Flashback time... And later, another choice to make.

I don't usually have flashbacks. I don't want to have them. All they carry with them are unpleasant images. Images I'd love to erase from my memory. Images of busy, large city that Tokyo always was, images of my former friends and classmates, images of that gray, bleak life.

Images of her.

They appear sometimes, in dreams. I'm not a person to have reasonable dreams often. Most of those are a chaotic, preposterous prospects and ideas. Reality mixes with fiction in the most bizarre of ways. Video games, manga and anime, movies, things I saw on street... They don't have a meaning. They're to show me how much of a demented, twisted imagination I have. I don't mind. I actually like having such an imagination. This pseudo-insanity is always fun for me, more or less.

When a dream starts making sense though, things turn from wacky to horrifying.

There was one when I was six or seven. It ended up with my death as I slipped out of a lifebuoy in the middle of an endless ocean. Suffice to say, I woke up screaming.

I still can't swim. At least now my parents aren't nagging me to try and learn. One small good thing that Agusu caused, drowned by dozens of bad ones.

I don't get it.

Why did we even start to going out with each other? When did it happen? How did I attract her attention? As far as I remember, I wasn't exactly the most popular guy in the school. If anything, I tried to avoid bigger crowds. That school back in Tokyo had a serious absence of foreigners. I think I was one of the few. Here, however, there's a fair share of us here, in Yamaku.

She wouldn't like this place. She was an obsessive, tyrannical bitch. Seeing me talking with so many girls here would make her completely flip her shit.

Eh. Why do I even bother with thinking about her?

Suddenly, another image. This one comes from the hospital. It's me. Me, right after getting hit with the acid. They've just transported me here, half of my face is bandaged. Doctors said there's a hope of saving it. Damage will be noticeable, but it will still be your face, they said.

Lies. Lies everywhere.

They knew it all along. They knew there's no hope. They wanted to make me feel better. To help the teenager whose life just got turned upside down and not because of some normal, casual problem. His parents didn't die. His house didn't burn down to the ground. He wasn't kicked out of the school. Nothing of the like.

He was the problem.

I can see myself. I'm unconscious, sleeping. I look... peacefully? Perhaps. Perhaps a little. Disregarding the bandage, one could think I'm just dozing off for whatever reason.

Another image, from some later time. This time, the bandage is removed. The boy in the flashback is looking into the mirror, assisted by a doctor. A mix of expressions cannot describe what he's experiencing now. There's disbelief, fear, happiness and sadness on that half of a face. The other one stopped expressing emotions. Now it's just curved in a twisted grin. Skeletons always keep their smile regardless of a situation.

Because this is more or less what was left out of his half a face. A skull. Half-melted, twisted, distorted and deformed, covered with a carapace made out of blood and remains of the muscles that once were here, alive and kicking.

He touches what's left of his left cheek and almost immediately winces at the sudden sensation of pain. This is new to him. Yes, he had experienced the acid on his skin... But that was some time ago. And yet, it still hurts, just because he touched it, barely brushed it with the tips of his fingers.

"Is it really... incurable?" He asks. Doctor nods, a solemn expression on his face. He didn't keep the promise he gave the young man.

"...That's not a bad thing." The boy responds, but this time, something's different about him. He seems much more confident, much more... accepting of his appearance. A slight smile creeps on half of his face, twisting the whole into expression out of horror. "Actually, I think we might like it. Well, not Casper himself, but as for me..." Doctor looks at the boy quizzically, but says nothing. "I have finally awakened, Mr. Medicine." The boy grins even wider, twisting the expression to almost disgusting levels. "I moved from imagination to reality. It took me some time and I guess I should be grateful for what that certain girl did."

"May I have your name then?" Doctor knows something's different. Something's bad, in the air. He needed to know.

"You may call me Nega."

This image suddenly disappears. I find myself surrounded by darkness.

"What is it, Mr. Stratoavis? You seem a bit lost." Nega's voice – my voice – echoes through the abyss I'm in.

"What do you want?" I respond, trying to keep my cool. It's bad enough this flashback is still on, but having a conversation with him will be unbearable.

