Chapter 5

Akise awoke to find his alarm clock ringing obnoxiously loud. He silenced it brutally. He sat up and attempted to conjure threads to open the wardrobe doors; when none appeared, his reasoning came back to him.

You cannot do that anymore, he reminded himself, do not be lazy.

Yawning, he shuffled over and opened a wardrobe door, choosing a simple set of clothing to wear. Now that he no longer owned a bartender's outfit, no other clothing really made him feel comfortable - especially, he recalled, not suits on hot days. Turning around, he picked up his phone and checked it.

No new messages.

He paced it down again.

A loud clanging sound made Akise spin; the bridge of his nose collided with the open door, and his head reeled back, hands clutching at yet another injury. Tears welled and a tingling pain leaked into his facial nerves as he breathed through his mouth.

Flustered, Akise rushed into the hallway, desperate to find what the source of noise had been. He saw a pile of mail below his metal letterbox. He collected it and deposited it on a nearby table - it was all junk mail.

Tasting blood, he moved one hand away to peer at it: surely enough, there were drops of red on his palm. His phone began to ring.

As he returned to his bedroom, Akise almost tripped over a trashcan and momentarily wondered how long he would last in this cruel world before finally answering the call. He'd had to pinch the nose cartridge, so his voice sounded incredibly odd.

"Hello?"

The other person hesitated. "...Is this Akise?"

"Y-yes. Who is this?" Akise had forgotten to check who was calling.

"It's Toru, man! How could you forget my voice?" Toru laughed briefly. "Are you alright? You sound sick."

Akise found some tissues and shoved a couple up his nose to stem the steady flow of blood. "I - no, I, I have just woken up. And I hit my nose on a door. It's bleeding."

Toru laughed again, and Akise could pick out the sound of traffic behind his voice. "That's totally like you. I dunno why Chiaki was so worried! Apart from the whole Mr Bump thing, you sound fine to me. Are you, though?"

"...Am I what?"

"Fine? Like, really? 'Cause she really wanted me to talk to you. She seemed freaked out, big time. Is it ok if I call in? She told me you're off work."

Akise tried to dredge up memories of Toru, but was thus far unsuccessful. "Um. As I said, I have only just got up -"

"Oh that's cool, it'll be like an hour before I get there. Got some shopping to do."

Well, at least Chiaki had not completely rejected him after their last talk, if she was urging others to check up on him, Akise reasoned. Always the affectionate person, he recalled. Always the one who thought of how her reactions might affect others, and always the one who considered how she could help those experiencing distress.

Chiyuki had always been the one who did what Decim could not. Chiaki was no different.

"Yes. Bye." Unsure, Akise hung up. Glancing at the clock, he determined that he still had time for a shower.

Stood under the spray, Akise let out a long breath as water cascaded down his chest, back to the cold tiles.

What was happening?

He had scared Chiaki away. His mother was visiting on Saturday. Some man called Toru had invited himself over today. He searched Akise's memories. He had no recollection of what Toru looked like, so he went by voice alone, until a memory came up.

"Oi, Nakamori!" The voice was cheery, child-like. Akise registered it just as a figure crashed into him, arms enveloping him in a hug. For their first day in high school, Toru sure was spritely today. Toru Asuka's wild chestnut hair was unkempt and seemed to be infused with the same spark that lit up his eyes. "You ok?"

Begrudgingly trying to remove Toru's arms from himself, Akise grunted. "It's Monday, before 9am, and it's cold outside. No, Toru, I'm not ok. I want to sleep. And get off me."

Toru laughed. "Ah, but cold weather is great! Everyone looks so cute when it's cold - their cheeks and noses are all red and adorable!"

"You sound like a lovesick girl."

"And you sound like a Hikikomori* but I don't complain."

Akise scoffed. "You do. All the time. You tell me I'm too grumpy." Toru punched him lightly on the arm as they walked. "Well, you are! It's almost like my presence doesn't cheer you up."

Turning his head to face Toru, Akise gave a wry smile. "Yeah, almost." At that, Toru mock-attacked him again; Akise wrestled back, laughing at the way Toru was pretending to be offended.

