Chapter 178
2107-05-15
T07: 11:00
It was a day with an unusually heavy downpour.
It would have been better if it just poured down refreshingly all at once, but it lingered for a long time, turning the ground beneath my feet into a muddy mess.
The weather, the timing - I detested it all.
Normally, this would be the time I’d be sleeping in after finishing my early morning shift.
But today, I was walking in the morning under a dull gray sky, wearing an uncomfortable suit and holding a black umbrella.
Today was Chainsaw Man’s funeral.
There were a lot of people. As people looked around, black umbrellas were everywhere. They covered the area so densely that from a distance, it looked like scattered paint.
There had to be more advanced umbrellas or raincoats, and there were ways to hold it indoors, but even after all these years, proceeding in the rain with ordinary black umbrellas was the tradition and culture of formally mourning the deceased person.
This was a scene commonly seen in American movies or dramas.
Now that I had personally become a member of it… I felt like crap. No one would have wanted this outcome.
I’ll say it again, there were a lot of people. There were easily over a hundred.
They had all gathered here to mourn one person.
There might be other people having funerals on the same date and at the same time, but at least not here.
This was Sprawlfield’s Memorial Ground.
Only great Ronin could enter this place after death.
Today, only one person had the qualification to enter this place, and the number of people gathered was a testament to his popularity in life.
Just like the Group/Gathering he created, the appearances of the figures in the crowd varied greatly.
There were fierce-looking Ronin, people dressed as ordinary company employees, and those with the shabby appearance of a homeless person. There were also those who brought a chainsaw each as a way to honor the deceased person.
Among them, the most conspicuous was an old man standing alone in a pure white cloak.
The administrator of the Memorial Ground. Everyone called him the 'Bishop'.
“You who wish to enter here, state your name.”
As the bishop spoke while standing in front of the central Black Monument Tower, the assistants carrying the deceased person’s urn simultaneously raised the chainsaws they had brought, each with one hand.
Vrrrrrrrrrm-!
The fiercely spinning saw blades, the engines, the rainwater falling and splashing against them could be heard.
The man at the very front shouted.
“Miguel Ibarra Rodriguez!”
Miguel Ibarra Rodriguez.
It was only here that I learned Chainsaw Man’s full name.
“Is that the only name you will take from this world?”
As the bishop asked, this time other men shouted in succession.
“Chainsaw Man!”
“The Unyielding One!”
“Jeongeomujeok!”
“Knight of the Sprawl!”
“Chainsaw Saint, or Erotic Lover!”
A brief laugh flowed, softening the air, at the last line.
No matter how gloomy and heavy the atmosphere was, even if it was a funeral, it was the unique culture of the people of the Americas to never leave out a spoonful of humor, like dropping a sugar cube into bitter coffee.
“A name is just a name. Are there any achievements worthy of being remembered forever in The Mortal World?”
As the bishop asked, people in the crowd, this time instead of the pallbearers, dropped their umbrellas and stepped out from the black veil.
A man shouted.
“He single-handedly faced and defeated the infamous Chrome Killer, “The offering one” Joseph Ramirez Rey, saving me and many others. Thanks to him, The offering one is still locked up in the depths of Glitch Hall. I will remember this forever.”
An old man shouted.
“This man drove out those arrogant Biker Horde bastards who took over the roads and collected tolls. They went around advertising themselves as the Angels of Hell, but in front of a chainsaw, they were hunted down like demons! I will remember that forever.”
A woman shouted.
“He once took on my escort.”
Then she took off the hood covering her face.
It was the flawless, clean face of a Pure Asian. Her perfectly arranged eyebrows and even teeth, looking as if they were painted, felt somewhat familiar.
Whispers could be heard.
Unorganized clusters of words like “that woman”, 'gay', “hundred million dollars”, 'Zaibatsu', and 'Seiko' were heard.
I didn’t know much, but she seemed to be a famous person.
“He pulled me out of the most dangerous crisis in my life. I will remember him forever.”
Saying that, she put her umbrella back up. This was the most dangerous crisis in her life.
I wasn’t particularly curious. That woman wasn’t the protagonist today.
It was time to return to the protagonist’s story.
A man shouted.
This time, it was someone I knew.
He was carrying a chainsaw, rainwater dripping from his face.
He looked much more haggard than the last time I saw him.
His name was Paulo.
“Hyung-nim blew up the waste factory of the trash corporation, Dysis Waste, and shoved two squads of pursuing corporate private soldiers into those bastards' junkyard. I saw it clearly with my own two eyes, and I will remember it forever. I will never forget it.”
