Chapter 71: Stagnation Without Progress

This is the story of my brother’s previous life.

It begins in his early elementary school days.

From what I’ve heard, back then he was nothing like the brother I know now. He was what he himself would later call “normal”—a boy who couldn’t fully commit to what he was supposed to do, immature and foolish.

He played as much as he could, relied on his parents just enough, argued with friends and family from time to time, and studied a little.

An utterly ordinary elementary school boy—so ordinary it’s hard to imagine, looking at my brother now.

…This is the story of how that ordinary boy became fatally warped.

Elementary school kids are basically paid to play.

…Well, between the two of us siblings, I was the one who played around completely carefree—but still.

In general, a normal child spends their days going to the park, playing games, and enjoying themselves.

He—my brother’s former self, before he ever became my brother—was one of those normal elementary school kids.

And then, one day, amid those unremarkable routines—

As usual, he made plans to play with his friends after school.

Just like the day before, and the day before that, he ignored his mother’s loud voice, tossed his school backpack into his room, and ran toward the library.

It was a quiet library near the school. That was their usual meeting place.

There were hardly any people there, and even if there were, maybe one or two. The librarian always looked unmotivated, and you wouldn’t get scolded for making a little noise.

In summer, the air conditioning worked. In winter, the heater did. And there were manga you could read to kill time.

For elementary school kids, it was the perfect place to gather.

But that day—

Whether something had happened or not, his friends weren’t there.

Instead, there was a single girl.

She was small, with black hair hanging straight down—probably a little younger than him.

She wasn’t reading a book. She was just sitting on one of the fixed chairs, staring down with a blank expression.

Seeing her face, he spoke to her without thinking.

There was no deep reason. Even with that expressionless face, she looked lonely.

"Hey, if you’re bored, wanna play together?"

The girl slowly raised her face, still blank…

Then gave a small nod.

And so, for the next few hours, he played with a girl whose name he didn’t even know.

They went to the park, swung on the swings, climbed trees, raced each other.

Ordinary things. The same things he always did—and yet, irreplaceable moments.

Little by little, the girl who had been expressionless began to smile.

At first, just a faint lift at the corners of her mouth.

Then soft giggles.

And finally, clutching her stomach as she laughed out loud, clearly unaccustomed to laughing that hard.

Then, in the evening, as they parted—

"Let’s play again!"

"Yeah!"

They made that promise, and the day ended without incident.

---

His time with the nameless girl continued for a month.

Whenever he went to the library after school, she was always there.

She would sit awkwardly, and when she saw him arrive, her face would light up as she jumped to her feet.

They wandered all over town, played all kinds of games, talked about all kinds of things.

That was their everyday life.

One day, he talked about his family.

A strict mother, a completely henpecked father, and an older brother who lived alone and whom he hadn’t seen in a long time.

That was his entire family.

Of them all, his mother was the most troublesome to him.

She was devoted to education, constantly drilling the same words into him.

"Be strong. Be righteous."

At the time, he found it suffocating.

"My old man’s such a loser. The moment Mom snaps at him, he just bows and does whatever she says. Like, doesn’t he have any pride as a man? And Mom’s always nagging—so annoying."

Pouting as he vented from the top of the jungle gym…

The girl, who was struggling to climb up herself, tilted her head slightly.

"...Um, is that normal?"

"Normal? I mean… I guess it might be? But doesn’t it suck?"

"...I see."

"I see, huh…"

To him, it was just a normal family. A lame dad. A noisy mom.

Wondering if it was different for her, he glanced her way—

She was looking up at him with the same blank expression as before, her eyes strangely dazzled.

"...Well, whatever. Anyway—"

Sensing she wasn’t really following, he cut the topic short.

Luckily, when he started talking about games that were popular at school, she immediately smiled again.

Reassured by that, he threw himself into the new topic.

---

…But.

Those days with the girl didn’t last.

There were two reasons for that—one small, one large.

First, his classmates found out he was playing with a girl.

When he arrived at school that morning, his friends greeted him with curious stares.

"You’re hanging out with a girl?"

"Huh?"

"Eww, gross!"

The boys teased him from the start of the day.

She was probably from another school. Someone with a bit of tact would have left it alone—but immature elementary school kids turned it into fuel for curiosity and cruelty.

He later said they teased him relentlessly—"to the point it made him sick of everything."

When you’re young, your world is small. Family and friends are everything.

Losing your place in either is practically exile from your entire world.

He was no exception, and the teasing cut deeper than he expected.

…That was the smaller of the two reasons.

