.: c h a p t e r : o n e :.

The rains were beating down onto the currently abandoned buildings, as if trying to knock them down and tear them up out of spite. They were no less harsh on the deserted streets and other city terrain. The winds weren’t nearly as brutal, brushing against the fading emerald blades of grass and the dying trees, letting them sway as if they had hope- as if they weren’t being worn away by the winter weather.

Morbid clouds had flooded the once azure and bright sky, casting grim shadows to the horizons no matter where one was to look. In the mist of this dreary scene was a young boy in his mid-teens, his eyes reflecting nothing more than the clouds in the sky overhead. He ambled aimlessly, unsure of both his destination and his origin.

He didn’t wonder who he was or where he was, but, rather, where everybody else was. The only sounds to reach his ears were those lacking in any sense of humanity. The occasional tumbleweed or trash, the pitter patter of the rain- these were audible, but there was no chatter of people walking the streets (and no people walking the streets, for that matter). The only suggestion that people had ever been here was the fact that it was a town. The wooden buildings, though somewhat run down, still stood tall, and footprints from people who had been in the buildings were now being washed away by the afternoon rain.

The boy’s feet brought him to a stop in front of the saloon, dull, sapphire eyes running over the swinging doors and the sign above them reading ‘SALOON’. A light neighing sound caused him to jerk around to see a dark brown horse, roped to the side of the building. He slipped through the mud, uneasily approaching the horse in silence. The horse gave another neigh as the boy slid his fingers through the walnut mane, and then took a step back as the horse pulled away from him.

If there’s a horse by the saloon, that means the owner is probably in the saloon, right? Curiously, he pushed the doors in a gentle manner and made his way into the inside of the building. He stood near the threshold. His ears rang as if people were talking and cheering, and he could almost make out figures sitting around the tables and the man at the piano- but there was nobody there. Not a single person was visible with the exception of the boy himself.

Hesitantly, the boy walked past the bar, sliding his fingers across the dusty counter without any particular thought. This was for a reason- if he was to think and begin asking himself all the questions he could’ve, the thought that he was quite literally alone would slither around him like a snake and strike into him fear.

So he kept himself from wondering.

His eyes ran over the player piano. He wanted to hear it again… or, for the first time? The idea that he had heard it before seemed likely for some reason… He slipped his fingers into his pocket but, alas, they were empty. His eyes searched the wooden planks almost frantically until the chandelier light gave away a quarter lying next to the wall. He reached down, grabbing it, and then slid it into the piano.

So the piano played, and the boy could almost remember people dancing around the saloon- but that wasn’t possible, was it? He couldn’t remember it very well. On the other hand, he remembered nothing even close to perfectly. I haven’t been here before, the boy told himself. Or, maybe, I have… He forgot everything else, so the chance of this seemed very well. But how?

How do you forget who you are and what you’ve known? It… wasn’t possible… was it? He gave a low sigh, sitting down on the piano bench as it sang out its tune. He shut his eyes, almost as if trying to paint a portrait of the past upon his eyelids, but all he could recall from the dim memories was that he had heard this tune before.

“Hm…?” A man, probably near his early twenties, stood at the bottom step of the right staircase (one being on each side of the saloon, connecting at the top and leading up to the next floor). His hair was black, cut a bit unevenly, and hid his right eye. One could only assume where the right was looking, but the left lantern was staring at the boy, confused.

The boy took a step back apprehensively, his leg banging into one of the chairs and causing him to tumble. He instantly grabbed onto the very edge of the table, holding himself up, and watching the man.

The man made his way in front of the boy, who only stood there nervously. His eyes never left the younger, observing him. He reached out his hand, pressing it against the boy’s face, who jerked back away from the hand. All it was for was to see whether the boy was real or not and he was, indeed, real enough.

That shouldn’t have been the case- not that the man wasn’t okay with it. He had been alone in the town for too long without people to complain about somebody being there. So he wouldn’t turn the boy in- especially when the man wasn’t sure why this boy was still here.

“Who are you?” came the man’s voice, somewhat deep. He narrowed his eyes slightly, more out of inquisitiveness than intimidation.

The boy took another step back, grabbing his elbow with his hand and glancing down towards the ground. “I… I don’t know…,” he said lowly, somewhat surprised at the sound of hearing himself.

The man now looked a bit more interested. He grabbed the boy’s shoulder, who only tensed up as the man turned him around and looked at the back of his neck. Like the others, the man thought, eyes running over the bar code printed on the boy’s neck. Under the barcode was ‘6 133424 165152’ and, in smaller print, right above the barcode was ‘Mizuno Seikei’. “Seikei Mizuno,” the man read aloud.