As it happened, that first Monday hadn't been so bad after all.

Akise remembered. Toru was an old friend. He's left high school early to focus on working and helping his younger siblings as his parents had been so busy with their own work. Now he worked as a bouncer for a local nightclub. Although, Akise and he had a long-running joke that Toru was less of a bouncer, more of a dancer.

Stepping out of the shower, Akise had to brush away the wet curtain of black hair from before his eyes. He would have to get it cut soon, unless he fancied being the poster guy of some rock band.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and caught a glimpse of his torso in the mirror above the sink. Something was on his shoulder, near the nape of his neck. Twisting his body awkwardly, Akise was able to see the dark, yet small, markings.

Akise Nakamori did not recognise these markings. But Decim did. There, very faintly upon his skin, resembling a faded tattoo, was the inscription: MDL 010.

His heart rate began to increase. His mouth went dry. All of a sudden, he felt as if a ball of shock had landed at the bottom of his stomach with a loud thud; he could almost hear its impact.

No. I do not want to think about this. Despite his protest, Akise could feel his mind toiling over the facts, trying to piece them together as if he were a jigsaw.

This was not his body. Fact. Decim did not have this mole on his upper right arm, he did not have a burn scar on his left palm, he did not have a birthmark on his calf.

And he most certainly did not have naturally black hair.

He once more took a stance in front of the mirror. His body felt light, airy; it did not feel like his body. It was as if his consciousness had taken up residence inside a body that was not his own. He looked into the mirror, but between himself and the body he saw there he sensed a long, terrible distance.

Yet he was all too present in the body itself: his pulse, his breathing, the sensation of cold porcelain against his palms. His organs felt so heavy with dread, it was as if they had been coated in cement.

Moving away into his room, Akise sat on his bed, bringing an hand up to a temple in confusion.

I must be mistaken. This must be my body. All of my memories, no matter what name I take, seem to be from this perspective.

He thought about his research the other day. He would later think himself a fool for doing this, but right now he had to try. Tentatively, internally, he called out. ...Hello? Is...anybody there?

Silence. Even as he dressed, no one replied.

Hello? It seemed like Decim was in the giant, dimly-lit dome of his mind, and every time he called out, it was his voice alone which echoed back.

It was an incredibly isolated place to be.

I am alone in here, then. Such thoughts brought a sense of loneliness, of despair, even. He pulled himself from those thought patterns and back into the bright, sensitive consciousness within.

Just then, a quick rap of knuckles was heard at the door. Relieved to have a distraction, Akise all but pounced to open it.

There in the hallway stood a man shorter than he, one with spiked, messy hair, kind dark eyes, and a mischievous grin. Toru Asuka wore slacks with running shoes, a loose T-shirt and an inconspicuous hoody marked with a brand Akise didn't care to name. Toru carried several full shopping bags, but still attempted to hug him. "Hey, man! I haven't seen you in a while!" Akise coughed as he felt the contents of the bags slam into his sides.

"Y-yes...been a long time."

Marching into the apartment like he owned the place, Toru set his bags down on the counters in the kitchen. "So, how's life treatin' ya?" Akise closed the door, then stood by it, wringing his hands. He averted his gaze, trying to think of a reply.

"Dude, you look like a sulking kid. What's up?" Toru stepped closer, hands in his pockets. Akise detected concern in his voice.

Finally, Akise decided that he couldn't be bothered to lie. "I think something has happened to me."

Toru chuckled. "That's one way to talk about losing your virginity -"

"N-no! I - I mean…" Had that really been Akise's first time? When he had been with Chiaki? And...he had told someone about it? A feeling sprinted through his flesh. It bubbled, and gurgled, and was sickly in both texture and taste: disgust.

To Decim, private matters stay private.

"...I mean that I seem to be experiencing symptoms associated with concussion," His monotonous voice continued, "except it cannot be a concussion. I am confused and I do not know how to remedy that."

Toru himself appeared uncertain. He moved towards Akise as though he were a deer scoping a landscape for danger. "Okay. Why don't we, sit?"

Both men seated themselves on kitchen chairs. Toru wrung his hands, the fabric of his sleeves crinkling. "Chiaki warned me that you were being weird."