…And then there was the other.

The bigger one.

"...Help me."

Those were the girl’s words.

When he went to the library that day, she said them—and threw herself into his arms.

Of course, he panicked. He was confused.

Her sudden action, yes—but more than that, her face was marked with bluish bruises that definitely hadn’t been there the day before.

"Uh… what? W-what happened?"

The situation was so sudden that his thoughts froze.

My brother says now that he was too young back then, incapable of responding properly in an emergency.

He lacked psychological knowledge, experience—everything.

And so, he made that choice.

"O-okay. I’ll help you. I’ll help."

It was something he should never have promised so lightly.

The girl looked relieved and lifted her face from his chest.

Her eyes slowly filled with tears, and words began to spill from deep in her throat.

"I-I… I mean… my dad—"

"Yeah."

He waited silently for her to continue.

And then—

"My dad… he hits me."

"...What?"

He learned about a world he didn’t know.

A world he was never meant to know.

"He hits me and says it’s my fault! It hadn’t happened for a while… but he came back, and he hit me again!

Mom too—she says it’s my fault… that I get hit because I’m a bad girl…"

"That’s… isn’t that just scolding, or—"

"I didn’t do anything! I followed the rules! I came home before it got dark!

He hits me over and over, saying it’s my fault, that it’s ‘education’!

I told him it hurt! I said stop, again and again!!"

"W-wait, no, that’s—"

He didn’t know.

Because he had lived a modest but happy life, he assumed that was normal.

A strict but protective mother. A timid but kind father.

He took parental love for granted, believing it to be the standard of the world.

But of course…

Even in my brother’s previous life, human malice existed.

He couldn’t fully comprehend the dark, swirling vortex that surrounded her.

"Before, I didn’t hate it… I just had to wait for it to be over…

But lately… when it hurts, your face comes into my head… and I hate it! I’m scared!

Please, help me… help me. I’m begging you… please…"

What he replied, he doesn’t remember—not even faintly.

Before he realized it, he had parted from the girl and returned home.

Having finally come back to his senses, he sat absentmindedly in his room, agonizing over what he should do.

She had asked him to help.

If she had asked, then he felt he had to help her. That was the right thing to do—the action he was supposed to take.

He knew that much. He’d learned it at school, and his mother had taught him the same.

When someone asks for help, you must respond.

But how?

How was he supposed to help her?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know, didn’t know, didn’t know.

What should he do—how should he do it—to save her?

"...M-maybe… talk to Mom and Dad…"

To him at that age, adults were like wizards.

They might not be able to do everything—but they were amazing people who could make many things happen if you told them.

He didn’t understand the logic or the process. He just believed they would bring about results, without fail.

So surely this too… surely they would resolve things for her as well.

…But.

"You don’t even know her name? A small girl with long hair? …No, that’s not enough to narrow it down."

"A girl? …No, we can’t interfere with another family’s way of doing things. You should give up."

His parents didn’t solve it.

A child’s world is small.

Family and friends—those are the only two things in it.

And with just that… he was cornered.

He couldn’t do anything himself. He couldn’t talk to his friends. And his parents wouldn’t fix it…

There was nothing left he could do.

…Of course, he could have gone to the police, or searched for her himself—he could have taken further action.

If you asked whether it was possible or impossible, then without question, it was possible for him to act.

But—

"...It’s probably a joke anyway. Stuff like that doesn’t really happen. And those guys at school are annoying too… I’ll just sleep. Tomorrow I’ll say, ‘Sorry, I couldn’t do it.’"

Distrust toward a world too different from his own.

The lethargy born from losing his place among his friends.

A childlike, baseless certainty that happy days would continue tomorrow.

All of those factors intertwined, stopping him from acting.

And so, he gave up.

He gave up.

---

The next day after school.

He went to the library, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

The next day, and the day after that, and the day after that.

She was nowhere.

And after that—quite literally, for the rest of his life—

He never saw her again.

…However.

A few days later, he saw the news on a local TV program.

"Earlier today, the body of a young girl was discovered in a residential home in the city. Police have arrested the parents on suspicion of abuse—"

The moment his eyes took it in—

He began to change, irreversibly.

---

"...There’s no fixing it. Not the life, not the truth—nothing."

Saying that, my brother buried his head in his hands.

"I never confirmed it. Whether that girl was her.

Her face wasn’t shown on TV, and I never knew her name. So I don’t actually know if it was her.

…I think I was scared to find out. In the end, my previous self never looked deeper into that incident."