Silence flowed after Paulo’s story. Just as I thought they were going to move on to the next part, I impulsively threw my umbrella and stepped forward.
“He stopped the Luddite Gang Leader, Ned Ludd, alongside me. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have survived.”
I took a breath and shouted.
“I will remember him forever.”
I was the last one.
The bishop finally lifted the urn he had received and spoke quietly.
“Thus remembered.”
Then, the large doors of the tower slid open on their own. The inside was nothing but pitch-black darkness where you couldn’t see an inch ahead.
The bishop didn’t enter immediately; he prayed in silence for a moment, then turned around and spoke.
“But The Mortal World must also be remembered by him. Who will help him? Who will volunteer to be his Companion on the Journey forever!”
As he shouted, someone pushed through the rainy path and stepped out.
“We are The living, so we cannot join him on his path, but his companion is here instead!”
What was handed to the bishop was the 1-meter-67-centimeter Super-Vibrating Jet Engine Saw.
It was Chainsaw Man’s beloved weapon, Ferdinand. Raindrops formed on its gleaming surface, which had always been maintained like a treasure.
Having received the final keepsake, the bishop looked back at the black tower, holding Ferdinand in one hand and Chainsaw Man’s urn in the other with incredible strength that didn’t match his slender frame.
“Miguel Ibarra Rodriguez, The Chainsaw Wielder, The Unyielding One, The One to Be Remembered Forever.”
“Chainsaw Man, Knight of the Sprawl.”
“Thus He Shall Become a Legend.”
And the bishop disappeared into the monument tower, along with Chainsaw Man.
Silence flowed.
Until the bishop returned from the darkness, the only thing that could be heard was the noise of the rain beating against the umbrellas.
And just like that, Chainsaw Man’s funeral ended.
* * *
Dragon President told me I didn’t have to work today.
I wasn’t the only one who knew Chainsaw Man, and Tony and Sey had also attended the funeral… but it seemed I looked the most shocked.
Come to think of it, he was the first customer with whom I had built something that could be called a personal friendship.
No, honestly, he didn’t even feel like a customer anymore.
I had been involved in many things with Chainsaw Man.
I used his saw without permission to cut off Man Hunter’s prosthetic arm. Chainsaw Man saw that and gave me the nickname “hand butcher”. We fought the Luddite Gang together, and I somehow ended up joining the club he created…
That didn’t mean I thought of him as a “Comrade-in-Arms by Blood” or a “Sworn brother” like he always said, but still…
I might be thinking too sentimentally considering I didn’t even know his name properly, but I might be experiencing the death of someone I considered, at least a little bit, a friend.
It wasn’t like I felt like crying. Rather than feeling sadness, it just felt like my senses felt blank and paralyzed.
Being alone in this state didn’t seem like it would be very productive, and I figured it would be better to have something to immerse myself in and focus my concentration on.
So, I gave up the day off that I normally would have gone crazy with joy over, and went to work at the bar.
A small memorial service was also being held at dragons Lair.
Even though it was a memorial service, it wasn’t anything grand; it was just a slightly more solemn and melancholic atmosphere than usual, with people mostly making the cocktails Chainsaw Man enjoyed drinking and talking about him.
What he enjoyed drinking was the king of cocktails, the martini. The last time I saw him, he was drinking a martini too.
a very classic dry martini, made by stirring and mixing gin and vermouth in a 6 to 1 ratio.
It was cheap gin and vermouth that was just a similar fake wine made in a factory. On top of that, my skills weren’t that great, so it was bound to taste awful.
Even so, there were many among the customers who specifically asked me to make them a martini.
There were many who wanted to talk to me, known as Chainsaw Man’s Comrade-in-Arms, the hand butcher.
I didn’t have much to say, so I mostly just listened rather than spoke. Peeking into the customers' memories, I continuously mixed gin and vermouth in the Territory of the unconscious.
Gin, vermouth, gin, vermouth, sometimes vodka, shaken, not stirred. This time 15 to 1: Montgomery. passion fruit, vanilla, vodka, and champagne: Pornstar.
I think it was the moment I made the most martinis in my life.
It was when I stood in front of a customer looking for me again, making a martini and about to hand it over naturally.
For the first time, my hand paused.
“…hand butcher.”
“…”
“…Help me.”
The customer was a minor in a school uniform whom I was acquainted with.