Quiet Shores

Toya wakes up to a morning doused in silver mist, where the cawing of the ocean birds, the wind through the sparse trees and even the roll of the surf seem muffled, muted. Another gray beachside morning, but unlike he usually would on such mornings, Toya does not roll over and go back to sleep.

Instead, he gets dressed in silence, combing down his hair without the aid of a mirror and ruffling Bernkastel's fur (she was perched at the foot of his bed), before heading downstairs and out the back door, as quiet as he can in the attempt to keep from rousing Ikuko, who is doubtless still fast asleep.

This autumn isn't quite so unseasonably warm as the last. As such, even the presence of a jacket and a scarf can't only entirely ward off the cold; the sandy wind keeps sending grit into his eyes. The upside to this is that there are no other beachgoers out today; apart from it being too early, it's far too chilly for the average sightseeing tourist.

Toya doesn't venture down to the shore itself. He stands at the edge of the porch, surveying all within sight—the sand dunes, the rocks, the rolling mist and the rocking surf. The salt smell makes his nostrils burn. It all seems so distant to him, like a hazy image revealed through a smokescreen, but he knows that all he needs to do to touch it is stretch out his hand.

I make myself sound like God. He smiles ruefully, ramming his hands ever deeper into his pockets; Toya's okay with the cold, but there is such a thing as having too much of a good thing. Besides, he didn't come out here, so early, to ruminate on nature or compare himself to God (Ikuko's the one with delusions of grandeur, not me).

He has just realized it recently. He's been living here for a year.

A whole year. I can't believe it's been a whole year that I've been living here. It barely seems like any time's passed. Time just passes this place by. But it has been a year. I can't believe it.

It makes Toya smile to wonder how Ikuko would react if he was to point out to her that this is the one-year anniversary of his moving in with her. "What, do you want a cake?" he can imagine her asking pertly, slyness gleaming out of her slitted eyes. "Do you want birthday presents? Or should I buy you roses? Perhaps you should buy me roses. Yes, I think that sounds nice. You should definitely buy me roses. A round dozen, blood red. And chocolate."

And then I'd tell her that this wasn't White Day, and point out that roses and chocolate are usually associated with romance. That would probably shut her up. Or, wait… No, she'd just tease me even more.

Yeah, that's exactly what she'd do.

But as quickly as that smile crept up over his lips, it starts to vanish again as the reality of having lived here for so long leads Toya's thoughts in another direction.

He still remembers next to nothing about his past. True, Toya hasn't given serious thought to trying to find anything out in months, but you'd think that, maybe, he would have found out something else by now, even if he wasn't trying to figure out how to remember something about his past.

His memory only goes back a year. Beyond that, all is a blank, a gaping void that looms on the horizon like a black hole, fit to devour everything, even the stars. It feels like if he doesn't stop thinking, the amnesia will start eating away at his life past waking up as well. But he did stop thinking. He has stopped.

And look, I'm fine. I still remember pretty much everything from the past year. There aren't any gaping holes in my memory from where the amnesia had a field day and decided to eat everything in sight. Look at me, I'm fine. I'm perfectly alright.

Does he really need to learn the truth of what his life was like before waking up here? True, that's all of Toya's childhood, hypothetical friends and family locked up in the abyss. It's a huge chunk, the vast majority of his life that he doesn't have anymore. His past identity is dead within the void, unable to find life to be lent to its heart.

There's a part of Toya that will always wonder what lies in that impenetrable blackness. It's the appeal of the unknown, his innate curiosity telling him to seek out that which he doesn't already have knowledge of. Plus, it's his whole life that's locked away behind that endless wall. Why shouldn't he be curious?

And why shouldn't he feel as though a huge part of him is missing, as though there's a hole in the very fabric of his being, that's only growing wider?

But lately, the struggle to regain his memories hasn't felt quite so desperately important as it used to. Lately, Toya has felt happy and content with the life he has, has barely noticed that yawning void within him. Lately, he's actually felt normal.

Maybe he doesn't need to remember. Toya gets an image of himself living here for the rest of his life, without ever having any memory of the first eighteen years of his life, and thinks that that doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world. He could still live a fulfilling life here, with Ikuko and Bernkastel, just whiling away his years in the house by the sea that time forgot. Just fade away into old age and death, fade into the ether.

Would that really be so bad?

No… It wouldn't.

Toya shuts his eyes as the blustery wind blows a wave of sand up on him. He brushes the sand away, smiling as he does so. His smile abruptly blooms into a full-blown grin. He feels free. He hadn't even known he was trapped, but unexpectedly, Toya feels so, so free. It's as though a thousand pounds of weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and he is no longer Atlas.

I am not a nameless man with no memories. I'm Hachijo Toya, a year old. I have a friend named Ikuko and a cat named Bernkastel. I'll not find myself forever reaching towards the past. I'll live for a future I can remember. A future I can hold in my hand.

I'll have an identity not bound to a murky past.

I'll be me.

-0-0-0-

When Toya withdraws back inside the house, Ikuko is drinking black tea at the table and nibbling a coffee cake, the newspaper spread out before her. She looks up at the opening of the door, and narrows her eyes at him. "You look happy this morning, Toya."

"Yeah," he agrees. "I am."