Title: Amnesia

Author: Miru

Rating: T for some swearing and mentions of blood (…then again, who pays attention to these warnings anyway?)

Warning: BIG SPOILERS for the near-ending of Flame of Recca, and some spoilers for Nanashi's past

Notes: I'm afraid I 100 believe that Nanashi from MAR and Joker from Flame of Recca are, indeed, the same character. The evidence is overwhelming, in my opinion; especially the fact that they wear the exact same wristband and bracelet on their right arm. Here's what I think would have happened. Based on the manga for both Flame of Recca and MAR.

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He'd always had the impression that in the moment of death (he knew that it would come sooner or later, despite his claims that dying or living was his choice; he was only human, after all), he'd go through some sort of epiphany. A great flash of light accompanying a realization about the true meaning of the world, or the appearance of a beautiful winged lady bearing a burning torch of truth, or something equally dramatic.

It turned out that the only 'dramatic' thing that happened was getting hit in the face with Kadotsu's mask as it went whirling into the abyss that was the black hole he'd created.

Of course, he couldn't have possibly imagined dying like this, for the sake of another person, but then again, he figured it wasn't too bad. After all, it was sort of, to put it crudely, cool. He'd leave a good impression, maybe, and hopefully, Kurei would even remember his name. (A tear would be too much to ask for, of course.) A series of idle thoughts went flowing sluggishly past his consciousness: joining the Uraha, fighting with Koganei-kun, and then--…and then? 'Wait a second.'

Perhaps the dull pain that spread from the center of his chest (or, what had been his chest before the spear punched a sizable hole in it) was beginning to snake its way up to his brain, because he was having a harder time than usual recalling the names and facts.

'Okay now, earth to Joker. You can do this. Let's at least get the facts straight before you die.' A blob of blood went flowing past his face, and whirling into the dark abyss, making him grimace. '…which won't be too long, anyway. You're a member of the Uraha. You fought with…Koga…something. Something—why? For someone. Kurenai. No, wait, that wasn't right—Kur—…Ku? Wait, what? Let's go through the alphabet, there's a letter there somewhere we can squeeze in.' What little vision he could tell he had was starting to go blurry, the streaks of light and dark beginning to dissolve into each other. 'A,B,C, skip a few letter, H,I,J…wait, J. Something about—that letter's important, for my name—'

'…my name—?'

The impact of hitting the ground effectively smashed the thought from his head, and all he could do was gasp. Or at least, try to gasp. The hole in his chest probably meant that he'd lost a lung. The squelching sound as he scrabbled at the wound, trying to make it stop hurting so much, was amazing. As was the blood. 'Oh, wow, that's—that's a lot of blood.' He actually managed a small laugh, numbly staring at his crimson-stained hand. 'How much did the human body hold?'

Wait, ground. Black holes didn't have ground. Therefore, this wasn't in the black hole. The sudden realization inspired him to bolt upright into a sitting position, but his body quickly reminded him that he was missing a large portion of his chest, and he immediately flopped back down on his back, letting out a small whimper. Neo—Ne — some girl, he couldn't remember her name – would have laughed to see him groan, but what did it matter now? Not like there was anyone nearby, right?

"Hold still."

'Hey, that's not an answer to my question.'

"I'm using a Holy ARM to heal you."

'I said, that's not an answer to my questio—wait.'

The voice was deep, a little tinted with urgency, but somewhat familiar – not too unlike the voice of that- that K-guy, Ku-something – and he craned his neck upward to try and get a glimpse of whoever it was. Some combination of the sunlight and the blood loss hindered his sight, and he barely managed to catch sight of the blue headband and black hair before lowering his head back down.

"Wh—s a h..ly rm…"

Hmm, that wasn't really intelligible, was it? Seeing that the words simply rolled off his tongue and flopped around weakly, he tried hissing them instead, breathing them out between ragged gasps for air. It worked a little better.

"What's—" Gasp. "A Holy—" Gasp. "Arm…?"

"Hold still."

'You're not answering my question again.'

A sort of pleasant numbness was spreading from the wound in his chest, a soft halo of light hovering about his body. 'I'm either dreaming, or I'm beginning to hallucinate.'

