Nothing but a Blank Wall

The trip back to my hometown of Ashoro was uneventful. Lost in my own thoughts, i watched as the distant Mount Meakan steadily grew closer and closer, and my father angled our car up into the rolling foothills that surrounded the quaint rural town. Once we had parked in the driveway, I got out and stretched, thankful to finally be able to move my stiff muscles after the hour-long drive. Breathing deep the fresh country air, I reveled for a time in the warm sunshine, my troubles briefly forgotten.

I lagged behind for a moment as my parents led the way through the front door of our squat abode, entirely unprepared as I was immediately set upon by a young boy who had to be no older than eight, who plowed into me with a forceful hug and excitedly exclaimed, “Takashi! You’re home!”

I exchanged a look with my parents, awkwardly patting the boy’s head, and my mother knelt down at his side to explain, “Daiki…your brother has been through a bit of an ordeal, and right now he’s having some trouble remembering things. So why don’t we take it slow, okay?”

The boy gave her a dumbfounded look before he shifted his gaze up at me, his initial shock at the words quickly turning into frustration. Tears welling up in his eyes, he cried, “You don’t remember me?”

“Sorry,” I said simply, which clearly was not the right response. The tears the boy had been trying to hold back immediately spilled over, and he ran off somewhere deeper into the house, bawling loudly.

My father, who had thankfully given up his act of mourning me at the hospital, sighed and said, “Don’t let it get to you, Takashi. He’s still a kid, after all. I’ll talk to him.”

Watching as he followed after the boy, my mother sighed, “How about I make us some tea?”

I nodded, and she gestured to the nearby living room while she hurried off to the kitchen. I slowly made my way across the cool hardwood floor, taking in the simultaneously alien, and yet strangely familiar, space. Pictures hanging on the wall showed all four of us spending time together over the years, and I stared at them blankly, trying to force myself to recall something about them, anything. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, nothing came, and I gave up, sitting down cross-legged at the short table in the center of the space and resting my chin on a fist to wait.

A short time later my mother returned carrying a tray filled with a teapot and several cups, sitting it down upon the table before calling for the others to come join us. Moments later, my father and brother Daiki reappeared, taking spots opposite where I sat. Daiki looked as if he was pouting, staring at his lap, until my father prodded him in the side with an elbow. Only then did he look up at me, and he blurted out, “I’m sorry about earlier, Takashi! I know it’s not your fault.”

I smiled at him and before I even realized it, my hand had reached out to tousle his short dark hair. I paused for a moment when I realized what I had just done, considering the fact that even if my memory was gone, it seemed that some of my mannerisms still remained. Trying my best to reassure him, I winked and told him as confidently as I could manage, “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure everything will come back soon enough. Until then, you’ll just have to try and help me out, what do you say?”

The boy’s face brightened immediately as he emphatically agreed, “Okay! I’ll definitely help you get your memories back!”

My parents smiled at the interaction, and my mother interrupted, “You’ll have your turn soon enough, Daiki. First, how about we take a look through the old family albums and see if we can find anything that might stir up some connections?” She pulled out a thick, laminated book, spreading it open on the table in front of us.

For the next few hours on end, we flipped through various albums and pictures, with my mother and father recounting the stories behind each. But sadly, none of it seemed to help. No matter how hard I strained in an attempt to dig through my mind, i was continually met with nothing but a blank wall. 

Not long after we had begun, Daiki got bored and wandered off to play somewhere, and my father gradually became mopier and mopier until finally, he ruffled his hands through his hair and exclaimed exasperatedly, “What gives, Haruki? I’m not even in half of these!”

My mother sighed and told him measuredly, “Well, what did you expect, dear? I warned you years ago that this is what would happen if you devoted all of your time to work.”

As if his spirit was trying to leave his body, the man seemed to deflate, slouching over onto the table and grumbling, “No, you’re right. Damn my hellacious work schedule…”

In the end, the only thing we managed to accomplish was to bore my brother, disappoint my father, and frustrate my mother. And the only thing that came back to me was my previously-abated headache. As night fell and we continued to make no progress – and my head started to throb even worse – I decided to call it quits, retiring to the bedroom which had been mine at some point in the past.

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the blood pumping in my ears, my thoughts began to wander. What if my memories never come back? And more than that, am I still…me? Who even was I, and what was I like? I really can’t remember anything.

With no one around who could answer such questions, I was greeted only with silence, and eventually, I slowly drifted off into sleep.

Early the next morning, my bedroom door burst open, and an instant later I was greeted by the deafening fanfare of a trumpet. Heart racing, I let out a garbled exclamation and rolled over onto the floor, tangled up within my covers. I glanced up to see my father, burnished instrument in hand, shooting me a toothy grin. Seeing my glare, he shot me a thumbs-up, as if he had accomplished something substantial.

“What’s going on? Do you have any idea what time it is?” I moaned as I slowly disengaged from my blankets and grabbed my alarm, which read six o’clock. Seeing the dismal hour, I groaned and rubbed my temples disgustedly.

“Time for you to get your memories back!” He laughed confidently, and explained, “I got the idea while I was falling asleep last night. I thought maybe if I gave you a good enough scare, it’d be enough to snap you back to your senses!”

He deftly dodged out of the way as my expertly-tossed alarm clock rocketed towards his head, finding a new, unsuspecting target as Daiki suddenly appeared, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Dad? What’s—”

He was cut off as the projectile slammed into his forehead, knocking him cleanly off his feet. We all stared at each other in shock for a moment, until my mother’s voice roared from across the house, “I don’t know what’s going on over there, but you had all better quiet down!”

“Sorry,” all three of us mumbled in response, and spent the next hour in silence until she woke up and set about making breakfast. Only then, with the distant clang of pots and pans echoing up the stairs, did any of us dare make a sound.