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It was an ordinary Wednesday, like any other, even though it's position in the middle of the week played against it, the anticipation for the weekend was present among the students almost imperceptibly.
It was a quiet morning, the weather was the same as yesterday, sunny, but not hot. His school was also the same as always, with one small difference that he only had the chance to notice once he arrived the classroom. Right next to his seat in the last row, there was another one completely empty, a thin layer of dust over it, as if no one had used it in a while. There was nothing strange about it per se, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more he thought about it. There was someone there yesterday, wasn't there?
Doubt fell over him, it was as if whatever he was forgetting was important, too much. To the point where he felt his body begin to take action against him, like a punishment.
Think, think, think! No matter how much he tried, the name of who was in that seat would not come to his mind. He can't forget a person, right? If it's someone so important that in less than five minutes remembering them had become a necessity, then why didn't even the color of their hair or the sound of their voice come into his mind?
The teacher's roll call used to be a background noise to which he only paid attention whenever his name was called, and even today, in the middle of what must have been a psychotic break, he answered the call, but even that was strange. After himself, came somebody else, someone different from the girl who was now answering.
With hesitation he turned to the desk beside him and uttered the first thing he could think of "Kun..." No, that was wrong "Kuro..." Better "... Rona?" Despite the tremor in his voice, Kiyora felt like he had gotten somewhere "Kurona..." He repeated once more under his breath, the name felt so natural on his tongue... It mus be it. Despite the calmness that came from knowing the name he had been searching for, his heart was still beating at an uncoordinated beat. There were still more pieces missing.
The boy closed his eyes, silencing the professor's lecture successfully. He was a boy, wasn't he? That's the feeling he got at least. He couldn't remember his eyes, but his heart seemed to want to jump out of his chest when he remembered his gaze, there was nothing special about it, but he couldn't ignore the way those... Pink orbs made him feel. There was also something else, something that made him stand out... His voice? No. His mouth. Teeth, what were they like? Crooked? Were any of them missing? Were they sharp? Bingo. Just to the left side of his smile was something, it was red, a braid of hair; the movement of it never failed to capture him in the middle of a match, when it moved from side to side at great speed, down the right side of the field, a ball at his feet and then.... Goal!
"Ranze"
As if all his memories had just been injected into his brain, he opened his eyes and almost impulsively looked for the name among his contacts. Why wasn't it there? He kept it that way, didn't he? He hadn't changed the name on years. He then searched through his chats, but couldn't visualize the shark emoji that adorned his name either, although he vividly remembered wishing him good night the previous night.
Cold sweat ran down his back and he brought his trembling hand to his wrist and squeezed as hard as he could until he left a small mark on the pale skin. Shit, it hurt.
Something was wrong, really wrong. Not even the boy's parents' or his home number was stored in his phone. He could justify the absence of his name on the list or the apparent apathy everyone felt at his disappearance, but not this. Every trace of his best friend had been erased so systematically that it was stupid to chalk it up to a mere coincidence. Damn it, even he was this close to forgetting.
Kiyora, remembering this fact, took his pencil in hand and wrote on the open page of his notebook that name he couldn't forget. He had to do something, look for him, maybe. But what exactly could he look for? He was in the middle of class and he couldn't make a scene, he would die if he had all those judging looks on him and that couldn't happen either.
Luckily for him, he was immersed in his head for so long that just when he was starting to reach a dead end, the bell that dictated the end of a class was ringing to show him an alternate route.
Hastily Kiyora grabbed his stuff, and he could swear he had never moved so fast off the field. As he turned each corner of the school's labyrinthic hallways, a single name repeated in his head like a mantra, encasing his head in an insulating dome, where only the colors of autumn were present. He couldn't allow himself to forget him, he shouldn't forget his best and only friend when he was already so close to his bike to start his way to that house where he was already known and appreciated as another son, while also tortured by each and every one of Kurona's sisters.
