I own nothing but my own character and her story.

Chapter 1: Cubicle

An ordinary night, filled to the brim with nothingness. I sat, isolated, in my lone cubicle, occupying myself with work. Until recently, I lived in England, at an orphanage. Just 2 months ago I

relocated myself. I am now situated in the Kanto region of Japan. It would be an understatement to say this area is technologically advanced. Everywhere I go, I am surrounded by

flashing city lights and large LCD screens advertising the latest hair product or the hottest teen pop sensation. To say the least, its much different here than it was in my previous home. It

took a few weeks to feel comfortable in this setting but now I can leisurely roam the city streets without gaping in awe at every detail.

The orphanage I mentioned earlier, it was named the Wammy House. I can't tell you much about it or how I came to live there but I can tell you about the people I met. It was one boy in

particular that still makes my heart jump from his impartial memory. From the day I arrived at the establishment to the day he left, we were close. As close as two people could get, we

were practically attached at the hip. He was strange…but so was I. Never inclined towards socializing with the other children, we were, almost magnetically, attracted towards each other.

Two social outcasts longing for someone to spend time with; we found each other.

He had pensive black eyes and jet black hair lazily styled in an unkempt fashion. Often he would reveal to me, and only me, his thin crooked smile that appeared whenever he solved a

riddle or completed a puzzle. And the way he sat, knees tight to his chest, thumb between his teeth, and his eyes as quizzical as those of a new born child. Each of his quirky mannerisms

only intrigued me more. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't explain how I came to be able to leave his side the day he departed from the orphanage. I cant tell you if I cried, if I held on to him

and refused to let go, if I ran after the car as he left. I cant tell you how I reacted, and im not sure it's a memory that I would have wanted to keep. He left me with no memory of his name

or of his existence but he did leave me with a locket. One precious antique locket that I cherish to this day. Upon first glance it is not beautiful, nor is it well crafted, and to anyone else it

would look like a round piece of junk metal on a rusty chain. It is one of those treasures that you need to delve deep into to find its true beauty. Two circular pieces of scratched silver

sandwiched together with a clasp soldered on the left. No inscriptions, no picture inside, but strangely enough, he left something settled between the two pieces of metal. A single strand

of black hair. It most likely belonged to him. After a few years, I stopped wondering about the significance of the strand of hair but I kept it in its place nonetheless. Since his departure,

I've worn the locket every day, morning and night, hoping that it will help me retain his memory in my head. Unfortunately, the locket failed me and to this day, I cant even remember my

own best friends name.

I work for a large Newspaper company in Kanto called the Yamaru Press. I was hired as a journalist only a month ago by the paper's editor, a round man with a creased face by the name

of Hotaru Yana. Already my desk is barely visible under the colorful clutter of paper, pencils, notebooks and other miscellaneous office supplies. Currently, Im scrambling to locate my

cleverly hidden tape recorder that held my most recent interview. Drawers were flying open left and right while I was looking for the inconveniently placed object. If I had remembered that

I left it in my purse before I decided to mutilate my work space, the serenity that once filled my cubicle might have still been present. I carelessly rummaged through my unorganized

makeshift purse and grabbed the compact tape recorder. I started into a brisk walk as I made my way through the maze of cubicles. I reached my boss' office and dropped the tape

recorder on his neat desk. He stared with a curious expression at my flustered face and transferred the tape recorder to a randomly selected desk drawer.

"I wont even ask. Sit down"

I obeyed the command without hesitation. I plopped myself down into one of the uncomfortable chairs on the opposite side of his desk, turned my attention to his aged eyes, and waited

for further instruction.

"I have a new assignment that I wanted to present to you personally. Im not sure that you would know of the subject seeing as how you've only been a Japanese inhabitant for, what, 2

months? But, anyway, I like your stuff, you have potential, im giving you a very important story to cover so don't screw around with it. That's all. Im going to put the information on your

desk later. Make sure you take it with you before you leave tonight."

I left his office with my head jumbled from all that was just fed to my brain. I returned to my cubicle and gave no more thought to my new assignment.