“How—”

“I just know,” the man mumbled, sitting down in a chair and leaning his elbow back onto the table. “I’m Kyo, by the way,” he said, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket it. He lighted it, put the lighter away, and pressed it to his lips, eyes still fixed on the boy.

“W-where’s—”

“Do you remember anything?” Kyo asked, interrupting the boy.

“I-I… no…”

“What do you remember last?”

“I don’t…,” Seikei murmured uneasily, sitting down in the chair across from Kyo. “What happened?”

“Hungry?” Kyo asked, changing the subject and making his way behind the bar counter. “Or thirsty, perhaps?” He pulled out a glass cup from below the counter before glancing at Seikei.

“N-no thanks…,” Seikei said lowly.

Kyo gave a light raise to his eyebrow but said nothing, moving the cup and bottle to the counter behind him. “You’re rather quiet for someone who remembers nothing,” he pointed out flatly, walking in front of Seikei and leaning on the table. “If it were me, I’d be asking tons of questions. You? You’re just sitting there.”

“I-I would but you keep… interrupting,” Seikei mumbled under his breath, barely audible, but Kyo caught it.

Kyo gave a low grin, almost as if his purpose of interrupting him was just to hear him say that.

“That horse… o-outside…”

“Mine,” Kyo cleared up quickly, breathing out some smoke.

Seikei lifted his head with slight curiosity. “What’s her name?”

“His,” Kyo corrected. He took another breath of smoke. “He doesn’t have one. If I named him, I’d be getting close to him.”

The boy tilted his head. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nobody and nothing is worth getting close to,” Kyo glanced out the window, looking somewhat annoyed. “They just cause problems.”

“S-sorry,” Seikei mumbled, looking away.

Kyo glanced at him, confused.

“Y-you looked angry. I don’t like it when.. people are…”

“Pathetic,” Kyo grumbled, standing over Seikei and giving him a light stare. “And stop stuttering. Or do I scare you?”
“N-no! I-I mean, I… I guess, but, you’re… and…” Seikei lowered his head nervously, glancing towards his shuffling feet.

“Stop.” The man took a few steps towards the swinging wood doors, and then stopped, only to turn around and glance at the boy. “I assume you don’t have anywhere to go?”

“I don’t… know…”

“All you had to say was ‘no’. You can stay with me for now, then, unless you’d rather sleep on the streets.”

“You make everything sound mean, don’t you?” Seikei asked, standing up and pushing in the chair.

“So is that a yes or not?”

Seikei shuffled across the wooden floorboards over to the man, hesitating for a moment. “Y-yes?” he answered a bit undecidedly. The man narrowed his eyes slightly. “Yes,” Seikei forced out in a more convincing manner. Kyo’s face softened, not necessarily to a smile but rather an austere look, and the boy gave a low grin.

“Come, then,” Kyo grunted, turning around and making his way through the saloon doors.

Seikei followed after him, silently making his way across the muddy road and through the sprinkling rain. Or, he was silent for a few moments. “What about the horse?” he asked, catching up to walk along the man’s side.

“What about it?”

“It’s just…”

“Do you think somebody will steal it? There’s nobody here- well, there’s Old Man Henry, but he can barely move none the less steal a horse. It’s fine.”

“Old Man Henry?” Seikei asked, glancing up at Kyo curiously. “And where is everyone?”

“He lives on the first floor,” Kyo pointed towards a wooden complex they were nearing. “In his fifties or sixties. Paranoid, insane.” Kyo paused for a moment, as if wondering what to say. “There were some rumours wandering around after people started ‘vanishing’, so everyone left got up and abandoned the town.”

Seikei kept quiet, though still with more questions in his mind, and made his way alongside of Kyo.

Third floor, third room. The building was, of course, wooden but seemed rather new. Kyo slid something out of his pocket, revealing a key. He put it in, turned it, and pushed the door open to reveal one main room with two doors on the right- a bedroom and a bathroom.

There was one large, rectangle window taking up most of the center wall- curtains open and windowsill large enough to sit on. There was a large chair with a dark rug under it and a lamp next to it in the corner, left of the window. Next to one door, on the right side of the room was a desk. Papers (newspaper, normal paper, parchment) were scattered around on the surface. A radio, pens, quills, and ink lied on the right side of the desk, the wooden chair wasn’t pushed in, the shelves and top were drowned in books, and a wire trash bin was on the floor next to it, half full with paper. Next to this was another lamp, except this one had been left on.

