"25 . . . 12 . . . 16 . . ."

A steady beeping aroused Hachiman from peaceful rest. He groaned, wondering when the last time he woke up to the alarm. Wait, that wasn't his alarm.

Ugh, what's that noise? Hachiman thought as he sat up. He took a moment to take in his surroundings. It was a hospital room. Why wasn't he in his room?

He threw the blankets off him, standing up to stretch. He felt bones popping and muscles tightening as he did so. Damn, that felt good.

That . . . that quite felt familiar, actually.

"Ah, you're up." Someone said. He looked over at the female doctor who looked as if she had not gotten enough sleep.

"Ah . . . hello." She seemed familiar.

"Well, Hikigaya-san. How are you feeling?" Did this person know him?

"Um . . . pretty good, I think." She smiled sweetly at him.

"That's great to hear. You know, it's nice to see you up and about, but I was already informed you were nearly in perfect health, so that is not too surprising." He had heard those words before. But where?

"Ah, of course." What was going on?

"Although, I suggest not moving around too much unless you want to spend the next hour redoing your bandages," she motioned for him to sit down, which he did with surprisingly little resistance on his part. He looked down at his body, and the bandages covering almost 80 percent of his chest and arms. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. The doctor handling your case told me that some extreme lapse in memory would still be present."

". . . something's not right."

"Hm? Are you not feeling good?"

"No, it's just . . . this seems familiar for some reason. Didn't we just have this conversation a couple of days ago?"

"Mmm . . . I would think not. You just arrived in my care not a day ago, and you were still unconscious then."

"Oh . . . You sure?" She chuckled.

"Very sure-"

"Dr. Kyson." He said, remembering. He had already met her. They had already talked. What was going on? The doctor looked at him with a confused expression, before a mask of realization crossed her expression.

"Oh, right, it's embroidered on my coat." She laughed.

Right. Yeah, that was the answer. But why did this feel so off . . .

"25 . . . 12 . . . 16 . . ."

Those numbers. He was hearing them again. But why? What did they mean?

Was he crazy?

"There will be a long re-adjustment period of course, but I think the sooner we get started on re-introducing you to your normal life the better it will be for you. Would you like to start now, or-"

"Would I like to talk to my parents first?" He offered. She seemed taken aback for a second. He knew what she was about to say because she had already said it, of course. The source is him.

"Well, if you insist, that should be no problem," she said. He blinked, of course, it would be. Why wouldn't it?

Something's wrong. He knew it.

"They should be here soon, right?"

"Of course. They should be in here any minute as a matter of fact." Didn't they already get me, though? What's going on here? ". . . Can you go over with me what you remember?"

". . . I was sick, right? What was it called? Something with a 'C.'" He didn't bother remembering the name. He would now, though.

"Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. It's good that you at least remember that, that's a sign of improvement. Although your brain has taken a lot of damage, I think you'll be just fine."

". . . Fine. Yeah." He agreed without meaning. What part of this was fine?

"I'm sure you're excited to see your family again, right? They might not show it, but it's been hard on them. Especially that sister of yours, ever since you were transferred back here, there hasn't been a day when she wasn't in here with you, you know?"

"Yeah, I bet . . ." He couldn't let her know what was going on with him right now. With his luck they'd send him to a crack-house.

Okay, play it cool, Hachiman. Don't freak out. You're not crazy. You're not.

Then what was all this?

It's just . . . I'm dreaming right now! No, this feels too real. Maybe I am insane. They said dementia was a long-term effect. Maybe I'm degrading?

He started going over his situation in his head. This was something that happened in movies. You wake up and find yourself repeating a day. No, that couldn't be it. He had fallen asleep on time and woken up the next day. Maybe it was a certain amount of time?

If this was a movie, he would have taken a couple of days before it started making sense. It was such a bizarre thing that they sometimes couldn't comprehend it even after a week's worth of that twisted dance.

What, what was it? What was the reason for all of this? Why could he barely finish a thought.

Why? Why? WHY?

SLAM!

The sound of the door slamming open woke Hachiman out of his stupor. He looked over to the entrance, only to be nearly tackled by a mass with dark blue hair.

"Onii-chan!" The mass cried into his bandaged stomach. Why're you sad? You already saw me. "Onii-chan!"

He looked over to the doctor. She wore the same face she did last time, looking at him with pity. He didn't feel so irritated at it this time.

"Hachiman!" He looked up and saw his mother run up to him and hug him, moving around his sister to hug as much of him as possible.

This shouldn't be happening. Not again. Something was wrong.

Well, I already established that. He thought. Ugh, why can't I just figure this out.

Could he though? The only logical explanation for this was him being insane, so unless he was willing to just lay down and accept that, he had to find the more complicated answer. Was there even an answer? Did he even want to know?

"He was cured of the disease. His brain is functioning normally and the prion protein that causes Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease has dropped to a safe level. But the damages his brain took during the process . . ."

"He'll get them back, though, right?"

Why are you having this conversation? I didn't trigger it with anything. I didn't forget anything. Why is this still happening?

"Unfortunately, the disease affected the hippo-campus worse of all. While he'll have no troubles with his memory in the future, any memories he's lost up to this point are completely gone. He's all set to go home, although if it's fine with you I would like to run one more test, just as a precaution."

"That's fine, whatever you need," his father answered with surprisingly little hesitation. The doctor gave him a confrontational nod, before standing up.

