down.

After hundreds of attempts, keeping the speed constant has proven to be the fastest.

My throat rumbled involuntarily.

But when she reaches the signal, the old woman stops moving.

She looks at the line of cars and stands there like a statue.

This is not good. She doesn’t know it’s a push-button system.

So far, my steps have been perfect.

I had ducked my classmates, passed through the waves of rivals, and passed through the traffic lights perfectly.

It was definitely a new section time. I could have set a new record.

I’m the ace of the homecoming club.

Every day for the past year and a few months since I entered high school has been a battle against the record.

There were times when I was stopped by the teacher just before I left the classroom. I was almost involved in a collision between two bicycles right in front of me. There were times when I ran into the station after setting a new record in a section, but the train was delayed due to electrical problems.

But no matter what obstacles stood in my way, I never faltered. I never gave up.

These are the words of our great predecessors, and I will keep them in my heart.

Yes, I have a home to go back to.

The old woman, still oblivious to the push button, just stared at the passing car.

Her back bent like a boomerang, she looked like an ascetic trying to do hard work.

It looked so good that it reminded me of an ink painting.

But now was not the time for debauchery.

Should I call out loudly?

I don’t know. There’s so much traffic around here, I don’t think my voice will be heard.

This is the government’s fault. Why don’t they put up clear signs?

I’ll call them to protest when I get home.

As I pondered, the limit was approaching.

I was now maintaining my optimal speed. If I finish at this rate, I can beat my time by quite a bit, but if I cross the line, my new record will be gone.

Besides, even if my voice could reach them, would they immediately understand my appeal?

After all, I was dealing with a monk.

The limit might be closer than I imagined.

Ten more steps.

When I get to that point, I’ll shout to the old woman.

The signal won’t change even if you wait for it! I’m begging you.

Please, notice me. If not, someone help me.

As if my wish had reached the gods, a new figure appeared, dashing about.

It was a housewife.

A bulging shopping bag in the front basket, a preschooler in the back car seat.

She looked like an armored car.

The housewife pressed the button without hesitation, probably because she didn’t want to waste time.

Without thinking, I clenched my fist.

Well done, unnamed housewife. Perfect timing.

Suppressing my anger, I adjusted my stride.

If I could run, I wouldn’t feel this way, but alas, it is strictly forbidden.

The sidewalks are full of dangers, and runners can be both victims and perpetrators. There is a reason why we are told not to run in the hallways at school.

However, it depends on the course.

The course for the Kyoto shrine and temple tour was set on the assumption that it would be impossible to reach the goal of the inn by dinner.

The course was so difficult that many of my fellow home comers had abandoned the course and jumped into traffic.

I paid utmost attention to all the dangers, and for the first time in my life, I ran all the way to the goal. I’ve never felt the depth of the journey home as I did then.

As if they had been waiting for my arrival, the light turned green.

The old woman, the housewife, and I stepped out in unison.

The housewife led the way, running on the power of electricity.

As I watched her go, my eyes met those of a preschooler in a car seat.

The child looked at me as I moved away and smiled fearlessly.

I wondered if he was also fighting against something.

I gave a heartfelt shout to the little warrior and changed my pace.

There were only two traffic lights left before the station.

This push-button signal is the parent signal, and the other two are linked child signals.

I was close to completion.

The time when the train would arrive was perfect.

The only remaining obstacles are obstacles from side streets and train delays.

I glance at the curve mirrors, watching for bicycles or children jumping out of the way.

The driveway is particularly dangerous. The low volume of traffic means that users are not as vigilant as they should be.

There were many times when we almost collided.

Fortunately, we made it through the first child traffic light without much interference.

The second traffic light was right in front of us, and once we crossed it, it was a straight shot to the station.

There were no passersby, just a series of warped houses in the curved mirrors.

I glance behind me, but I don’t see any cars, or even a bicycle rushing towards me.

I can do it. It’s been a while since I’ve broken a record.

But I warn myself.

This is just a passing point. If I get carried away here, I’ll be caught flat-footed.

The moment I step into my house is the moment I get home.

I cross the second traffic light with perfect timing.

After passing a few trees, the station platform came into view.

At the ticket gate, people are flowing as usual. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.

Everything was fine.

I guess I shouldn’t have thought so.

I caught a small shadow at the corner of the roadway, out of the direction I was going.

I casually check it out and open my eyes.

A puppy.

In here? What a classic drama!

With a dumbfounded expression, the puppy looks around, yawns, and sits down in the driveway.

There is a sidewalk across the street. If he knew it was dangerous, he would move …….

At that moment, a dull vibration shook its feet.

It was a large truck.

It appeared from the corner in front of the station, and as soon as it entered a straight line, it increased its speed as if it were going to make a move.

It was clearly faster than the legal speed limit.

The vibration and pressure made the puppy stiffen, tail curl.

I can’t do this anymore.

There’s no way he can escape on his own.

He could still be saved, but then the new record would be lost.

In the first place, the height of the large truck is too high.

If the puppy didn’t get caught in the tires, it wouldn’t die.

But what would happen if he died?

Can I truly be happy about such a new record?

After a moment’s hesitation, I clicked my tongue and jumped over the fence.

It is bad luck today.

This was another trip home, and that’s why it was worth the challenge.

At the very least, I stop the timer in my mind. It should be a record for future reference.

Thinking about the battle to come tomorrow, I sprint towards the puppy.

I’m going to secure it and jump into the sidewalk on the other side.

There’s plenty of room to do that.

But even though I jumped out of the way, the truck didn’t slow down.

On the contrary, it accelerates further.

When I looked at the driver’s seat in surprise, I saw that he had a cell phone in his hand and was stirring a plastic bottle while paying attention to the sky.

How dexterous, man!　What happened to the steering wheel?

Damn, that was completely unexpected. I don’t know if I can escape on my own.

I felt pressure all over my body.

Suddenly, all my thoughts disappear from my mind.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

But my body moves.

At least to the sidewalk.

I reach out with my hand and almost touch the puppy with my fingertips.

The puppy let out mew and disappeared.

“What?”

My voice stopped.

That was the last thing I said to him.

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