Prologue

1

At that point in time, I was born.

Specifically, on the 4th day of the 8th month of the 52nd year on the P.S.—Post-Silence—calendar, and in the city of Nolar, Erbosa.

I don't really remember being born, of course. In fact, I don't think I truly gained consciousness until the age of 4. However, even with no recollection of probably the most important moment in my life, there are two things I am sure are true to that point in time.

One: my parents were there.

Actually no…

My mom was there, no doubt about it.

But, who's to say my dad was truly there?

My parents?

No. My mom says he was there, so does my dad, but they could simply be lying about that.

Let's take it a step further. Who's to say my dad truly loves me? My dad?

Yet again, the answer is no. Because, what if, throughout my whole entire life, he had simply been lying to his only child? It sounds ridiculous but remember, it is totally possible! And—and—(did I stutter inside my own thoughts?) same with my mom! What if she doesn't love me either? Perhaps she's playing along with my father, and has been lying to me this whole time!

But above all—

Where the hell am I going with this?!

Overthinking is a bitch, of course my dad was there! And of course my parents love me!

Anyways! To move on to the second thing…

Secondly, and most importantly: I was given a name.

A given name and a family name.

A family name. A name shared by people in the same family. Shared from generation to generation.

A given name. Different from the family name, in the sense that this name is something unique to your person and somewhat representative of yourself.

Both given to me, however, one was created simply for my existence…

Could it be?

Could it really be that my existence—my fate would be determined by the name I was appointed to? Did my mom, the person who thought of my name, somehow, in ways unknown to man, predict my future?

Did my mom know that I would be heading down that specific road?

Did my mom know of the friends I would make? The good decisions that would leave me with hope for the future? The bad decisions that would leave me with regrets and insecurities that I would never get over? The enemies who would scar me, mentally and physically? The places I would visit? The wishes I would make? The wishes I couldn't make?

The way things would begin?

The way things would end?

"I choose…"

That I would say these words, with both tears of sadness and joy…?

2

On the opposite side of the nature spectrum is the nurture spectrum.

That's right. If it weren't my name that led me down this path, then surely it must be because of the environment I was raised in.

So—a story to tell.

My mom and my dad both have lots of siblings; my dad has three brothers and one sister; my mom has two brothers and two sisters, both being part of a set of five. By some means, though, my parents were the only pair that ended up making a single child…

Cousins replaced my nonexistent siblings. Every week, I would at the very least visit three of my cousin's homes simply to talk and play with them. And they would visit mine in return. Most if not all memories I made at such a young age were made alongside them. So nowadays most of our conversations are simple reminisces of said memories.

But, like an embarrassing memory right before sleep, this one just keeps coming back to me—sticking out like a sore thumb.

For the longest, it was there…not meaning a thing, purely existing in my head for no other reason than being.

Although, at this present time…its effect on me has become clear.

Only a bit.

So.

In elementary school.

Specifically in the 2nd grade, there was an afterschool program; kids who didn't take the bus back home or get immediately picked up by their parents were the ones who headed there. I was one of those kids. So were my cousins. Not all of them, of course. If it were like that, we would take up all the available classes. Sounds chaotic.

I think there were three of us.

There's me.

The other two were boys, as well; they were a grade ahead of me. To not say their names…I'll recall them with Kenji and Hiroshi. Common names.

Throughout the last hour of school, our feet would be rapidly tapping the floor, waiting for the hands of the clock to get into just the right position and for the bell to finally ring. Once the bell ultimately rang, after all the anticipation for the end of school, we kept our butts stuck to our chairs.

Sort of anticlimactic to stay in class despite our excitement to seemingly do the opposite. The program was formed so that after school, we would go to a class—usually a different one than the one we occupied during school—of around 15 young students who would be supervised by an adult.

Luckily enough, Kenji, Hiroshi, and I were placed in the same exact class that we had in regular school hours—as if we weren't already fortunate to be in the same class.

