Became a Failed Experimental Subject-Chapter 4: I’m Adapting

After I started going toward the apartment complex every day for freshly made hot dogs, I found myself digging through other trash bins less and less.

No, lately, I’d even started to think there was no need to dig through trash at all.

The reason was... complicated.

After being hounded with complaints because I kept showing up, the cop finally told the apartment residents that I was an esper.

Their reactions softened, if only a little, and groundless rumors began to spread.

That I was a powerful esper who fled due to PTSD. That I’d lost a lover to a monster {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} and suffered cognitive damage. That I used to live in this apartment and lost a child to a monster in some incident, losing the will to live.

The fact that I kept coming to the park, that I didn’t move an inch when children approached, and the claim that I was an esper—all of that seemed to push people to craft their own "reasonable" narratives, creating a sort of sympathy.

According to whispered conversations, some people even said they didn’t mind watching me wash.

Liking to watch someone bathe... what a strange hobby.

“Um... just use this faucet, okay?”

“Mm.”

“The other faucets are for the kids, so don’t touch those!”

“Got it.”

One of the moms who brought her child even designated a faucet just for me.

When I followed her request, people started to think I was someone you could talk to.

“He’s always here in the park, right? Isn’t he actually kind of clean? He washes every day.”

“I saw him hand-washing his pants the other day. He was super careful about it...”

“Oh my! He took his pants off? You saw that alone?”

“No, it was at night... from the window... It’s just that our place happens to have a view of the park!”

“Wow, lucky spot. Maybe I should suggest we move there.”

One day, someone threw out a bottle of shampoo and body wash that was barely used.

I knew what they were, at least.

I used them right away to wash up.

The cap broke after one use, but I still got plenty of use out of it.

“Anyone got a spare razor? Should we toss one?”

“Careful! That’s dangerous! If you’re gonna toss one, make it an electric shaver!”

“My husband has one he doesn’t use... You think he’d know how to use it?”

“He’s not an animal, of course he knows.”

Someone eventually threw out a razor, so I gave shaving a try.

Later, a broken mirror was tossed, too.

I set it up in a corner and gave myself a clean shave.

Tried cutting my hair with a razor, dragging the blade across with a scraping noise, but ended up giving up.

Just one attempt dulled the blade completely.

“...Hey, seriously... Isn’t he kind of good-looking?”

“I wonder what size he wears? Would my husband’s old clothes fit him?”

“Geez, are you gonna buy him a bed next?”

For some reason, the things being thrown into the park’s trash bins started increasing.

Pillows and blankets showed up.

I didn’t mind sleeping on dirt, but it had been a while since I’d seen a pillow and blanket. I got curious what it would feel like, so I used them to sleep.

Then came shoes—but they didn’t fit, so I threw them out again.

And then, one day, something changed for real.

“Hahaha! Whoa?!”

“Oh my gosh, honey! Are you okay? Oh no, oh no!”

A child jumped off a swing and flew too far—just about to slam into an iron railing.

I threw the crumpled-up blanket and pillow that were lying nearby and cushioned the impact.

The child didn’t get hurt at all, and I laid back down for a nap.

That night, the trash bin was overflowing with food.

“He’s seriously an esper! In a flash, he just—bam!—the blanket flew like that!”

“Really, if it weren’t for him, that kid would’ve been seriously hurt!”

“Think of it like we hired a playground safety officer—he’s cheap!”

“If he’s an esper, maybe he’ll even fight monsters if one shows up. It’s like having a giant guard dog!”

“Are you really into that kind of thing?”

The park’s trash cans started to get cleaner.

What people were throwing away felt less like trash and more like things meant for me.

Not long ago, someone tossed scissors, so I tried cutting my hair.

Hair and beard must be made of different stuff, because it barely cut anything—but I did manage to clean up my bangs.

“He’s seriously handsome, right?”

“And that body—wow.”

“Should we give him clothes?”

“No, don’t give him clothes! That’ll cover him up.”

“Oh my god, did you see that? When he pulled up his pants, just under his abs...”

“You saw that alone? Rude!”

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A sleeping bag. A blanket. A parasol. A tent. A pot. A gas burner. Sausages. An ice box.

It was hard to use or set up most of it without breaking things, so I had the cop help me.

“Ugh... I don’t get it. Why did people complain so much if they were gonna do this...”

Around that time, the cop stopped coming every day.

Now that I was fully settled in the apartment park, the people who used to file complaints were the ones confused.

Lately, they’ve even been talking about building me some kind of guard booth.

“What the hell... What am I, a dog? A doghouse?”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Honestly, at this point, you’re not much different from one.”

I took the hot dog from the cop.

He didn’t come every day anymore, but he still had to buy me hot dogs.

At this point, it wasn’t just food—more and more of life’s necessities were being provided.

I no longer felt the need to visit other trash bins.

Having fully settled into this spot, I started spending my days playing with the kids.

“Hey, bum, are you dumb? Why don’t you know this?”

“This is Ppi-Ppi-Kung... and this is Yui-Kung...?”

“No! That’s Ppi-Ppi-Kung Origin! This is Yuna-Kung! She’s Yui-Kung’s twin sister!”

“What’s the difference? They all look the same.”

“They’re totally different! This is why bums are hopeless!”

Even without touching me, the kids laughed and had fun just talking to me.

Sometimes they gave me leftovers, and when they did, I accepted them carefully with both hands and ate happily.