"Nothing much. You know, a friendly chat every once in a while between good old pals." He responds, appearing just before me. He sits in a comfy sofa, clad in a white suit with a red, stained with gore. Paradoxically, while I personally hate suits and ties with passion, I think this one fits him quite well. Unlike me, his face is intact. Nega adjusts his glasses and grins. "Aren't you going to sit?" Suddenly, I can feel that my legs are losing ground and just a second later I'm sitting in a similar sofa, staring directly at what appears to be me in an awful wedding suit, dirty from all that blood. To make things funnier, I'm in my usual "casual" attire, wearing a black leather jacket up to my shins, black pants and black shirt depicting a skull with one eye. My trusty fedora is just nearby, on a small table.

"Alright. You've taken over, apparently." I say, trying my best to keep calm. Usually when Nega gains control over my body... Things happen. I dread to think what might possibly happen one day if he gets full of ideas.

"Oh no. Not today. There wasn't enough of the emotional pummeling." He responds, flashing a vicious grin. "Although that Saki girl left quite a dent in your defenses."

"Shut your trap, jackass." I growl in response. You can be the ass to me, but don't get others involved.

"Uncivil, aren't we?"

"Only for you." I think I smiled slightly. There's a brief moment of silence. I savor it. It's wonderful. It's nothing like those awkward moments when talking with Hanako, Saki and the rest.

"So, how are you faring so far, Mr. Stratoavis?" He asks me. Out of thin air in his hand there's a glass of wine which he begins to sip, savoring the flavor. I know he's doing this to piss me off: I hate alcohol. "How is your life so far here, in this place?"

"Not bad. Better than I expected." I respond, turning the fedora in my hands.

"So you're not against going here, to this school-themed hospital?"

"You can come up with better attempts of annoying me, Nega." I strike back. He blocks the jab with a slight grin.

"Well, for now my options are sadly limited..." He says and there's genuine disappointment in his voice. "You're indeed faring good. I'm not sure if whatever Misha did to you that night still affects you..." I roll my eyes in irritation which does not go unnoticed. "What's the matter? You friendzoned her, didn't you?" He taunts me. It's blatantly obvious and he's not even trying to be subtle. "What is the matter?"

Indeed, what is the matter? Occasionally, my thoughts spring back to Misha. Even after both of us agreed that friendship is the most we can allow, something is still not clicking. I don't get it. Her hairstyle is ridiculous. Her attitude is obnoxious. Her interests are nothing like mine... And yet, I feel something.

"Falling in love again, aren't you?" Nega chuckles before taking another sip of his wine.

"Don't be a cretin." I respond, shaking my head. "It's only natural one's thoughts occasionally go off the beaten path. It has nothing to do with..."

"Sure." He interrupts me, smiling. "Just like it has nothing to do with Emi or Hanako or Saki or any other girl here."

"If we're going to continue this pointless conversation, I want to make sure you won't accuse me to be gay for Hisao."

"You said that." Both of us chuckle. In those rare moments of unison, in those rare moments of serenity... Nega's an alright guy. As much as I hate to admit it, if he was real, we would make for nice pals. Vitriol would be everywhere, but we would get along well, occasionally being asses to each other.

Truth be told, I miss it a little. A small number of my classmates acted like that. We were on good terms, but that didn't stop any of us from occasional dickery towards one another. Here, such a thing is either nonexistent or exists in very small doses and only in certain groups.

...Yet another weirdness of Yamaku. I think I should be used to it already.

Suddenly, there's a table between us. On said table there's a chess set.

"I was wondering... Now that you have finally paid me a visit, how about we celebrate it somehow?" Nega reverts to his attitude of an A-Class Asshole, flashing a smug grin.

"Chess?" I only respond with a question.

"Sure thing." He nods, snapping his fingers. He got black ones, I got white ones. I don't like playing whites. I guess it comes from my overly "edgy" nature.

...Sometimes, I wonder... I wonder why am I doing all of this. Saki's right. I'm trying my best to be a cynical jackass and yet I come out as an affable dork at worst.

"This has nothing to do with...?" I start my question, but bite my tongue the moment Nega shoots me an amused look.

