Chapter Text
"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
- Rita Mae Brown
Ryohei had always been an odd child. While he had spent the first few years of his life a loud and cheerful toddler, he had grown almost completely silent by the time he turned 3 years old. He was concerningly mature, spending all his time reading difficult textbooks while other children his age played at the park.
When he had first begun to quiet down, his mother had been distraught. She and her husband had gone from hospital to hospital, searching for a doctor who could tell them what was wrong with their child. Yet, no matter who they found, none could figure out what exactly had happened to the boy.
Ryohei didn't bother cooperating with them. He had always felt disconnected with himself, and felt no need to connect with those his age. While he knew of his mother's concern and his father's disdain, he did not act on it, content with his quiet life.
One night when he was 5, however, his life’s trajectory changed completely. He had come across his mother crying while on the phone. Hidden in the stairwell, he had been silently plotting his escape back to his bedroom when he heard it.
"Do you think it's my fault? That Ryohei is like this?" His heart squeezed uncomfortably as his mother sobbed.
"What do you think will happen to Hajime? Will he end up like Ryohei because of me?"
No! he had wanted to tell her. It had been no fault of hers that he had been different.
That was when he experienced his first memory. It had been a small one, one that lasted barely a minute, but it forever changed him.
It had been his mother's funeral. He had been bawling, his giant, hiccuping sobs wracking his small body. While holding a small boy (Hajime, he thought) he looked up at his father with teary eyes.
"Why can't I see Mom anymore? Where did she go?" he asked his father.
His hand grabbed for his father's, only for it to be slapped away by the man.
"Cease your whining, stupid fool. Your mother is gone, and now no one is here to coddle you. If you want affection, you will have to be a good son and a worthwhile heir." The man huffed, coldly looking down at his young sons. "Now-"
Ryohei couldn't remember much of the rest of it. Long after his mother had left, having returned to her room, he continued to lay under the staircase, sobbing quietly. That night, he vowed to spend as much time as he could with her, and be her perfect son, regardless of whether the vision came true or not.
He threw himself into any activities he possibly could. He studied relentlessly, tried out as many sports as he could, and always made sure to spend any time he had free with his mother. While he still didn’t put any effort into maintaining friendships with any other kids his age, he didn’t outright ignore them like he used to.
While she seemed happy to finally have her son back to how he had been when he was younger, these interactions always held an air of suspicion. His touches and hugs were gently brushed off, any smiles she gave him never reached her eyes, and her words always had an odd edge to them.
Despite his efforts, their relationship didn’t improve significantly until his younger brother was born.
When he first asked if he could hold Hajime, her eyes, filled with worry, looked at him nervously. She looked at him akin to how one would look at a stranger, and in turn, Ryohei looked back, pleadingly. She relented, begrudgingly handing her baby over to him.
Ryohei had never felt such intense and conflicting emotions before. Jealousy, resentment, joy, and pride filled his chest in a swirling torrent of feeling , making him dizzy and lightheaded. Despite struggling to hold himself up, he still gently and steadily held the little bundle in his arm, for, despite his inner turmoil, he felt one thing above all else: love, and a longing for something that felt long gone.
Even long after he had handed the baby back to his mother, the storm in his heart raged.
That night, he dreamed and dreamed and remembered . He remembered a young man, accomplished and condescending. He remembered a little boy, who would cling to his older brother’s sweater when their father got too loud. He remembered the feeling of wanting to see him again, if only to hear him mocking him once more. He remembered hushed conversations with their father about him, which used to be hushed conversations with him about their father.
The next morning, he awoke in a cold sweat, knowing in his mind that the dreams could not be memories, but knowing, in his heart, that they had undoubtedly happened before.
Conflicting memories and feelings that could not be attributed to anything that had actually happened to him left him at odds with himself. He glanced around his room, at the empty walls devoid of posters that had never been there, at the desk without a computer that played games that didn’t exist yet, and wondered.
