Many years ago...
The silence of the long corridor was broken only by the constant hum of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, which cast a white, artificial glow over the pale walls. The perfectly polished and spotless linoleum floor reflected the lighting, giving the environment an almost surgical and impersonal appearance.
Numbered doors stretched along both sides of the corridor; most of them were closed, guarding the silence of those trying to rest. From time to time, the rhythmic and persistent beep of a heart monitor echoed from inside one of the rooms, serving as a constant reminder of how fragile life was in that place.
The air was cold because of the central air conditioning, carrying that characteristic and unmistakable hospital smell, a strong mixture of 70% alcohol, disinfectant, and medication. On the plastic chairs in the waiting room, time seemed to pass more slowly. The metallic sound of a medicine cart being pushed by a nurse broke the monotony, accompanied by the low whispers of doctors talking at the reception desk. It was a place where the weight of reality seemed to crush any attempt at optimism.
Inside one of the rooms, the atmosphere was marked by the contrast between silence and the constant mechanical hum of the machines. The walls, painted in pale shades of light blue, reflected the cold lighting. In the center of the room stood an adjustable hospital bed, surrounded by chrome safety rails and perfectly stretched sheets.
Beside the headboard, panels built into the wall displayed oxygen outlets and IV stands, where bags of transparent fluid slowly dripped through plastic tubes. Next to them, the heart monitor displayed oscillating green lines, emitting the rhythmic beep that dictated the passage of time in that isolated room.
Sitting in a companion chair, a small twelve-year-old boy with brown hair and sharp blue eyes stared blankly into space. His expression was one of pure confusion.
Beside him, two people watched him with visibly worried and tense expressions: a man with purple hair and green eyes, and a woman with blue hair and yellow eyes.
The door opened, and the doctor entered the room holding a clipboard.
"Excuse me, are you the boy's parents?"
"Yes." The man stepped forward. "I'm Karasu Ryusei, and this is my wife, Shiori Ryusei. We're his adoptive parents."
"Very well..." The doctor glanced at the papers. "We performed every examination possible on Arata. Magnetic Resonance Imaging, Computed Tomography, PET-SPECT of the brain... And none of them showed any physical abnormalities that could explain the amnesia. He simply woke up asking who you were, with no memories at all?"
"That's right," Karasu confirmed, tense. "But today, after checking the security cameras in our house, we discovered that he had a very strange episode during the early hours of the morning while we were asleep. And exactly the next day, he woke up like this."
"We know Arata suffered a lot in the past..." Shiori intervened, her voice trembling with extreme concern. "Doctor, could this be connected to what happened before?"
"Do you know what he did outside the house on the day of that episode?"
"He went to school and came home normally," Shiori answered, hugging her own arms. "He acted as usual."
The doctor sighed and wrote something down on his clipboard.
"I see. Given everything you've told me, my diagnosis is Dissociative Amnesia with identity loss. It's a defense mechanism, possibly triggered by an episode resulting from childhood trauma connected to Post-Traumatic Stress. His mind, in an attempt to protect him, has 'locked away' all of his memories from before the age of twelve."
"But just when he was getting better..." Shiori said, tears beginning to fall. "He was doing so well in sports, getting high grades... Now, without his memories, what are we going to do?"
"He will probably have difficulty returning to the way he was before," the doctor explained cautiously. "So don't be surprised if his academic performance drops drastically or if his athletic abilities disappear."
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"Oh, my God..." Shiori broke down, crying uncontrollably.
Karasu wrapped his arms tightly around his wife, trying to support her, then looked firmly at his son lying on the bed.
"Even so, my love... We're not going to give up on him. The Ryusei family motto is to never give up. We won't abandon Arata."
Back to the present...
Arata woke with a start, his chest rising and falling desperately. He abruptly sat up on the stone ground, clutching his shirt with trembling hands and feeling his stomach. To his surprise, his skin was completely intact and fully healed.
"What...?" He looked around, bewildered.
He was standing at exactly the same intersection as before. Up ahead, the same mischievous child was running toward the road, while the carriage was speeding toward him.
"What?! I've already seen this happen..." Arata stammered, frozen in place.
Just as he remembered, the armored knight leaped forward at the last second, rescuing the little boy and rolling safely onto the sidewalk.
"This again... I've already seen this. Could I have prophetic dreams? Can I see the future?!"
The sound of hooves abruptly braking interrupted his thoughts. The driver of another carriage leaned his head out, irritated.
"Hey, you weird kid! Get out of the middle of the road! Do you think you're some kind of prince or holy knight, blocking the way?!"
"You already said that to me, sir," Arata replied automatically, still numb from the shock.
"What? Get out of the way!" the driver grumbled, snapping the reins.