"No fries." Oh. Haha. So fuckin' funny, you cock. "No gimlets or poor quality leg either." Why do you keep mentioning those three? I get Misha one, it got out of hand. I sort of get Hanako one, what's with me carrying her to infirmary, even if this one sounds farfetched. Saki one however? We did so much as talk to each other about things. She clung to me, but that was to help her out with moving... I think.

"I see you're becoming doubtful. Good." Nega grins. "Shall we be starting then?" I take a glance at his chess figures. They're not a standard set, that's for sure. If anything, they seem to be lookalikes straight out of DMC4. Scarecrows as Pawns, Mega Scarecrows as Rooks, Frosts as Knights, Mephistos as Bishops, Blitz as a Queen... And Nega himself as a king, wielding a cocky grin even as a figure.

My chess set, on the other hand... I think I made a small gasp. Those are people from Yamaku. Eight different people as Pawns, mostly my classmates: Miki, Molly, Taro, Lilly, Rin, Shizune, Suzu and Hisao. Two Sakis as Knights – which I would consider amusing if I would happen to be a soulless dick – Two Hanakos as Bishops, two Mishas as Rooks. Myself as a King... I take a closer look at my Queen and narrow my eyes in a mixture of hatred and disbelief.

Her.

"You seem surprised." Nega taunts me again, doing quite poorly in an attempt to sound genuinely shocked.

"You don't say?" I sneer back, staring at the figure of my Queen.

"Consider this a warm-up before the real match."

"So you'll be giving me a head start here?"

"More or less. I want to see if your skills are still rusty."

"Well, I didn't get to play chess much during that week..."

"It isn't a problem. Neither did I." There's a longer moment of silence. "You should start. You've got whites."

"I hate whites. You know that." I reply, trying to postpone the inevitable. Whatever will happen during this game of chess, I'm certain I'm not going to like it.

"I know. What do you think I'm trying to accomplish here?" Nega grins, again not trying his slightest to be subtle. Alright. This is all happening in your mind, so it would be bad if you happened to lose it. Think. How Nega would play?

How would I play when pitted against myself?

"Your move."

Suddenly, I'm back to normal. How long did all that sequence take? More importantly...

...Oh no.

Both Shizune and Hisao are shooting me looks that appear to mix concern and curiosity. Looks like I "blacked out" out of nowhere, in the middle of school grounds.

"...Sorry." Is all I can mumble in apology. Then I realize class rep won't know anyway and Hisao himself probably doesn't know sign language to translate for her. "I, uh... I got lost in thought."

"That much was noticeable." He responds with a slight smile. Now that I think of it, there was some time since our last chat. Is it me or is he becoming more, I dunno, detached? Shizune is still looking at both of us quizzically. I guess not having Misha around is quite difficult for her. Now that I remember, there are still notebook and pen in my hands. Great, just what I needed. I scribble a quick response and hand it to bespectacled girl.

[Sorry for spacing out. What is the plan?]

Shizune makes a small smile and writes back.

[I thought we might split into two or three groups. There are couple of places Misha can be.]

[Any examples?] I write back. I get it, Shizune, you're not used to writing and all, but you could at least pretend you're not frowning at me.

[Rooftop. The room of Student Council. Our class. A park.] She lists a few. Huh. That's not much as I'd expected.

To be honest, what's with Misha? Why is she missing? What happened? She didn't seem depressed, sad, angry, anything of the like. Why would she go for a midnight stroll like this?

[I see.] I nod to emphasize the answer. Class rep gestures for Hisao to come closer and starts writing something.

[Alright then. How shall we part?] There's a longer moment of silence from both of us.

We always have to assume there's some teacher patrolling the school. Shizune and Hisao might get out of it thanks to their Student Council shtick(assuming he actually joined), I have no such luxury. Also, Hisao seems to be down in the dumps for some reason and I can't quite put it why is that. Then again, as safe as this school is, I don't find the prospect of Shizune walking on her own, especially if she has no way of communicating with lay men, amusing... On the other hand, I might be able to find her on my own just as effectively. Actually, it might be even more effective than wandering with any of those.

What do I do here?

[]Go with Shizune

[]Go with Hisao

[]Go alone

Alright here. Take your pick and choose wisely.