Summer Haze
A scorching hot summer haze, much like the one from the daze, returned a year after the eternal summer. With it came the uncomfortable recollection of the years spent on surviving that lone August 15th. Decades of memories even, year after year of day leading to desolate day, life had repeated. Shintaro remembered all of it, the deaths one after another, the murder, the gunshots, the brutal torturous beatdowns.
It was a nostalgic horror, a mind-numbing memory grab. The moment the dry breeze flew in, the moment Shintaro opened the door, he had to shut it. It was just too reminiscent. It was funny, that even a year after, a full three hundred and sixty-five days, the hazy heat still threw him off. With a sigh, Shintaro reluctantly nudged it open.
"You're just deluding yourself." Shintaro muttered to the drab air. The empty balcony said nothing in response. Shintaro leaned on the railing, staring down at the city below, going about their business nonchalantly, with no knowledge of the inner struggles Shintaro held within him.
"You're just being an idiot. Those years aren't worth remembering." Shintaro murmured to himself.
The only issue Shintaro had was that he couldn't forget. Shintaro was cursed to remember everything he saw, everything he heard, everything he tasted and smelled, felt and sensed, everything and anything. It wasn't optional, not questionable, not negotiable. Shintaro had no choice in the matter, he simply could not forget any of the numerous years spent in the daze.
It was like a plague, a cancer; once it got you in its grip, you would never forget it again. The daze had that sort of effect on people, that once infected, you would always be remembered. The eye abilities certainly were a very good reminder of loss, when something so prominent in one's lives held such a significant origin.
'Course, most of the Dan was lucky enough to not remember how exactly that happened, to not have the entire recollection of the other world. In the unmoving world of timeless silence, the lifeless dead space of consistent nightmares, Shintaro had spent countless hours. In practically every timeline, of his many hundreds of perfectly recalled memories, Shintaro had entered the daze time after time, usually with no success.
Still, the hot summertime shouldn't bring all of these to mind, to recollect them, group them, and ultimately catalog them by relevance. Shintaro supposed this was his own special little pet peeve, that his perfect memory was at times, too strong. A perfect memory alone was troublesome, to be unable to forget a single detail. Yet Shintaro found himself constantly dismissing entire years of sensory immersions, brought up in his mental database.
Shintaro sighed, closing the door and slumping to the ground. Ah, the pains of being too intelligent. Or rather, should memory even be classified as a form of intelligence? It wasn't exactly indicative of intelligence or logical thinking skills, but was ever so useful except when you needed to forget something.
August 15, a bright hazy summer day. What a joy. Shintaro only wished that his mind could stop cross-referencing this morn to the eternal summer of last year. It was such a pain when you couldn't control your own mind. At least school took no effort at least, when one's mind finishes all the problems lying on the flimsy piece of paper without prompt.
August 15, a bright hazy summer day. Also the day of Ayano's death, the date of her mother's death, and all of the Dan's fateful ruins. Shintaro realized that he hadn't even given a proper funeral rite at all to any of the many deceased individuals he was now affiliated with. Ayano as well, when was the last time Shintaro had dropped by the cemetary? When was the last time Shintaro had honoured Ayano, now knowing her true sacrifice? Might as well do it now if ever, on her death day.
"Momo!" Shintaro called out.
"Yeah?" Momo's voice echoed from somewhere in the apartment.
"Can I borrow some money?" At that, Momo made her appearance, sternly staring Shintaro down. It wasn't even as if Shintaro had done anything bad or anything, but anyone watching, if someone were to, would think he had.
"Is it for your porn mags? I'll have you know, I'm not going to be giving you any money for your sick fantasies. I found your stash awhile back and it's.." Momo grimaced, the recollection apparently so terrible that she couldn't even speak her mind. Shintaro reddened, face turning akin to that of an overripe cherry tomato.
"No! I just wanted to..."
"Yes, go on, I'll judge you." Momo accused him, waiting patiently for his answer.
"Why are you assuming I'm doing something inappropriate? I-I just wanted to pay tribute to Aya- Tateyama properly." Shintaro replied indignantly, voice tapering into a soft mumble within the two short sentences.
"Wait a moment." Momo said, leaving for a brief minute. Shintaro took the time to stand, grabbing his almost iconic red jersey.
"Here." Momo told him as she returned, tossing a wad of bills. Shintaro caught it unsteadily, and examined the contents. Did people really carry money this way anymore? Was this the kind of money a seventeen year old should handle so casually? It was a hefty sum of cash, after all. It was at least five times that of what he had in his meager savings.
"Thanks." Shintaro muttered, grabbing his shoes by the doorway. Shintaro stuffed the thick wad of bills in his pocket, with the exact directions that Kido gave him still fresh on his mind, as they would always be.
"I still remember your smile..." Shintaro murmured under his breath as he sunk into another bout of thought, mindlessly moving towards his destination.
Prompt - "How does weather affect your mood?"
I feel like I didn't really follow the prompt much. Oh well.
This one's a bit shorter than usual - I completely underestimated how well I could concentrate in a 'party' (not really one). I guess it's sort of sad to say that I just sat down in a corner on a computer tapping away.