Chapter 1

Akise Nakamori awoke.

Yawning, he sat up and stretched. Looking around his bland room, he had a feeling of misrecognition. He had been living here for three years, he was twenty-six years old and yet...he wasn't.

Akise's heart began to race. His head was filled with memories that could not be anybody else's and at the same time were most definitely not his.

For example, a memory of going shopping yesterday. The writing in shop stores told him he was Japanese, but - who was he? What was his name, at least? Standing and searching around his room, he found his wallet on a shelf; he pulled out the cards inside.

Akise Nakamori. He frowned. That didn't seem right. And he could not have been shopping yesterday because he was -

Akise rushed out of his room, across his small apartment to the bathroom, flicking on the light, facing the mirror -

He gasped. His wavy, layered hair was now jet black.

He had the same pale skin, the same square jaw, same straight nose and the same blue eyes. Straightening, he pulled his T shirt off. He was a couple of inches shorter, but his body was still lean.

Was it his body?

Akise Nakamori. That name was not his.

Leaning on the sink, Akise stared into his own - undoubtedly his own - eyes, hoping to clear this uncertain fog surrounding his identity.

The cogs in his mind clicked into place.

He was not Akise. He was Decim.

He was going to be late! Grabbing his briefcase, he stuffed papers and his lunch inside, making sure that his suit was neat before hurrying out of the door.

The most annoying thing was that Decim - Akise - had no idea what kind of work he did for a living; his memories were still muddled. But the panic he felt this morning when he glanced at the clock gave him reason enough to stick to Akise's routine.

He was relying purely on Akise's procedural memories so that he could find out what was going on.

It was a Monday, oh dear why must it be a Monday! Akise thought as he ran to catch the bus.

"Wait! Mr Oshimura!"

He did not even know the bus driver, yet another sense of recognition swelled as Mr Oshimura opened the doors for him. Also, he noted, his voice sounded just as it always had.

"Mr Nakamori, you're normally much earlier," He commented as Akise showed him his bus pass, "are you alright?" That explained the early panic. "Yes, I am well. Thank you," Akise took a seat and tried to figure out where his workplace might be.

"Excuse me," He addressed a passenger, "can you please tell me where in Japan this is?" The passenger looked confused but replied nonetheless. "Sapporo, Hokkaido Prefecture," He said.

"Thank you very much for indulging me."

Next, he considered his appearance. Smart suit, shiny shoes - briefcase. He opened it and scrutinised the papers within. They were student submissions on the history of Russia, if the writing styles told Akise anything.

Inference: history teacher.

The fact that the bus had stopped outside Hokkaido Academy had played no role in his conclusion. Taking a deep breath, Akise prepared himself for what seemed like his first day at work.

"Ah! Mr Nakamori, you're here." A woman with a short bob haircut approached him as he entered the school lobby. She also wore a suit.

Akise bowed low. "My apologies for arriving behind schedule, Mrs Murakami. Please forgive me."

Mrs Murakami seemed shocked at such a display of apology. "It's quite alright," She assured him, lightly touching his arm as indication to follow her. "Your class is being registered by a teaching assistant as we speak."

He was ten minutes late. The revulsion that spread through him was consistent with his normal character - he detested lack of punctuality, it set an entire plan back unnecessarily. "I really am terribly sorry, it will not happen again," Akise repeated, noting how the headmistress of the academy narrowed her eyes as they walked. "Are you alright, Mr Nakamori? You seem a little...off."

"I do?"

"Yes. Are you coming down with something?"

Akise blinked. "I do not believe so. But perhaps I...I should look after my health." He was completely knew to such an aspect of existence; the prospect of visiting the doctor and receiving treatment seemed to him totally alien.

"Here we are. I must go, I have an appointment to keep," With that, Mrs Murakami left him to fend for himself.

Sliding open the door of classroom 2C, Akise overheard the register being taken.

"Jirou Hatsuyama…..Nanami Rikku….." Followed by corresponding responses from the students present.

Akise didn't pay attention to the names particularly.

He knew that voice.

Impossible.