What would happen during the program, while we wait for our father, mother, and-or older sibling to come for us, was dictated by the adult. Would we start the day by doing homework? Or maybe, we start the day with a sort of group activity, like a game of heads up, seven up. There was a usual way things would go about, though: start with an activity, then do some homework (if you found yourself without, you would get free time to do anything), followed by a quick snack break (a snack chosen by the adult, usually unsatisfactory; a synchronized "Ew!" would be exclaimed by a group of kids), which would lead to garden time (a time where we would head to the garden on school grounds, and water and fix plants—but nobody took seriously, being used as a time to fool around), afterwards finish unfinished homework, and finally get to the free time.

It was fun. Anything besides doing homework, I mean. It was never not fun being around my cousins. We were the so-called "troublemakers". Finding any and every way to mess around no matter the time.

Always trying to win the first activity of the day; cheating was sometimes used, only if necessary. Making paper airplanes from the homework, throwing them across the room—and pretending to be ignorant of the situation if a student or supervisor were hit. Mixing the given snacks to make the worst, horrible, frightful combo of food ever, then forcing someone to eat it (I vomited such a shitload amount that I was sure one day, suddenly, I would flop over and die). Overwatering the plants. Throwing more paper planes. Finally, ending the day off with doing whatever the hell we wanted to.

We were called troublemakers—but now, it'd be more accurate to simply call us assholes. Causing unnecessary difficulties to students and adults around us.

Every day.

Every week.

Every month.

Throughout the entirety of the year.

No matter which adult told us to put an end to it, or maybe even the rare complaint from a classmate, made us actually stop and think of our actions. We simply continued to do what we thought was entertainment.

So, maybe in the grand scheme of things, it's not a total surprise that one day our troublemaking would have crossed the line.

That one day Kenij, Hiroshi, and I would—

I'm not sure.

Was he a new kid? Or has been a student in the same class as us, and I just didn't notice?

Anyways.

There was a boy.

Suddenly.

In our class.

He existed now.

I'll call him Masao. He was a grade below Kenji and Hiroshi meaning he was in the same grade as me.

We sat on our seats, waiting for the bell to ring. It rang. We stayed put until the program began. It began. We would go about the program like usual, as if we followed a sort of schedule.

It would reach the end of the program—now, we're free to do whatever we want. So, what do we do?

Of course.

Bully Masao.

We would no longer finish the day with a game of dodgeball or anything of the like. Instead, we took the time of our day to make sure some weak kid who couldn't protect himself and do nothing but cry didn't have fun so we could have fun.

Call him names, that's what we'd do. Tease him. Push him around.

And we enjoyed it. I remember, we enjoyed bullying Masao an unusual amount. Unless he were absent, we would bully him.

We made sure he knew we thought of him as scum and the lowest of the low—something that shouldn't even be regarded as human.

Eventually, our bullying extended far beyond simply what happened during free time. Kenji, Hiroshi, and I would then bully him during homework time, garden time, the snack break, and in the beginning activity. If a day went by without seeing his face unhappy then it was a horrible and unsuccessful day.

At some point we stopped being troublemakers, and became nothing more than bullies. No. I'm sure we were already something greater than bullies. Being called Masao's oppressors might not be so outrageous.

We continued tormenting Masao.

And then we thought, why don't we combine all the worst aspects of our bullying? You know, troublemakers and bullies, best of both worlds. That would be the best, right?

It was.

The bullying that took place in the program was now also taking place during regular school hours. I even took the extra step by finding out what class he was in. However, there was a major difference in the way our bullying was executed during school and the program.

What happened at the school—was terrible.

It was—morally incorrect.

What'd happen is, we'd cause trouble. Like we did when we were purely troublemakers. Steal things from the classroom during lunch, or sometimes steal stuff straight out of a classmate's backpack. Make spitballs and throw them. Bring a marker to the bathroom and draw inappropriate things on the walls.

Two things would then happen: we'd get caught or I'd go and complain to the teachers.

That's when I would say—it was Masao who had done it.

I would shift the blame away from us, onto Masao.

Stupidly enough, it worked.

Every damn time.

I've always been so confused about that—how?

