LOST TIME MEMORY Vol. 1

Chapter 1: The Boy in Red

I stood absentmindedly on the school rooftop, clutching my crumpled test results. The paper fluttered against the wind; it was the only discernible noise up here. My results were the same as always. It was, after all, a test that only required good retention. Nothing else. I held the paper to my face and tore it apart. My eyes wandered through the clouds, and I found that I subconsciously tried keeping the many shredded pieces together between my fingers. I opened my palms. The paper fragments scattered and flew away along with a violent gust of wind, going every which way. Still, they fell within the boundaries of the rusty fence enclosing the roof. A safety precaution of the school administration. I coiled my fingers around the metal wires, holding them tight, then leaned my upper body backward. The steel cried in agony. My head tilted all the way back until it was upside-down. I got a good look at the only door that could've led any of the other students my way. But nobody was going to come.

It was after-school hours, and for that reason, the whole place was utterly desolate. I pulled myself toward the fence and looked beyond, then below. There were a few people still there; teachers and students. All on their way home. It was in the middle of summer vacation, and only those who had supplementary lessons still had to come over now and then. There was no one here but me.

A thought entered my mind. I considered what the people down there would think and how they would react if I were to jump. That hadn't been the initial reason as to why I'd decided to come up here, but still. What would've happened if I did it? Would they do stand in shock? Pull out their phones, snap a few pictures and leave? I doubt they'd even call the police or the ambulance, lest the faculty show up. Really, what significance did my small, almost minuscule life have in the grand scheme of the world? In the endless days of the lives that people lead? Nothing. Somebody would probably just replace me. That'd be it.

It only made sense, though, that the few friends I'd somehow gotten would grieve for me. I don't know how they put up with me. Especially my family. But they'd eventually get over it and move on with their lives. I wouldn't be the first member of my immediate family to die. But I didn't have his presence in the family, the adoration he held and appreciated even at death. I firmly believed that I couldn't compare. And at some point, maybe even right at this very moment, someone would and was taking my place. A different kind of Shintaro Kisaragi. That'd be great, actually. Maybe he'd be just as intelligent, but with grander ambitions more befitting the gifts that I never wanted. Without as much clutter in his mind, the never-ending scribbling doodles that'd kept me miserable. Yes, more headspace to wander about freely. That's what he would have. Without as many people hating him. A selfless person. A guy who would lead a better life than me, be a better human being. Because sometimes it felt as though I was barely even that.

I was a bundle of depression with anti-social tendencies to top it off, and I'd been like that since my first brain cell was developed. It was one of the worst possible mixes of traits that a human being could have. A severe dislike of others, the need to put them down, and the brains to support it. I never failed to lower the mood of the room. And there were no rewards to give to those willing to put up with my shit because they always get pushed away in the end. Then trampled while they're down. That was the way I was- an utterly abhorrent person. A black hole that sucked the smiles and dimples out of almost everything around me. Almost everything. It's not even funny. Why the hell was I like this? How the hell did I end up this way? I think I more or less understood why. It was just how it was, the way I was growing up. I feel like I should've done something about it. But in a way, it felt inevitable. Like something beyond my birth had decided to make my personality the way it was. But there was a root for everything. An origin that predetermined what kind of person you became from the moment you were out. And so it- and therefore my self- was beyond my own control. I stood faultless for being as awful as I was. The fault lay entirely on the root and origin of everything. I had nothing to do with it. There was no reason for me to feel any guilt or any responsibility. I sometimes told myself that. Now it didn't even make it any harder for me to hate myself for being a piece of shit.

I decided to take a closer look beyond the fence. My right foot pressed through a gap, my left pressed against the ground and pushed me up. Though I didn't realize it, my vision had become hazy, the look in my eyes must've been completely devoid of emotion, and my mouth was open. My head was stuck in the clouds. The wind became a gentle breeze that pleasantly brushed my ears and hair. Fresh air entered my lungs. I just wanted to have a better look. Or maybe something else, I can't recall. So I pushed to move up even further, but something yanked at me. I fell. But I was caught by a pair of soft hands. My face was covered by a red muffler. Someone had put it around me and pulled me away. It was a strange thing to have on a hot summer's day in August. Looking over my shoulder, I recognized the person who'd ruined the little moment I had. I recognized her silky brown hair, her fringe tied neatly to one side by two red hair clips, and her brown eyes- staring at me.

"What're you doing?" she asked, smilingly.

There was no curiosity to her smile. I couldn't find anything in the way she looked at me besides worry. She knew something. Something I didn't know about myself. I wish she'd told me. It wasn't out of a sense of distance that she didn't say anything about it. She was approaching me in the only way she knew how to try to reach me as much as she could no matter the distance. I could appreciate that side of her now. And I should've done the same for her. But for both matters, the truth remains that I hadn't. Not back then. I hadn't cared. My eyes had been inverted. I only ever looked at myself. I'd thought she could do nothing for me, and that was that. I blinked, just for a split second. The view in front of me should've been of her and the school rooftop behind. But when I opened them, I was back in the present. I was in my bedroom, enveloped in almost complete darkness. I took a deep breath to gather my bearings and I let out a wistful sigh. I tighten my eyebrows. Pull it together, get everything straightened out. And then he looked around the room.

"Morning," greeted a slightly metallic voice.

Shintaro threw an annoyed glance, though fully aware that 'she' wasn't to blame. A lazy "morning" grumbled out of his mouth, and he rolled out of bed. There was a thud as his back hit the floor. It knocked the air, sleep and grunt out of him. With his bedsheet wrapped around him and a digital, two-dimensional blue girl looking at him through the monitor in disappointment, it was the start of another ordinary day. He rolled towards her, casually stood up, then walked off.