The sun shone in the morning, plants blossoming to soak up the light; leaves swayed as a cold breeze whistled through the branches.
By the side of the gravel road, a carriage remained overturned, its side covered in fresh blood. Beside it, a small, dark shadow stirred, slowly opening its eyes as consciousness returned.
Gantz stretched his stiff limbs. The sunlight bothered his eyes. His body no longer ached from his past wounds, but he felt as though he were extremely weak. His shirt was torn in half, hanging off only one shoulder; his trousers now looked like shorts, with one of the legs ripped away.
He stood up with difficulty. Amidst the silence, he heard a sound like a grunt near the carriage. Moving like an old man, with a hunched back and swinging arms, he approached the source of the noise.
A "piece of a man" would be the best description for what was left of Leonardo. From the waist down, he was little more than a stump on the right side; one arm was missing, and his mouth hung wide open, having been dislocated and torn at the side. Yet, he was still alive. His chest rose and fell, and Gantz stood there, watching that rise and fall for a time before turning toward the edge of the road to pick the heaviest rock he could lift. Walking with even greater effort, he approached and waited until those lost blue eyes locked onto his own.
Silence seemed to shroud the entire area—just two vacant stares penetrating each other. In a futile attempt, Leonardo tried to strike Gantz with the sword he still held firmly, but his movement was easily stopped by Gantz's foot, which kicked the weapon away.
He raised the stone as high as he could. His body trembled with the effort, but he waited—waited until the blue eyes shifted from the stone back to his own. An expression of pure hatred was all Leonardo could muster before the stone crashed into his head and recoiled, bouncing out of Gantz's hands and landing beside them.
Leonardo would have smiled if he could, but his eyes said it all: an expression of mockery. Gantz seized the stone and struck again. This time, the stone did not bounce. A speck of blood appeared on Leonardo's forehead. He continued to strike blow after blow until his arms lost their strength. The forehead was half-caved in, but that mocking look still lingered on the face. Gantz raised the stone one last time, closing his eyes as he brought it down with everything he had.
The sound of a smashing watermelon echoed as it sank into the blood-soaked ground. In the end, Leonardo's final expression was one of terror as he watched the stone darken his vision.
Gantz held the stone, catching his breath while fighting back tears. Then, he felt something. A flow of energy began to enter his body. He looked up and saw a blue liquid being rapidly absorbed by his skin.
He wanted to stop, to jump back and get away from it, thinking it might be the man's final curse—but the sensation was so good it made sex seem like a tedious chore. His brain felt as if it were being massaged as the energy flowed through him. Then, suddenly, it passed as if nothing had happened.
He felt a craving like never before in his life, but immediately regained his senses—just before a sudden impact hit his head and a massive amount of information began to integrate into his mind. Like a film reel playing at high speed, the life of that cursed man flashed through his thoughts, leading up to the fateful night of his family's death and Leonardo's final vision of Gantz crushing his skull.
He grew dizzy, stumbled back, and vomited stomach acid while trying not to pass out. It took a few minutes of struggling before he fully recovered. He stood up, took the sword, and entered the forest he had known perfectly since childhood. He had doubts and fears, but seeing through the memories of the men who had abandoned the corpses in that same place, he could only think of his duty to bury them.
Halfway there, he no longer felt weak and began to run toward his house, dodging branches and fallen trunks until he entered his family's field. He only stopped when he got close enough. There he remained for a few hours, trying to memorize every detail of the excruciating scene before him. His parents, twisted and charred with bones exposed; the bodies of his siblings and their heads gathered at the spot where he had been forced to kneel.
He turned and vomited again, feeling the stomach acid burn his throat as it passed.
Gantz walked past the bodies and toward the house, which had been completely turned upside down. The bookshelf was toppled, beds overturned, sofas torn, clothes tossed about, and even the floorboards ripped up. He went to the kitchen and took what was left of the food and a bottle of wine. He paused, looked at the bottle, and poured out the liquid, replacing it with water.
He stepped outside, avoiding the holes, and sat on the porch. He ate, but without pleasure—it was a movement of necessity. He had never eaten so much in his life; there were at least a few kilos of pork, and only the bones remained.
He stood up and went into the house, searching for a sewing kit in his parents' room. He brought the heads to the bodies and sewed everything back together. He cleaned their bodies and dressed them in their best clothes before placing them in the wagon. His parents were more difficult; they were brittle, and ash filled Gantz's clothes and body as he carried the pieces with cold eyes.
It took him an hour to load them, and then he guided the family's small donkey up the hill—a place near the house where his mother and father had first met. He took a shovel and spent several more hours digging graves. He felt every scoop he took, the sweat and the earth on his feet. It was only at the end of the day, as the sun turned a shade of amber, that he finished burying them. He gathered flowers for his mother and sister and placed his brothers' favorite toys by them. On his father's grave, he placed the necklace his father had received from his mother when they wed.
The sun sank in the background as he looked at the graves beneath the flowering tree his mother loved so much.
— Wherever you are, I hope you live a better life than you lived in this one.
He descended the mountain and set about tidying the house, leaving it in the same state as before. He bathed and put on a fresh set of clothes, gathered more food and water, then boarded up the windows and the door before heading out toward the road, mounted on the donkey, carrying the man's sword with him, wrapped in a black cloth.