He pondered, quietly, and decided, once more, not to do anything about these supposed memories. Quietly padding out of his room, as to not awaken his parents, he wandered to his brother’s crib. He sat down, watching the faint rise and fall of the baby’s chest, transfixed.
Reaching down to touch the small body, he startled at a sudden noise from behind him. He turned to see his mother watching him, her eyes warmer than they had been in years, and in response, he grinned, his joy far more genuine than it had ever been before.
Afterwards, their relationship began to improve significantly. They spent more time together and joy had returned to the house.
Ryohei discovered things he had never known about his mother, things that he had not known even in the other time (as he had begun to call it). She had a passion for storytelling, shown through the exuberant fairy tales she told her sons before bedtime. She had even written her own children’s storybook, although she had never gone through with the publishing process.
When she had first begun to tell him and Hajime her stories, he only listened along. At seeing her tangible joy at the time they spent together, he began to concoct a plan.
For her birthday one year, he read through one of her manuscripts and memorised it. On the morning of, he re-enacted it, acting as its protagonist. It was an Alice in Wonderland type story about a boy traveling throughout a strange world and saving the people who were trapped within it. While she had other unpublished works, this one had spoken to him in particular, though he could not figure out why.
Every night that he spent working on it unearthed more and more memories for him. He dreamt of a short man with a cheshire cat-like grin that sent shivers down his spine, of a strong woman whose name was, quite literally, rabbit, and of a beautiful young woman in a bikini, smiling at him with a cigarette sticking out of her mouth. Unlike past memories, he could not remember exact moments, but he could remember the feeling of the rabbit-like woman’s lips on his, the loud laughter from the young woman, and the sensations of the man’s hands in his.
He woke up confused, but fascinated. Out of curiosity, he continued to work on his production, and throughout, discovered a passion for acting. He could understand the protagonist and his motives easily and found himself able to almost become the protagonist.
He also seemed to have a talent for acting, if his normally gruff father’s praise indicated anything. His mother cried tears of joy at the performance, and Hajime’s happy babbles and wide smile brought a sense of pride in himself that he had never quite experienced, even in the other time.
His mother, thrilled at his newfound talent and passion, helped him in auditioning for anything he could, be it advertisements or small roles in films. He had landed his first minor role in a studio not far from their house when the next memory struck him.
He had been walking home alone after a shoot, when a man suddenly approached him. Despite his fear, he calmly attempted to walk towards a more populated street. The man grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into an alley.
The man looked down at him with crazed eyes, a knife glinting in the low light as he pulled it out of his pocket. Ryohei could do little to stop him as the man held the knife to his throat.
“Little rich brat, eh?” The man mumbled, almost incoherently, his shifty eyes watching their surroundings. Ryohei swallowed, breath hitching at the feeling of the blade on his skin.
“Now, kid… We don’t have to do anything rash… Just give me your wallet, and you can scurry home to your rich parents and we’ll never see each other again.” The man whispered, pressing the knife down.
As Ryohei began to reach for his bag, a voice shouted out from the end of the alley.
“Hey! Get off of him!” yelled a boy, about Ryohei’s age. Both the man and Ryohei turned to him, and in the moment of confusion, the boy launched himself at the man, dislodging the knife from his grip.
He turned his head to Ryohei and screamed. “Run! Get he-” Before he could finish, however, the man overpowered him, clamping a hand over his mouth.
“You little shit,” the man swore. “I’m going to cut you up until no one can identify your remains.”
Ryohei, who had frozen in fear not long before, jerked into action at his words. Picking up the fallen knife, he pressed it up against the man’s throat, hands shaking.
“I-if you let us leave, I won’t cut you,” he stuttered out.
“You crazy fucking kids! Gimme that!” the man yelled, flailing for the knife before stopping as it pressed harder against his skin.
The man shook, accidentally letting go of the other boy, who immediately wriggled out of his grasp. He grabbed Ryohei's hand, and they ran out of the alleyway together.
As soon as they found a well lit street, they stopped for breath. Ryohei, realizing he was still holding the knife, quietly tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then, he turned to the other boy.
