Title: Hours, Minutes, Seconds
Victim: MIrage_GSM
Prompt: "Someone is/has been distributing mysterious presents at Yamaku academy. People who open them find that they contain memories. Whether the memories are good or bad (and whether or not people dare to open them) is up to you."
-
It’s a little unsettling when a place that’s usually so busy is seemingly deserted overnight. Obviously, this shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to me - it’s not like the students were all going to sit obediently in class an entire, extra half-day before scattering to the wind, going home for the winter holidays.
I, the fool, had assumed that the last day before the end of the term would be the chosen day, where extremely important information would be relayed, information that my fellow students would sorely be missing when it came time for the next exam, but to my immense disappointment I discovered the already half-day of Saturday had also been written off by all the teachers as well.
The first thing I’d decided to do upon returning to my dorm that afternoon was to look very closely at my train ticket, hoping it had magically decided to change its departure date to today, but I had no such luck. Not because the ticket hadn’t done so, but because something else caught my attention first.
A little cardboard box sat at the foot of my door. It looked to be about the size of a novel, and had no writing on it at all. If it wasn’t for the tell-tale manilla packing tape wrapped across it, I wouldn’t have known what it was, it looked more like a loose brick than anything else.
On the off chance that there was some reasonable explanation on the bottom of the package, I picked it up, only to find more tape across the length of the bottom.
Now in my room, on pure autopilot, I sat down on the bed with the box in my hands. Whatever it was, it was light, but as I handled it I heard something sliding around inside. I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be inside.
I set the box under my bed and folded my arms behind my head as I laid back, staring up at the ceiling. Let’s go over the scenarios, here. Why would I get an unmarked box with something inside?
I hadn’t ordered anything myself, so that thought was out the window. Anyway, if it was a piece of mail, how was it supposed to get sent anywhere without a packing slip, or at least a written address? That fact pretty much ruled out the thought of it being someone else's mail as well.
It could also be part of some school tradition or maybe a gift from someone. But who would give something to me and not tell me? Kenji might, but it would’ve been far more typical of him to be waiting outside his room for me if he had something to show or give me.
Was I sure I was the only one with a box? I hadn’t been looking very closely at my neighbor’s doors as I had passed through - if it wasn’t just me, maybe I and whoever else could at least work together and try to figure this out.
I decided that was the most imminently useful idea, and got up for a little bit of investigation.
My investigation didn’t take long. I didn’t bother going to all the other floors, but there were no other boxes in the hall.
It had already started to get dark as I walked out of the dorms again. Perhaps a walk would let me focus on what the next step was in this plan.
~
It was unbearably hot in the Student Council room. I would’ve preferred to be back outside in the cold, as I was clearly dressed for exposure to such weather. I stared across the table at my captors - unsurprisingly, Shizune and Misha seemed completely unaffected by the heat, Shizune making quick work with her pen. They had very wisely chosen not to wear multiple layers, their coats upon the suddenly very useful coat rack.
I had finally gotten tired of the cold and wandered inside the vast, empty lobby of the school out of boredom, only to almost instantly run into Misha. However, unlike every interaction I’d had with Misha in the past, this time she was all business - she told me Shizune wanted to talk to me about something and to follow her, without as much as a single “Hicchan” or laugh. It was a little ominous to see her so deflated and grim for a not-so-obvious reason.
Shizune finally finished writing on the piece of paper we’d been having our conversation on, and turned it around to face me.
[“I have reason to suspect this might be a prank by a student.”]
My frustration showed through a little in my response. [“Okay. What does that have to do with me?”]
I saw a little glimmer in her eye and the beginning of a smirk on her face. [“Nothing, unless you’d like to make a surprise confession.”]
I decided to change the subject before we got totally sidetracked. [“So did you and Misha get boxes as well?”]
[“Of course. Everyone who’s still here seems to have gotten one.”]
As I read her answer, I looked up, only to see Shizune suddenly deep in thought about something. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and got Misha’s attention, and then began furiously signing at her.
Misha snapped out of her trance and began to babble as she signed back.
“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry Shicchan, I meant to tell you it was getting close to time! We can still make it!”
While I was watching this sudden spectacle, Shizune grabbed the paper back from me and scrawled something hastily. In the sudden commotion, I bravely dared to open my mouth as Misha grabbed her coat.
“Misha, what’s going on?”
Misha suddenly recalled I was there, and said, “Oh! Shicchan wanted us to leave tonight, and she told me to remind her when the last train would be coming! So we’ve got to go!”
Shizune had slammed the paper back in front of me, containing mostly the same information, but with an addendum at the bottom - [“I’m deputizing you. If you see or hear anything about this, here is Misha’s cell phone number and the home phone number. Get someone to keep me posted.”]
She then rushed over to the coat rack, and suddenly I got the impression that I had better leave, unless I liked the idea of spending the winter break in a soon-to-be locked Student Council room.
~
Emerging back into the cold outdoors after my detour inside, I still didn’t have a lot of concrete thoughts. It was relieving, in a way, to know that this box wasn’t some metaphysical illusion or some kind of personal, targeted prank.
However, that didn’t get me any closer to a solution. Perhaps a smarter man than I would’ve just thrown the damned thing away, or left it for whatever responsible mysterious force to perhaps come back and pick it up, but neither of those were particularly satisfying options to me.
I’d let my mind distract me from my walk again. It was really and truly dark now, and the whole world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable and cliche winter snowstorm to begin. At some point while I was inside, some outdoor lights had come on, and I could see a vague shape resembling someone else currently sitting on a bench a few hundred meters away.