“Nothing special,” Kyo mumbled. “But it’s more than I need as it is,” he added. “Hold on.” Seikei stood at the threshold, watching as Kyo walked into the bathroom and walked out, tossing the boy a towel. “Dry off before you come in.”

“Thanks…,” Seikei murmured lowly. He lifted the towel above his head and scrubbed his hair dry, making it all messy as it moved the towel. He dried off his arms and what he could of his shirt and pants. They were still cold and damp, but at least they didn’t drip.

Kyo put his damp coat onto the wooden chair, taking off the dry one that was there and putting it on instead. “I’ll be polite and let you take the bed for the night,” Kyo started, walking next to Seikei. “Towel goes in the laundry basket in the room. My clothes might be long, but put on something dry or you’ll get all my blankets wet. Clothes in the basket, too. I’d suggest leaving the blinds open in there when you go to sleep; you get such a pretty view from the third story, especially at night. I think that’s it,” he finished, walking past Seikei now.

“Wait,” Seikei said suddenly, grabbing Kyo’s arm before he could leave. Kyo gave a low glare, jerking his arm free almost instinctively, and Seikei nervously glanced down at the floor. “S-sorry.”

Kyo fixed his coat sleeve. “Never mind that,” he said.

“When’ll you be back?”

Kyo stared at him for a moment, almost as if he was confused. “Why?”

“I… I just want to know… I don’t like being alone…”

“Get used to it,” Kyo mumbled. “I’ll be back at two or three in the morning. Don’t wait up; you should get some sleep.”

“I will,” Seikei said with a low grin, looking back up at Kyo.

Kyo watched the boy for a few moments. “Hnm. Bye,” he said, shutting the door. Seikei could faintly hear the man’s footsteps as he made his way down the hall, then they faded to the point that Seikei wasn’t sure whether or not the man was still in the building.

‘Get used to it.’ Seikei gave a low sigh, making sure the door was completely shut, and walked over into the bedroom.

It wasn’t surprising, really, what Seikei saw. The full bed was oak, coated in ivory and walnut sheets that were made neatly. On the headboard were two vanilla-scented candles, one on each side, alit, the flames dancing in harmony and casting queer shadows onto the wooden wall. Next to it was a square table-desk with an old lamp, resting next to a few envelopes, sleeping upon the surface of it. He gave a cursory glance to the rest of the room- wardrobe, flat desk with a wooden chair, window, rug- until his eyes caught sight of the wire laundry basket.

Seikei folded up the damp towel and set it at the bottom of the empty basket. He glanced over towards the wardrobe. Kyo had been rather trusting with him, hadn’t he? Or maybe he didn’t see Seikei as much of a threat- though, Seikei couldn’t really blame him if that was the case. He was just a little Asian boy.

He shook the thought off, opening the door and glancing at Kyo’s clothes. He didn’t want to change, despite the fact he was wet and cold, for the sole purpose that he already felt like he was being intrusive. ‘Put on something dry or you’ll get all my blankets wet.’ Seikei removed a large, white t-shirt from its hanger gently and shut the door. It was the least expensive article he had seen.

Seikei gave another muffled yawn as he pulled off his wet shirt and continued with the remainder of his clothes. He slid the tee on, which was comfy and dropped down to near his knees. He proceeded to folding up the laundry, then setting it atop of the towel.

He opened the blinds, glancing down at the city. Streetlamps were lit and lighting up the muddy ground. Rain was falling again, splashing around in the many puddles and bouncing off of everything. It looked so odd and out of place- rain falling onto a place of dirt and wood but honestly, like Kyo had said, the sight of it was appealing.

Hopefully, he’s okay with this… Seikei leaned over, blowing out the candles cautiously. He folded back the top blanket of the bed, sitting on the edge and giving a breath to blow out the lamp. He lied down, pulling the blanket over him, and shutting his eyes.
Seikei exhaled a deep breath, letting his mind finally start to realize things as he curled up on his side. The blankets were warm and the dry shirt was comforting, but this did little to soothe him. What rumours had been started up, and why hadn’t Kyo left like everyone else? Who was Old Man Henry and why did Kyo say he was insane? What happened to the people that had disappeared? His mind faded into other questions such as: why couldn’t he remember anything? How did Kyo know his name? How—

Before he could finish asking himself questions, exhaustion took its toll and Seikei drifted off into a, for that moment, calm slumber.