Chapter 149: Captain Hato's Past
Ruchir's consciousness drifted in and out of a foggy haze, his body heavy and numb. He could feel himself floating, unmoored from the world, his mind slipping away from the pain and chaos that had consumed him moments ago.
But as he descended deeper into the abyss of unconsciousness, something shifted. He found himself standing, disoriented, in a bustling marketplace.
The noise was overwhelming. The clamor of merchants haggling, the shouts of children playing in the streets, the distant tolling of bells—it all assaulted his senses at once.
Ruchir blinked, trying to steady himself, but the scene before him was unfamiliar. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the sights and sounds of a place he knew well but could no longer recognize.
"This is the capital," he muttered to himself, frowning in confusion. "But why am I here?"
His thoughts felt muddled, as if trying to swim through thick, murky water.
The last thing he remembered was the intense battle against Rakash and the brutal aftermath, yet now he was here, in the heart of the capital.
His head throbbed as he tried to make sense of it all, his memories tangled in a web he couldn't unravel.
He glanced down at himself, expecting to see the familiar catcher uniform he had worn earlier, but his breath caught in his throat. The body he now inhabited wasn't his own. His hands were larger, rougher, and his clothes were not the simple garb he was accustomed to.
They were the attire of a seasoned soldier—no, a catcher of a higher rank. He flexed his fingers experimentally, but the motions felt stiff and unnatural, as though he was a mere passenger in this unfamiliar body.
"What… what is happening?" Ruchir whispered, panic creeping into his voice. He tried to move, to take control, but the body didn't respond to his will.
It moved of its own accord, his legs carrying him forward, deeper into the city, with no input from his mind.
He soon arrived at the grand gates of the Mysterious Heaven Palace, the headquarters of the catchers in the capital. It loomed large and imposing, its stone walls weathered by time and history.
The sight of it sent a shiver down Ruchir's spine, a strange mixture of familiarity and dread settling over him. He had been here before, many times, but never like this.
As he approached the entrance, a short, stout man with a thick beard and stern expression stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Ruchir—or rather, the body he now inhabited.
"Hato, you're late again," the man barked, his tone full of authority.
Ruchir's heart skipped a beat. The name "Hato" echoed in his mind, striking a chord deep within him. Captain Hato—one of the most feared and respected catchers of his time, a man who had risen through the ranks with ruthless efficiency and unyielding determination.
A man who, in the present day, had become a cult leader, a figure of terror and darkness.
"No… it can't be," Ruchir thought, horror dawning on him. He wasn't just in a different body—he was in Captain Hato's body, living his life in a time long before he had become the monster Ruchir had fought against.
Weeks passed in a blur as Ruchir experienced life through Captain Hato's eyes. He was a silent observer, trapped within the body of a man he barely understood, watching as events unfolded with a disturbing sense of inevitability.
Every day, Hato led his team of catchers with unwavering resolve, his sharp mind and quick reflexes making him a formidable leader. Ruchir witnessed firsthand how Hato cracked cases with precision, how he fought with a fierce determination that left his enemies quaking in fear.
But as time went on, Ruchir also saw the other side of Hato's life—the side hidden from the public eye.
After long days of hunting demons, thieves, and bandits, Hato would return home to his family.
And it was here, in the quiet, intimate moments of his life, that Ruchir saw the true depth of the man he had become entangled with.
Hato's home was modest but filled with warmth. The walls were adorned with simple decorations, the furniture well-worn but comfortable.
His wife, a gentle woman with kind eyes and a serene smile, welcomed him each evening with open arms.
She would greet him at the door, her voice soft and full of love as she asked about his day.
And in those moments, the stern, battle-hardened man Ruchir had come to know would soften.
Hato's smile would break through the tough exterior, his eyes crinkling with genuine affection as he embraced his wife.
Their two children, a boy and a girl, would rush to him with shouts of joy, their small hands grasping at his clothes as they begged for stories of his adventures. Hato would laugh, a deep, rich sound that seemed out of place compared to the gruff orders he gave during the day.
He would lift them into his arms, spinning them around as they giggled, their laughter filling the small house with a warmth that seemed almost otherworldly.
Ruchir watched these scenes play out day after day, his heart aching with a confusion he couldn't fully comprehend.
Hato's love for his family was undeniable, a stark contrast to the cold, ruthless persona he displayed as a catcher. In the privacy of his home, Hato was tender and patient, his eyes soft as he listened to his children's stories, his hands gentle as he helped his wife with the chores.
One evening, as Hato sat with his wife by the fire, the children already asleep in their beds, Ruchir felt a strange sense of peace wash over him.
Hato's wife leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice a quiet murmur as she spoke of her hopes for their children's future. Hato listened intently, his hand resting on hers, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles.
The firelight danced in his eyes, casting flickering shadows that softened his features, making him appear almost vulnerable.
It was in these moments that Ruchir began to understand the complexity of the man whose life he was witnessing. Hato was not just a fierce warrior, nor was he simply a loving husband and father. He was both, existing in a delicate balance that seemed to grow more tenuous with each passing day.
But as the months went on, Ruchir noticed a change in Hato. The cases he worked on grew more dangerous, the enemies he faced more cunning and ruthless.
The toll of his work began to weigh on him, the lines on his face deepening, his smiles at home growing rarer. The warmth he once carried within him started to fade, replaced by a cold, hard resolve that mirrored the harshness of the world he fought against.
Ruchir could feel the shift in Hato's demeanor, the way his once gentle hands became more calloused, his voice more clipped and distant.
Even his interactions with his family grew strained, the warmth that once filled their home now tainted by the darkness of the outside world.
Hato's wife noticed it too, her eyes filled with worry as she watched the man she loved slip further away with each passing day.
One evening, as Ruchir stood by helplessly within Hato's body, he watched as the man finally broke.
After a particularly grueling day, Hato returned home covered in blood, his expression grim and haunted. His wife rushed to him, her hands shaking as she tried to help him clean up, but he pushed her away, his eyes filled with a cold fury that Ruchir had never seen before.
"Leave me be," Hato growled, his voice low and dangerous.
His wife recoiled, her eyes wide with shock and hurt. "Hato… what's happened to you?" she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.
But Hato said nothing. He turned away from her, his shoulders slumped, his entire body radiating exhaustion and despair.
Ruchir could feel the weight of his emotions, the turmoil churning within him like a storm about to break.
He wanted to reach out, to comfort the man, to offer some words of solace, but he was trapped, powerless to do anything but watch.
The days that followed were tense and strained. Hato withdrew further into himself, his once loving nature replaced by a cold detachment that frightened Ruchir.
The man who had once been the pillar of his family, the protector and provider, was now a shadow of his former self, consumed by the darkness he fought against every day.
Ruchir's heart ached as he watched the family he had grown to care for fall apart, the bonds of love that had once held them together now frayed and broken.
The contrast between the man Hato had been and the man he was becoming was stark and painful to witness.
The loving husband and father was still there, buried deep beneath the layers of pain and anger, but he was slipping away, replaced by someone cold and unrecognizable.
One night, as Hato lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, Ruchir felt a surge of anger and frustration.
How could someone so full of love and life become what Hato eventually did? How could the man who cherished his family so deeply, who fought with such fierce determination to protect the innocent, turn into the leader of a disturbing cult, a demon incarnate?
"What happened to you, Hato?" Ruchir thought bitterly, his mind racing with questions. "What twisted your heart so much that you became the very thing you once fought against?"
But there were no answers to be found