I Am A Truck Driver 10 The Reason For A Name 5

Caution: mentions ****

He ran, clutching his chest. He stumbled, fell, got up gasping, and kept running.

I cast a few spells. Minor healing. Increase stamina. Increase agility.

- Turn right here.

He did, cras.h.i.+ng into a few pedestrians who were startled, but soon shook it off as nothing. Forgetfulness. He ran.

It must hurt him. The burden he carried was much heavier than most. Minor healing.

- Up ahead.

He came to a stop. Shakily, he leaned against a wall heavily. Minor healing.
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Just across the street, a man and a woman were facing each other.

The man was tall, perhaps 185 centimeters. He had his arm in a sling, and his cheeks were swollen. Many bruises were apparent on his body. His expression was dark, but he spoke quietly.

The woman was much shorter, around 162 centimeters. She bravely faced the gaze of the man with a fierce glare. She looked strangely large despite the clear difference in size.

"She's terrified," he whispered.

Was that so? She wasn't showing any signs of fear. But I believed him.

"I can feel it. She's terrified." He looked at her admiringly. "Incredible."

We watched for a while. The two spoke for a long time. Then finally, the woman turned and walked away.

Something was off about my companion. Though his face was expressionless, he seemed a bit confused.

The man watched her go. He took a few steps as if he wanted to follow her. My companion clenched his fist. Suddenly, he stiffened. The man was crying quietly. He turned the other way and trudged away under our gazes.

...

"What the f.u.c.k was that?"

I had probably gathered enough information to answer that question. But before that.

- Calm yourself. Cancel your skill.

He nodded. He took a few deep breaths and quickly regained his composure.

"Sorry. It's just... What was he doing? Acting pitiful as if he was a victim. Even after everything he had done. And why didn't she report him? Why did she feel... those emotions? What is going on?"

- Do you want to know?

I sought his permission.

"Yes. Please."

I began.

- The man. 22. Student at XX University. Major is biochemical engineering. His hobby is working out at the gym.

- The woman. 19. Student at XX University. Major is history. She works part time to help with paying her tuition.

- The two met at a party hosted by a fraternity. They chatted, enjoyed each other's company, and decided to go out soon afterwards.

- Neither had prior experience with a relations.h.i.+p.

- The man's friends repeatedly pressured him to have s.e.x. Eventually he came to believe that it was normal for a boyfriend to have his way with his girl.

- The end result is what you just witnessed.

- The woman explained her feelings truthfully.

- The man came to understand his mistakes.

- But the trust between them had already been broken.

I observed his reaction.

I was mildly curious as to what he originally thought their story was. It was probably very different from this. Perhaps he thought the man was a gangster, or at least, an abusive boyfriend. Perhaps he wanted the woman to get her revenge, to cast the sc.u.m of society into the depths of prison and slowly recover from her trauma. Imagination can fill in all sorts of blanks.

The thought that they were just two people who were terribly hurt by miscommunication probably never crossed his mind.

I was curious, so I observed.

He was staring off into the distance. His eyes were clear and calm. I could sense a trace of disappointment in them.

"I was wrong about them," he said simply. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

So it was disappointment in himself that he was feeling.

"Hey. I have a request."

- Yes?

"The man. Can you tell me his name?"

I did indeed know his name. However.

- Can you handle it?

He smiled bitterly. "My heart might be weak, but I should be able to handle this much."

It seemed to be the truth.

I told him the name. The man's name meant 'pride.' Whether or not it was an accurate name, I do not know. It was just the name he was given and the name that he lived by.

My companion closed his eyes and activated his skill in silence.

Empathy.

A skill that only he could use.

It was a skill that let him feel the emotions of others upon learning their names.

To him, it might be both a blessing and a curse. He could learn the inner hearts of people, but he would weaken his own already weak heart.

"He's drowning," he spoke softly. His face was reddening as his heart pounded.

"He's drowning in regret. Anger. Self-loathing."

He opened his eyes, and I could see the sorrow reflected in them.

"He's drowning," he repeated.

...

"Can I talk to you?"

He was asking for my permission to speak again.

- Yes.

"I thought the situation was a lot less complicated. I mean, it's still not that complicated, but I thought that there was a clear victim and perpetrator. And there still is. And I still am a bit angry. But mostly I just feel... sorry."

Humans were so fickle. The same actions viewed in a different light were interpreted completely differently.

There was a topic I was curious about.

- Have you decided what is 'good' and what is not?

"Not particularly." He made a bitter expression. "I don't think I'll ever be able to decide. But I'll keep thinking about it."

"I do believe that some actions are always wrong, like hurting or killing someone. No matter what the reason, those are 'evil.'

"I haven't decided if the intent behind the action can change anything, though. I used to think that it doesn't. To murder is to murder, regardless of intentions. To **** is to ****, regardless of whether or not you are aware of it. The weight of 'evil' is the same.

"But, I can't bring myself to hate him. Not much at least. Not anymore. So maybe it is different."

He laughed nervously. "This is a dangerous train of thought. It's almost as if I'm trying to lessen my guilt. I'm not allowed to feel that way. So maybe it is still the same."

Why did he continue to torment himself with these thoughts? I wanted to stop him. I wanted him to let go of his burden. At the same time, I knew that he would cease to be a person I was willing to follow if he did. Such are the contradictions of emotions.

He continued, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"I still wish... to be a good person. I think that's something I can never change. Even if I don't know what it means, even if I don't know how to accomplish it, even if it is impossible for me, that is my wish. It doesn't really make any sense."

If that was his wish, I wanted to grant it.

- May I interrupt?

"Go ahead. Maybe you can help me sort things out again."

- There are many 'good' people who have done it are capable of doing 'bad' deeds. Similarly, there are many 'bad' people who can do something 'good.'

"That's true. I can't deny it. It just makes being a good person or a bad person all the much harder to define."

- Would you rather be a 'good' person who does something 'bad' or a 'bad' person who does something 'good'?

"In this case, I'd want to be the bad person," he chose instantly. He frowned at his own response.

This should be enough for him to.

"How confusing...But, I might have an idea thanks to you. Will you listen?"

- Yes.

"The person I want to be doesn't have to be considered good by others. It's a person who does what he thinks is right when he can, even if it seems wrong to others."

He seemed stuck around there. I tried to give him another push.

- Then, do you?

"What?"

- Do you do what you think is right?

"I used to think I did. Now I am not so sure.

"Since I can do good things, I need to try to do as many as I can. Only..."

He searched his pockets and pulled out a box cutter.

"Ah, I forgot to return this," he mumbled in surprise, but he held off on that thought.

Next, he pulled out a crumpled photograph. He stared at it.

"I don't know if I should continue. I don't know if killing people to let them be reborn as heroes of other worlds, as crazy as that sounds, is something I want to do. Or maybe it's just something I'm no longer capable of doing."

One last push.

-So?

"So I'll have to find out." His eyes shone with determination.

"... After I return this to her."

...

Because of him, many had died. Because of him, many had lived. Whether or not he believed he was good or not irrelevant. His actions would remain regardless of how he saw himself.

However, he would never accept such an answer.

He would continue to struggle with his unanswerable questions, and he would grow as he did. It was something I was incapable of doing, but that was exactly why I admired it. As expected of the one I chose. As expected as the one who bears the name 'hero.'