“Thank you,” he said, bowing. “If you hadn’t shown up, I would’ve been in a lot of trouble.”
The boy, evidently feeling awkward due to his formality, scratched the back of his head. “It was nothing. Anyone else would have done it.”
Ryohei disagreed, quietly, but smiled at the boy, nonetheless. “Thank you, anyway. My name is Arisu Ryohei, and if there’s any way I could repay you, I will.”
“No need to be so formal, Arisu! I’m Karube Daikichi. I’m only a year older than you!” The boy- no, Karube- smiled back.
“How do you know how old I am?” Ryohei looked up at him suspiciously.
“We go to the same school! And you’re practically famous for being a genius, so there’s no way I wouldn’t know you.” He replied, oblivious to Ryohei’s suspicion.
“Oh.” Ryohei said, dumbly.
“Yeah.” said Karube. “Anyway, I’ll walk you home. Since we’re friends now, you don’t have to be formal with me.”
He started walking, then turned around when Ryohei didn’t join him.
“You coming?” he asked.
Ryohei, shaken out of his stupor, began to follow after him. A warm feeling spread throughout him. The boy felt like an old comfort that he had missed, like a blanket from a long-forgotten childhood had wrapped around him.
They walked to his house, but before Karube could leave, Ryohei’s mother pulled him into a hug.
“Thank you,” she said into his hair. “For saving my Ryohei. Come by anytime, he needs to be around more friends his age instead of dusty old books.”
He smiled back at her. “He will never get rid of me, Mrs. Arisu!”
Then he walked back to his own house, leaving the same warm feeling and an overjoyed mother-son duo.
Ryohei found himself smiling long after Karube had left, and even as he drifted off to sleep. He found himself dreaming of the other time’s Karube.
He remembered a tall man with bleach-blonde hair and a messy relationship with his boss and his boss’s girlfriend, who spent all his time at a bar, with Ryohei and someone else. Someone he didn’t quite know, just yet, who also brought that feeling of comfort to him.
Ryohei awoke that morning, wondering who the other person had been. He found he didn’t have much time to worry about it, with all of his time taken up by school, acting, and hanging out with his new friend.
He found himself busy, but content. His acting career had actually begun taking off, with him appearing in more major roles in shows and advertisements. He had discovered a love for video games while visiting an arcade with Karube, and decided to try and set a high score at every machine he could, visiting any day he was available. He grew in popularity at school as he became more recognized, and still tried his best to stay on top of schoolwork.
Then his mother had collapsed, and he was brought back to that very first memory he had had. By the time she had reached the hospital, she had been too far gone to save.
He had overheard some of what the doctors had said, and while he didn’t know what had killed her, he knew that if anyone had seen the signs even a couple months before, she could have survived.
When the conversation with his father that he had had in the dream occurred at his mother’s actual funeral, he felt the world crash down around him. Suddenly he was numb, numb like he had been before Hajime. Before the memories, before the acting and time with his mother and before meeting Karube.
He drew into himself, as guilt ate him alive, leaving only a hole where his heart had once been. He threw himself into anything he could. He convinced his school to move him up into Karube’s grade, and worked relentlessly to be the best student he could be. He threw himself into acting, taking role after role, running himself into the ground. Karube and Hajime grew concerned at his almost manic obsession, while his father continued to view him with apathy.
It was only after he had fallen ill from overwork in his last year of elementary school that he rested. Only after 2 years of bottling things up did he allow himself to break, in the quiet solitude of his room.
Then he sat up, resolutely, and, despite still feeling hollow, allowed himself to truly smile. While nothing would fill the aching gap in his chest, he had a feeling that something more would happen in his life, and that he needed to be prepared.
He started taking note of things that felt familiar and of his memories. He started making connections, to other people in the entertainment industry and to those his father deemed important. He still stayed on top of his schoolwork and his acting, but he allowed himself to have time with his brother and Karube again, who, while not understanding his sudden change, were too overjoyed to care.
He continued to live contentedly for the rest of the year, but never encountered anyone else who triggered his memories, much to his annoyance. This changed, however, when he reached middle school.