To this, Akise was lost on how to respond. He gulped. "That is...kind of her."

"What do you think has happened to you?"

A structured question, Akise realised. Phrased to suggest that it is solely Akise who feels different. Which, Akise determined, could well be factual.

"On Monday, I woke up," He started softly, avoiding eye contact as he remembered, "...I looked at myself in the mirror, and for a moment I had no idea who was staring back. Then I recalled my name, Akise Nakamori, and yet ever since something has not been right. Something has changed, something is missing -"

Something is missing. The words he'd spent hours searching for had finally been found.

Unfortunately, Toru looked more uncomfortable at Akise's revelation. He straightened his spine and Akise noticed that Toru's knuckles were white from their grip on one another. Before Akise could protest, Toru moved to grab his head with both hands, forcibly locking gazes. Akise's glacial-blue orbs peered into the maudlin brown of Toru's, the electrifying pulse of fear momentarily freezing his muscles.

After what seemed like hours, Toru released his head and spoke. "You aren't kidding."

Pulling back, Akise shook his head, once. "No...I am not."

"Your eyes are different. Lighter. Have you been wearing colour contacts? Chiaki said that would explain it -"

"These are my eyes, Toru. To me, they don't seem to have changed at all."

Toru blinked. "...But -"

"I have always had these eyes."

"If this is some kind of prank, you stop it right now!" Toru stood, shoulders squared. Akise felt a twinge of his heart when he saw the hurt expression on his friend's face.

I am treading on eggshells. "...It is not a joke." Wearily, Akise looked up at Toru, dark strands of hair blocking one eye from view. "Help me, Toru. Please." The other man was clearly shocked, and maybe even fearful of Akise. He stepped back. "Even if...I mean why….How. How would I help?"

It was only after that question had been posed towards him that Akise realised he had no expectations of an answer. He had not prepared one. Perhaps, deep down, he had known that asking these people for help was futile. Because they were completely human.

He couldn't even certify his identity.

"Akise?"

"...Never mind. Please forget that I asked." I have no idea how you could help me, he wanted to add, but this time an alarm sounded, telling him that this neutral comment would likely be received with offence.

Toru was simply being...Toru, and for now, that was good enough.

Rustling sounds brought him out of his pensive stupor. Toru set down some packets in front of him.

"Melon bread?" He queried.

"It's your favourite snack...remember?" Toru still looked like a rabbit in the headlights. Akise berated himself for causing his friend to worry so. "I wish I did. Thank you."

They exchanged a brief goodbye before Toru left, his shopping bags in hand. Exasperated, Akise made himself some tea, eating the melon bread with it. It tasted quite bland, yet pleasant.

Twenty minutes later, as Akise was washing up from yesterday's meals, his landline began to ring. Hurrying to fetch it, he wiped his soapy hands on his shirt before picking up the receiver. "Hello, this is Akise Nakamori."

Silence. Static. Muffled voices.

"...Hello?"

"-signal is bad here - yeah, hang on -"

"Who is this?" Akise checked the screen; there was no caller ID.

Eventually, the static subsided. "Decim."

Akise's heart beat a tattoo in his oesophagus. Nobody had called him Decim since…That voice. I know that voice. He searched his memory for the person's name.

"...Gerald?"

A girl's laughter could be heard in the background. The caller was not impressed. "Wh - my name is not Gerald! It's Ginti, you jackass."

Ah. Ginti. Yes that appeared to fit the rough voice better. "Ginti...from Quindecim?"

"Holy shit. You remember Quindecim? I'm impressed." Relief washed over Akise, loosening his taut muscles. Finally, someone who understood something he said. "Ginti, please tell me what's going on."

More voices in the background. "I - Nona, he's not brain-dead - look - Decim I'm passing the phone to Nona because she's ready to blow a gasket - ow!" After some fumbling on the other end, an intelligent female voice spoke.

"Are you alright?"

"I am merely confused, Miss Nona."

She hesitated. "I see. What's the last thing you remember, Decim?"

"...I remember sitting at the bar in Quindecim. It was empty. Then I remember waking up in Japan."

