Chapter Text

🌹ONE🌹

His body felt numb, a stiffness had waved through bones refusing to waver. A heavy blanket— thick and soft— had covered Isagi's body. When he squitned his eyes, a light shone one him. A light that was bright and raw, breaking throgh the glass of the windows and filtering into the hospital room. Slowly, his vision started to clear until his eyes were open. 

“Oh my god. . . he’s awake!” 

Isagi saw teo people lines beside his bed, scribbles drawn over their faces and small frowns of worry were the only thing Isagi could make out between the messy lines. His eyes couldn't grasp the shape of their features— it was all foreign to him. 

“He is awake.” Another voice—this time soothing— acknowledged the awakening. Isagi’s eyes glanced to the side where a bright magenta haired male stood. The scribbles of pieces remained, but slowly—maybe— he could learn their face. 

Suddenly, an eerie feeling of anxiety sprouted deep within him. Who were all these people? 

“I brought the doctor,” Another person walked in. Pale blue hair with a strand that strayed away from the rest. 

“I ask you to step out of the room for a moment,” The doctor demanded. He held a clipboard while a stethoscope hung around his neck. 

Everything happened so fast; A haze of people shuffling out the room and a wave of confusion had worn him down. It all seemed like an illusion and his head whirled in doubt.

“Mr. Isagi,” the doctor started. “How many fingers am I holding up?” He lifted his fingers up. A blur had fogged Isagi’s eyes before it all settled once again. His vision was shaky.

“Three—” He tried to speak but his voice came out hoarse, a cough exploded. 

The doctor nodded, writing something down before he sat beside the bed. 

“How do you feel?” He asked but Isagi couldn’t respond. The doctor understood quickly and changed the approach. “I’ll ask yes or no questions, you may blink once for yes and twice for no.” He checks with Isagi before moving on. “Do you feel any critical pain?” 

Isagi blinks twice. 

“Mr. Yoichi Isagi, do you remember who you are?” 

The question had paused Isagi’s small world. He didn’t know anything but what was within the hospital room he was kept in. The fluorescent lights were dim, a majority of the shine coming from the windows. 

Isagi knew of his name— but to be honest. He couldn’t recall anything beyond it. His passions, his love, his life— it was all a myth. 

But in spite of it all, he knew of his name. And maybe that was enough. 

“Yes,” He answered with his voice but soon it grew into another cough. 

“You’re speaking again,” The doctor nodded. “Take it easy.” Isagi nodded, waiting for the next question. “Mr. Isagi, I must be direct with you,” the doctor let his clipboard rest on his thighs. This time looking into Isagi’s eyes. 

Six years. 

The doctors words were stuck in his mind, like a tattoo engraved in his brain that signed the loss of his past.

He was alone now, nurses had tested him and his family was informed. But none of that mattered to Isagi. 

The thought of six years walking by and he hadn’t experienced a second of it. 

Two-thousand-one hundred-ninety-two days. 

That was a big number. Adding on to his dismay, he couldn't recall much of his earlier life as well. Every face he’s met till his awakening have all been scribbled patches of what he called puzzles.  

Maybe Isagi liked solving puzzles because ever since he woke up, it wouldn’t leave him. Following wherever his eyes traveled, each eye, each smile, each frown. They were scrambled puzzles that scribbled his world. 

“Yo-chan!” Isagi was too swept up in his thoughts to realize someone had walked in. When looked up, he saw a couple hustling in. My parents. 

He still couldn’t recall their features, but the puzzles felt more put together on them. It felt more safe like a home. 

He knew what home was, a place you live with your family. And his parents fit the description perfectly because family is whoever you have a familial connection with. Isagi knew that, but yet. . . was it really home?

“How are you feeling?” Isagi’s mother had cupped his face. Her hands were warm, just like a mothers hand was supposed to be. But the puzzles didn’t fit right. Isagi changed the angles but nothing felt right. Maybe it was the wrong piece, maybe it wasn't the home he thought it was. 

“I’m fine,” Isagi managed to say. “Just a bit sore.” An airy laugh exhibits his voice. 

“You’ll recover in no time—” The rest of my father’s words were a blur. I could only catch small mingles of his sentences. Words like: field, career r— The last one cut off. Isagi looked up to see his mouth hanging open in hesitation. “You always have a home to come back to, don’t forget that Yoichi.” Isagi simply nodded. 

R

What was it?

The rest of the day was a motion picture without much motion. Quite ironic if you asked Isagi. His bed was placed right beside the window which let him see the view of the city. 

He apparently was struck with post-trauma amnesia. It was a baffling experience but he thought it might’ve been for the better. Starting on a fresh puzzle piece. A fresh canvas. No scribbles. No wrong pieces. 

He’d start by building the frame of his puzzle.

The lining. 

Dusk had fallen and warm hues blended into the young night. Stars glimmering over the city and the flicker of lights on the roads had struck him differently. He was in awe with how beautiful the world outside this hospital room was. 

