"What? Nohara Hiroshi? Did I hear that right?"
"That’s right. The one from Crayon Shin-chan..."
"I know that cartoon. It’s been exported to countries all over the world and even airs dubbed."
Even Miguel, a Black sorcerer from overseas, knew Crayon Shin-chan.
More importantly, what did it mean that he called himself Nohara Hiroshi?
"When someone falls into delirium, all kinds of memories they buried deep inside tend to resurface. Maybe he was always a rabid Shin-chan fan. It seems the archives never investigated such personal details, so I don’t know for sure."
"More than that, hearing that a curse user is operating under the alias Nohara Hiroshi kind of kills all the tension, doesn’t it?"
"No, no... Just because he claims to be a cartoon character does not mean you should underestimate him. Zenin Boy. He is a well-known figure in this part of the world. You would do well to forget the information that his practical combat strength only amounted to Grade 3 in his active days."
Miguel cautioned me, waggling a finger.
No matter what, I just couldn’t find a lunatic whose technique copied food, who had gone insane and wandered around believing he was Shin-chan’s dad, all that frightening...
Perhaps reading the unconvinced look on my face, Okkotsu stepped in.
"Daisuke, don’t forget that you’re here as reinforcements to stop him. The higher-ups called you in additionally even though they know that I, a special grade, am operating here."
"Ah... Well, I say that, but I’m not going to let my guard down."
"Right. In any case, this is where he was last spotted: Casablanca. It seems he had originally been active in southern Europe before crossing the Strait of Gibraltar to come here."
"You said he was active in southern Europe, right? Is he planning to shift his territory to North Africa?"
"Hmm..."
Miguel, who had silently watched the two of us talk, crossed his arms as though he had sunk into thought.
Seeming to realize that everyone’s attention had turned to him, Miguel emerged from his thoughts.
"Hm? My apologies. I had something to think about for a moment. I made you worry. I’m sorry."
"Not at all. Haha, shall we wrap up today’s briefing here, then? We’ll begin the search this afternoon. I’ll check the outskirts, where there are fewer people, while Miguel and Daisuke make your way through the city at an easy pace."
-
A slum on the outskirts of Casablanca, Morocco.
This place, where an Asian man had been running a free meal kitchen until only a few dozen minutes ago, had already turned into a vision of hell.
"Man, it feels like I’m at a theme park. This really gets me pumped~."
This man was dressed in a neat suit, with dark stubble as his most distinctive feature.
Furutani Ryota = Nohara Hiroshi.
Humming as though he were simply taking care of some routine chore, the man who called himself Nohara Hiroshi was stripping flesh from bone.
It was undoubtedly the flesh of someone who had been alive and breathing, standing on their own two feet, until just moments ago.
"There’s so much fresh meat here, it’s a real problem. I don’t get any time to rest~ Ahh~ I miss my fox-like wife and my rabbit-like children! Shinnosuke! Himawari! Misae~~!"
"Eek, eeeek...!!!"
The people next in line watched as a human being was reduced to meat in an instant.
They were all local residents who had come to eat after hearing that a soup kitchen was open.
Most of them had either been poisoned by cursed energy and could not move, or had passed out. A few, however, remained fully conscious as they watched their turn draw closer.
Not because this curse user, who believed himself to be Nohara Hiroshi, had a cruel hobby.
It was simply because, despite not being Japanese, they had been born with a resistance to curses.
But in this situation, that was not good fortune. It was misfortune.
Had they lost consciousness instead, it would have been tragic, but they would at least have died without pain or terror.
"Haa, haaaah, haaaah...!!!"
"What a lovely cry~."
Slash
He tore the carotid artery just enough for blood to flow out, then hung the victim from a hook with their head facing downward.
The process of draining the blood before butchering.
A human who remained conscious through this process emitted fear until the very last moment their awareness faded, allowing them to be processed into higher-quality meat than the others.
It was not something curse user Furutani Ryota = Nohara Hiroshi did deliberately.
He was insane. He simply no longer saw humans as humans.
Consumed by curses, his way of thinking had already become closer to that of a cursed spirit than a human being.
"All right~. Shall we call it a day? It’s a shame about the remaining meat, but we can’t take it all. A Japanese salaryman must understand the aesthetics of restraint, after all. Hey, Kawaguchi! Load only the butchered meat into the truck!"
The puppet that moved in response to those words was grotesque.
Its base was made of butchered human flesh and bones; its face, of roast beef; its hair, of pasta; its fingernails and toenails, of candy; and its arms and legs, of baguettes and various other foods clumped together.
A food human born from his [Thirst Quenching by Thinking of Plums] technique, combined with an application of the principles of shikigami techniques.
Its name was [Extension Technique: Gluttony].
The grotesque food human called Kawaguchi was carrying the meat Furutani had casually butchered and stacking it inside a refrigerated truck.
"Well then, shall we go get lunch? Lunch is part of the job too. An intelligent salaryman needs to take care of every detail without fail!"
Delirium had expanded his perception of "food" until it even encompassed "humans." From that came an expansion of his technique’s targets and a tremendous increase in the technique’s precision.
The technique that had once merely copied food had already transformed into something fundamentally different from what was registered in the archives.
-
"This is..."
"Were we too late?"
It was a horrific scene.
Viscera and fragments of bone lay heaped about as though meat had been butchered here, while enough blood had been spilled to stain the entire white floor red.
At least the survivors had only been poisoned by curses. Most of them had not suffered any injuries.
"Zenin Boy, look at this."
"Miguel?"
Miguel was examining the debris piled with viscera and other remains.
As I approached him, I could not help grimacing at the sight before me, unlike anything I had ever seen.
I had expected it, but it seemed the things butchered here had not been pigs or cows.
"Did he run because he knew we were coming?"
"That is possible. But judging by the condition of the blood soaking the floor, not much time has passed. If we contact Okkotsu and track him down, we can catch him."
"Leave the tracking to me."
"Zenin Boy?"
I had not thought I would activate it for the first time on this mission, but the devastation before me left a weight in my chest.
A sense of duty welled up inside me. I did not know these people’s faces, and they were not even of the same race as me, but they did not deserve this.
"Whew."
I brought my hands together and formed a hand sign.
"Technique Reversal."
The Divine Dogs hand sign, which I had thought I would never use after being told upon first possessing this body that I could not summon the Ten Shadows.
"[Ten Shadows Garment: Divine Dogs]."
Now then, let the hunt begin.
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