This may come as a surprise, but the majority of my earliest childhood memories are very happy ones. Even when I think of other pleasant things that have happened throughout my life, they never really reach the level of fondness that I hold for those days. Maybe I was happier back then simply because I didn't know any better- being comfortable and safe was a given, every single day. I lived in my own little utopia, where anything negative could be completely forgotten after one day, with no lasting impacts on anything. Everyone I cared about smiled all the time, and I was never given any reason to be the exception.

My mother was as close as I think she could have been to a perfect parent. She embodied nearly every imaginable quality- however cliche- that was associated with the family movies I used to see on television- she genuinely seemed to care for her family, and did what we could to make sure we had what we needed.

As for my father, he had only just broken into his new job as an archeologist when I was born, so it wasn't uncommon for him to leave on business trips several times a year. But that never really mattered to me; mostly because when he did come home, usually around the holidays or my birthday, he always arrived with new stories to share with my mother and I. Even back then I was captivated by his stories of the Egyptian ruins he helped uncover, and I couldn't have been much older than five years old when I asked him for the first (and, if my memories are correct, only) time when I would be able to come along on one of his trips. He laughed, ruffled my hair (an old habit of his), and said, "Maybe when you're older." I'm sure I pouted at his answer- just as I always had when I got that response- but like any other issue at the time, I managed to completely forget about it by the next morning.

My days passed in a blur of warmth and happiness, and I never once considered that my perfect world could shatter at any given moment.

Even when I found out that I was going to have a baby sister, I wasn't bothered in the slightest. I told my friends after school one day, and their responses were typical for eight-year-old boys- "Your parents won't have any time for you once the baby is born," one of them said, while another muttered something about his annoying baby cousin. But not even their concerns were enough to worry me in the slightest. My parents were happy that there would be a new member of the family, and as far as I knew at that point, they were always right. I had no reason to doubt them, or to be any less excited for my new sibling.

I remember the first time I saw her, too. And when I saw how small she really was, how fragile she was, I didn't just accept my new role as her older brother. I embraced it, anxiously awaiting the moment when I could tell her everything I knew about anything.

But not long after Amane's arrival, my parents made the decision to move out of our small home in the English countryside. Apparently my father was quickly growing dissatisfied with his job, and had found a position in a Japanese museum, in the same city where he had been raised. His main argument in favor of leaving was that this new job was close enough to home that he could be with us more often, and it worked exactly as he meant it to. So my mother, father, Amane (who had just turned about six months old), and I loaded up what we could keep of our possessions, and exchanged our peaceful home in England for the crowded, bustling city of Tokyo, Japan.

It didn't take very long for me to figure out just how different things were when you lived in the city. I had spent the first nine years of my life in a small town, made up of only about five hundred people. I had known and played with each and every one of the other children, and I knew the names and faces of nearly every adult as well. I had never once felt lonely there, because someone was always there. We were, in a way, an extended family to one another.

The city, however, was entirely different. I saw new faces every single time I left our new apartment, and not one of them would ever spare me so much as a glance in my direction. One of my mother's first rules upon arrival was that I was absolutely not allowed out of the house by myself, and I never once fought her decision. It got to the point where not even my mother could take me out much without a good reason. I was terrified of the huge crowds that seemed to regenerate around every corner, and the new strangers that could be lurking in the middle of them. I had no idea what anyone was thinking, and my overactive imagination created possibilities that, although they would come off as laughable now, were sincerely scary at the time.

So instead of going out and making friends, I spent time at home with my mother, Amane, and- when he was home- my father. Several months passed like that, and as a result of both my unwillingness to go outside and the fact that I couldn't speak more than a few words of Japanese I had picked up from my father, I ended up being homeschooled for a while. Most of my time spent on studying was dedicated to learning Japanese; which, although I had been raised as an English speaker, was my father's first language, as well as my mother's second.

Since I had very little else to do with my time, I spent most of it studying for the first two years that I lived in Japan. Any unhappiness I felt towards my lack of friends my age was, without fail, immediately forgotten when my mother praised me for being such a quick learner. Just knowing that someone in the world was happy that I was alive was enough to keep me going. And that was why, up until the day of my eleventh birthday, I remained content with my life. I had my family to support me, and nothing else mattered.

Xxx

On September 2, 1991, I turned 11 years old.

Thinking about it now, I realize that I probably gained more years mentally on that one day than I had on the previous ten combined.

I still remember exactly how the day was supposed to play out. My father had gotten the day off from having to go into his job, even though he only had a week or so left to prepare for the opening of a new exhibit in the museum. My mother had promised to make me anything I wanted for dinner that night, and my sister (who had just turned three a few months ago) would spend the day with me as I tested out every single one of the games I had gotten for my birthday. It was a simple, childlike way of doing things, but that was how I had always spent my birthdays. It was familiar and comforting, and I never felt the need to try doing anything more extravagant.