And besides—

What could I possibly say to that story?

Condemn him? I couldn’t. For a child, that reaction was understandable.

Pity him? I couldn’t. I’ve never experienced anything that heavy.

Feel compassion? I shouldn’t. That was his experience alone—his regret from a previous life. No one living in this world has the right to intrude on it.

All I could do was stay silent and listen to him speak.

"Even so… even someone like me, who ran away when it mattered and let her die… there’s one thing I learned.

If I don’t reach out when it counts—if I do nothing—then there are things that will be lost.

And if someone asks for something, then you must respond.

I forgot her—the one person I must never forget, the starting point of that lesson… I forgot her again."

My brother fell silent for a moment.

"...Anyway, that was a long detour, but let’s get back to the original topic—why I was throwing up.

I hate that I let her die. And I hate that I’d forgotten about it. That shock messed with me mentally… and while I was fighting off the nausea, I guess I pushed myself too far.

…I’m sorry again, Masaki. I really worried you. And thank you."

With those words, he brought his long, long tale of the past to a close.

---

What should I say?

What could I possibly say to my brother?

What he told me was a tragedy.

A coincidence—an utterly cruel coincidence. Two people who should never have met did meet, and spent time together.

An unhappy beast learned the warmth of fire, and could no longer return to the cold wilderness…

And so, it ended in ruin.

The ignorance and helplessness of children invited an inescapably cold reality.

And even then—what, exactly, am I supposed to say?

"So… that’s your reason for trying so hard, isn’t it?"

The voice I barely managed to squeeze out said that much.

The reason my brother pushes himself so far.

Why he repeats effort to the point of obsession, why he moves the instant someone asks something of him.

Was it all born from that regret—his attempt to ensure the same tragedy never happens again?

When I asked him that, he—looking slightly dazed, perhaps exhausted from talking—closed his eyes and answered softly.

"...Yeah. This time, I…"

That answer—

Wasn’t the positive, forward-looking reason I had imagined.

"...Because I have to save that girl."

The moment I heard that,

I finally understood Horino Ayumu.

"I can’t make the same mistake again."

"I have to save that girl."

He’s been trapped by those feelings all this time.

Ever since he made a mistake in his previous life and fell into despair—over that fact, or over himself—his heart, and the way he lives, have completely stopped moving.

Horino Ayumu’s clock is already broken, frozen in place.

Neither growing nor regressing… Horino Ayumu is cursed by his previous life, eternally stagnant.

My brother can’t be saved.

There are people who are saved by saving others. Our eldest brother is exactly that kind of person.

To save someone is to improve their position or circumstances—and through that, to raise one’s own evaluation. There’s nothing particularly strange about that.

…But my brother is different.

Trapped by the compulsion that he must always try, must always help others, he can only preserve his own worth in a world where everyone is saved.

Such a world almost never exists, and even if it did, it wouldn’t raise his self-worth—it would merely keep it at the bare minimum.

That’s why his self-evaluation can only wander endlessly at rock bottom.

Among all those my brother wants to "save," there is exactly one person missing—himself.

That’s why Horino Ayumu can never save Horino Ayumu.

No matter how much he strives, how hard he works, how much of his life he grinds away… he will never feel fulfilled.

…No.

To be precise, there is a way he could be fulfilled.

If only he could save what he truly wants to save, then perhaps he would be.

But that is absolutely impossible.

Just as my brother said, it’s something irrevocable—something doubly beyond reach.

My brother forgets.

It’s probably a mental defense mechanism.

If he remembered, he might spiral into self-punishment like today—perhaps even harm himself.

Or if it went too far… he might even take his own life.

So, to avoid that, his own heart—his own mind—refuses to "remember."

He turns his eyes away from reality. Twists what was once sound reasoning. Forces the facts themselves into nonexistence.

Leaving behind only the overwhelmingly strong directive that "people must be saved," while forgetting everything about why.

That was the only way he could continue living in a "functional" state.

Like silt sinking to the bottom of a river, he buried and sealed those memories—and forgot them.

He unconsciously restrained himself from remembering.

…But that forgetting is not perfect.

If the river surges, the silt can be dredged back up—just like what happened to my brother today.

A horrific accident involving a small Uma Musume calls death to mind, triggering a chain reaction of resurfacing memories… something like that can happen.

Of course, a torrent doesn’t last forever.

After a night’s sleep and some mental reorganization, my brother may once again forget this truth.

The reason he told me all this…

Was it because he wanted me to tell his tomorrow-self, to make him remember again?

…But surely, this is something that should remain forgotten.