"Sleep. You'll be fine." The voice sounded reassuring.

'Really?'

He was still trying to make some sense of what the hell was going on when he finally blacked out, hoping that he would wake up again some time.

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And wake up, he did. Quite uneventfully, too, as the first thought that slipped into his mind was 'I'm hungry.' The second thought, of course, was 'Where the hell am I?' Opening his eyes, he caught sight of the cracked stone ceiling that loomed above him, bathed in a murky, but not entirely unpleasant sort of light. Which brought up the third question. 'Is this Hell?"

"I see you're finally awake." It was that voice again. The one that didn't answer his questions. The blue bandanna fluttered into view again, but this time not so blurred, and the small smirk on the person's face was clearly visible. "How are you doing?"

The fact that he was actually able to sit up somewhat amazed him, and the last time he was conscious, he'd hardly been able to breathe, let alone look around and wonder what would happen to him. His torn tank-top had been replaced with a covering of bandages, but underneath the white cotton, he could feel only the soft bumps of scar tissue; no guts dangling out, no blood gushing, no gaping hole.

"You're lucky. A few minutes more, and you would have died of blood loss." The smile was almost audible, now, and he answered with a rather hesitant question.

"…who are you?"

The reply came in form of a laugh, at first, before tapering out into a confident smirk. "My name is Galian. Leader of the Luberia Thieves' Guild."

"Ah." Luberia. It wasn't a name he'd heard before.

"And you?"

"…huh?"

The man – his savior – Galian, nodded. "Your name, at least?"

"I'm..." He paused.

'Who am I?' The letter J danced into the edge of his consciousness, then, just as quickly, faded away, and he was left grasping at nothing.

"I'm not sure."

"Hmm." Galian sounded more contemplative than curious, and tilted his head to the side, apparently in thought. "You don't remember anything? Who you are, what you were doing?"

A couple more stray threads seemed to whirl around his mind, but before he could recall anything solid, they were gone. "Not…really."

"Not even why you were there with that wound?"

He shook his head. "No, nothing." Then, he remembered. Not that it was a particularly pressing matter, but seeing that discussing his non-existent memories wasn't particularly good conversational matter, he changed the subject. "What's a Holy ARM?"

This, Galian looked surprised at. "You don't know?"

"Yeah. No idea." A pause. "I asked you when you first mentioned it, but you didn't answer me then."

"I thought you were delirious. You…really don't know?"

A moment while he dug through what little he remembered, then shook his head. "Nope, no idea."

A rather exasperated sigh from Galian. "…a resident of MAR Heaven who doesn't know of Holy ARMs…this is ridiculous."

"…what's a MAR Heaven?"

There was a moment of awkward silence in which Galian stared at him with a sort of stunned disbelief, and he stared back with equally sincere confusion. It was soon broken by Galian's loud laugh, though, and the man threw back his head, roaring with amusement.

"Goodness…you don't even know what MAR Heaven is. This should be a story to tell around a table of drinks!" The laughter subsided after a moment, and he shook his head, still grinning, before turning to the confused blonde. "You really don't remember your name?"

A shake of the head. "How many times do I have to repeat it? I really don't remember anything."

"Alright then. You're Nanashi from now on."

"…huh?"

Galian grinned, and reached over, grabbing at a bundle of red cloth that was lying on the side table. "Nanashi. It would be difficult to walk around nameless forever, so I'm giving you a name."

"…Nanashi…" He was still ruminating over his new name when the bundle of red hit him in the face. Pulling it out of his hair, he unfolded it. A shirt.

"Put that on. It's a little cold outside, and we can't have you be in bandages forever."

"Uh."

"Come on." Galian grinned, nodding at the door. "Let's go get a drink and I'll show you the rest of the family. You can be a new member of the Luberia."

'Family, huh?' Shuffling the shirt on, he pawed his hair out into some semblance of order before slipping off the bench, stretching his shoulders. So this was what it felt like to move again, huh?

"Ready?"

He cracked his neck a few times before looking up at the figure by the door, then nodded, grinning. "Sure."

Nanashi. It wasn't too bad a name.