Arata quickly stood up and walked toward the sidewalk. He looked down at his hands, realizing that he was still holding the plastic bag containing the uncooked ramen, while his stomach began demanding food.
Ignoring his hunger for a moment, he quickened his pace, passing near the entrance to the alley. That's when he spotted the familiar blonde hair standing out among the crowd. The girl was walking just ahead of him. At the same time, he caught the subtle sound of agile footsteps moving across the rooftops above them.
Knowing what was about to happen, Arata ran toward her, closing the distance.
"Marina!!!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
The blonde girl stopped instantly. She turned around, fixing her purple eyes directly on him with an expression that mixed deep confusion with extreme irritation.
"What did you just call me?!" she demanded sharply.
"What? Marina! That's your name, isn't it?"
"No!" the girl shot back, visibly outraged. "My name would never be the horrible name of that traitorous witch! Calling me by that name is a grave insult!"
Arata took a step back, completely confused.
"What?! So she didn't trust me in the other timeline? She lied about her own name?"
"How...? You lied to me?" he stammered.
"What are you talking about, boy? I've never seen you in my life!" she replied harshly.
A realization struck Arata's mind.
"Right... Everything I experienced was a vision of the future. She doesn't know me yet! I should have followed the flow of what I saw in the dream and only changed my actions to save her, but I ended up ruining everything!"
"And?! Are you going to stay silent?" the blonde girl pressed.
By then, their shouting had already attracted the attention of the people around them. A small crowd of humans and demi-humans began gathering nearby, murmuring angrily.
"That's a horrible insult, boy!" a lizardman on the sidewalk commented. "Comparing her to that damned traitorous witch is crossing the line!"
"If it were someone I knew, I'd have already beaten him to a pulp," another passerby added, glaring at Arata with hostility.
"What the hell did I do, man...?" Arata thought, cold sweat running down the back of his neck.
The crystal at the girl's waist began to glow, and Buck emerged in his small blue dragon form, flapping his wings in the air.
"What's going on here, Ma?" the little creature asked.
"This strange boy approached me in the middle of the street and compared me to Marina, the traitorous witch," she explained, crossing her arms.
Buck narrowed his scaly eyes at the boy.
"Kid! Why would you do something so stupid?"
"I... I..." Arata's voice came out low, breathless, and completely trembling. Panic had locked his throat.
Amid the growing distraction, an agile silhouette descended from the rooftop. Taking advantage of the commotion and the crowd surrounding them, the purple-haired thief, Yumi, moved like a flash. With one precise motion, she snatched the girl's mystical necklace and immediately fled through the alleys.
"The thief!" the blonde girl exclaimed, realizing what had happened.
She quickly raised her hands, conjuring several ice stakes in the air and firing them toward the fleeing woman. However, because of the people crowding the street, the projectiles missed their target, and Yumi quickly disappeared around the corners of the slums.
Furious, the young woman turned toward Arata, her purple eyes blazing with pure hatred.
"So you were working with her?! You staged this whole act just to gather a crowd, distract me, and make it easier for her to steal my necklace?!"
"Of course not! I didn't do that!" Arata tried to defend himself, extending his hands. "I was actually trying to help you!"
Without listening to his excuses, the girl delivered a powerful front kick to Arata's chest, knocking him hard onto the dirt.
"Get out of my way... I need to get my necklace back!" she snarled before turning around and running in the direction Yumi had disappeared, with Buck following her.
Lying in the dirt, Arata stared at the sky for several seconds, guilt weighing heavily on his chest. He had ruined everything. The girl had no memories of him, and if things followed the course of the vision, she would eventually die.
Clumsily, he got back to his feet and sought refuge in the filthy, silent alley nearby. He walked deeper into the narrow passage, nervously moving his fingers as he contemplated his own desperation.
However, the sound of footsteps echoing against the stone walls brought him back to reality. He raised his eyes and found himself facing three men wearing black masks, completely blocking the only exit from the alley.
"You guys again...?" Arata muttered. "Do you want revenge or something? I mean... Since it was only a vision, that hasn't actually happened yet, right?"
"What is this lunatic mumbling about?" one of the criminals asked, pulling out a knife.
Arata took a deep breath, feeling his blood pulsing harder through his veins.
"You know what? Last time... I was passive. I was a coward. But this time, I'm going to do things differently. I'm going to fight!"
The second robber let out a mocking laugh, spinning his blade between his fingers.
"And you really think you can take on three against one, kid?"
"I'm going to try!" Arata shouted.
The fear was still there, buried deep inside his mind, but the surge of adrenaline and the anger over failing the girl spoke louder.
He wasn't going to back down so easily.
Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Arata shaped his expression into a forced confident and defiant smile.
He would wear that mask of courage until the very end.
End of Chapter 5...
To be continued in Chapter 6...