Isagi knew the first place he’d go to was the beach. He wanted to feel the ocean’s embrace again— nature's calling had tugged him just right that maybe all the puzzles would finally fit. 

Isagi jolted to the sound of a door opening gently. 

“You have guests Mr. Isagi.” A small group of people emerged from the door. The puzzle was mixed again, some pieces too big and others built in odd forms. Nothing fit right but Isagi brushed it off. 

“How you feeling, champ?” Isagi knew they were tall. The mixture of pieces had brushes of orange on it. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Kunigami.” He stated. “My name is Kunigami.” 

So they were aware. 

“I’m . . . Isagi.” He thinned his lips feeling tense. A room full of pieces that didn’t fit. It brought an unsettling feeling in him. 

“I’m Chigiri,” A voice more soothing took over. Their pieces hinted with a bold magenta from earlier.

The rest followed with their names. It seemed Isagi had a good memory but their faces were nothing but a mystery. He lined their names up with whatever their pieces had highlighted. 

Orange- Kunigami 

Magenta - Chigiri 

Purple- Reo 

White- Nagi

Brunette - Bachira

They were best friends. The word brought a salty taste on Isagi’s tongue, but he let it sink in rather than fending it off. 

“You’ll be discharged tomorrow, feel like going anywhere?” Reo asked. 

Isagi knew the answer, but something in him had kept him from speaking of it. 

“I don’t really know,” He shrugged. Maybe appearing like he didn’t care would fight off the curiosity. “Were you there?” Isagi asked looking at them. 

The puzzles started to slowly go into their places, but their faces weren’t much recognizable. 

“When I became limp like this, were you all there?” Isagi clarified. 

“Do you really want the answer to that?” Bachira— he was lively— but even he seemed more chilled at the thought of the past. 

“I can’t say I do,” Isagi hummed. “Forget I asked.” 

Visiting hours had finally struck resulting in their early leave. Isagi was thankful, he felt out of place with his best friends. Though he had no harsh feelings for them. He just couldn’t bring himself to embrace the idea. 

Isolated. 

It sounded like freedom to Isagi’s ears. Maybe living in a secluded place would be nice. The ocean? A beach house where the songs of dolphins would be his daily tune. It sounded nice on thought but to be truly alone. It would be quite lonely. 

R

What was it again? 

Something important? 

No. If it was, he’d remember. 

Maybe something the void of his mind hid from him. Right. That has to be it. It was the only explanation, there wasn’t any other solution. 

Night became day and Isagi was finally ready to be discharged. His parents brought him fresh clothes that fit more loosely on this figure. 

“You’ll grow into them soon, Yo-chan,” His mom smiled. Her hands ran through the midnight locks of Isagi’s hair. “I missed you,” She smiled. “Promise me, no matter what you hear— you’ll be okay.” Her eyes looked like she'd gone years without sleep. Even bleach couldn’t save the bags that pulled her face into grief. 

“I’ll try.” 

“I know you don’t remember a lot, but the people around you remember.” She smiled. “If there's anything you ever need just ask, okay?” Her smile tilted up, but Isagi knew she could barely keep herself together. The pieces of his mothers face felt more put together, and maybe home could finally be somewhere he belonged. 

“I will, thank you, mom.” For the first time since Isagi woke up, he felt gratitude. Nothing but words of a mother could make him feel this way. By instinct, his hands lift up to hug the woman. Mrs. Isagi was taken by surprise, but now that her baby was back. She could finally sleep knowing her child wasn’t hanging on by the string of life. 

Isagi couldn’t walk, his legs were still weak and numb. So he was pushed around the hospital with a wheelchair. They said in time he’d regain his energy and he’d be normal again. But Isagi knew it was all a lie. Sure he’d be able to walk, but his legs were crushed from the ominous accident 6 years ago. Isagi didn’t need a doctor to tell him how destroyed his bones felt. 

Isagi was pushed around in the wheel chair, his father leading him through the hallways. Isagi received some gasps and wide-eyed looks. 

What’s up with everyone? 

“Yoichi,” Isagi’s father started. “You’re friends were thinking of an outing. You feeling up to it?” 

A nurse made sure the elevator was vacant and the Isagi family climbed in. The nurse smiled and wished Isagi a “get well.” 

“Do I have to?” Isagi asked as soon as the elevator’s door shut. “I”m tired.” 

“Of course you don’t have to,” His mother smiled. “Rest as long as you need.” 

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. The lobby was even more crowded than the previous floor. Isagi felt dread crawling on his face. He knew the stares of people weren’t just coincidence. 

He used to be somebody. 

Maybe an idol? 

There was no way, the thought of dancing and singing felt like a carnival to Isagi. A carnival that definitely wouldn't fit him. 

So who was he? 

He was twenty-four years old. Could someone so young really cause such an impact? 

Maybe he was bound to find out, like the red string that connected fate and the elements of the world. And maybe Isagi would remember the passion that once burned within him. And just maybe, R would finally become something more than just a mystery.