A woman - presumably the assistant - was stood behind his desk. She was relatively tall, rather thin, her skin of a light pigment. Her short hair was dark brown and straight, save for a single silver streak; her dark eyes, accentuated with makeup, locked with Akise's own as she turned to him, a bright smile illuminating her features. "Ah, good morning Mr Nakamori! I was just finishing up."

The class, as expected, rose, bowed and collectively greeted their homeroom teacher before seating themselves again.

Akise had to remind himself that he had been spoken to, and so was obliged to reply. "Yes," He blurted, "...thank you, Miss…" His mixed memories hid her name from him, "...Miss…"

"Kozuma," She discreetly supplied. Now, his mind retrieved the rest of her name.

"Miss Chiaki Kozuma." It couldn't be. But he recognised her, and not just because she was among his new set of memories.

As she passed him, he fought the urge to cry. That emotion, the first one he had ever felt, threatened to take hold of him. Sorrow.

It was definitely her.

Chiyuki.

Teaching, as Akise was reminded, was a challenging profession. He had witnessed countless memories of teachers, he was sure, yet that was during a time when he was merely an Arbiter, whose memories were discarded once they became useless in judgement. Therefore, he could not even rely on the memories of others to help him in this job.

Well, there was the unintentional help provided by Akise, whoever he was.

"Good morning, class 2C."

One class member tilted her head. "Are you feeling well, Mr Nakamori?"

Akise blinked. "What compels you to ask, Miss Ayumi?"

Ayumi blushed. "I - It's just that you look pale, sir. And your voice sounds different." Strolling over to his desk, Akise noted a fuzzy, unstable feeling begin to emerge inside his head. He sat down. "That is very thoughtful, but I will be fine." The bell rang. "Please get out the necessary textbooks and be off to your respective subjects."

He surveyed the room as some students shuffled off, particularly Hidori, the short girl who was class representative. Other students stayed behind and others poured in for his history class.

Stealing a glance at the semester curriculum for history, Akise confirmed that they were studying Russia pre-1920s. To work, then.

By mid-morning, Akise was exhausted. His throat ached from talking; his hand hurt from writing and typing, and a headache blossomed subsequently to his brain having to comprehend all this new information which, until today, had never been of use or relevance to him.

He missed Quindecim.

He wanted to work as a bartender again. That was a fairly simple, relaxed job. His only challenge had been to provide torturous situations in which to judge people's souls, but at that time he was not capable of the feeling 'exhaustion' anyway.

Akise sighed. Would the Academy be angered if he quit his job for bartending?

Admittedly, despite the helpful memories, he decided that he not only preferred but excelled considerably in making drinks than marking papers.

During the morning break, Akise decided to explore the school, a cup of coffee in his his hand. He had seated himself on a bench to admire the cherry blossoms in the heat of summer. He suddenly began to regret wearing a suit as temperatures soared.

Weaving her way through the waves of students, Chiaki Kozuma once again made an appearance. Akise's skin felt prickly with nerves as she strode over and sat next to him, also cradling a mug of what Akise considered to be black tar after tasting his own sample.

He came to the conclusion that coffee was not his cup of tea.

"...Thank you, again, Miss Kozuma."

She nodded as if she expected him to say that. "Don't worry about it; I'm only an assistant, remember, so I actually enjoy getting to take over for teachers every now and then." Sipping from his cup, Akise wondered if she...maybe she….No. That would be impossible.

How can one remember someone they have never met before? Unless...

The uneasy feeling from that morning returned with a vengeance; it seemed to spread via Akise's bloodstream all around his body. His grip on the cup loosened. His breathing became shallow. His shirt collar felt like it was strangling him.

Akise stood abruptly, swaying on weakened legs; when he looked down, his sight blurred. Chiaki jumped to her feet, putting a cautious hand before his torso. "Akise! What's the matter?"

Akise squinted. "I -" Before he understood what had happened, his vision glided sideways and a thick, dangerous thud was heard as his head collided with the ground.

"Akise...!"

A/N: any characters mentioned which are not from Death Parade are something akin to OCs: they have no resemblance to other characters from other animes, and if they somehow do seem that way it was not my intention.