Chapter Zero: Temporal Void

On restless nights, I recall certain memories within my dreams.

I was a scrawny kid again, with quick feet and an even quicker attention span. I ran through the streets full of the "boring" adults everyday. I picked abandoned houses clean and buried their "treasures" into the dirt for a future time that would never come. I created relationships with random kids in different towns and abandoned them just as quickly as we had met. I leapt through life with the grace of an adventurous horse, and nothing else mattered in the entire world.

The city stretched out before me like an enormous playground, a bustling landscape where each day unfurled like a fresh chapter in a grand adventure novel. My feet would dance across the pavement, weaving through the urban maze, as I envisioned myself skillfully dodging imaginary adversaries lurking in the city's labyrinthine corners. The sunlight painted the surroundings in a vibrant palette exclusive to my childhood, transforming the concrete jungle into a kaleidoscope of hues that faded with age. I reveled in the warmth of the sun's embrace, losing myself in the radiant colors that danced across buildings and streets, creating a vivid scene of urban enchantment.

I inhabited a realm suspended in time, a second world where the relentless march of age had no dominion over me. In this sanctuary, my parents assumed the roles of benevolent deities, orchestrating a symphony of fulfillment for my every desire. Happiness was meticulously woven into the fabric of my child form, a code inscribed in every fiber of my being. In this cocoon of bliss, the weight of the world dissolved; my eyes remained untouched by the somber hues of dark blotches, my legs refused the burden of fatigue, and my belly, a sanctuary of flavors, embraced the daily elixir of my mother's curry, and as the sun dipped below the horizon of my carefree existence, what more could I have yearned for than the serenity to slumber away my days, cocooned in the warmth of contentment?

These memories of the carefree summers of my childhood course through my dreams like a second reality, bringing a welcome escape from the stress of a demanding job on lonely nights. In those moments, the weariness fades, replaced by the glow of nocturnal adventures—a sanctuary where the joy of living blossoms in the quiet of the night.

I clung to the hope offered by these memories like a suffering husband returning to the waiting embrace of his family. Despite their fleeting nature and the rude awakening of my blaring alarm clock, these dreams became the cornerstone of a life that, in its ordinary moments, felt purposeless. Embracing the tiny fragments of serotonin, I willingly swapped the often empty happiness of reality for the illusory euphoria of time travel. The surge of dopamine, like an intoxicating drug, coursed through my veins as I sat beneath the warmth of that fictional sun, turning a tranquil, carefree existence into the daily reality I yearned for—an escape from the mundane, until he appeared.

A seemingly random child with black shorts and a gray sweater showed up in one of my abandoned safehouses. I seemed to have some fleeting memory of each person who showed up within my dream, some kid I played with for a while, a crush I met at a park, a student from my school, no matter who I always had a general idea who they were. However, this kid, for the first time I had to guess.

As he glared at me from over his shoulder, I ran his face through my mind for what felt like an eternity. Thick cloud white short-hair and sea blue eyes that had a shimmer like flawless diamonds, no matter how much his appearance stuck out like a sore thumb, there seemed to be almost no-one within my family and friends to match him to. Nonetheless, no matter how subtle a glance it was, I would never forget the face of a kid this odd — or perhaps beautifully sculpted would be a better term?

After a minute or two of silence, he rose, a lithe figure that seemed to unfold effortlessly. His gaze, a scrutinizing survey, traced the contours of my form, narrowing his eyebrows in a display of slight annoyance. In this charged moment, we stood locked in a silent confrontation, eye to eye, the air thick with a subtle undercurrent of aggression. His demeanor, however, carried an air of nonchalance, as if he found our interaction barely worthy of his attention. With a dismissive air, he smoothly slid his arms into the pockets of his oversized hoodie, the fabric hanging off him like a cloak of indifference. The scene unfolded like a tableau, me facing off against a figure who exudes an aura and acts as if blessed by the gods themselves. In the quietude of this encounter, I couldn't help but question whether this confrontation was truly worth the impending trouble.

It wasn't merely his uncanny confidence, despite us being peers in age, that unsettled me. No, it was something more elusive, an instinctual unease that permeated the air. His eyes, like rigid and polished jewels embedded in his face, seemed to possess an otherworldly clarity, rendering my body and concealed secrets oddly transparent under his penetrating gaze. In different circumstances, I might have dismissed him as nothing more than an overly self-assured youth, fresh from a few martial arts classes and perhaps a bit too immersed in manga. Yet, his words carried weight, and that poised, self-assured expression regarded me neither as a threat nor an ally. It was in this moment that a profound fear took root within my heart, a sensation I had never encountered before within these dreams.

It only made me even more intrigued, how could I have forgotten such an atypical person?

"Jinmeiyo Ken." I said in almost a whisper.

His reaction to my name was nothing short of aberrant, a peculiar response that manifested in the raising of an eyebrow, as though he were genuinely appalled by my choice of speech.

"It's my name. It's only proper to introduce yourself to a new person right?"

He shrugged. "Satoru Gojo." He said in response.

The sun beamed down into the abandoned building with the color of the evening's deep orange; the days of summer were fleeting at best but every second of every hour of my dreams from that point forward would be imprinted on my brain like a deep scar. Even then, I feel like I knew something interesting would sprout from the roots of someone so unnaturally out of place.

Then the horrifying chime of my alarm collided with the peaceful silence of my deep slumber.