The house was not far away, 25 minutes walking, 10 minutes on car and 15 minutes on bicycle. It was in a quiet neighborhood without much traffic, because of this you could often see how little kids and other teenagers gathered in the desolate streets to play soccer, more than once he was convinced by his friend to play a game with them, one became two, two became four, and so on until tired and sweaty they layed down on the neat floor that Ajisai had cleaned with so much work, earning a scolding from her each time.
A smile was brought to his face at the memory, a smile that was soon supplanted by a grimace of despair at not being able to visualize his friend's house. Could a house also disappear? No... It was a house that stood out among the rest with that garish yellow Mr. Kurona had chosen, so.... Where was it?
Kiyora pedaled quickly across the street, his eyes moving frantically in search of that home, until from the distance a moving truck came into view, leaving the vibrant paint of the house behind it barely visible.
As soon as he reached the side of the truck, Kiyora threw his bike carelessly to the ground, running full speed to the wide-open door.
"RANZE!" he shouted loudly as he reached the entrance, however the response was not immediate and it was just after a moment that a young dark-haired woman appeared in front of him with an insecure expression.
Her lips parted with some concern, but she lacked time to begin his cordial questioning, for soon a desperate voice echoed from the entrance ".... Ranze, is he here?" He was out of breath, and did not know whether the trembling of the organ in his chest was more due to the hasty journey he had just made or because of how any hope he still retained might be crushed at this very moment.
The girl made an attempt to speak again, a confused expression on her face, but footsteps coming from a nearby room –the living room actually– were enough to distract both her and the boy, who eagerly expected to see his partner, but was greeted by a tall, foreign-looking man.
"What's going on here?" the man asked, taking in the scene in front of him. On her side, the girl hurried to explain the situation to him, now, both wore a confused expression and looked at each other as if trying to collect the pieces in a silent exchange "I don't know anyone by that name, boy" Kiyora practically spat out the family name at the refusal ".... This is– was, their house" The couple seemed to think about it for another moment, but once again the answer was negative "What was their last name, sweetheart? The former owners.... Fujikawa wasn't it?" the girl questioned, to which the man only nodded.
Kiyora wanted to say more, to show them the memory of the welcoming family he had known, but it seemed there was no one else in this world capable of remembering them anymore. Perhaps, just like a mirage, they hid themselves from all those who enjoyed fullness in their lives, supplied with the affection that Kiyora's lost and thirsty figure so longed for as he wandered the arid deserts of the world.
"... Thank you, i think i made a mistake" He said as he left the house, but there was no mistake, the neighborhood, the address, the color, the atmosphere.... Everything was the same, although without any trace of Kurona Ranze, he had vanished like the mirage he was, but Kiyora was still thirsty and wandering, with no water source in sight, he found himself on the verge of dehydration.
This time, more slowly, he drove through the streets while reviewing his options, or so he wanted to do, because, when something you had become so accustomed to just disappeared without you even realizing it, what can you do? Kiyora was lost, his head was a mess where the red color was present in every existing tone, creating that kind of abstract painting that seemed to have been made with the eyes closed, expressing everything and nothing at the same time. The incessant noise gave him a headache but he refused to leave that autumnal dome he had created for himself because....
He will forget.
He might not understand the situation one hundred percent, but he knew firsthand how easy it had become to forget. His friend had to be a constant thought on his mind, because at the slightest oversight he will forget him, along with every emotion he had allowed himself to feel by his side. Emotions that were obviously impossible to feel within the walls of this desolate house that called itself home.
The lights were off and there was no one in here as usual. It was just him most of the time, as his mother worked late to give them a decent life. He didn't bother to turn on the lights on his way to his room either, as he already had the route more than memorized, however, he did turn them on when he got to his room, noticing all the changes that had occurred he didn't notice earlier in the morning.
A Panini album, some shirts that Ranze gave him when he had outgrown them, money that Mrs. Kurona gave him for his last birthday along with the drawing that Shirayuri, the youngest of the family, gave him also disappeared. In general everything that could remind him of the existence of that family was gone, however none of the material possessions were really important despite their sentimental value, what really alarmed the boy was the empty space on his bedside table where a fish tank should be.
