Edited 7/29/2016: changed a bit of awkward and confusing dialogue. first actual chapter in progress.
The boy gasped awake.
He greedily sucked in air, trying to catch his breath. After a few seconds of hyperventilation he managed to slow down his breath, inhaling and exhaling at a measured pace. He pushed himself up off the cold floor into a sitting position, or as close to one as he could manage. Every part of his body screamed in agony, just from that simple action. The room was dimly lit; the only light penetrating the room coming through the blinds of a streetlamp outside. A digital clock on the wall to his side read 3:28. He tried to stand up, stabilizing himself his his arms as he stood, but his legs gave out and he promptly collapsed back to the ground, pain again shooting up his legs and arms.
Looks like I'll be here for a while...wherever this place is anyway…
He looked around for the first time since coming to, letting his eyes adjust to the relative darkness to get his bearings. It looked like was in a living room, with chairs and a couch in the center around a coffee table a few feet to his left and a television screen on the opposite wall. A stack of magazines were stashed underneath the table and a mug sat on top of it. The room itself was not large; at the other end of the room, hallways lead off to what he assumed were other rooms. The place was familiar and yet not, he couldn't decide.
It looks like someone lives here, but there are no sounds, nothing. Given how long I must have been out, a few hours at least by the size of this headache, no one is home, or else someone would have called the authorities by now.
It was the only logical conclusion he could come to.
This is my house...familiar and yet not.
He racked his brains for a few minutes, but he could feel there were holes in his memory. And then there was the whole situation of him being knocked out in his own home, lying on the floor.
He moved his arm to get in a better sitting position, and his hand came into contact with something small and metallic. Looking down he noticed the terminal lying next to him. Picking it up, he turned it on, the bright light momentarily blinding him. Dimming the light, he noticed that there was a crack in the screen. The backside of the terminal seemed to be sticky; that's when he noticed the most out of place feature of the room.
The cell phone had been lying in a pool of blood. Widening his eyes he could see that not only the terminal was in the blood, but he was sitting in it as well. His own blood it would seem.
He quickly flipped on the terminal, panic rising in his chest.
I need to call for an ambulance and emergency services.
His finger was shaking as he opened up the phone application and dialed 1-1-9.
Something is wrong here...very wrong…
The call went through and the receiver on the other end picked up.
"119, what's your emergency?"
He sighed in relief at the sound of another human voice.
"Hello, it seems I'm...injured."
"Ok, can you tell me where you are injured and what the nature of your injury is?"
He looked down to examine himself, and used his free hand to assess his body. As his hand brushed over his side, a searing pain erupted, causing him to gasp and grit his teeth. Unbuttoning his jacket and lifting his shirt soaked in blood was a massive gash in his torso. Blood was still oozing out of the wound. Looking away and feeling like vomiting, he answered the emergency operator.
"It looks like I have a cut in the side of my body. I've lost a lot of blood."
"Ok, we are dispatching an ambulance to your location. Can you tell me your name, sir?"
He opened his mouth to give a reply, but stopped before he could say a word. His name? What was his name? Something was wrong, very wrong.
"I...ah...I-I don't know."
"Sir?"
"I don't know my name."
"Are you sure? You don't remember your name?"
The teen could feel himself starting to black out again.
"I...I don't kno-"
Collapsing back onto the floor into the blood, the world swirled around and eventually faded to black, the operator's voice growing duller every second.
"Sir! Sir are you there? Sir, stay with me. Sir!..."
The last sound he heard was the front door being broken down.
When the teen awoke again, he was in a pitch black room. Well, room was not quite the right word for it; it was more like simply a black space. Surprisingly, he was on his feet...even though there didn't seem to be a floor.
This day is getting stranger and stranger.
Suddenly realizing he was standing, he looked down and ran his hand over his side hoping for the best. Nothing.
Lifting his shift, he saw that the large gash in his side was gone. He sighed in relief. Putting down his shirt he looked around again to see if he could figure out where he was. It seemed that all there was was endless darkness all around.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dull glint.
That wasn't there before.
Spinning around he came face to face with a reflection of himself, almost touching nose to nose. Surprised, he took a step backwards by instinct. His reflection did so as well.
What the hell? Where am I? A giant mirror in pitch darkness?
