Chapter Seventy-Four: The Ancient Tome

What should a homeless man's home look like? Aoki had never really understood before, but now he finally knew.

On a deserted plot of land, chaotic and shabby tents sprawled everywhere; in the center, a bonfire blazed fiercely, its hearth fashioned from an iron box.

The old man led Aoki through the maze of tents, winding this way and that, until they arrived before a crude, battered shelter. The tent seemed discarded, left behind by someone who no longer wanted it. It looked filthy, and a gaping hole on its side had been patched with a piece of black cloth—presumably, it served only to block out the light.

Around the camp, a few homeless men huddled by the fire for warmth. When they saw Aoki, they shrank back, wary and apprehensive, even somewhat anxious—many delinquent youths took pleasure in tormenting them.

The old man did not invite Aoki inside. Instead, he asked him to wait outside the tent for a moment. Before long, he emerged carrying an ancient, tattered book, his gaze lingering on its cover as he muttered to himself.

"I always thought this book would remain with me until it accompanied my ashes to the grave, yet I never imagined a day would come when I would hand it over," the old man sighed, his expression despondent.

Aoki raised his brows, his eyes falling upon the book's cover, where the words "Medical Canon" were inscribed in classical script. His heart suddenly thumped, much like discovering a gold ingot unexpectedly lying on the ground.

Could it be...?

The old man stared at the ancient book in his hands, forlorn. "This Medical Canon has been passed down from my ancestors."

He lifted his head and gazed at the sky, as if reminiscing. "When I was young, my father was a renowned local physician. I was his only son. Back then, I was foolish to the extreme, always contradicting him. He wanted me to study medicine; I insisted on finance. He advised caution and leaving myself a way out, but I preferred to act recklessly, never holding back."

"It wasn't until 1980, after my father passed away, that I inherited all his assets." The old man sighed deeply, his eyes filled with regret. "The housing bubble and stock craze at the time made me lose all sense; I was blinded by greed."

"I invested everything in stocks and real estate. Unable to resist, I borrowed money to invest further, earning more yet investing even more..." He smiled bitterly, shaking his head. "Then came the bubble economy. Stock and property prices plummeted, and everything I owned depreciated. I sold everything, but still couldn't repay my debts—ultimately, I declared bankruptcy."

"Left with nothing after bankruptcy, I had no choice but to wander the streets." The old man reddened with shame as he looked at the old book. "Over the years, only my father's Medical Canon, which I never once opened, remained by my side. I never studied it, because I felt unworthy."

"But I always believed my father's legacy shouldn't simply rot in my hands." The old man shut his eyes in remorse, and a murky tear traced down his aged cheek. "Forgive my poor custodianship; the Medical Canon is damaged, incomplete, and flawed. There were once more than ten volumes; I managed to keep only this single compendium."

"Perhaps there's nothing profound left to learn from it, but I still hope you'll safeguard it for me. If one day it can be restored, it may yet bring you some benefit." The old man wiped his tears and looked at Aoki.

Aoki gently stroked the book's cover, the rough texture making him reluctant to let go. But what delighted him even more was the thought that the medical skills within this book might offer effects beyond ordinary medicine. Like boxing, sanda, and mixed martial arts—all are forms of combat, but only MMA covers the widest range and the most comprehensive skill progression.

Ordinary medicine, as far as Aoki could access, was limited to traditional or Western medicine. Yet this Medical Canon might bring something entirely different.

"This book is too precious," Aoki exhaled and handed it back to the old man, his gaze clear. "To be honest, perhaps I do need it."

"But I don't believe the small things I've done deserve such a reward." Aoki subtly reminded the old man, "Even if it's damaged, it's still an antique. Its age alone may make it far more valuable than its medical contents."

Aoki thought that even as a mere relic, the book could fetch a handsome price. He didn't want to deceive the pitiful old man before him, nor did he wish to take advantage.

The old man paused, then smiled softly. "How about this: if you feel undeserving, help me with one more thing. Would you...?"

Aoki frowned slightly. "What is it?"

"Follow me," the old man beckoned, leading Aoki once more.

They walked a short distance, stopping at a secluded bookstore about two streets from Aoki's home.