When he first walked into class at his new school, he was unimpressed with his classmates. Many gawked at him and attempted to be his friend, and he greeted them all with practiced formality but no actual interest. The one outlier ended up being a lone boy in the corner.
He was sniffling, and looked to be on the verge of crying. Just when Ryohei had realized he would never interact with him, the boy looked up at him, and he was hit by the same feeling he had felt when he had first met Karube.
He smiled at the boy, who, in turn, got spooked and turned away. As Ryohei began to stand up to make his way over to the other boy, the teacher opened the door with a sharp smack and he had no choice but to sit back down. He decided he would try during lunch break instead.
When he turned to the other boy’s seat during lunch, however, he was greeted by the sight of the other boy being dragged off by a group of older students. While his other classmates tried to make conversation with him, he watched the boy.
Having had enough of their chatter, he quietly excused himself to go to the restroom, then followed the group up to the rooftop. There, he saw the boy being beaten down by the other students and felt his heart squeeze. He ran down to Karube’s classroom, cheerfully greeting his friend’s classmates while dragging the other boy up to the roof with him.
Karube, used to Ryohei’s weird antics, followed without a struggle. When he saw what was happening to the other boy, who had been knocked unconscious at that point, he turned to Ryohei, who nodded at him.
At this affirmation, Karube kicked down the door, running at one of the students. Meanwhile, Ryohei checked the boy’s injuries. He had woken up during the fight, and was staring up at Ryohei and Karube in wonder.
“Karube!” yelled Ryohei. “Let’s go to the infirmary.”
The other students had fled, leaving only the three of them and the student that Karube had been fighting.
Karube, gritting his teeth, helped the older student to the infirmary.
Ryohei left the three of them in the infirmary and headed back to class. He paid proper attention to the lecture for the first time in years. He needed actual notes to give to the other boys about what they missed.
Afterschool, he headed to the infirmary. The older student had already left, but Karube and the boy were talking from their neighboring beds. He opened the door and walked in.
The boy was the first to notice him. Struggling to his feet while hiding a wince, he thanked Ryohei profusely.
“There’s no need to thank me,” said Ryohei. “Anyone else would have done the same thing.”
Karube smirked at his choice in words, then pulled both into a hug, to the chagrin of both of them.
That night, he dreamed of the other time clearly for the first time in years.
He had been at Shibuya Crossing, on an older Karube’s shoulders for some reason. A shorter man, who must have been the boy as an adult, took photos of them. He felt a giddy kind of joy that strengthened at his friend’s exclamation at the fireworks. He looked up, and saw the beautiful lights that looked like fireworks but were wrong wrong wrong and he didn’t know why.
Then, the traffic light changed and it was a race between him and his two friends, as more and more cars headed their way. The police chased them for their disturbance, and they ran into the subway station bathroom and-
And he woke up. He knew something was important about that day in particular, but he could not tell what it was.
With a groan, he checked the time. 3:18 am. his clock blinked back at him. He laid back down on his bed for another couple hours of restless sleep.
Segawa Chota, or Chota, as he asked to be called, soon became as close a friend to Ryohei as Karube was. They would go to their old haunts together, and they both adored his brother, who seemed to find them both annoying.
Ryohei felt almost complete again, with the hole in his chest left over from his mother’s death still aching, yet a duller ache than the acute pain from just a couple years prior.
He continued on, with school and acting and his friends for all of middle school and high school, never encountering anyone who could trigger more of his memories.
Despite meeting with his guidance counselor, both she and him were both well-aware of the career he had chosen for himself. She didn’t even bother trying to convince him otherwise, as he thanked her for the meeting before leaving.
After high school, he began acting full-time. While his father was disappointed that he had not ended up in a more “respectable” career, his reputation as one of the best and most recognizable actors in Japan still allowed for his father to capitalize off of his career.
He spent the next couple of years coasting through life, the other time pushed to the back of his mind as he found himself experiencing less and less memories.
