At the library, after Shiro ran out...
The library was vast, a labyrinth of quiet and knowledge. Arien, on the far side, was completely absorbed in a thick volume on advanced aerial combat forms, her fingers tracing the intricate diagrams. The distant sound of commotion-a thud, a shout-was muffled by the shelves, but it was enough to pull her from her focus. A ripple of unease passed through the usual silence.
Curiosity piqued, she followed the sound, her steps quickening as she weaved through the aisles. She found a small crowd of students gathered in one of the history sections, their whispers creating a nervous hum. At the center was a male student, sitting on the floor, leaning against a bookshelf. His face was pale, and around his neck were vivid, angry red marks-the clear imprint of a hand.
Everyone was asking him what happened, their voices overlapping. Who did this? Are you okay? But the boy just shook his head, mute with shock and perhaps fear, refusing to give an answer.
Arien's blood ran cold. A memory flashed in her mind: Shiro, standing right near this section just minutes ago. The books she was holding slipped from her grasp, thudding softly onto the carpet. Without a second thought, she turned and ran.
Her breath hitched as she sprinted through the library, her eyes scanning every corner, every shadowed nook. Shiro? she called out, her voice a desperate whisper. He was gone.
Her search became a frantic blur. She checked their SR classroom-empty. She dashed to the canteen, scanning the faces of every student. Nothing. She ran through the garden, the training grounds, her lungs burning, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. With each empty location, a cold dread tightened in her chest.
As her hope began to dwindle, she remembered Satoshi. The roommate. Shiro had mentioned he was in the LR class. It was a long shot, but it was all she had left. She rushed to the Long-Range wing, her legs feeling like lead.
She found him in a common area, sitting calmly and reading a book. She stumbled to a halt in the doorway, gasping for air.
Arien: Koba-... Koba-... She couldn't even finish his name, her breath coming in ragged, painful heaves.
Satoshi looked up, his calm expression shifting to one of concern as he saw the state she was in.
Satoshi: Solvine? Is something wrong?
Arien: I can't... find Shiro, she managed to get out, her voice trembling. I was... just with him in the library... and I left to get some books... and then... when I got back there was a student on the ground... with marks on his neck... that showed someone grabbed him. And... and I can't find Shiro anywhere after that!
Her unease was palpable, her fear genuine. She was genuinely scared-not just annoyed, but truly worried about what he might have done, or what might have happened to him.
Satoshi didn't hesitate. He placed his book down on a nearby desk. Let's go, he said, his usual quiet demeanor replaced with immediate action.
The two of them became a search party of two, combing the academy grounds. They asked everyone they passed, but no one had seen a white-haired boy running in a panic. The trail was cold.
Satoshi: Ha... ha... ha... Sato breathed heavily, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. He... he might be in our room. It's the only place left.
Arien: Let's go then.
They rushed to the boys' dorm and to room twenty-three. The door was slightly ajar. Standing in front of it, Satoshi slowly pushed it open.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn. Satoshi reached for the switch, and light flooded the space, illuminating the neatly made bed on his side... and the empty, rumpled one on Shiro's.
Arien's eyes, however, darted to the far corner, where the light didn't quite reach. There, crouched and pressed into the shadows, was a figure. A boy with his head buried in his knees, his arms wrapped so tightly around his legs his knuckles were white. It was Shiro.
Arien's heart clenched. She rushed over, dropping to her knees in front of him.
Arien: Shiro! Shiro! Oi, Shiro! she called, her voice soft but urgent. She reached out, shaking his shoulder gently. What happened? Answer me! What happened?
Satoshi stepped forward and placed a calming hand on her arm.
Sato: He's asleep. And... I think it's best to let him stay like that for now. He looked at the curled-up form with a mixture of pity and confusion. I'll tell him to meet you first thing in the morning.
Arien, her hand still on Shiro's arm, felt the tension in his sleeping form. Reluctantly, she slowly pulled her hand away.
Arien: Okay, she whispered, standing up slowly. She gave Satoshi a pleading look. Please... tell him. And with that, she left, the image of Shiro hiding in the corner burned into her mind.
Satoshi sighed. He carefully lifted Shiro-who was dead to the world-and placed him on his bed, pulling the sheet over him. He then sat on his own bed, staring at his troubled roommate in the dim light.
Satoshi: What's your deal, dude? he murmured to the silent room.
The day ended.
The next morning, when Satoshi woke up, Shiro was already awake. He was just sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall, fully dressed.
Satoshi: Shiro?
Seeing he was up, Satoshi quickly got out of bed.
Satoshi: Oi, what happened yesterday? Why were you like that? What was that all about in the library?
Shiro looked at Sato, his head tilting in genuine, blank confusion.
Shiro: What? What are you talking about? And who are you?
Satoshi was taken aback. He forced a nervous laugh.
Sato: Now, now, that's enough jokes for the morning.
But Shiro wasn't joking. The confusion in his eyes was real, and utterly vacant. Satoshi realized with a sinking feeling that Shiro had no memory of yesterday. No memory of their search, no memory of Arien's panic, no memory of him.
Not wanting to break the strange, fragile routine, Satoshi decided to act as he had the morning before-as if they were meeting for the first time. And Shiro, falling into the same pattern, reacted exactly the same way. The same vague answers, the same lazy stretch, the same sequence of movements. It was a perfect, chilling reenactment.
Satoshi: Oh, well, Sol- I mean, Arien said that she needs to meet you today.
Shiro: Arien did? Hmmmm... what did I dooo? he mused, scratching his head as if trying to recall a minor misdeed.
Both of them got ready in a silence that felt heavier than before. Just as they were about to leave the room, Satoshi tried one more time.
Satoshi: You sure you're okay?
Shiro: I'm fine, I'm fine, he replied, the same automatic, empty response.
But it was a lie. Shiro hadn't simply forgotten yesterday. His memory was a treacherous thing-as new memories fought for space, old ones were pushed out. He didn't just forget the events of yesterday; he forgot everything but the lingering feeling of the incident. The fear, the panic, the ghost of a hand around a neck-those emotions remained, festering without context.
And because of that, a sharp, cold suspicion now grew in Shiro's mind. How does this guy, this 'Satoshi,' know something happened to me? The trust he'd briefly felt was gone, severed by his own fractured mind. Now, the only person his instincts vaguely trusted was Arien.
As they walked out to meet her, a dark thought solidified in Shiro's mind. If Arien knows something happened yesterday too... I gotta do something about both of them.
The day had just begun, and the shadows of the forgotten were already shaping the present.