Work Text:
It’s not that things are missing,
It’s that they fit too well.
My memory isn’t just good, It’s comprehensive,
I remember things I don’t want to, Things most people are lucky to forget, That’s the curse of being me, Photographic recall, Psychic replay, Instant access to every second of every day since I was born.
So when something’s wrong, even a little, I notice.
It started with a single memory,
My eighth birthday.
There was cake,
Mom was smiling,
Dad was trying too hard,
A normal memory, Sweet, Harmless.
Except I never remembered liking birthdays?
I’ve never liked attention, I hate surprises, I definitely don’t like when people sing at me, But in this memory, I was laughing.
Why?
It didn’t feel like something I would've done,
Not just then, ever.
I let it go,
Sort of.
Until it happened again,
When i suddenly remembered the self named "asumi incident", i didnt get a gut wrenching feeling of guilt?
Instead, the memory looked tame, the bullies where bowing,
i dont remember that.
They were apologizing to me and akechi,
that didnt happen.
That’s not how it happened, I remember how it felt.
Or I used to atleast,
Now that version’s… faded.
Replaced.
Sanded down.
I started comparing other things, Little things.
Kaidou’s first ridiculous monologue,
Nendou laughing too loud in the cafeteria,
Teruhashi’s “perfect smile.”
I always remembered the underlying thoughts behind them,
The truth beneath the surface, The noise.
Now? That noise is gone.
Its too quiet.
Memories aren’t just visuals, They’re weight, Tone, Emotion.
But lately, mine feel like clips from a TV show I used to watch, familiar, but disconnected, Like someone dubbed over the original lines.
The edits aren’t obvious.
They're careful.
Clean.
Precise.
Which is exactly why they scare me.
Because I know only one person capable of doing that,
Kusuke.
He doesn’t deny it,
Of course he doesn’t.
He never does.
“You’re doing better,” he says,
Like that justifies it.
I ask him how long, He shrugs.
“It’s hard to say, The first few changes were minor, You didn’t even notice them.”
He says it like it’s an achievement.
Like erasing parts of me without me realizing is proof he did it right.
He shows me data,
Because of course he kept logs.
Graphs tracking my mood,
Behavior,
Social interaction rates,
Psychic instability markers.
All trending upward.
“It wasn’t invasive,” he says, “Just some minor adjustments here and there. You were too volatile when left to your own design.”
My own design.
It’s not like I had a meltdown.
Or became violent.
Or threatened anyone, i dont think so atleast.
I was just… withdrawn.
My version of normal.
Apparently, that wasn’t acceptable.
“I left the core structure intact,” he adds,
“You’re still you.”
But I don’t feel like me.
I feel like someone’s version of me.
Like a rerendered Kusuo with fewer rough edges,
The Kusuo who smiles more often.
The Kusuo who “gets along.”
The Kusuo who’s “well-adjusted.”
Like I’ve been patched and updated and rebooted, and now everyone’s so proud of how “stable” I’ve become.
He didn’t change the facts.
He didn’t erase people or add new events.
He just… rebalanced them.
Shifted the tone.
Took sharp memories and made them dull.
Painted over the things that made me real with things that make me palatable.
And the worst part is,
It worked.
I do feel “better.”
I don’t cry anymore.
I don’t panic when someone touches me unexpectedly.
I can sit through a conversation without mentally shutting down.
I can even pretend to be normal.
But it’s all pretend,
And I don’t know if I’m pretending anymore.
Was I this version of Kusuo before?
Was I always this clean-cut, polite, emotionless type?
Or was i fine-tuned into the role?
I don’t get angry.
I don’t feel sad.
Not really.
Just echoes.
Polite approximations of emotion.
Like I’ve been told what I should feel, and my brain complies, flatly, efficiently.
I don’t think Kusuke meant to hurt me.
That’s the worst part. He doesn’t regret what he did.
He regrets that I noticed.
"You're happier now, aren't you?"
he says,
That question loops in my head for days,
Am I?
Is that even the right word?
Can something edited into shape still be called happy?
Sometimes I stare into the mirror and try to summon the original me.
The one who used to lie awake at night, terrified of destroying the world.
The one who stopped time just to breathe.
The one who couldn’t stand to be touched, or looked at.
The one that avoided confrontation no matter the cost.
I can’t hear him anymore.
Maybe Kusuke deleted him.
Maybe I let him.
Now I wake up and do what I’m supposed to.
I go to school.
I answer when spoken to.
I go home.
I sleep.
Efficient.
Quiet.
Perfect.
The others smile at me more now.
Everyone says I seem “nicer.”
Kaidou calls me his “trusted friend.”
Even Nendou… well, he’s always the same.
They like this Kusuo.
They trust this Kusuo.
They never saw the shift.
Only I did.
And sometimes, when I’m sitting alone, all i can think about is how much he changed me, i wonder if my current thoughs are even mine? If the "old" kusuo would feel the same way.?
But the voice that answers is never mine.
It sounds a lot like Kusuke.
And it always says the same thing,
“Then why do you feel better now?”