It finally happened, finally!

The nuclear war, I mean. That terrifying thing.

The high-and-mighty people coveted each other's resources and ended up destroying everything together!

But that nuke thing, well, it created a bizarre situation.

90% of the world's population vanished without a trace, and because the governments, militaries, and institutions of every country were wiped out, this world became a post-apocalypse! Do kids these days not use that word? Well, it's hard to see kids these days, so how would I know. Anyway...

I was already an adult before the nukes went off. I don't remember exactly, but my age is... late 30s, or maybe 40s. Don't call me 'mister.' It makes me feel sad.

I was born in Russia. I'm somewhat influenced by my father, so there's a feeling that I run this survivor group a bit like the Soviet style, but well, everyone follows without complaint, so I'm grateful.

Fortunately, this group I lead is situated by a delta—I'm not sure exactly where—so we can do both farming and even a bit of fishing. We were lucky.

I have no interest in processed goods from before the nuclear war, like canned food or cup noodles you guys find somewhere, or agricultural, livestock, and fishery products produced after the outbreak, like potatoes. What I want are, well, the bastards who plunder the food and weapons I just mentioned. Or just evildoers like slavers. If they're loitering nearby, tell me everything. Because I'm going to eat them all up.

...Why are you looking at me like that? You're looking at these guys on my back, aren't you? These guys, well, I don't really remember how they got there. They look like the tentacles I used to be scared of in movies when I was a kid, but at some point, they attached to my back and started living there, treating me like a host.

Agh, why are these strikethroughs here? Which brat drew strikethroughs on my introduction? Was it the kids?

Our group? Don't think of it as just some camp where a few survivors are gathered. It feels quite like a place where people live. There are many people living with their families, and quite a few kids. I often hear the cries of newborns. You'd be surprised to know how precious the sound of a baby crying is in this era. Come to think of it, wasn't there a low birth rate even before the war, so there were no kids?

We use an abandoned school as our residence. It seems it was a fairly large school. Lots of classrooms and wide hallways. Now, each classroom is used like a home. The blackboards are still there, and some families live there with their names written on them. I didn't tell them to erase it. It looked nice.

I'm using the principal's office Actually, I could have used any empty room, but other people forced it on me, saying the leader should use a place like that. The faculty office is used for meetings, the nurse's office became a clinic, and the music room became a records archive. Even so, a school is a school; sometimes pre-war textbooks pop out from the corners of bookshelves. When I found a math book and tossed it to the kids, they were thrilled to death. Actually, I didn't like math that much either.

What about the playground? Can't use it. The ground is all cracked, and weeds have grown waist-high, so farming is impossible and building structures is awkward. So I just left it as a playground for the kids. It's noisy when I see them running around... but still, I'd like to keep hearing that kind of noise.

The gym became a warehouse. We've piled up lots of wheat, potatoes, corn, dried fish, tools, and firewood. On festival days, a bit of precious meat comes in too. I don't even know where things like cows or chickens drifted in from. Anyway, we're raising them well, but they're precious, so we don't slaughter them recklessly. Usually, we just get eggs or milk, and we only eat meat on really special days. It's fine if there's no portion for me. Because I have something else to eat.

The school walls were also half-collapsed. We tore down the intact parts and used them to build the defensive wall outside the community. Thanks to that, when I'm on patrol, I still see graffiti on the concrete like "I failed the exam" or "Name ♥ Name." I don't know who wrote them, but...

There are no religious facilities. Part of it is because I'm non-religious, and honestly, in today's world, if you have wood to build a chapel, it's better to build one more warehouse first. Those who believe in God believe, and those who don't, don't. Just don't worship me. It'll be troublesome if I die later.

Oh, and about this gas mask. Everyone thinks it's because of radiation. It's not. It's been over 20 years since the nuclear war ended; would I still be wearing this out of fear of that? I wear this because of my breath. They say a strange gas comes out little by little every time I breathe. I can't really tell the smell, but other people say their heads hurt or they hear hallucinations if they smell it for too long, so I just wear it. If I don't, others suffer. But wearing one that covers the whole face makes the inside feel like a gas chamber, so I'm wearing a half-face mask that only covers the mouth.

Ah, shall we talk a bit more about the tentacles? Many people are curious. Usually, they stay quietly inside my back. If needed, they pop out from the gaps in my back. Since they're attached to my body, they can't reach as far as you'd think. It's impossible to wrap around two or three buildings like in the movies. Have I tried? I haven't. Probably.

When I'm aware of them, they listen quite well. Grabbing, throwing, stabbing, pulling. It's much more convenient than hands. But the problem is when I'm not paying attention. They wriggle as they please, tap the floor, grab the legs of people passing by and play pranks... Sometimes they find strange things while doing useless stuff. Once, they plotted among themselves and tied my hair up while I was sleeping. Surprisingly, their skill wasn't bad, so I've been using them for that occasionally.

Sometimes they flip through my notebook or pick up a cup without my permission. So, if my handwriting suddenly gets messy while I'm writing, it's all those guys' fault. Really.

...Hey, you there. Don't wave your arms behind my back even now. Don't keep trying to show off your presence while I'm writing an intro. Yes, I've talked about you guys enough. Be satisfied.