He examined himself for the first time in the reflection. Medium build, not skinny but not large. He wasn't tall, average height or even slightly shorter than average. Messy slate gray hair with bangs that dipped to just around his eyebrows and eyes of the same shade stared back.
So very...average.
[Yo.]
Out of nowhere the reflection on the mirror opened its mouth and spoke.
[Looks like you're finally here.]
At that point the teen thought he was going to lose his mind. Endless darkness, mirrors and now talking reflections, how could this day get any crazier? He leapt away from the mirror and turned around, looking for a way out of this madness.
"I-I gotta get out of here. Where's the exit? There's gotta be an exi-"
He felt a hand on his shoulder; that was the final straw.
A part of him instinctively he grabbed the hand and the arm attached to it, he flipped the person over his shoulder and attempted to follow up with a hold. The owner of the arm was momentarily caught off guard and landed heavily on the ground, but soon regained composure and slipped out from under the teen's weight. He swung a leg up from his vantage point on the ground and into the teens face, kicking him backwards stunning him. The person used that few moments to knock him to the ground and put the teen in a hold.
[You caught me off guard there with that throw. Not bad. Looks like that training wasn't wasted.]
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
[You're going to need to calm down. If you do, I promise I'll answer all your questions.]
"JUST LET ME OUT OF HERE!"
[Ok, ok, you'll be out of here in a little while. Just relax for a bit.]
The teen felt the pressure from the hold go away and the person on top of him stand up.
[All better?]
He got into a sitting position and looked up. No doubt about it, he was looking at a perfect copy of himself. The
doppelganger seemed cool and in control, completely opposite of how he felt at the moment.
"Hell no! Where am I? Who are you?"
The other person sighed and scratched his head.
[The second question is easy to answer; the first one, not so much.]
The person closed his eyes and crossed his arms, a pensive look crossing his face.
[...I'm you.]
"...What?!"
[I guess it's more accurate to say I'm another aspect of your personality, but I'm still you nonetheless. Trust me.]
The person-rather his other "self"-reopened his eyes. An uncomfortable feeling entered his gut. They may look the same, but his eyes, those eyes were not the same. Cold and calculating, hiding something underneath the mask.
All of his instincts were screaming not to trust "himself".
[I see you're hesitating. Understandable, but we'll have more than enough time to rebuild that trust. After all, I have a feeling that you'll be back here before too long.]
A dangerous glint entered his eyes and then disappeared.
[As for where 'here' is, even I'm not quite sure. My guess that this is your mind, or more specifically, your subconscious.]
"...I'm not sure what that means. And why are you here?"
The other "self" opened his mouth to speak, but a slight rumble shook the darkness; even though nothing was visibly shaking, the sensation was there.
[Looks like our time together is pretty much up. Most of your memories are missing. From what I can tell quite a bit of your long-term memory is damaged, so while you may remember bits and pieces of your life up till about, oh say 10, it's going to be nigh impossible to put those back together again. Your short-term memory and memory since about 10 is mostly intact and things should start coming back together starting in a few days.]
His other "self nodded.
[That should be good for now.]
[A few more things before you leave; since we're probably going to be meeting more often from here on out, you can call me 'Z'. And also, whenever you remember, be sure to check 'that' compartment.]
Hirokazu shuddered involuntarily again; the dangerous glint had once again entered Z's eyes, and what was with that change of noun?
"Wh-What do you mean by-"
[Looks like you're waking up. I hate to go, but this is goodbye for now; see you in a bit. Don't screw up too much now, or there'll be hell to pay, and not just from me.]
Hirokazu opened his mouth but before he could say a word, the darkness exploded into brightness, briefly highlighting the shadowy figure of Z as a halo of light surrounded his other self.
Hirokazu jolted awake for the third time that day, groaning and rubbing his eyes.
This feeling of disorientation is terrible.
He cracked open an eye; light streamed through the shutters, illuminating the room he was in. He was lying in a bed, a monitor to the side. Several wires led from his body to the computer; the lower half of his body was underneath clean sheets and the room itself was painfully white.
Attempting to sit up, pain shot up through his side causing him to gasp from the sudden shock. Touching his gown around his stomach, he felt a bandage wrapped around his side, and some stitching underneath that.
