Scarlet Irises

...

Sarai’s mind was blurred with darkness as he fell asleep. His consciousness sank into obscure slumber, while shadows of imagery and echoes of sound etched themselves into the corners of his mind.

They formed a dream scene—or perhaps a buried memory.

Inside a tight, oppressive room in which walls were as white as snow, kids of different ages were scattered around, shivering in fear beneath the blankets covering the three dirty beds they had.

Some of them sobbed, while others encouraged the rest, “This is our chance! Let's get moving.”

Sarai, sitting at the rear wall of the room, held a poisonous needle that glistened beneath the dim, flickering light.

Above him was a calendar showing “November 9,” and opposite to it hung an ugly blue clock pointing at midnight, its glass blurred by the rising fogs of suffocating smoke that flowed into the room from every opening.

“They're all busy. Let's run away. This could be our last chance,” murmured a girl.

The kids, who wore long white uniforms, discussed among themselves. Sarai watched them from the back, not minding them, and finally, with slight hesitation, stabbed his neck with the needle.

The glance upon his face was hardly a remorseful one.

His vision began to blur, and thousands of fragmented memories and visions not his own were planted in his mind. A foreign will pushed him to stand up, speak up as the oldest in the room, and guide the kids out of the orphanage in a desperate escape.

Silence. Darkness.

Under the attractive moonlight, amid the long trees that brooded a nearby forest, Sarai and the kids ran barefoot on the dirt. They were mostly aimless, but escaping served as their goal.

They could hear the screams and gunshots of military soldiers from the orphanage, but that, naturally, didn’t stop them.

Silence. Purgatory.

Swallowed by a dark, murky cave, Sarai stood in the darkness; the kids surrounding him had all fallen, and he, whose neck and hands were covered in sticky blood, didn’t stand for too long.

He fell into a halo of his own soft, red ichor.

Silence. Light.

Sarai opened his eyes.

To his surprise, he wasn’t faced by darkness, nor by Mitsu’s apartment’s muted, observant walls.

He was faced with the bureaucratic atmosphere of the agency, this time dressed in a loose, black blouse and trousers of the same color. In front of him, citizens walked out of the municipal building as the clock on the wall pointed at 3 PM, signaling lunch breaks.

Where the fuck… And—no, asking such question is just irrelevant at this point… He sat tiredly in the lobby chairs, too shocked to even observe his surroundings.

Suddenly, he remembered the dreamlike nightmare he had just woken from.

The orphanage, the escape, and the cave… That wasn’t a dream. It was a fragmented memory.

I don’t know how to feel about this. After all, I’m more aware of how much I’ve forgotten… He pressed his palm to his forehead.

If I remember correctly, it was the 9th day of November… He sighed, barely relieved. After all, he had gained some memories and just now lost some—some? Or so he thought.

I remember that some Faithful kids in the orphanage lost it and turned into flames or whatever. They caused a mess, and we took the chance to escape. He leaned forward and cradled his sweating jaw.

Also, I didn’t have this back there. Means It came from the cave if my intuition is correct. I wonder what its origin is… Sarai held tightly onto the purple pendulum hanging around his neck—his constant companion since waking up in the cave.

But the issue here is, I was planning to kill myself that day. The poisonous needle… But after stabbing myself, I simply stood and led the escape? What the hell… The calm composure of being used to such things began crumbling, as Sarai yet again fails to understand his own actions.

He leaned back in the chair and plunged into thought, his vision blanking.

Thud. Thud.

As the last remaining people left the building, Enji and a gray, short-haired man with a café apron around his waist emerged into the lobby.

“Can't believe the burger place closes today.”

“Been working here for years, and this is the first time they’ve done it,” Enji replied, holding a paper bag that smelled of an appetizing aroma.

“Take yours, Ken.” He handed the man beside him a sandwich.

After muttering a word or two, Ken walked past Sarai and waved. “Hey, Sarai-kun! Great work today!” He hurried into the coffee shop.

Who's this now…? Some member I forgot meeting in the past few hours? he thought, quite optimistically.

Enji turned toward Sarai and pulled a wrapped sandwich from the paper bag. “Sarai-kun, here’s the chicken wrap you asked for.”

Sarai stared at Enji in a daze. “Ah… T-The chicken wrap… Yes, thank you,” he whispered as he grabbed the lunch he had no memory of ordering.

Enji said in a worried tone, “Sarai-kun, are you okay?”

He leaned closer. “Are you depressed?

“Oh! I think I get it now.” Enji giggled. “Did Mitsu reject you?” He whispered.

Sarai couldn’t even pretend to be mad and only stared bluntly.

He stayed silent, about to take a bite of the sandwich.

But even that he hadn’t managed after Enji’s following words.

“Well, you've been quite silent the past few days. Is work stressing you? You've been pretty efficient even for your first job, though.”

Days?

Days?

Days?

Thump… Thump… A frantic pulse hammered in Sarai’s chest.

“Enji-san…” His throat constricted. “What day is this…?”

Enji’s gaze lifted pensively. “It’s Friday, the 21st of November.” His brows furrowed. “Why are you asking?”

As the words “21st of November” echoed in his mind like a mental plague, Sarai was no different from a frozen corpse.

The chicken wrap fell to the ground, as his hands—no, his entire body—trembled. drenched in sweat.

“Almost two weeks… Two fucking weeks…” He exhaled heavily, trying to calm down.

Slap!

“Hold it together, man!” Enji seized Sarai’s black blouse’s high collar.

He gazed at him for a moment before suddenly gasping, “Wait… Sarai-kun, could it be that…”

Sarai let out a desperate chuckle. “Yeah, haha…”

“I don’t remember anything…” He grimaced.

Enji retreated. “I’m sorry, I had no clue.”

Silence.

He swept his orange hair back and sighed, frustrated. “A ton of things have happened lately. Since the broadcast, many terrorist attacks have occurred everywhere in the world, Tokyo is in madness, the Faithful are on a rebellion spree, and our boss is missing.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Now you remember nothing. This is literally the worst timing.”

I’m screwed…

 Just when I thought I could actually focus on living, I ended up lacking context for weeks… Poor Sarai was devoured by disappointment.

This… His eyes widened, as if realizing something too late.

Immediately, he slapped his cheeks and straightened his posture.

I’m being a nuisance again. This should stop.

Sarai drew a long breath.

“Enji-san, please don’t mind this,” he expressed. “I’m used to such things. It just felt too sudden. That’s why I stressed out,” lied Sarai, funneling every thought into maintaining his calm.

With narrowing eyes, Enji dropped his hold of Sarai and stepped back.

“If you say so.” He shrugged. “Well, before anything I have to tell you—

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Out of nowhere, the sound of footsteps tapping ceramic tile echoed inside the lobby

Enji and Sarai glanced in a daze at the figure approaching from the entrance.

A barefoot girl, whose long, platinum hair drifted despite the absence of wind, surprised the two with her sudden appearance.

Who could this be? Sarai thought, staring at his flawed reflection in the girl’s scarlet irises.