I walked down the street; cold and alone.
I didn't want to be here, there were too many memories, memories that reminded me of a past so close, yet so, so far away. Walking through Hikarigaoka again I remembered that night, the night which had brought about my destiny, and the destiny of the other seven. The images flashed through my brain as I walked under that bridge, that bridge that I had watched them rebuild after that fateful night, that night that no one could explain.
I shook the memory from my head. I didn't want to remember what that night had led to, the wonders and perils of the years to come, and most importantly, I didn't want to remember how it had ended.
I told myself I was stupid for coming down here, because I knew I would feel this way. I knew I would remember what I had tried so hard to forget.
I knew the reason I was here. It was him. It was always him. The one guy I once would have most liked to disappear off the face of the Earth, had, and now after almost three full years of me trying to find some purpose in my life, he has to come back into it and remind me that we'd already fulfilled it.
The apartment he'd rented was in the same block as the one in which I had spent my childhood, the same one in which I'd escaped from that fateful night all those years ago.
Back then I was so scared, so nervous, so cute; I could barely talk but I still remembered that night for many a year to come. And now, even as I tried to repress it, I remembered what I found in my father's computer the night before, and the way he had come home drunk from work on that night, just as I was escaping off the balcony, whilst my brother held the door closed so that father wouldn't find out our not so little secret.
But here I was, back in the same building, gradually approaching a door that I knew would look so familiar and yet so foreign to me and I started wondering if this was what I really wanted and whether I should back out. I tried to reason with myself. I knew what would be behind the door. I would find him andwe would talk about what we needed to talk about, about where he'd been for the past three years, about why he was back. He would try and win me over, like he always had, and I would politely rebuff his attempts, like I always had. We'd talk about the past, sure, and those memories I had been trying to reject ever since would surface, but if I talked about it with him, maybe I wouldn't feel so bad about having to leave it all behind.
At least that was what I told myself anyway.
It wasn't as if I hated the guy, but he really could be quite annoying when it came to his lust for a bit of his idol's sister. I guess it had been nice though, having someone around who wanted you around them. As much as I hate to admit, I had enjoyed the attention.
I closed in on the address he'd given me in his text message. A text message. How could I have come all this way, knowing it would be so hard not to relive all that I wanted to forget about, just because a guy had given me a text message? I couldn't believe it, and for a second time I considered turning back, leaving him to face whatever trouble he was in on his own and stay the hell out of his life. But as soon as I heard the familiar chords of Wada Kouji pulsing through the walls of his apartment, I knew it would all be fine, it would all go as I expected and we would be friends again like we had been through Junior, Middle, and Senior School.
The song was "Target" and I knew it well, it was all over the radio in 2002, around about the time when he realised he had some competition, around about the time it all happened for a third time. I pushed open the unlocked door, I had half expected to see him waiting at the window like a faithful little puppy, but maybe he thought that if he'd waited three years to see me, he could wait a minute more.
"Daisuke," I called, as I removed my shoes, trying to make my voice heard over the speakers, "I'm here, where are you?"
Of course, being a small Japanese style apartment, I didn't have far to look. I checked the bedroom that the music was coming from first. It almost surprised me that he could sleep through the racket that was coming from the speakers not metres from his head, but then I remembered he was pretty much the same as my brother, and that meant he could sleep through anything.
I walked towards the bed, trying to glimpse his friendly face underneath his wayward arm, and gave him a little nudge. Nothing.
"Oh Daisuke, you really are just like my brother," I said softly and I smiled at his naiveté in thinking I would ever end up with someone who was almost a clone of Taichi. Deep down I love my brother, but obviously not in that way.
Wada had moved on to "Butterfly" now, but he really was starting to give me a headache so I went and shut him off halfway through his 'Woah' section.
As soon as I turned the sound system off and turned towards the sleeping man I noticed two things very quickly. The first was the complete lack of snoring, which, if he really was a clone of my brother, would most certainly be a defect in the design. The second was the large black knife handle sticking out of his back.