"Grandpa, you're here so early today!" Inside, a girl with jet-black hair, neatly trimmed bangs, porcelain skin, slender, clear eyes, and a teardrop mole beneath her left eye greeted the old man with a smile.

"It’s you, Ruri..." The old man nodded to her with a smile.

Ruri Gokou frowned at Aoki's calm expression behind the old man, shrinking cautiously behind the counter, unable to look Aoki in the eye. She quietly took out her phone, determined that if Aoki dared mistreat the old man, she would call the police at once.

The old man led Aoki into a dim alley beside the bookstore, rummaging through his worn coat until he produced an iron bowl, surprisingly clean. He tapped it with his finger, his raspy voice calling out, "Kuro, Shirotail, Natto!"

It was curious—he merely tapped the bowl and called softly, yet from the tangled alleys came several barks. Soon, three scruffy little dogs ran up to him.

"This black one is Kuro," the old man said, sitting on the ground and stroking the entirely black dog, smiling as it licked his palm. He pulled out the bread Aoki had recently bought for him, broke it into pieces, and placed them in the iron bowl.

"This one with a white tail is Shirotail," he continued, petting the black-and-white dog with a white tail.

"And this last pug is Natto." The pug, its head buried in the bowl, seemed to be all white except for its black ears, with a gentle, clumsy appearance.

The old man watched them eat, his voice tinged with sadness. "If possible, could you look after them for me?"

"If they're caught, and no one adopts them within a month, they'll be euthanized," he sighed. "I can only feed them here regularly, so they stay hidden in the alley and don’t run off. It's just a stopgap, but it's all I can do."

"Without money for vaccines, and the camp won’t let me bring them over..." The old man looked up, his eyes filled with hope. "Could you help me with this?"

Aoki frowned and nodded slightly, but asked, "Why me, though? Aren’t you doing fine?"

The old man smiled bitterly. "The camp is about to be demolished."

"Demolished?" Aoki’s eyes widened.

"Yes, they're building a new park there. People like us, who wander everywhere, have to find a new place," the old man said helplessly. "If I had a choice, I'd rather live with them—but..."

"I'm old, barely able to support myself, let alone them." He spoke with a carefree tone. "At least, with my friends at the camp, maybe when I die, someone will be there to collect my body."

"Grandpa..." Aoki felt sorrowful.

The old man waved his hand dismissively. "This is the karma I must bear."

"As long as you care for them, giving you that Medical Canon, which is useless to me, or even dying now, would mean nothing."

"Grandpa!" Aoki interrupted hurriedly. "Don’t talk about dying—it’s unlucky!"

The old man smiled ambiguously. "Will you agree?"

"I... alright." Aoki sighed and nodded.

Only then did the old man smile, gently stroking the dogs’ heads. He seemed far more at ease than Aoki, standing up and speaking warmly, "You’re a good child—a child quite different from your appearance."

"I only hope you always live with this kind heart." The old man coughed twice, covering his mouth, then continued, "Compared to me, with one foot in the grave, there are many others—people or animals—who need help."

"If this Medical Canon teaches you anything, use that knowledge to help more people." The homeless man smiled at Aoki and nodded. "I should be going. Early tomorrow, the camp will pack up and move to a new place."

"You’ve given your bread to them—let me buy you another," Aoki offered, reaching for his wallet, but the old man stopped him.

"I’ll probably keep wandering within Chiba. I can’t go too far. Perhaps you’ll see me again—then buy me another rice ball! The one you bought last time, and that hot coffee, were truly delicious."

Aoki wanted to say more, but the old man, looking tired, turned away. "Well, I’m worn out today. I need to rest; no need to see me off."

"Instead of worrying about an old man like me, care more for those who truly love you. Whether it’s gratitude or expressing your real feelings, don’t wait until it’s too late and regret it." With those words, the old man vanished around the corner.

The three little dogs chased after him, barking twice at the mouth of the alley, as if bidding farewell. Only when the old man disappeared did they return to the iron bowl.

Aoki gazed at the three dogs wagging their tails, eating contentedly at the bowl, lost for words.

...

P.S.: Merry Christmas! An extra chapter today for those spending the holiday without girlfriends or friends. Second chapter at noon, third at six, fourth at nine tonight.