I'm sure they knew what we were doing.

So why did they let us continue with our idiotic shenanigans?

I don't know.

What I do know is that it was effective. Amazingly.

We got Masao to cry everyday.

We were genius bullies; perfect at our craft.

And one day—that day.

Unusually, today, we decided to do some up close and personal bullying.

We walked around the school searching for Masao. We do. As we walk up to him, he spots us.

He cries.

Without even laying a finger on Masao, he already starts bawling his eyes out, knowing what's coming. So, we laugh. Because in our minds, Masao's oppressors, this was the funniest shit we had ever seen.

So he started crying even harder; and we thought it even funnier.

Tears.

Sobs.

Crying out, telling us to leave him alone.

Laughing.

I laughed, along with Kenji and Hiroshi.

But.

Right before a teacher came to stop us.

I took a good long look around me. At Kenji and Hiroshi's laughing faces. At the students around us, doing nothing but watching from a distance. At the ground below, where Masao's tears landed.

And, of course, at Masao's crying face.

It was the first time.

It was the first time, after the many hours of relentless bullying and irreversible mental trauma we had installed into Masao, that I thought—

Oh.

I probably shouldn't be doing this.

Afterwards, we were sent to the office for the first time, along with Masao. We were to stay there until one of Masao's parents came to pick him up so we apologized to them. It was his mother that came. By the time she came—Masao was still crying.

The face his mother had while I apologized—will forever be ingrained into my brain.

In the following school days, Masao would be absent.

A week later, we would find out Masao had been expelled from our school.

Years later.

In my last year of middle school; 9th grade.

While walking home from school—a familiar face suddenly appeared to my side.

It was Masao.

I could tell. Same hair. Same face. Same body, although taller naturally.

I was stunned. What the hell was Masao doing right by my side despite not having seen him in the past 7 years, I asked myself internally.

Trying not to act dazed, I asked casually, "Why are you talking to me?"

To which he responded with—

"Well, we're both walking in the same direction so I thought I'd start a conversation. And since we're both guys around the same age, there's no problem right?"

Immediately, it dawned on me.

Masao didn't recognize me.

He doesn't know that I'm the one who made his 2nd grade year so miserable.

But, at the same time—was this really the kid who I had so much fun bullying?

As we talked, almost as if we've known each other for years, I realized that Masao was different from what he was like back then. Why something natural in humans surprised me so much is a mystery to me.

Masao was a longer a kid who'd cry so easily. He seemed—tougher. The way he talked was aggressive. He was open about the crazy stuff he has recently done; said he started a fight with some kid older than him and won. That kid's friends then tried to fight Masao to get revenge but Masao won those fights too.

Our talk was bizarre. Masao was a fun person to talk to.

Throughout the entirety of our conversation, though, there was one thing I felt like saying—

I'm sorry. All those years ago—that was me. I was the one that decided you were the one to bully. I was the one who told and led my cousins to bully you. I'm sorry for all of what I did. I don't expect you to forgive me. In fact, if you feel like punching me right in the face, then go ahead; it would be my pleasure.

Regrettably, I was too afraid to say it. Not even a mutter was able to leave my mouth.

Like it never mattered at all.

See you around! is what Masao said before leaving.

Unfortunately, I would never get the chance to apologize again because Masao and I would never, ever meet again.

AN: Sorry for a pilot chapter without even including a Hololive member! I swear someone will make their appearance in the next chapter!

Hey! We meet again, reader! Though, in a different way than expected I'm sure. So let me explain.

Most of my ideas that pop into my brain always become nothing drafts. This one was gonna be like that too, however, and I'm not joking, she came to me in my dreams and told me to publish it. So I listened. Now here I am. But don't worry to all my Gusha fans! Ryoji and his journey in Teyvat will still be my overall top priority (if you're wondering, yes, this is why I haven't uploaded a Gusha chapter(OW2 is also another reason but let's ignore that)).

Now go ahead and ask questions! As long as they're not spoilers I'll answer!

See you guys in the next chapter! Bye!