---The first year was spent discovering whom to hate.

For a long time, he had been in the center of happiness.
He was born in a plain, not so very wealthy house.
A family made up of normal parents, a brother and little sister some years apart. He woke up early in the morning to help his father in the forest, bringing back the fruits of their labors to the village.

That work had gone on for many years.

His father, the father of his father, probably had entered the forest and lived in the same way, with the allowance of the mountain. As his father's son, he would also live through the same static old way of living and dye of boredom. He had his complaints about this, stemming from his youth, but he knew that this would fade with the wind as the years went by.

The same place to live under every day, enough food to not starve, and the protection offered by the warm ties with his neighbors; for him those days had been one of everyday happiness.

Then why, why did it have to turn out like that?
Being able to pass through each day tediously was the bare minimum right that everyone was entitled to.
It hadn't been a rich village, but it was filled with the rightness of being able to live normally and dying quietly.

There wasn't anything that made him different from the other villagers.
There hadn't been anyone that didn't think of him as one of their own.

...Even now, he couldn't let go of it.
Nothing had suddenly gone wrong.
Nothing had been some mistake.
That choice was most definitely the will of humanity.

-That's why, he couldn't let it go.

Had it at least been the will of heaven, he could have just blamed god's cruelty.

continuation