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[School papers in hand and Hinoti-Ri ID on his bedside table for personal reference, Otonashi clicks the feed open on his watch. Dark circles lining his eyes, ruffled hair and a more unkempt shirt tell the story of a boy who either stayed up all night or who consistently hasn't been sleeping as well as he should.

He glances back to the ID card, over the name listed on it. Without that piece of information, he wouldn't even be able to fill in the first name section.]

So, ahh... this school thing... What if you don't know where to start? [There he goes, ruffling his own hair again.] Ugh, that sounds weird.

Wh-what I mean is... if you don't remember where you left off in school, what can you do? Oi, I don't even remember my birthday... [Paperwork: everyone's nemesis, but doubly so for an amnesiac.]

-- action option;

[3:00 A.M is an unreasonable hour to be wandering around outside of his apartment, but he's craving a drink—not tap water or coffee—and since sleeping is not happening, he might as well. Feel free to bump into him or yell at him to go to bed, but good luck with the latter.]

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And it's difficult to prevent texts from going through with the system we have... Could you ask them not to text you so late at night?

Nope! Why would I have anything to do with amnesiacs? [You're expecting too much out of a random teen there, Otonashi.]

What's your theory?

[He pauses, a shiver creeping its way into his voice. Memory tampering hits rather close to home.]

... Messed with? How? Why?!

I could ask, but he wouldn't listen to me... [He's just a little grumpy about this.]

I should stuff the watch in a closet or in a pillowcase somewhere...

Ahh... I don't know, it just seemed like you've seen it before... [He hesitates. How well will this conversation go over?]

I—we think it... might have been something like a severe head injury. M-maybe some other trauma. Hinata and Yuri both said that it's common for people who die from a head wound to end up like this.

He...? Is it someone in particular?

There's only one person who texts me... "Wuss, wuss!" "Oh, why is YOUR persona a woman? Are you even a real man? Hah!" [Nice impression there, Otonashi, though the voice is too high-pitched. It's mocking.]

Oh, you're one of the dead people here?

[...He's probably been here too long, letting a sentence like that sound normal in his own ears compared to some of the other stuff he's seen.]

Head trauma, huh? I guess it would be too much to ask if dying fixed any brain damage you got when you were alive. [Although he does look pretty healthy outside of that fact, and maybe some lack of sleep.]

That does sound irritating.

[But, wait...]

Ah, could it be- that was why you never responded to my text?

Y... yeah. [Is it that easy to talk about the deceased? That is both reassuring and distressing, Hizumi.]

Ahah... uhh. It doesn't seem to always work that way... I knew a girl who suffered a cerebral stroke and seemed fine. She even remembered it.

Irritating isn't a strong enough word..!

[... Oh no. Did she send him a text?]

... W-what text?

Oh? So you're just the lucky one with amnesia.

[Hmm~]

Maybe it's a different kind of trauma that's holding you back?

It was soon after you arrived, and I was just checking in to make sure you were settling in alright... But if you missed it, that's fine.

[She had wondered if he was ignoring her, but he didn't exactly seem the type to do that either, so in the end she simply assumed something had come up at the time.]

Ahh... 'Lucky.' [A mixed blessing, maybe.]

Everyone talked about memory loss being caused by hitting your head, as if that's the most common. And everyone I knew had suffered... I don't really understand what would be different about me. [Oh. Sounds like someone was monologuing aloud.]

A-ahh, sorry. Usually people don't know anything about it, so... [... And the fact that Hizumi seems to be able to talk so freely is concerning, given what Otonashi already knows about this boy.]

H-hang on a second, Misato... [He's closing the feed, but only to check his text backlog.

Processing...
Proce— oh. 'Lo and behold, an old text from Aoi Misato.]

Ah... aha, so you did text me... I'm so sorry! I thought it was another text from Noda—he had been harassing me about an, um, purchase—and I said I'd ignore texts! B-but it wasn't because of you! I... ah.

Edited 2013-04-07 00:00 (UTC)

You're assuming everyone reacts to suffering the same way, though.

[He taps the side of his head.]

Some people might be fine with remembering, but... Are you sure that deep down, you really want to remember what you went through, too?

[For his part, he seems to be treating this as a completely ordinary conversation, as if that one time during the Dark Hour had never even occurred.]

Noda...? Is he still bothering you?

[Well now she's just concerned.]

Why not start from the ground up? I'm sure you'd look charming in a preschool uniform.

Eh?! That's— no, I'm not going to do that! I'm not a toddler..!

It's just a suggestion! Don't you want to know that all of your bases covered? I also know of a few seamstresses if it's the uniform you're worried about. Trust me, you'll fit right in.

I said I'm not a toddler! I don't need to go back that far! [Jeez, is this Noda? It has the right condescending tone!

Oh. Wait. No, this person is far too articulate to be Noda. Too much intelligence, not enough caps lock.]

I don't need a... pre-school uniform! What do you take me for?!

An amnesiac of some kind, of course! As such, I'm assuming nothing. Well, besides the uniform. I'll admit that was a tiiiiiiiiiny stretch. For all we know, the local uniform wouldn't have been your color.

Anyway, what would be so bad with starting from the basics? It's a simple process of elimination. As soon as you get to a subject you aren't familiar with, your education can start. Sure, it might take a while, but are we exactly hurting for time?

He'll never stop... This is how it's always been!

[And Noda's an idiot, so.]

[Fair enough. All Otonashi can do is nod to acknowledge that he heard what was said.]

... No. I'm not sure. [I want to believe that I'll accept what happened and who I was, but I'm afraid—] It might change me, or... the way I see the people around me. I don't know if I'm... better off this way or not. [Classic case of the devil you know versus the devil you don't.]

Ah, does... that make any sense?

Y-yeah, well I'm not worried about the color... I'll wear any uniform as long as I'm getting something done.

And if that's all you meant all along, there's a better way to say it..! [He has to concede that the point itself is actually rather fair.]

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