Chapter 5

The mirror. Every time Ken looked into it, the boy who stared back at him seemed a little more familiar, yet at the same time, became a little more distant. It was strange.

He sighed, stepping back from the mirror. "Mom!" he called. "I'm going out!"

His mother entered the room. "Out?" she questioned.

"I just wanna go on a walk," Ken told her. "I need time to get away and be alone."

"I don't know," Mrs. Ichijouji told him, concerned. "How will you know where you're going? Or how to get back home?"

"I'll be fine," Ken assured her.

"Well… Alright. Just don't be gone too long, honey."

Ken nodded, and was soon on his way. He walked down the sidewalk with his hung as he stared at the ground. He paid no attention to the people or places that surrounded him; he was too consumed by thought to notice anything.

He walked for the longest time, and his leisurely stroll eventually led him to the Tamachi soccer field. He stopped there, heading up to the bleachers, sitting on the middle row. Then he sat there for a while, head in hand, staring at the sky, then the soccer field, then the sky, then the soccer field… Thinking, thinking, thinking.

"Hey Ken," somebody called.

Ken averted his gaze. It was Davis. He held a soccer ball under his arm.

"I stopped by your place," Davis explained. "I came over to see if you'd like to hang out, but your mom said that you'd gone out for a walk. I've been looking all over for you." He paused, tossing the soccer ball up in the air. Then he caught it and continued, "I thought maybe we could play and talk some more. What do you say? Play a game with me?"

Ken shook his head. "What's the point?" he asked sadly. "I'm not good anyway."

Davis went up the bleachers, sitting next to Ken. "Sure you are," he said.

"No, I'm not." Ken sighed. "You know, I watched these videos the other day that said I was a genius and that I was so good at soccer that I'd set a record. I was all over the news and on commercials. But this morning, I woke up and it dawned on me. I remembered that none of it's true."

Davis was quiet.

"That's right, isn't it?"

Davis looked at him, frowning. "Well, Ken, it was at one time."

"What happened to me?" Ken questioned.

"I don't think you'd understand, Ken, with your amnesia and all."

Ken let out another heavy sigh.

"You're not a genius," Davis said, "but that doesn't mean you're not smart. Yeah, you make good grades. And you are good at soccer. Just not as good as you used to be. I mean, before, you didn't even need a team! I should know, cause my team had to play yours. You didn't show up at first, cause you had a commercial to shoot, but we were doin' fine before you came. The game was actually going pretty well for us. Then, when you came, you dominated the field. You scored so many goals, and there was, like, no way to get passed you! You probably could've beaten us all by yourself. You were that good."

"I don't understand what could've made me change," Ken said.

"Believe me, buddy, it was for the best."

"How could it be!" Ken asked, raising his voice. "Huh? Tell me! I've been trying to discover myself for eight days now, and when I think I've finally found something out, I remember that it's all a lie! And I thought…" He paused, sniveling, then went on, "…it was the truth. I didn't remember anything about being a genius or great athlete, but I figured it was real since it was all on the news. I was proud of it. But what do I have to be proud of now?"

Davis smiled. "Remembering," he answered. "That's definitely something to be proud of. You remembered. Doesn't it make you feel good?"

"I guess it does, in a way," Ken replied, "but I just wish I would've remembered something else. And I also wish you'd tell me what happened, how and why I changed, and why it could've been a good thing."

"Let me just say that it wasn't really who you were," Davis told him. "You were… well… enhanced."

"What was I? Some sort of science experiment?"

"Not really."

"Then what?"

"I don't know, Ken."

Ken looked to his friend, examining him closely. "But you do," he said. "I can see it. You do know. Please, Davis. If you know what happened to me, tell me. I want to know. I need to know. Please!"

Davis turned to Ken, who so greatly yearned for answers, but he was unsure as to if he should tell him of his past.

"Please," Ken repeated. "This is me we're talking about. I deserve to know. I want to remember."

"Well, it was called the Dark Spore," Davis said finally. "The way it effected you, it almost seemed like a program. It increased your intelligence and athletic ability, but it also made you an angry person, and you sort of isolated yourself from the rest of the world. But, like I said before, it wasn't who you were. You stayed like that for a while though, but, later, you fought off the effects and returned to your good old self."

Ken still didn't seem to understand. "The Dark Spore? Was that used a code name? So I was an experiment…?"

"Believe me," Davis went on, "you'll get it as soon as your memory comes back to you. And, whether you believe it or not, it really is. Pretty slowly, but it's coming back to ya."

Ken was quiet.

Davis nudged his troubled friend in the side, grinning. "Would you like to play some soccer, 'rocket'?"

"I'm not really that good at soccer, so why do you call me that?"

"You're still better and faster than I am," Davis assured him. "C'mon, Ken, let's play."

Ken sat there for a moment, thinking. Then he smiled. "Alright," he said.