No matter how much he might ask, I don’t think I could ever tell him this.

Because… what would that accomplish?

Knowing it, what could he do? "She" is already dead—and has even passed through reincarnation.

You can’t resurrect the dead now. You can’t even uncover the truth anymore.

If that’s the case, then at the very least—

Isn’t it far better to forget such cold, painful memories and live peacefully?

My brother isn’t looking.

Not at me, not at our eldest brother, not at our father or mother—he isn’t even looking at this world itself.

When he saves someone, it’s nothing more than a compensatory act. What he truly wants to save—what he wanted to save—is far away, and every fundamental guiding principle behind his actions is focused there.

Every movement he makes, every shift of his gaze, every thought he has… is directed solely at "her," who is no longer alive.

He’s hopelessly bound to his previous life.

You could even say he isn’t living this life at all.

His gaze, his way of thinking, his direction—everything is frozen at that single moment in his previous life.

He can’t take even one step forward. He has no will to move forward—and he will never permit himself to do so.

Perhaps that is his own form of atonement.

…For those of us living in this world, it’s nothing but a nuisance.

In short—

"A person trapped by a tragedy in a previous life, unable to change, and never to be saved."

That is probably the truth of the man named Horino Ayumu.

At this point, whether things like previous lives or reincarnation truly exist doesn’t matter anymore.

If he feels it that way, believes it that way, remembers it that way—and has formed his personality on that foundation—then my brother will never waver. He will seek salvation on his own, and never be saved.

A life burdened, from the very moment he was born into this world, with a fate that can never be redeemed.

That is—truly, truly…

So unbearably sad.

And I hate it.

---

That’s why, on that day—

I thought a miracle had happened.

It was the day my brother came home, for the first time in a year and a half.

I didn’t hear the details of what he’d been doing over those eighteen months, but…

Knowing him, he was probably working in a way that shaved years off his life—careful enough not to immediately wreck his health, yet utterly disastrous all the same.

If only he’d come home once, I could have at least scolded him to his face and vented some frustration—but he never did.

…It’s seriously irritating.

With the trainer licensing exam looming in September, I realize now that I was carrying a lot of pent-up stress.

So it wasn’t exactly because of that, but…

I had planned to tell my brother, the moment he came home,

"Quit being a trainer."

The job of a trainer doesn’t suit him. Not in the slightest.

Ranking eighteen people against each other and declaring a single winner?

For someone like my brother—who can’t acknowledge his own worth unless everyone is saved—how heavy a mental burden do you think that is?

Even if he somehow managed to sever that way of thinking for the sake of his charge—pretending not to see things is one of his specialties, so it wouldn’t be impossible.

But in that case, when his trainee loses while carrying the emotions of the other seventeen… or if, God forbid, there’s an accident during a race—

I don’t even want to imagine it, but if his trainee were to die… what would my brother feel then?

…A worst-case scenario I don’t even want to think about could easily become reality.

So I’d decided to tell him.

"I’ll take over as the Horino trainer. You’re not suited for it anyway, so come home and inherit the family headship from Dad."

And yet—

"I’m thinking of quitting as Horino’s trainer."

He said it just like that, out of nowhere, right in front of our father, with no warning at all.

Idiot. Moron. Absolute blockhead.

Thanks to that, I—who was actually on his side—ended up having to smooth things over with Dad.

…But even as I sighed at how, as always, he resembled someone in his complete lack of explanation,

A single question surfaced in my mind.

Why would he say something like that?

"Horino’s trainer" was a phrase my brother used often. It probably didn’t refer to the literal duties of a trainer alone.

More likely, he unconsciously recognized it as "something Father asked of me," and also as "the best way to help someone."

And yet… he was going to abandon it halfway through?

Before arguing about whether he should quit or not, I needed to hear the reason first.

So I mediated between him and our father—who was so shocked he nearly collapsed—and tried to draw the circumstances out of him…

"I want to take charge of Hoshino Wilm, so I want to quit being Horino’s trainer."

Those words shook me.

Shook me enough that I made up an excuse and fled the room, just so I wouldn’t betray my agitation with some awkward movement.

My brother—who had never asked for anything for himself, who had lived only to serve others as penance for his past—

Acted based on his own desire.

I knew exactly what kind of miracle that was.

After all, it was the first time I’d seen anything like it in my more-than-twenty years of life.

"Hoshino Wilm."

The peerless monster my brother trained—an Uma Musume famed as the strongest of the active generation, a runaway racer who turned the impossible into reality.