His hair stood up at the absence of that special goldfish. Helmer, a carnival fish that Kurona had won for him, was who, in words of the aforementioned was their son, a childish title but one that had Kiyora on cloud nine every time he saw the little fish in the mornings. They could live up to ten years, right? Perhaps, even if Kurona got bored of him, he could still stay by his side for the little fish he gave him one day. His motives might be selfish, but his love for the animal was not to be doubted; he had taken so much care of him.... But in the blink of an eye he vanished, along with everything he cared about.
It was all so sudden, it wasn't like they died, for he couldn't cry, but it wasn't as if they had gone on a trip overseas either, for a disconsolate emptiness embraced his motionless body in bed. He was in the middle of convincing himself to be a pillow, maybe he could replace the mouse stuffed animal they had gotten together in a claw machine once. Maybe he could even sleep and wake up the next day by the time the round fish tank was in place once again. Maybe it was all a dream, yes, it had to be that. A lucid dream, in these, things like pain and pleasure, were as real as in real life, that would explain why his hand hurt more and more as he pinched it in the same place; then there would be no problem if his tired eyes closed for a while.
Kiyora, or rather his brain, wasn't capable of convincing itself even if he wanted to. If he closed his eyes he will forget and he didn't want that.
Or did he? Wouldn't it be easier to go back to the way things were before he met Ranze?
All he had to do was to stop thinking about anything related to his friend for a moment, but it sounded impossible when even the spider web in the upper corner of his room reminded him of him. Closing his eyes was also useless, as he could see him even better, his smile, his hair, his big eyes....
That night he didn't sleep, he was so stubborn about remembering the existence of the one he loved– loves, that he preferred to suffer insomnia for the rest of his life if it meant not losing his image from his memory. As long as he could be accompanied during the cold by the memory of nights that seemed to be more lively than this one because of the warmth of a body by his side, he would be fine.
"It doesn't matter if the rest doesn't like you, Jin" The room was dark and he would only be able to discern his friend's figure in the shadows due to the moonlight that slipped through the curtains. The weather was cold, especially at this hour, but his body refused to accept it, for, under the sheets of Ranze's even small for a person bed, he could feel the warmth radiating from the other whenever their knees touched by mistake. "As long as you're always yourself, it doesn't matter what people without vision think. I like-like you, Jin! Don't you trust my judgment?" Kurona chuckled lightly and Jin could feel warmth on his shoulder and elbow, a small smile on his face that was soon wiped away by his own words.
"But what if one day you get sick of me?" The other side of the mattress squeaked and sagged under his partner's weight, and soon Kurona was on his side, his head resting on his hand, staring at him, or so Kiyora could intuit in the dim light. "And what could you do to make that happen?"
"I could tell you that I love you" Never said Kiyora, and just continued to silently stare at the ceiling, Kurona slumped once more on his side and victory echoed from his throat. "... Well, people usually drift apart after school ends, do you think we'll still be together?" his voice stuck in his throat for a moment before continuing "Ha, to think i might never go to your wedding..." It was true, even if they remained friends Kiyora didn't know if he would be able to let go of this stupid teenage crush and accept that on the most important day of his best friend's life, he wouldn't be content with just being a mere side character, while who he loved would be happy with someone else in his eyes. It was selfish, but that was nothing new.
Kurona in exasperation got back up to look at him "What?!" With a 'shhh' from Kiyora his tone returned to normal but held the same intensity even though across the room was a little girl trying to sleep "Then there can't be a wedding, Jin. You are the most special guest. More than me!" The black haired boy couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped his lips "What, are you going to give me your wife at last minute?" Kurona groaned in frustration and threw himself back on his side of the bed, initiating a quiet silence which Kiyora's permanently tired eyes couldn't resist.
When the sun peeked out once more, the boy's eyes were parched, and every time he blinked, reopening them was like an impossible mission. The cold water bath and the cup of coffee did indeed help, as his body once again felt like injected with adrenaline.