Eventually, even the moms who’d stopped bringing their kids to the park started showing up again.

Some even started leaving their kids with me while they went off somewhere.

“I’m going to the other park!”

“No.”

“But Mom gave me snacks! They’re mine! Gimme!”

“It’s not time to eat yet.”

I looked after the kids, and got food in return.

Before I knew it, I’d become the man who watched over the playground.

With the slight peculiarity of always being shirtless.

“Wow, thank you~ Did he brush his teeth properly?”

“He didn’t clean his molars thoroughly.”

“Yes I did!”

“Hey! Didn’t Mommy tell you to brush right?”

“He also ate four pieces of candy.”

“Ack! Why are you tattling?!”

“I told you, two candies a day! No candy tomorrow!”

“Aaah!”

“Ah! Sorry—here, today’s babysitting payment.”

“Ooh...”

“Okay then... please, um... eat quickly.”

I took the big chunk of meat from the kid’s mom and bit into it right there on the spot.

Lately, it seemed like giving me big pieces of meat and watching me eat had become some kind of trend.

It was a bit strange how they kept watching, but the meat was delicious, so I didn’t care.

“Haa... seriously... you’re like an animal...”

“I’m not an animal.”

“Yeah, I know... Do you need anything?”

“A few more cushions.”

Now, when I said I needed something, they actually brought it to me.

So I asked for cushions to throw when the kids got hurt.

It seemed like some of the kids had started jumping off on purpose just to see me block them with a cushion, so I needed more.

After just one throw, the cushions usually tore from the force.

“I’ll ask the neighborhood moms’ group. Well then, have a good night~”

“Mm. See you, kid.”

“Tattletale! I’m not saying bye!”

And so, I settled into the apartment park.

For someone like me, who wanted to eat good food but had no way to work, it was a stroke of luck.

This place had good food every day.

And, it had plenty of things I could use to practice controlling my strength.

“Mm...”

Lately, I’d been trying to fully control my strength without transforming into a monster.

The world still felt like it was made of eggshells or pudding—fragile, soft, ready to break—but it was worth trying.

I couldn’t go on destroying everything. And it helped pass the time, too.

“...Success.”

For the first time, I managed to grab a bottle with both hands and twist the cap open.

Lifting it carefully, I drank.

If I kept practicing like this, maybe someday I’d be able to hold an egg without cracking it.

Maybe I’d be able to eat food out of a bowl... If that ever happened, I wanted to try eating hot soup.

I could drink it now too, straight from a boiling pot, but I spilled way too much that way.

Next, I decided to raise the difficulty—try lifting a glass cup—when...

“What are you doing?”

“Mm.”

I’d been so focused I didn’t even notice the cop’s presence.

Startled by the sudden voice, I broke the glass.

The shards fell without even scratching the skin on my hands.

I swept the pieces together with both hands.

“What are you, a cat? Why are you breaking glass cups for fun?”

“You made me break it.”

“What did I do?”

“Clean it up. The kids might get hurt playing here.”

“Why me...? Ugh...”

Grumbling, the cop still cleaned up the glass shards neatly.

Then she opened my ice box without asking and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

“Wow... these housewives have really lost it. They’re giving you this now?”

“You can have that.”

“Eh? Really? Are you sure?”

“Doesn’t taste very good.”

“Huh...? It’s good though? Wow, you’ve got a kid’s palate.”

Pulling out some ham as a side dish, the cop sat beside me and started chugging.

“Kyaaah~ This is the life~ Drinking during a night patrol, love it~”

“Bad cop.”

“The world’s what’s bad. They ask one cop to do way too much! You never know when a monster’s gonna pop up, and they expect a single cop to patrol all alone!”

“Why patrol alone?”

“Well, if you die, you die alone, so there’s less civilian casualties. Not many crazy people sign up to be cops anymore. As long as you radio in before dying, you’ve done your job.”

Makes sense.

The cop, maybe already tipsy, went on ranting about the job.

“Lives are like tissue paper now. At least Heroes have powers. I mean, sure, there are plenty of people out there risking their lives these days, but only cops and firefighters go this far.”

“Hm...”

“I told you, we’re crazy. Why did I even become a cop... Haa~ Even my family worries, and I still haven’t quit.”

Hearing that, I found myself understanding her family completely.

It’s dangerous work. If it’s dangerous, and there are people who worry about you... why do it?

“If you know it’s like that, why keep being a cop?”

“Because if people want to live normal lives, someone has to do it. And hey, it might as well be a crazy person like me. I’d rather go through it myself than watch someone else suffer.”

I had nothing to say to that.

Not because it was absurd, but because—I kind of got it.

“It’s a hard job.”

“It’s brutal! Monsters popping up left and right, complaints pouring in, people dying even if I run full speed.”

“But it’s the right thing to do.”

I brushed my hand along my old firefighter pants, which had gotten a little worn.

“Work that must be done, so daily life can go on...”

“...Come to think of it, aren’t those really old firefighter pants?”

“Mm.”

“You can’t even find those anymore, even if you tried... Where did you...”

That’s when I felt it.

A presence that made my skin crawl.

Not from the air... but from beyond ability—from the cracks of reality.

Something had teleported into the area using a special ability.

“Monsters.”

“...What?”

“Get to a shelter.”

Right after I spoke, sirens filled the apartment complex.

Over the cop’s radio, the address was repeated—along with the threat classification.

Crusher-Class. Multiple entities.

Lights all across the apartment building flicked on at once.