It was all too easy to convince himself that they had just been a figment of his imagination borne out of a lonely childhood. While he knew in his heart that they had happened, the seeds of doubt had been planted in his mind, and only continued to grow the longer he went without any new memories.
He became less and less weighed down by the dreams (memories, a small part of him whispered, its voice growing ever softer) and began to throw himself into his work.
During breaks between shootings, he spent any alone time he could playing video games and posting his plays anonymously.
So it came to no surprise to him when his favorite game company reached out to him for a collaboration, given the growing popularity of his channel. What did surprise him, however, was that they were not reaching out to the trending content creator, and were instead reaching out to Ryohei himself, as an actor.
Curious, he arranged a meeting with one of the game developers during one of his breaks. He was to meet a Niragi Suguru (a name that triggered a faint feeling of familiarity that he quickly forced down) at a cafe. For some inexplicable reason, he felt a twinge of anticipation, like something life-altering would occur during the encounter.
When the day had finally arrived, he found himself situated at a coffee table, a good 10 minutes before the meeting time. Despite his large sunglasses and mask, he could still feel the stares and whispers of the other customers. Inwardly, he cursed himself for becoming such a recognizable figure as he fidgeted awkwardly in his seat. Everytime the door to the cafe opened, he found himself watching the new customer, in the case that it may be the man he had come to meet with or someone he recognized.
Around a minute before the meeting time, he found himself facing a young man with very prominent features, and before he could even introduce himself, a tidal wave of emotions fell over him. Ryohei had never felt such rage before. An almost homicidal hatred came over him, and as the man reached over to shake his hand, he could almost imagine himself ripping it off and leaving him to bleed out just as he had done with Tatta. Years of acting experience guided him as he exchanged pleasantries with the man- with Niragi his brain hissed in disgust- and discussed what they were collaborating on.
He observed the other man quietly, numbly nodding through a conversation muffled by the pounding of his blood. While the man was nothing but patient and thorough, smiling politely at Ryohei, he felt sweat drip down his neck, all his joy at scoring a collaboration with one of his favorite game companies having vanished.
He forced himself to focus back on the conversation, utilizing years of walking on eggshells around his father and other more difficult actors to push aside his overwhelming feelings about the other man. Regardless of how he felt about the other man, he couldn’t exactly refuse the collaboration, especially with his own agency’s insistence on it.
Just as the discussion seemed to be ending, with numbers and emails exchanged, Niragi stared him down and sighed, letting his amicable act drop.
“What is your problem with me?” he asked, frustrated.
Ryohei startled, then, feigning ignorance, asked, “What do you mean? I believe I have been nothing if not amicable to you.”
Niragi sighed again, sharp eyes staring into his from under pierced eyebrows.
“You have been, but I saw how you tensed when you saw me. Is it my piercings? What is it?” he demanded.
Ryohei, surprised at his attentiveness, took a moment to form an answer. “I’m sorry if I seemed uncomfortable. You just… reminded me of someone I used to know.”
Niragi stiffened, almost imperceptibly, then relaxed. “As long as we meet my deadline, I don’t give a damn. You said you were free the same time next week? Let’s talk then, I need to get back to work.”
Then, he left without even a wave. Ryohei sighed, then collapsed back into his chair, feeling much more exhausted than he had just over an hour before. The whispers around him had died down, and, after taking a moment to collect himself, he left as well.
He headed back to his home, a large apartment not too far from his father’s, and fell face first into his bed. Despite it being rather early in the afternoon, sleep came to him easily.
He awoke hours later, late into the night, screaming. Although he could not exactly remember any scenes, he could remember a sharp, terrifying smirk, and a feeling of fear, rage, and betrayal that didn’t seem to have to do with Niragi, all combined in a horrific amalgamation of emotion.
He panted, crying in frustration at the sudden recurrence of the memories he had convinced himself were simply something he had imagined. But now he knew, not just in his heart but in his mind, that they had happened and that they were real. And he could not understand how they had happened, and why only he seemed to have to deal with them.