I always asked for cream puffs on my birthday instead of the usual cake. Even by the time my first birthday in Tokyo came around, my mother made it her mission to find a way to get them for me. Fortunately, there was a small, family-owned bakery near our apartment that sold them. It was only about ten minutes away by foot, according to my mother. But I had never once stepped inside with her, my fear of walking through the city still just as prominent even after two years. Amane, on the other hand, was entirely comfortable in crowds, having spent nearly all of the time she could remember in the city. So that day, when my mother announced that she would be going out to make the trip, my sister immediately begged to accompany her. My mother nodded her head and smiled, and Amane raced towards the door so mother could help her get her shoes on. Then, right before she stepped outside, she turned to me with a huge smile on her face, waving to me. I smiled, said goodbye, and waved back. Satisfied with my reaction, she ran out the door to catch up with mother.

That, I think, is the last part of my memories from that day that I refuse to let go of, even if the rest are scenes that I would erase from my mind in a heartbeat.

My father had stayed behind with me at home, but he had said around lunchtime that he wanted to get at least some of his work done, and that he would probably stay in his office until it was time to eat dinner. Knowing how much my father hated any sort of interruption while he was trying to get something done, I decided to stay out of his way completely and read a book I had just received that morning.

About 45 minutes passed like that before, out of nowhere, something started to feel… off. I couldn't place what that "something" was, but all of a sudden, I felt as though I had taken a blow to the stomach. My heart started beating a little bit faster, and all the air seemed to disappear from my body. Through the complete panic I was feeling, the only other thing running through my mind was, "Why?" Why was this happening all of a sudden? I had been fine just a second ago, hadn't I…?

Wincing, I set down by book and looked up, my eyes locking onto the old clock that was hanging on the opposite side of the living room.

As I pieced together what exactly was wrong with the sight in front of me, the feeling of dread in my stomach increased by even more, and I vaguely noticed myself shaking just the slightest bit. Now, this is about the moment when my memory starts to get fuzzier around the edges, but I think I sat there, completely still, for around a minute before it finally hit me why things felt so wrong.

Mother's and Amane's trip to the bakery should have taken, based on past experience, no more than a half hour, even if they were stopped by heavy traffic or a long line at the register.

So why was it that, in their absence, the hour hand had entirely shifted from the three to the four?

I briefly considered some possible reasons for why they could still be gone. Had they taken a last-minute side trip? Had they run into someone they knew at the bakery? I don't remember how long I sat there, or how many possibilities I managed to come up with. I just know that when I was snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of the phone ringing, I still hadn't come anywhere near the truth I was about to face.

I had thought nothing of the fact that someone was calling our house. I knew there were still relatives who hadn't made their annual happy birthday call that day because of the time difference between Japan and England, so I picked it up expecting a temporary relief from my worrying.

"Hello?" I answered in English, which I had started reserving exclusively for calls from extended family.

"Ryou? Is that you?" The Japanese response threw me off for a moment, until I recognized the voice as my mother's. Even after that, though, I was still extremely confused. Where could she have been calling from? Did she find a pay phone somewhere? And for that matter, why couldn't she have waited until she made the short trip back home?

Why did she sound so… frightened?

I had never heard my mother get this worked up about anything. Even as a child when I broke my arm after falling of my bike, she hadn't sounded this worried.

I swallowed, choosing my words as carefully as I could manage so that I wouldn't upset her any more. "Mom? Are you alright? Where are-"

"Ryou, I need you to put your father on the phone." Her tone left no room whatsoever for argument, but I still hesitated for a moment. Didn't she know how mad my father got when he was interrupted for anything…?

I tried to explain that he was still in his office doing his work, but she cut me off mid-sentence once again. "That's not important, Ryou. Tell him that he can go back to his work later, but I need to talk to him for right now."

"But-"

"Go, Ryou! Now!" I flinched a bit at her words-there was a new, powerful anger surging through her words that hadn't been there when I picked up the phone, and coming from my always-calm and collected mother, it scared me. Not wanting to push her any further, I hastily agreed to her request before setting the phone down and half-sprinting to father's office at the other end of the hallway.

I didn't knock, as I had always been told to do when I needed him. As soon as I had tested the doorknob and realized that it was unlocked, I pushed it open and stepped inside.

My father looked up at me and opened his mouth to say something, but I interrupted him, not wanting my mother to wait too long on the other end of the line. "Mom's on the phone. She really wants to talk to you."

My father sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Tell her to wait a bit and call me back, alright? I'm already running behind as it is."

"She sounds really scared though, dad. I tried to tell her you were busy, but she started yelling at me until I promised to come get you…"

My father stared at me for a moment before emitting another long sigh and rising to his feet.