He sighed and leaned back. So it wasn't all just a dream. How was he going to explain the house situation to his parents? And what about his injury? He thought for a moment. Did he even have parents?
"See you in a bit."
He recalled some of Z's last words and involuntarily shuddered. What had happened in there? Was that real?
It had to be. And yet, I feel that's not entirely the truth either. Who is 'Z'? Will I really see him again? And what about the rest of my memory, will I ever get it back?
The door to his room suddenly opened and a nurse walked in. Seeing him awake, she stepped outside again for a moment.
"Someone get Aozora-sensei! He's awake!"
A minute later, a middle-aged doctor walked in. He briefly checked the monitor and the ruffled through the papers the nurse handed to him before turning to Hirokazu.
"You're in good shape. You should be discharged before too long; your wound looks and feels far worse than it actually is. It didn't hit any vitals, which is good. You look healthy, by reading your papers and what the monitor says. How are you fee-"
"Though how you got that wound in the first place is far more curious to me."
A second man had walked in behind the doctor and cut him off. He was younger than the doctor, wearing a dark brown jacket and pants. His bangs covered his eyes, but when he turned to look at Hirokazu, he could see they were unfriendly and suspicious.
"Detective Umeji, Kyoto police. I'm going to need to ask you a few questions."
He paused for a moment, walking over to the chair at the foot of his bed.
"Doctor, I'm going to need you to leave. You too, nurse."
"Detective, despite your need to question the patient, he is still a patient and I cannot allow you-"
"I said you need to leave. Now."
The detective and the doctor stared at each other for a few moments before the doctor sighed and nodded.
He turned those unwelcoming eyes back to Hirokazu, as the doctor and nurse both bowed slightly and walked out.
"Let's start with you. Emergency services said you didn't know your name. Do you remember now?"
A trickle of memory floated through his mind. He reached out and grabbed it, causing something in his brain to click.
"Somiya Hirokazu. I had a momentary lapse of memory due to the shock; sorry if I caused any inconveniences."
"Don't get cheeky kid. What else can you tell me about yourself."
"I'm a first year at Rakuzan High School, 16 years old. My parents are overseas for work."
Frosty silence dominated the room for a minute. Detective Umeji narrowed his eyes at the brevity of information.
"Nothing else?"
Hirokazu shrugged.
"Nothing else important."
The detective scoffed.
"Fine. What can you tell me about the incident that put you in the hospital?"
Hirokazu took a breath.
"Not much. I think I was attacked on the way back from school, but everything's fuzzy. It was too dark to see who
was attacking me so I can't help you there."
"I'm going to need more than that. Any features that stood out? Height? Weight? Gender? Anything?"
Hirokazu racked his brains; it was true he didn't have much memory, but something had to be in there…
He shook his head.
"Nothing, sorry."
Hirokazu looked back up at the detective.
Detective Umeji continued typing on the tablet terminal for a little while longer, then got up to leave, not sparing a glance towards Hirokazu. He stopped at the doorway.
"You might get a few calls in the coming week. If anything else comes to mind, my card is on the table."
With that, the detective walked out of the room.
Not too far away, high above the streets, a man sat in his office, gazing out. The room was spacious, a fact augmented by the room's sparse decoration and personalization. One way windows made up three of the walls of the room, the fourth one, overlooking downtown Kyoto.
A telephone ring broke the silent morning, a call the man had been expecting.
"Detective."
"Sir, I'm just outside the hospital. He seems to be the one."
The man glanced down at the picture on his desk; a teen, with shocked slate gray eyes gazing out from underneath messy slate gray hair, with his right arm outstretched, as if forcing something away from himself.
"Keep an eye on him. This is only one piece of the puzzle. This is something that can only be confirmed in the lab."
Hanging up, the man glanced one last time at the picture before closing the folder it was in before igniting it and destroying its contents with a smokeless fire. Three words could be last seen before the entire package was a pile of ash.
International Magic Association.
a/n
this story will go parallel to the main timeline of mahouka, with its main setting being Second High School. Of course, that means pretty much everything will be OC. I wanted to do this as a sort of experiment; the world itself has a ton of potential, but much of the focus is on First/Third high, so I just wanted to see if I could expand this world just a little bit. I'll reference events from the light novel, but expect a completely separate story with a new cast of characters. thanks for reading and your support!