He decided he had to understand. And with a quick call to his agent and his father, he decided to go into university to study psychology. He needed answers, and he would find them on his own.
His father was overjoyed that he had decided to take the “true” path to success, although this joy dimmed when he explained that he would take time off from university when his acting called for it.
His agent, although less thrilled about him going to university, was assured by the fact that he would continue with filming and acting throughout his time in university.
While it would still take about a year before his schedule was cleared up enough for him to attend, he found himself studying what he could beforehand. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be useful in the near future.
Despite his newfound revelations, his life and busy schedule continued on. He continued meeting with Niragi, and growing more comfortable with him, until he could hardly connect him with the sadistic killer in his memories. His cynical humor and bluntness added a refreshing and more genuine to their relationship that Ryohei hadn't felt from anyone other than his friends and his brother.
When Niragi continued to keep his walls up, despite the meetings having long changed from business meetings into hang-outs for them, Ryohei conveniently slipped his channel name into their conversation. While Ryohei never got to see all of Niragi the way he could with Karube and Chota, he at least got the other man to openly admit to their friendship afterwards.
As they grew closer, Ryohei finally convinced him to meet his other friends. He and Karube, after sizing each other up in the beginning, almost immediately hit it off. Niragi and Chota, however, had a bit of trouble. While Chota approached Niragi with nothing but kindness, Niragi looked at him like he was seeing someone that wasn’t there. While they still joked around, the air between them was a lot tenser, with Niragi’s resemblance to Chota’s former bullies, and whatever internal conflict Niragi was dealing with (Ryohei never pried, as much as he wished to).
Ryohei found himself, unwittingly, relaxing as he spent time with his friends again. While flashes of something clouded his mind whenever he saw Niragi, he ignored it in favor of spending any time he could with his friends.
They gathered in various places, although typically at a house due to Ryohei’s difficulty in doing anything privately (where he, once more, cursed his past self for choosing acting of all things to fixate on) and did whatever. Sometimes they watched mediocre shows together to throw popcorn at, sometimes they played video games, and sometimes they found themselves playing other games.
Karube had chatted up an alcoholic chronic gambler, and had traded an entire personal poker chip set for a few free drinks. He had invited Ryohei and the others over to his apartment to check it out and play a couple rounds. Ryohei, despite his unexplainable unease at the thought, enthusiastically agreed and set off to Karube’s place.
He felt his unsavory feelings wash away at the warm feeling of seeing his friends, with Karube’s familiar protection, Chota’s bright smile, and Niragi’s exasperated glare. He sat down with them around the small table as Karube evenly divided the chips.
“You’re late,” Niragi drawled. “We already played a round without you.”
Ryohei pouted. “The shoot went longer than planned. The director had some unrealistic expectations of the human body, and refused to let us move on to the next scene until we had ‘perfected’ a minor scene that won’t even have any actual plot significance! Despite all the extras that he hired, he kept making one of the lead actresses act in the scene, even though it was before her character was even introduced! I thought that at the very least she would be there as an extra in the background, but no, she had to be in a specific place and doing a specific thing. The camera isn’t even going to focus on her! The part of the scene she could show up in doesn’t even last-”
Chota interrupted him, clearing his throat and handing Ryohei a cold beer. “Karube divided up the chips. Maybe we should play? Nothing gets my mind off my shitty job more than playing games does.”
Ryohei took the beer, embarrassed. “You’re right,” he said. “Sorry I kept ranting. How were you guys' days?”
As Karube launched into a story about a particularly rude customer, Ryohei took a moment to look at the cards he had been dealt. It was a Queen and a Seven of Hearts.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain throughout his head.
“Eugh…” he groaned, cutting off Karube’s disgustingly descriptive account of the man.
“What’s wrong?” asked Karube, ever caring and protective.
“Sorry…” he smiled around gritted teeth. “I think the stress is getting to me. Continue what you were saying.”
As the pain subsided, he looked back at his cards once more, and was struck with the almost blinding shock of pain.
He fell forward, to the shocked yells of his friends, and it all went
black.