She seemed to be pondering a question; deciding how to properly word it. "...Are you human?"

Akise's thoughts blurred. "I'm afraid I do not understand, Ma'am -"

"You're an Arbiter, Decim!" She blurted angrily. "Or, you were. I'm asking what you are now."

"I am Akise Nakamori."

"I said what, not who!"

"U-uhm...I - I have a pulse, if that is what you mean...Everyone treats me as human, therefore I conclude that I am. Are Arbiters not human, then?"

"...No. They're not. Dammit, Decim…" Her voice was wrapped with strings of emotions. Resignation. Pity. Sympathy. Strange, for a dummy to express emotions it did not have. Such were the talents of Arbiters.

Akise, Decim, felt an inexplicable sadness. It seemed that talking to these people brought a sense of longing. One could compare it to homesickness. "Am I in trouble, Miss Nona?"

"Decim, listen to me: you have been reincarnated. Or rather, you have been given life. You're alive, Decim," Nona sighed gently. "But you're not supposed to be."

He listened intently. He listened with disbelief as Nona explained what had happened: out of loneliness he had attempted reincarnation, and survived. He had, Nona said, been given a body all his own. By his own will, Decim had placed himself not only in the same country as the reincarnated Chiyuki, but also in her vicinity, in her life.

"It is an unprecedented occurrence," Nona finished. "There is no record of this ever happening to Arbiters. Consider yourself lucky, Decim."

Decim, whilst relieved to have received some answers, was still agitated. Something was missing. Or, did not fit. Like someone had tried shoving the wrong piece into his jigsaw puzzle, just to see it completed.

"Miss Nona, if this body is indeed my own, then why do I have black hair? At Quindecim, I am sure my hair was white."

"Please note that your nationality has developed. Most Japanese people have naturally dark hair; it is understandable that a reincarnation of you would have at least some Japanese characteristics."

Decim nodded. "I see. But what of my memories? I have two different sets…" There was yet another hesitation on the other end.

"Since this is a unique situation, another person's memories must have merged with your consciousness during the transition to humanity. I can't imagine they would be much of a bother, simply ignore them."

Decim wasn't satisfied. "But these memories have links to my own! They feel like my own!" He could not restrain the tone of desperation in his voice. "These memories…" He repeated, softer this time, "they -"

"Stop," Commanded Nona. "Just stop, Decim. It was a mistake, do you hear me? Ignore them. They are a useless byproduct of your reincarnation."

"Miss Nona -"

"A mistake!" She retorted heavily. Decim could hear her pulse racing through the receiver. He dropped the subject. His shoulders slumping, Decim's gaze drifted towards the floor in defeat. "Yes, Ma'am. I understand."

"Good." Nona waited a minute before speaking again. "We have missed you, Decim. We thought you were gone."

Images of Nona, short yet untouchable, and Ginti, grumpy yet strong, and Clavis, passive yet sociable, poured into Decim's mind. "...I have missed you all, too. I am terribly sorry to cause you concern."

The conversation was coming to an end, Decim knew it. He signed off with the traditional question he always posed to his manager, before he thought it through. "What am I to do, now, Ma'am?"

He was accustomed to instructions from Nona. After all, a dummy could not solely conduct itself when performing such as job as his previous occupation, without guidance.

"...Whatever you want, Decim. I am no longer your superior. You have been given life to use as you wish. Try not to die, though. We aren't sure what would happen in that scenario. Good luck to you -"

"W-wait! Please," Decim gripped the receiver, clinging onto the only recognisable aspect of his life, "please do not cut me off. I would like to continue communicating with you."

Nona swallowed. "We shall have to be careful, I'm under supervision myself right now. Phone calls would have to be pre-arranged."

"Once a week. Every seven days, on Monday at 6pm. Please."

"...Very well. Until then, goodbye Decim."

"Goodbye, Miss Nona."

Decim replaced the receiver with more force than he intended. The action resembled a guillotine blade falling onto the suspecting victim's head, as had taken place throughout history many, many times.

* A Hikikomori is the Japanese term for the abnormal avoidance of social contact, typically by adolescent males, or just a person who avoids social contact. It is considered an insult.