ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: [ Eight - IU ]
Notes: This is set in a Futuristic AU
Requested by: bloombloomblooming
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"So are you happy now,
Finally happy now, are you?
Well, I'm just the same,
I feel like I've lost everything..."
Images flashed before him, one after another. Remnants of a past he couldn't remember. He could only recall the sounds of laser guns speeding past him, the feel of a gun in his hands, orders coming and going, the war... never ending.
He couldn't remember anything before all of it.
Recollections constantly flooded his mind, filling his dreams with broken memories of a woman clad in a snowy white dress, silky [hair color] hair that flowed behind her back like waterfalls, [eye color] eyes full of life, full of youth. Every night, he saw the same woman haunting him, her sweet voice luring him into the comfort of his dreams before they turned dark, the sound of gunshots replacing her laugh, piercing screams replacing her sweet, silvery voice.
When the days progressed and the dreams continued on, Azuma almost felt desperate to remember. He would yell for you to come back, beg you tell him your name, only for your face to blur into nothing, your body disintegrating in the air like it was nothing but dust.
He often consulted the military doctors whenever he saw those dreams, but they never helped given that they always tried to convince him that they were probably just dreams created by his imagination.
But Azuma refused to believe it.
There was something he wasn't remembering, something- no, someone, he wasn't remembering. He desperately wanted to remember everything before the war. Who was he? Where did he come from? Who are you?
You haunted his dreams constantly, but every time he was in them, even if people would call it a "nightmare" of his, then he wouldn't want to wake up from it.
"Yukishiro," A stern voice called out to him, snapping him out of his reverie, "Are you still listening?"
He looked up at his colleague with a small, breezy smile on his face, "Yes, yes, I still am. Don't worry."
Sakyo sighed, handing him a few files, "You've been out of it, lately. Are you sure you're all right? Do you want to visit the doctor again?"
Azuma shook his head, "No, it's all right. I was just thinking about something."
Sakyo didn't press him any further, instead, he brought up a different topic that strayed away from their usual discussion about warfare and strategy, "The war seems to be letting up, we might be able to go home again soon.."
Home. Such a foreign word it was. So foreign, he didn't even know how to feel every time someone said the word. A lot of people would remember earth as a place where they could finally feel at ease, a place where they could relish in the sweet oxygen generously given to them by the trees and greenery that covered the planet, where animals and humans roamed freely, unconcerned about the thought of war looming over them like it wasn't bound to happen any time soon.