His mother, though positively impressed that her son had gotten up so early to eat breakfast with her, showed concern at the worsening of the dark circles under his eyes and asked him not to overexcced himself.
It was an ordinary Thursday, and the anticipation of the weekend was present among the excited students.
It was a quiet morning, the weather was the same as yesterday, sunny, but not hot. His school was also the same as usual, but there was one difference that kept him awake at night and that he couldn't tell anyone about. Right next to his seat in the last row, there was another one completely empty, a thin layer of dust on it, as if no one had used it in a while, that someone was Kurona Ranze, his best friend who had been dragged to the center of the planet two days ago, along with any trace of him and his family.
Like any other Thursday first thing in the morning the teacher started to call the roll and Kiyora, even though he knew it was a bad idea, listened attentively, responded instantly when his name was said, and the next moment when a girl answered the call, he felt a pang in his head, as if someone just stabbed his mind with a knife that had the word 'reality' marked on the handle.
But this wasn't the reality Kiyora knew, nor the reality he wanted and the name written in graphite on the open page of his notebook was proof of that.
Yet another sting, this time the edge felt thinner, like that of an ice pick. Why did he have to go through this when everyone around him could live with a clear conscience, without the constant reminder of what was missing?
But this was his fault, wasn't it? His brain tried to forget and it was only him who forced himself to keep his memories intact. If only he hadn't focused on that damn seat, maybe now he wouldn't have a migraine, nor would his eyelids weight as much as the stone Sisyphus moved for eternity. Like him, Kiyora continues to do something useless that would never end, because after all that's what punishment was all about.
And it was only him who brought it upon himself by wanting to preserve the memory of those he loved. He wanted to remember them forever, but he will never be satisfied with just memories. But still forgetting them felt like a sin, throwing away the affection they once offered him just to avoid his own suffering was like biting their hand, while his agony was the only thing that would bring them comfort in their non-existence. But this wasn't the case and Kiyora knew it very well.
If forgetting was the only thing that could save him from a life of past longings and Ranze had the last word, he would surely erase his memories if only by blows.
So, what was he doing? If the answer had been always so clear from the start, why wouldn't his hands move?
His trembling eyes stared at the name in his notebook and he wanted to run, never in his life had a single name caused him to panic as much as this one did right now, and it wasn't the name itself, but what was right next to it, a pencil, the very tip he used to write it was on one end, and on the other a small eraser begging to be used, Kiyora sweared he could hear it's distorted voice right in his eardrum, but the thought of forgetting, as liberating as it was, didn't fail to terrorize him.
Having to let go of all those memories of days where he could always feel someone by his side, his warmth and the joy of being in family, and return to the monotonous cycle that was his life before, was terrifying. But at the end of the day, they were just that, memories, and they all disappeared once you became dust.
He won't even realize they once were there.
A trembling hand slowly approached the pencil that seemed to have waited its entire life for this moment. His palms were sweating and even though he only needed to move one part of his body, his movements still failed him and the pencil slipped off his hold every time he tried to turn it over.
Finally he succeeded, and just like the prior day he pressed the object against thin paper, in the same place, but this time all he left along the way were the remains of the eraser as the name underneath disappeared little by little, he wanted to stop, but his hand did not respond and only ceased it's movements once the name had completely disappeared.
He had just erased the only remaining proof of Kurona Ranze's existence.
He felt a lump in his throat and his breathing turned erratic as he looked directly at the paper. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still see the faint mark the graphite had left on the page, and the more he saw it the more the urge to rewrite the name came over him.
Slowly he raised his head until he was able to catch a sight of the tired figure of his teacher, who was talking about some subject that he could faintly hear between all the noise. He still heard the faint voice that sounded from the back of his brain, mortifiedly reprimanding him for his decision and calling him all sorts of names, but at the same time he felt the dome around his head begin to fall apart and the reddish tones of autumn were slowly replaced by the vivid colors of the spring that awaited, as opaque as it looked in his head.
It would take a while, but perhaps it was best to forget.