where are the gods now?

Chapter One

It was dark outside, the precise moment he returned. 

The classroom was abandoned and unlit, and for a terrifying moment he considered the possibility that the child had lied, that he was trapped in that place with no chance of ever escaping.

As he forced a calm breath, a closer examination of the room showed him all the small things that he had initially missed; the little details that, though minuscule and normally unimportant, sent an overwhelming wave of comfort through his soul.

The blinking red numbers of a digital clock.

There had been no clocks there. No way to tell the time of day.

The pristine, smooth tile of the floor underneath his feet, all put together and whole.

There were no gaping chasms that lead to mass graves, just waiting for him to fall.

The chalkboard was in fact a modern white board, bereft of any shakily-scrawled messages.

"This memoir is the only thing I can give, to leave behind as a reminder that I was real, that I existed, even in this nightmare that takes us and erases us. You've never even heard my name, but you know our situation, and I pray to whoever will listen that you may be luckier than I."

He shook his head and turned his eyes to the window. Therein lay the best detail, the most warming sight.

He could look out the window and see lights, see buildings and billboards and life.

With careful, near silent steps, he made his way toward them, and held his breath when he got there. Setting both hands against the glass, he stood there. Just stood there. Anticipating.

Then, with a great, big shove borne of desperation, he pushed against the window--it opened!- -and breathed.

A quick glance downward, and a quiet sigh that was half exhale and half laughter. There were no bodies at the bottom.

Momozono Naname turned tail and raced toward the door, eager to get closer, to approach the city and find more proof that this wasn't just a hallucination. That this was real.

That he was finally home.

A ripped section of paper, smudged with red and crinkled with sweat, fluttered to the floor in his wake.

O O O

He didn't have a house.

It really hadn't been something he had thought he would need to worry about, but he honestly should have realized.

When he'd disappeared, he'd left his father by himself.

Alone.

The man has a gambling problem; always had. He looked at money and saw, not the possibility of using it to make more money, but the image of a casino and all the games it contained.

Because he was a terrible gambler; he made bets that never cashed in, took risks that never paid off, and just didn't have the mental capacity to realize the consequences of it all.

Thinking about it, Naname really had no way of knowing if the man was even alive, or if one of the many debt collectors he'd fallen on the wrong side of had finally caught up to him and collected.

In the very least, the apartment Naname remembered was now home to a newlywed couple- -and by the look of it, they had been living in it for a while now. For longer than Naname had remembered being gone.