Pigs live in small houses

I sat there apathetically, watching the environment around me slowly fall into slumber. 10:30 rolled around faster than I expected. Yamauchi was definitely home by this time. I got up and said farewell to my hiding spot. I pulled up my scarf over my mouth and nose and kept the butcher's knife in my bag. I quietly shuffled myself in the cramped alleyway, straying further and further away from the light of the street lamps. Emerging out the other side, I saw a small row of small tents and huts. This little community was built on rags and was hidden from anyone who didn't know where to look. One of these huts were Yamauchi's home, all I needed to do was find which one. I scanned each house, looking for a clue, a hint, anything that suggests the Mountain lives there. I walked stealthily across the houses, until one house caught my eye. It was a house with a huge hole acting as an entrance, with a cloth covering it up as a door. After scanning all the other huts, I knew this one must be Yamauchi's house. It's the only one with an entrance big enough for a pig like him. I slowly pulled back the curtain to enter the small dirt hut. It was dark and cold, with no electricity and no heating. I looked in corner to see three small, fragile kids sleeping. They were huddled together to stay warm. They were sleeping peacefully on the chilly dirt floor. I noticed the eldest one was clinging onto a broken jar with coins and bills. Was this where Shunichi's money went? I crept past the children to open the entrance in the side of the wall. It led to a second room, if you could even call it a room. This place was colder and damper than the main part of the house. The roof was a collection of rags damp from the rain with holes letting the moonlight leak in. The floor was littered with glass shards with the smell of smoke filling your lungs. The strong dictator of the school, living in such abysmal conditions? Pitiful. In the middle of the room, I see the jackpot. Daiki Yamauchi. The great Mountain was sitting here, right in front of me, shivering in the cold. Was he awake? Better question, did it matter? He bullied so many people, created social outcasts and ruined people's lives, he deserves to feel every inch of pain. I laid my bag near the entrance of the second room and pulled out the butcher's knife. The cold of the metal handle stung my hand, and the shine of the blade blinded me with the moonlight that passes through the holes in the roof. I some closer to the sleeping beast, and tap ever so slightly on his shoulder. He slowly turned around, his eyes squinting in moonlight. I meet his eyes to see sheer terror in his expression. Before he can even think of screaming, I take a wing with the knife. Before I knew it, I was swinging and hitting his body aimlessly. I look down to see the mutilated body of who was once the most feared person in school. I packed up the knife and quietly left the room. The little kids sat there, fast asleep in the corner of the room. I felt sorry that they had to live in a terrible house with someone like Daiki. I cloak the kids in some newspapers and swiftly left the poor, unruly community, leaving my victim in the silence of that night.

The next morning, I found the local newspaper at the door,

"MURDER OF 17 YEAR OLD LAST NIGHT! The kid was brutally murdered last night. The killer is still unknown, police are still investigating. Please be careful of any suspicious activity."

I couldn't help but chuckle. I was done with him, I already scaled that mountain.