Chapter 38

It was a lot of hard work. We’d repair a dungeon, then go through it shooting everything we had fixed. It seemed endless, but eventually we finished and moved to the next Isekai, the Wizard of Ounce.

This was easier. It should’ve taken weeks, but we had a Baku. He mowed down fields, forests, and even a cliff as we walked along the furrow he ate in the ground to a city colored the green of American dollar bills.

We approached the door and encountered a rude guard who looked at us through a small window at the top of the massive entry doors.

The guard screamed as Truck-kun ate the doors.

Long story short, I was eventually clicking my heels together wearing a stunning red pair of shoes and a darling little dress. It was Truck-kun’s turn to laugh at me.

That’s how it went for the longest time, one Isekai after the other. We adventured, solved puzzles, and caused a disturbing amount of property damage.

It felt like weeks, but Truck-kun assured me it had only been a few minutes in real life. We defeated the Isekai, solving each story as rapidly as possible.

Landlord had exciting battles and magic items. Un:Null had a fascinating story and world. It wasn’t exactly like the Isekai stories. I wondered if the escapees had made changes, or if the Isekai were different for each person.

I caught Truck-kun smiling as we finished the last of those two worlds. He noticed and scowled at me. Maybe even he was enjoying the stories and having fun.

As we climbed, Truck-kun’s sense of the world outside my head grew more clear. He knew I was in a hospital the day after the accident. The pressure behind my eyes lightened with each completed Isekai.

I’ll spare you the fine details. We slayed demon lords. We were the best darn swords and vending machines in any fantasy world. As days passed, I dare say we were becoming friends.

One night after a busy day of slaying orcs, Truck-kun and I sat by the fire after Nyarin curled up into her bunk and pretended to sleep. The subtle twitches in her ears told me she was still awake. Truck-kun drank from his canteen.

I watched the fire, mulling over a question that had been bothering me for days. “Truck-kun, what should I call you? Why does that name bother you?”

He looked at the fire. The answer was slow, so I assumed he had decided not to answer. He stood and waved for me to follow. He didn’t want Nyarin to hear.

“That,” he started when we were out of even a cat’s earshot, “that’s embarrassing.”

Embarrassed? Truck-kun? I was more shocked by that than when he was ground into paste, ate his way through a rock despite it, and then tried to crawl over and kill me as a self-assembling nightmare beast.

Man, that had been messed up. I needed counseling.

“I used to be powerful and important. I had allies who considered the Sun a plaything and enemies who were avatars of chaos. I was above mortals. They whispered my old names in fear. I’m,” he sighed, “prideful.”

We walked. Orcs tried to ambush us and Truck-kun opened his mouth about ten meters wide and ate them. You’d be surprised how quickly that becomes normal. Or maybe I’m just weird and need counseling. Probably both.

Truck-kun burped and continued. “I guess I’m trying to say, I don’t mind the name Truck-kun. At least from you.”

“What do Nyarin, your boss, and the others call you?” I asked.

“The Baku.”

We walked, got ambushed by orcs again, and Truck-kun ate them. I realized my idol, Truck-kun, was nothing like I assumed, but he was fast becoming a friend.

“I’m sorry,” I said as we walked. We weren’t going anywhere. Perhaps Truck-kun was just patrolling for orc ambushes. Or maybe he was just hungry. Probably both.

“What are you apologizing for?”

I paused. “I’m not sure. I’m sorry I was who I was. I ruined your spell and your day. I tricked you. I’m,” I paused, “I’m sorry that you’re sad.”

Truck-kun paused, staring at me under the moonlight of a world with three moons. His expression went from incredulous, to angry, to mournful. He looked up at the moons. “What? I’m not sad. I don’t have time to be sad.”

“You’ve got a purpose that motivates you, Truck-kun. You’ve had that for longer than I’ve been alive. Centuries. How?”

Truck-kun considered the question. “You want to know how to have purpose?”

“I’ve got a purpose now,” I told Truck-kun. We started walking again. “But I’ve lost my way before. I wanted to use truck tires as a portal to happiness. What if I lose my way again? You’ve kept a purpose for centuries. How do you do it?”

Truck-kun didn’t answer at first. Again I thought he might not answer. “There’s many ways keep keep your purpose. I don’t think you want to go about it my way.”

I waited quietly. Truck-kun turned our path back to the safety of camp where Nyarin was pretending to sleep.

“Do you remember the pain you felt when you realized you needed to change?”

I thought of the years spent in the strange garden, learning magic and overcoming my pain and guilt about Sachiko. It still pained my chest to think of her.

I didn’t need to answer. Truck-kun could tell. “Some pains don’t go away. Not with years or centuries.”

We walked silently as I thought. “Is there no way but pain to stay motivated?”

Truck-kun smiled. It looked odd on him, sad and mournful with only a trace of happiness. “There are plenty. The ancient Baku fed on children’s nightmares, right?”

I nodded.

“They were more than that, but that was their primary interaction with humans. The children, they used to have the most terrible nightmares. Not like today. Children’s nightmares today are to little to sustain me today.”

He sighed and looked up at the moons again. “Your name, Igita, it’s rare isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Even where I was born it’s a rare name.”

Truck-kun nodded. “You’re from Yamaguchi?”

I looked at him, surprised. “Yes.”

“I was in Yamaguchi, centuries ago. A boy was suffering terrible nightmares. His older brother had died in a famine the winter before. The boy felt guilty for surviving. He dreamt his brother was a vengeful spirit. The boy stopped eating.”

“I ate his nightmares for over a week until he slept normally again. His name was Igita too. Maybe an ancestor.”

Truck-kun sat on a fallen tree. I knew his strength meant he never needed physical rest. He sat down because he wanted to, not for physical need. I sat next to him.

“I’m made of nightmares,” he confessed. “I am what I eat. I’m composed of the horrors and fears of little children. I eat them away and the child can rest.”

I didn’t know what to say. “At least it’s a good deal. You get a meal and the child is free of nightmares.”

Pain passed over Truck-kun’s face. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but consuming nightmares isn’t pleasant. They’re a burden I carry for years before I can control and digest them. I can take other food. I eat nightmares for the children.

“Every time I consume a child’s nightmares, it hurts. I feel their pain. I cry and cower. It’s intense. I can’t take their nightmares without feeling every bit of them.”

“Then why?” I asked, my voice so quiet I barely heard myself.

He looked at me like it was the dumbest thing I’ve said, and I’ve said some stupid things to Truck-kun before.

“Because the child has a nightmare.” He said it as if it made sense, as if there was no other choice.

He stood, seemingly lighter for his confession.

“I protect children, Seo Igita. I’ll kill anyone who tries to hinder me.”

I stood too.

He looked at me, but I didn’t say anything.

He seemed to think that was answer enough and turned back toward camp.

“That, Seo Igita, is how you maintain purpose. You learn to do it for others.”