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Rando remembered an imposing figure, handsome, if he smiled or not. But, what color was his hair? What color were his eyes? What kind of clothing did he wear, and when did the two of them meet? He could probably live with the empty hole in his mind, but that one gap, shaped like a man, tortured him. He longed to see that face again, to remember the form that now was little more than an amalgam of shadows in his mind.
His dearest friend, he was certain of it. Something happened to him, but what? Did he die? And, why? The nature of the mission they were on together, seeking out the God of Chaos, Arahabaki. But, what was Arahabaki, really? And, those flames that threatened to consume him…
Was that man consumed by Arahabaki’s flames? Was there a chance that he was still alive somewhere, licking his wounds to heal? Was he also somewhere in Japan, Amnesiac? Was he searching for Rando too, unable to find him when, most likely, neither of them even remembered one another’s names?
His heart ached. If he spent his entire life fighting for this, then he supposed he would just have to. He remembered the image of a hat, nestled atop the scarf that he wore everyday. It was his only tie back to that man, his only clue to the one thing he needs like water.
Rando lowered his head, burying his mouth and nose in the scarf for a moment.
He wondered, if somewhere in the scarf, was the smell of him.