"This had better be a real emergency, then," I heard him muttering as he went to pick the phone back up. I remained in the hallway, peeking around the corner from a slight distance while I tried to pick out bits and pieces of the conversation, based on my father's reactions.

"Alright, Sarah, what was so important that you needed to interrupt my work? Honestly, one of you had better be dead or dying for you to-" Having presumably been cut off, my father abruptly fell silent Then, as he listened further to whatever my mother was telling him, his face turned almost deathly pale, and his hands started visibly shaking.

"Oh. ...Yes…. yes… I'm sorry, hang on, Ryou and I will be over there as soon as possible… yes, I'll see you in a minute Sarah…. of course we'll be careful, so don't worry so much about us." His expression completely unreadable, my father hung up the phone before turning towards the hallway, his eyes meeting with mine. He stared at me for a moment, eyes so wide that it looked as though he had seen a ghost.

"Ryou, we…" His voice cracked on the second word, and he cleared his throat, turning his face completely away from me before continuing. "We need to go meet up with your mother, alright?" His voice had taken on an urgent tone reminiscent of the one my mother had had just a few minutes earlier.

I tilted my head in confusion. "Did something happen…? Dad, what's going on? Where are mom and Amane?"

My father didn't answer. He threw my sweatshirt to me from the coat rack, and motioned for me to hurry up and throw on my shoes. By then, I was so confused, worried, and unsettled that I didn't even think to complain about needing to go outside. The only thing I knew for sure was that something major had happened. Something bad, bad enough to send my calm mother into near hysterics and tear my father away from his precious work in a matter of seconds.

My father didn't say a single word to me throughout the fifteen minutes it took for us to reach our destination. And as soon as we made our final turn into the entrance to the largest hospital in our area, I didn't need him to. I didn't want him to. I could see the glass surrounding my perfect world starting to crack, and even if it was just for a few more minutes, I wanted to try as hard as I could to prevent the moment that it would shatter into a million pieces.

My mother was waiting on a bench a few feet from the entrance to the emergency room. When she saw us coming, she stood up and ran towards us. I instinctively searched for Amane, who should have been right by my mother's side. Maybe I thought that if I found her, everything would be alright. Even if this mystery situation was real, my little sister- too young to understand that anything was wrong- would have kept smiling, and eased my nerves even the smallest amount.

But the area surrounding my mother was empty, and there was nothing even resembling happiness being expressed by anyone.

The strange feeling from earlier- which had never really gone away, although I had stopped thinking about it before then- intensified as soon as my sister's absence sank in. My vision blurred, and my knees shook, threatening to give out completely at any moment. I'm guessing from here on out, but I think my mother noticed my reaction and bent down to pull me into a hug, whispering something to me that I was too out of it to comprehend. Then she stood up and addressed my father, and this time I made out bits and pieces of what she was saying, despite her efforts to stay quiet.

"...Ran out…"

"...On impact, so… didn't feel…"

And just like that, the paradise that I had lived in for the first eleven years of my life collapsed in on itself, trapping me under the rubble.

I blacked out what I think was a few seconds after that, but could have easily been minutes. Everything else had changed in the blink of an eye, I figured, so the passage of time was probably no exception. That was why I knew it would be alright if I left the world behind for just a little while. I probably thought that I could escape reality for just long enough that I could rebuild the foundation of my life before I woke up. But as I had learned only moments before, the world wasn't perfect,and second chances like those didn't exist.

The last thing I remember seeing before giving into unconsciousness was a small, forgotten box of cream puffs resting on the bench my mother had come from, silently watching the sobbing family whose lives had only just begun to unravel.

Xxx

Well, I promised you guys that the new chapter would be longer, and in a completely OOC moment for me, I actually lived up to that.

For the record, though, I feel like I should mention that this fic won't be entirely my interpretation of Ryou and his life (as fun as it is to make him cry in a canon setting). Yes, that is going to be the foundation for the story as a whole, and I'd be lying if I said there weren't going to be a few more chapters focusing more exclusively on Ryou's (headcanon) past. But since I know there's a chance that long character backgrounds are a turnoff for some people, I just wanted to make it clear that there will be more to this than just that. The Wall has 26 songs, you guys. And in case the chapter name (as well as the new name of chapter 1) and a possible quick google search didn't make it obvious, those individual songs are all inspiring their own chapter. This is going to be long- the longest fic that i've ever completed by far, assuming I manage to get that far. I have big ideas for this fic. BIG ideas. So if you stick with me through a bit more exposition, I promise you I'll try to make it worth it.

Chapter 3 is already in the rough draft phase, so I should have it out sometime in the next week. In the meantime, I would really appreciate it if you dropped me a review. It distracts me from the AP hell that is my junior year of high school.