Memories Can Be Deceiving

Chapter 1

"Can you tell me your name?"

"It's...Kokichi Ouma. Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Coure I'm fucking sure. I'm the Ultimate Supreme Leader!"

"Alright. Do you know why you're here?"

"Obviously! I'm here because...because...I was in a car accident? Shit, my head hurts."

"Something like that. Are you able to tell me the last thing you remember?"

"You know, now that you mention it...yeah, no, I don't remember anything. What's going on?"

"You'll remember soon enough. Just get some sleep for now."

"Okay?"

White walls. White floor. White bedsheets. Kokichi always wondered why hospital rooms were so white. Wouldn't that make them harder to clean? They were white last time he was here, too. Well, not here, exactly, but in a hospital bed. When was that, again? Why had he been there? He had no clue.

Rest. Yes, that's what the nurse had said. There was a vague twinge in the back of his head telling him that he'd seen her before. Nurse Yamamoto. The name didn't ring any bells, but the face...yeah, he'd definitely seen her before. Right?

The second nurse he'd been sure he'd never seen in his life. She'd brought him food, insisted he change back into his hospital gown because it's much easier to handle emergencies than his usual clothes. He hadn't, of course.

And the food? Well, it was hospital food, so he hadn't expected much. It had lived perfectly up to those low expectations.

Throughout the excessively boring day, Kokichi recalled a few pictures. Some people, a boy with blue hair, one with purple, two with green. A girl with grey hair. All of those images made him happy, even if he wasn't sure who they were."

After those came the images of scenes he couldn't quite remember. Spending time with the blue haired boy, running around this strange looking park thing, or maybe a forest, with one of the green haired boys, baking cookies with the grey haired girl. There was a brief flash of something large and metallic. Way too close to his face. Kokichi jolted out of his daze, panic rising in him without warning. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite place why or what that was.

Then the memories got worse. He recalled a girl with pink-blonde hair, scenes of them bickering every second of the day. Her jabbing him in his side and making him scream loud enough that the whole dining hall heard. Where had that been? From what he could deduce from these memories, she must've been his friend. The final image was one of her lifeless body, corpse grasping her throat in a desperate attempt for air. His friend had died. And the worst part, he had no clue when, where, or how.

More little snippets appeared throughout the day. A brunette attempting to strangle him. Being shot with an arrow. Being hated for causing the death of a dear friend. So many deaths.

That night, he dreamt of the large metallic device. Loud, suffocating. He knows that thing crushed him. He heard his own bones cracking for an instant before he inevitably died.

He died.

He died.

He fucking died

So how was he here now?

There were no obvious marks of any of this happening. Hell, now that he thought about it, he didn't recognize the scars he'd seen while changing. His arms had never been littered shoulder to wrist with deep, overlapping cut. Scars that looked only months old. There should only be three on each, perfectly symmetrical, the cuts he'd go over time and time again so the rest of him could stay clean. So many questions, and not a single answer. Were there more memories that would help him understand? What was he missing?