I don’t know what it was about her that struck a chord with him.

Maybe at first it was something trivial—maybe she just resembled "her," even a little.

But whether it was because they spent so much time together, or because of some turning point I don’t know about…

The existence of the Uma Musume named Hoshino Wilm became something incomparably precious and special to my brother.

More special than friends. More special than family.

A singular, irreplaceable presence.

Special enough that, when weighing Father’s wishes against his own desires, he chose the latter.

…In other words, someone so important that she could, if only for an instant—even slightly—let him step beyond the obsession carried over from his previous life.

There’s no one else.

Hoshino Wilm—my brother’s first trainee Uma Musume.

If it’s her, then maybe…

Maybe she can save my brother.

…Asking something like this of someone younger is probably a failure as an adult.

Adults are supposed to save children. It should never be the other way around.

Even so…

She’s probably the only one who can pull my brother back.

If he can spend time with her, and slowly regain something resembling ordinary human emotion—then maybe…

Thinking that, in September,

I took the trainer’s license I had finally earned and headed to Tracen Academy.

I hate my brother.

He never looks at me. His painfully self-destructive way of living drives me insane. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve hurled accusations at him.

…But even so, he’s family.

An irreplaceable, precious member of my family—someone I can never do without.

So, if there truly was a path by which my brother could be saved, I wanted—at the very least—to support it.

I wanted him to stop living such a painfully self-denying life as soon as possible, and to live in the present… really live it.

That’s why, until then, hoping I could support him even a little, I came to Tracen Academy.

……And yet, right at that very moment—

Just before the year’s biggest race at the end of the season, something like this would happen… not even a fragment of it had crossed my mind.

---

After sorting out everything that had happened, I opened my eyes.

Right now, sitting on the sofa in front of me, is a single Uma Musume.

With both hands resting on her knees, she looks back at me. It’s Hoshino Wilm-san.

She is my brother’s very first assigned Uma Musume, and at the same time, someone who must be an extraordinarily special presence to him.

Once again, I let my thoughts turn to her.

Hoshino Wilm-san.

She’s an unusual Uma Musume—possessing a level of emotional maturity that doesn’t suit her age, with a composed, almost adult-like decisiveness and a notably rational demeanor.

……To be honest, at first I was wary of her.

That odd quality reminded me of my brother, who carries memories of a past life.

I even wondered whether she, too, might be a reincarnator with memories of a previous life, deceiving my brother… such suspicions crossed my mind.

But I’ve already discarded those doubts.

When we went to a café just to talk a little, she showed me… age-appropriate smiles and moments of fluster, a simple, unguarded side of herself.

That was proof that she’s living this life, here and now.

Even if she were a reincarnator, she clearly treasures this lifetime, and she’s surely built genuine trust with my brother.

She looked… yes—happy enough to make me believe that.

Even from their everyday conversations, it’s obvious that there’s a firm bond of trust between my brother and Hoshino Wilm-san.

My brother trusted her as much as he trusts our family—if not more—and Hoshino Wilm-san trusted him just as deeply.

……And that’s exactly why, I suppose.

Now that my brother is unconscious, she’s putting on a brave face—but even so, I can see the strain she can’t fully hide behind that mask.

She’s grieving for my brother’s misfortune as if it were her own, as though she’d lost half of herself.

Seeing that expression, I can’t help but believe.

She will surely cooperate in helping my brother.

For that purpose… I’m sorry, brother, but I’ll make full use of every piece of information I have.

Surely, aside from Hoshino Wilm-san, there’s no one else who can save my brother.

That’s why, no matter what it takes, I have to keep the connection between the two of them intact.

To do that, I need to talk about my brother’s past.

Perhaps it’s a kind of darkness that shouldn’t be told to a student. It might cause her unnecessary pain.

But if I tell her… she’ll surely help.

She should be able to save my brother.

I can’t lie when telling this story.

Her powers of observation are nothing to scoff at. I can’t afford to have her see through a lie and lose her trust.

……There is, however, something I must not tell her.

That my brother is a reincarnator.

If I told that to someone who herself might be suspected of being a reincarnator, I have no idea what kind of repercussions it could cause. Maybe once things had settled down—but in the current state of confusion, it’s not a choice I should make.

Besides, my brother himself told me,

"Keep anything about my past life a secret from my assigned runner."

So, that tragedy that happened to "him" will be framed as something that occurred during elementary school in this life. I’ll have to adjust the surrounding details accordingly.

……Now then.

Let me tell you a story.

A story of a single curse.