This isn't making sense.

They ran the test, like they did last time. He was checked out soon after. He tried listening to what they were saying this time, but it was like trying to discern a different language. They drove home in silence. He said nothing, to no one. He gave only simple replies to his sister and parents. They already said everything. They already did all this.

Komachi was holding onto him again. His sister, who was acting like she had just gotten him back. Even though she hadn't. They had reunited yesterday. Or . . . was it yesterday? The amount of time was blurry. But it shouldn't be. He had come home. He had seen his "friends." Oh, shit, was he gonna have to do that again? He almost laughed out loud at this thought.

Hachiman, that is the least of your worries right now. Priority number one, find out what in the hell is going on?

That one question bored into his mind, took over his thoughts as the silent ride continued. Could it be something wrong with him? Had he plunged deep into insanity? Or was the world around him insane? He looked out the window, staring at the passing night without a hint of interest in it. Why should he, he had already seen this before. He knew that. God, he really was crazy.

Is the sky supposed to be green?

He noticed the tint of green in the sky, but it was after 11 at this point. The sky should be black. It looked . . . strange. Unfinished.

"25 . . . 12 . . . 16 . . ."

Just shut up already.

They pulled into the driveway in silence. He did the same dance as last time, having to get out of the car while still being attached to his sister. She whimpered whenever she tried to pull away, but he was too confused to care at the moment. As his father fiddled with the keys, he thought about what he was going to do. What could he do? Could he actually do anything to get out of this?

He walked up the stairs, now knowing where his room was.

"Goodnight." She looked up at him with a face full of disappointment.

"Goodnight . . ." She said after a second but made no move to let go of him. He just stood there staring at her. "O-oh, right." She said as she finally let go of him.

She's even repeating everything she did before. This is insane.

Before he could close his door, he felt it stop. He tugged at it without looking at it, but it felt like trying to move stone. He turned back to see his sister staring at him. They were tears on her cheeks, but her eyes . . . they were empty. Cold. Almost dead. She stared at him and he could feel an unknown fear grab his heart and squeeze it. Why was he so scared?

"Is everything fine onii-chan?" She asked. Her voice was almost robotic, as if it wasn't . . . real. The sound of it shook him at his very core. It felt like death. "You seem strange?"

"Yeah, it's all good, Komachi." He said, smiling. Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it. "I think it's kind of expected that I would be strange, right?"

"How did you know my name?" He froze.

". . . What?"

"No one told you my name." She started to pull the door open a little more, staring at him blankly. Dead eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"Th-The doctor did," He said, trying to keep the panic from rising in his voice, "B-before you guys came in."

She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, but she had at least stopped trying to open the door. That was a good thing, he just had to de-escalate this.

"L-Look, it's getting late. We need to g-get to bed, right?" He said, unable to hide the shakiness of his voice.

". . . O-Okay, I was just checking on you," her voice and demeanor went back to normal. She stepped back. "I don't want you to get hurt. G-Goodnight, onii-chan."

". . . G-Goodnight, Sis," He said, closing the door softly behind him. He stood there for a few moments, waiting. After a minute, he heard the retreat of her footsteps as she went back to her room. He collapsed to his knees, breathing hard.

That was terrifying. What the hell was that? He laid down in his bed and stared straight up into the ceiling, as if gazing at the solid white view would yield some answers for him. Even if he didn't remember who his sister was, she was so much smaller, in size and mass.

So why did it feel like he was about to die?

Now that he had time to gather himself, he could actually finish a coherent thought, instead of just repeating the same question over and over in his head. At least, he wanted to believe that. He wanted to say that he was still grasping the situation and that's why it was so hard to gather any real conclusions. But really, asking questions was all he could do at the moment. He couldn't get any answers, and he was too afraid to ask anyone anything. Not after what just happened with Komachi.

Was it just her? Was everyone like that? Why did she act like that? What did I do to trigger that? What would have happened if I wasn't able to convince her? Why is this happening?

"Why?"

"25 . . . 12 . . . 16 . . ."

". . . Shut up."

"25 . . . 12 . . . 16 . . ."

"Just shut up already."

"25-"

"Shut up!" He almost yelled.

"12-"

"Stop it!" He grabbed his head. "I'm not hearing things! I'm not! I'm not crazy!"

"16-"

"I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M FINE!"

"I'm fine."

He stopped. That voice . . . he couldn't recognize it earlier, but he knew it now.

"25 . . . 12 . . . 16 . . ." He could now imagine the dead-fish eyes behind those words.

". . . That voice . . . is mine?" He didn't remember saying those numbers out loud. What could they mean? Were they a clue? "25-"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The sound of a loud banging against his door almost made him jump out of his own skin. He sat up in bed, but was too afraid to get out. He sat shaking as he stared at the door.

"Hachiman," That was his mother's voice, but it was . . . bad. Like Komachi's. "You should stop talking to yourself and go to sleep. Okay?"

". . . Y-Yes, ma'am." He said in almost a whisper, not able to gather enough strength to say anything more.

"Good boy. Goodnight."

"G-Goodnight." He whimpered. Silence. Then the sound of retreating footsteps. He stared at the door longer than needed, before slowly laying back down and staring at the ceiling. He knew better than to do . . . anything, now.

She didn't react until I tried to say the numbers. But why?