SOLITAIRE || AIB || OC

Sachihiro Aito - Entrance to the Borderlands

Prolouge chapter! Takes place roughly ~2 weeks before Akira joins the borderlands

Sachihiro was not paying attention in class, idly tapping and twirling his pen, looking up occasionally to ensure that he wasn't causing a disturbance. A quiet, heads-down guy, that’s what he liked to think of himself as. Bright enough to keep his place in law school, yet unwilling to branch out sociably. Not that he particularly minded. He was content enough to keep himself to himself, and that was fine by him.  He didn't want to draw attention to himself - engaging in conversation was more a chore than anything else, an analytical game. He would liken it to a dating simulator, but the thought itself seemed crude  to him. Either way, Sachihiro Aito was content.

Until, his phone rang. The ringtone - sharp and buzzing - cut through the simple chatter of the classroom. Sachihiro looked down, picking up his satchel -  the one with the little fish keyring - Hurriedly sifting through it to find his phone. He’d step outside, just for a moment. He’d answer the call, and return. He’d hardly miss any of the lesson, and his absence would hardly be noted. That was the plan - he was sitting at the end of a row, so he wouldn’t have to climb over anyone, and he was relatively near a door. So, he made a beeline for the door, where he finally got a chance to look at the caller. It was spam. All that effort, for spam? Sachihiro groaned internally, deciding to wait a few minutes before entering class again, standing with his back flush against the wall.

He let roughly five minutes pass before he moved to open the door. As he moved to press the door open, the lights above him flickered, and went out, leaving the hallways quiet without the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. Sachihiro paused, drawing his hand away from the door. The classroom in front of him was quiet, too. Everything was quiet, and still. He decided to let the door shut again, turning around to stare at the dark hallway around him. He tentatively scuffed his shoe against the floor, listening to the sound it made echo down the hall. He did it again, for good measure. It made the same sound. So, he was pretty sure he was not dreaming, and only served to make him look a little silly. Briefly, fleetingly, he was glad that there was nobody around 

It only took about five minutes of walking for Sachihiro to come to a conclusion. There was nobody around. Atleast, not in his school. If he went to a higher floor, he could probably look out a window and check. But, for once, Sachihiro didn’t feel the need to care about the finer details. Everyone in the world was gone but him, and he didn’t have to worry. This wasn’t even a scenario he’d thought about before - and, in hindsight, he was sure it would’ve felt much too obscure to even attempt to plan for something like that - it simply would’ve been illogical. Yet, an indescribable sinking feeling clawed at his chest the longer he thought about his situation. Everyone, every single person, was gone. Vanished, into thin air. The endless emptiness, which should have made him feel freer than ever, quickly started to make him feel trapped, like a fish in a tank too small for it.

He pulled his satchel up his shoulder, causing the keyrings to clack against each other, breaking the silence as he made his way out of the school, looking around at the abandoned streets around him. Cars lay motionless in the streets, as thin green weeds had spread, worming their tendrils through cracks in pavements and buildings. It was as though time had stood still, yet the state of the streets led Sachihiro to believe this place had been abandoned for years. But it couldn’t have been - he’d walked down this very street just an hour ago to get to class. He would have noticed if it had been like this - this couldn’t be happening. Not logically, anyway.

Sachihiro groaned, leaning against the wall behind him, trying to gather his thoughts, but recoiled the second his hand touched the thing. It was coated in dust, thick enough to leave a layer behind on his hand. He grimaced, looking at his hands for a moment, before wiping them on his trousers. He would rather have dusty trousers, than hands. All the while, Sachihiro was trying to think of what he could do - what he should do- in this situation. Judging by the fact cars seemed to be broken down, it would be incredibly tricky for him to get home. But he couldn’t just keep walking, either. His shoes were brand new, and were already rubbing against his heel - a sure foreshadowing of a nasty blister.