Closer inspection revealed it was Kenji. Maybe this really was all an elaborate prank by Shizune to make me talk to Kenji so she didn’t have to. Her “deputizing” me was just springing the trap.
Kenji had a small bottle with him as I very cautiously took a seat beside him. He didn’t notice me, bringing the bottle up to his mouth for a drink, so I cleared my throat.
“Dude, that doesn’t help. How am I supposed to know who you are just by how you clear your throat?”
I tried very hard to not let a defeated sigh slip out, and simply said, “Kenji.”
“Oh, Nakai. What’s up, man?”
“That’s what I came to ask you. I thought you would’ve gone home by now.”
“Nah. Too much work to head out when everyone else is. I’ll catch the train out on Monday or something.”
So far, this was the most reasonable conversation I’d ever had with Kenji. I almost didn’t want to ruin it by sparking his paranoia with sudden unexpected questions about boxes.
While I was thinking, Kenji took another drink from his bottle. Maybe that’s what was in his box - the mysterious, new one, that is. I finally broke the silence.
“Did you get a box this morning, Kenji?”
He paused mid-drink, and I braced myself for the deranged statements that were sure to follow. He lowered the bottle from his mouth.
“Yeah, I did. Stupid thing was right in front of my door, I nearly tripped over it this morning. Had to skip class all day after that incident.”
Another drink from the bottle. Surely his box couldn’t have been more than a few inches tall - though this was Kenji we were talking about. It finally began to snow. He spoke up again.
“You want some?”
“No. Alcohol doesn’t mix well with some of my medicine.”
“What? This isn’t booze, I’m just drinking some water.”
I fixed him with a suspicious expression I was sure he wasn’t able to fully appreciate. He began to talk again, motioning with the bottle as he talked.
“Come on man, where’s your sense of grandeur? Would it be cool and dramatic if I was just sitting here, on a cold winter night, by myself, and I was drinking from a little sippy cup of water? No!”
I’d always thought that “grandeur” and “Kenji” were words that went together a little too well, but I didn’t lend voice to this thought.
“It’s like - have you ever seen that film where the old guy dies and they spend the whole film trying to figure out his last words? And they give up, but at the very end they reveal that Rosebud is the name of his sled? His damn sled?! That’s what I’m talking about. You gotta live your life like you’re in Casablanca.”
“I… don’t think that’s what that film is called, Kenji.”
“Whatever. You know what I’m getting at.”
He stood up. I was expecting him to stumble and pretend to lose his balance, but he seemingly already forgot about the theatrics he’d just been so valiantly defending.
“Now come on, let’s go open that damn box.”
~
I’d been back in my room for 10 minutes now, lying back on my bed, engaged in a staring contest with my phone. Click the wheel, the cursor went down to Misha’s number, click the wheel in the other direction, it goes back up to Shizune’s.
-
“Well, come on.”
I looked down at the box and then back up at Kenji. He’d cut straight to the chase when we came back to his room, shoving the box into my lap as quickly as he could, like it contained the plague.
Kenji took a sip from his flask, his theatrics seemingly having returned. I ripped the tape off and looked inside.
This doesn’t make any sense.
“It’s a book, Kenji.”
“What? Come on, man, stop playing around. What’s inside?”
“It’s a book.”
I put the present in his lap for him to confirm.
-
I sighed and let my phone fall onto my bed. I wasn’t sure what I’d even tell Shizune. “Oh, don’t worry, the packages just have undefinable and unknowable items that only make sense to their intended recipient.” That certainly wasn’t going to make Shizune happy - she could do a lot of things, but individually interrogating every student that had just happened to remain at school on one, singular day and getting them to explain what their present meant to them was impractical, even for her.
I was lucky that Kenji had suddenly been so forthcoming - I never thought I’d see him pause while talking, considering his next words before talking. Seeing such a sudden change in his demeanor was more jarring than I would’ve expected - and he wasn’t the only one who had seemingly been affected by what was inside their present. It had clearly brought up memories for everyone - good or bad, recent or distant.
-
I’d taken a little sip of the flask the fourth time it was offered. He was definitely a little tipsy now, if the burning taste in my mouth said anything. Maybe he’d switched the flasks when I wasn’t looking.
Kenji looked up at the ceiling for a little while, finding his words.
“It wasn’t a bad time, you know. The good didn’t really erase the bad, it just didn’t seem to matter that much at the moment.”
Kenji fumbled a little around on the table and picked it up, and there seemed to be a genuine sense of fondness in his expression.
“Stupid book. None of that would’ve happened if I’d just turned it in on time.”
He paused.
“Stupid present.”
-
I turned my head a little. My other arm dropped off the bed and pulled my present onto my lap. The suspense of what could be inside was killing me, in the sense that I wanted to know but was also trying to not appear like I couldn’t wait, and failing. I ripped the tape off the package.
Inside was a slip of paper that appeared to be blank. I flipped it over, reading the words written on it.
“Yeah, I like you too.”
I set the paper on my nightstand and went to sleep.
~
Merry Christmas to you, Mirage. I haven’t written Katawa Shoujo fanfiction in a long time, but I recalled that you liked my Jigoro story, so I perhaps unintentionally structured this one like that, focusing on an underutilized character being used for something outside of their normal role in the game’s story. If I was writing it again, perhaps I would've focused more broadly on everyone instead of allowing my usual bias and preference for Shizune, Misha, Kenji, and Hisao to dominate so heavily.
