The birds began to sing.
Genzo lay on the porch of his house, curled up in an uncomfortable position. The morning sun beat straight into his face, but even it seemed dim and angry. His whole body ached. His mouth was dry as sandpaper, and dried drool crusted his chin. The elbow of his right arm was broken open and bleeding, the fresh scab already cracked and oozing a little blood. His clothes were soaked with dirt, dust, and yesterday's alcohol fumes.
He slowly opened his eyes. The world swayed and floated. For several seconds Genzo simply stared at the porch ceiling, trying to understand where he was. His head was splitting as if someone were hammering on his temples.
"Fuck…" he breathed out hoarsely.
Slowly, with a painful groan, he pushed himself up on his elbows. His head spun so badly that he had to close his eyes and just breathe for a few seconds. When the world stopped spinning, Genzo looked around. He was lying on his own porch. An empty vodka bottle lay nearby, and another, still half-full, stood against the wall. Fragments of yesterday's memories returned: loud voices, laughter, someone slapping him on the shoulder, glasses that kept being refilled…
He had drunk too much.
Genzo struggled to his feet, swaying. He took a step and knocked his elbow against a flower vase that stood on the old wooden table by the door. The vase fell and shattered loudly into pieces. Shards scattered across the porch.
"God damn it…" he cursed tiredly, not even trying to pick up the fragments.
He pushed the door and entered the house. Inside it was quiet and dim. A large suitcase, already packed, stood on the floor in the hallway. Genzo stopped and stared at it for a long time. Today he was leaving. The tickets were already bought. A new city, new fights, a new life, or at least an attempt to start one.
He walked into the room, heavily dropped onto the bed and lay down without taking off his shoes. Thirty minutes passed. Genzo finally forced himself to get up, changed into clean clothes, and washed his face with cold water. His head was still buzzing, but at least his body no longer felt like it belonged to someone else. He sat by the window, looking outside, and thought.
"Maybe I really can make money there. Underground fights… the pay is huge if you survive. One good fight and you don't have to think about money for a month. The main thing is not to die in the first pit."
Genzo lay back down on the bed, put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He needed to rest until nightfall. There were still a few hours left before departure, and he wanted to spend them in silence, without thoughts, without memories of yesterday, without the pain in his broken elbow, and without the heavy weight on his soul.
Outside the window the wind rustled quietly. Somewhere in the distance crows cawed. Genzo lay motionless, listening to his heart slowly beating in his temples. One single thought kept spinning in his head:
"Maybe it'll be different there… Maybe there I'll finally stop feeling like such an… idiot."
But even he himself didn't believe those words.