(IK)
Months go by, yet nothing changes. I am tired of being in here. I can not stand to stare at those blinding tiles any longer. My mind has no place to wander besides the cage that is this room. How many ways can I spell it out for these alleged authority figures before they cast pity on me and set me free? I behave like a good dog and get no reward. By now, it is obvious that I will never be granted a way out. I must be a prisoner of sorts. My strange treatment led to such conclusions. The routine eats away at my sanity day by day, however I still cannot find it in me to care. If I truly go insane, what is there to lose? Perhaps then I could have delusions that help my mind escape without the use of anesthesia.
My only source of entertainment has been drying up. Piecing together the truth behind my capture has few useful leads from this perspective. First, my indirect questions to the Steering Committee led to mostly vague or rehearsed answers much like before, only now they did not enjoy my frequency of asking. Second, my context clues ruled out the car accident theory completely. Obvious from the beginning how shaky their pathetic story is. I made up a heartfelt request for wanting to see the face of the man who did this to me. "He's in prison, Kamukura. You have your justice." I acted like I only wanted peace of mind. The nervousness in my request for a simple photograph told me everything. Despite them printing off one of a likely random criminal to ease my innocent desire. Lastly, my direct questions for Matsuda began. I know he would despise the roundabout method I used on his superiors. Typically, all he would do is look up at the observation window and mouth for 'some other time.' My prediction is that he was buying time to figure something out. Perhaps to gather evidence of the truth.
The time has come. I can feel it. My theories on the truth range from being a kidnap victim for their entertainment in some sadistic mental torture to it all being a mind game to find out how long Hope's Peak Academy's top student could handle something as benignly insanity inducing as this. Although, it is difficult to come up with solid theories with a lack of sufficient information. Perhaps that is the point. Clues too obvious would make their game boring. How ironic.
As I sit here, brushing my now ridiculously long hair, I know the first part of my dreaded routine would come through that door in 3... 2... 1... Matsuda enters with a tray of breakfast. I thought about using starvation as a method of rebellion, but that would most likely only have me uncomfortable with no reaction from them or have them use drastic measures if it got too extreme. I would rather not waste my energy on a rebellion unless I knew it had a realistic goal. He sets the tray down as I continue to brush. "You should cut your hair if it's giving you problems." Matsuda says matter of factly before drinking cheap green tea from a can, his favorite. Shrugging at his observation, I do not hide my reasoning for keeping it so long. "It gives me something to do." Even if I desperately want to cut it, how would I do that? No scissors in my captivity. Are they worried about me hurting myself?
"Figures." Matsuda replies with a scoff. I decide to cut straight to the chase, something I know he would appreciate. "Is it time yet?" I am sure to mouth the words. He checks his bent up watch before answering as if he thought I meant it literally. "Aren't you enjoying the chase of figuring it out? I don't care how smart you are, there's no way you're even close." How kind of him. Typically he still refers to me as 'dumbass'. Perhaps he really is softening up. Suppose it is easier to do in whispers. "The search is becoming dry. I could talk about my theories here, but y-" He does not hesitate to cut me off. Never has. "No, not here. You want those old bastards to hear and make your life even shittier? If we're going to have this conversation, we need to go somewhere else for a while." He is sure to mouth that last sentence. They can hear us. We have not been out in such a long time. Months. He said he could not do such things anymore. I predict the outside of this room upped its security measures sometime around my last surgery. Whenever that was. "Where would we go?" I slide my tray closer to me as I ask to muffle my voice for the audience.
As foolish as it is, I thought about running away as soon as we get far enough from this building. My prediction is that Matsuda would help me escape if he could, yet something holds him back. Perhaps the Steering Committee has him in a contract, despite him being a minor. A personal reason I have no clues to connect. I have no idea. I only know that something makes it difficult for him to breathe. "Out." Matsuda replies with such casualty despite the quiet tone. Something I so deeply missed in recent times. I debate on asking what changed in order for us to be able to leave tonight, but I will find out soon enough. "I know you never disappoint." The line is said louder than the rest. The plan is set. He smirks at that. The statement is enough to bring back some light to his face. "I'll bring you something warm." I should go back and remember what month it would be, but I do not care enough to put in the effort.
Is it childish to force myself into excitement? My prediction of being apart of a game for their entertainment or study had to be close. Having this conversation outside would not change the predictably of the outcome. 'Oh, wow. Dumbass over here actually got it.' Sounds like the exact response he would give. Instead, I strangely am choosing to be excited about the cold weather and a chance at escape after seeing how Matsuda will display the truth. "Thank you, though I may be closer than you think."
--
Minutes cannot go by quickly enough. The many calculations in my head do not make them pass any faster. Yearningly waiting to taste the outside feels almost like a pathetic dream. Patience is something I have, but I can only take so much. I am still human after all. I go over my possible pasts and the theories of why I am forced here again. As if rethinking will lead to another result. Of course treading the details again do not help anything, not even the passage of time. Before my mind let me go into things deeply, that singular door opens with an unexpected softness. An array of winter clothes and shoes get thrown at me quickly. Will this adventure be timed?
"Put these on." Matsuda spoke in a louder voice than usual with a folder under his arm. Appears he was collecting evidence. Seeing him wear a bulky sweater and gloves, I mentally prepare for harsh cold air again. The air conditioner reminds me of such sensations. How risky could this possibly be? Perhaps if I guess correctly, the Committee will end this game by hurting me physically. That would be much too foolish of them. By now, I have my physical strength back or maybe I never truly lost it. Without a word, I put on the clothes. I note how these must be Matsuda's. They smell like him, are too long, and tight in the chest area. "Thank you. How kind of you to lend me your own clothing." I say with genuine meaning behind each word, although Matsuda brushes it off. "Yeah, yeah. Hurry up." I do so for my own reasons.
As soon as I slip on the same shoes as last time, he opens the door to freedom. Silently scanning the observation room, I notice more monitors. All of them turned off as if they knew I would be here to see. A camera pointing into my room. I understand now why Matsuda has been less casual with me and why we cannot speak freely. I figured as much. I wonder how good the mic quality must be for whispers to apparently work. Paperwork is slightly less disarrayed than last time. Into the hall, I count each camera. Including the one to my room, it would be four. One for the door to the hall, another for the exit, yet another for the other end of the hall, and the final one for the door to another room. The question is: Why did they just now update security?
We continue through the outside doors in silence. Both of us know we must get far enough away from the school to speak of this. I note how strange a heavy sweater feels after wearing a thin robe for so long. Cold winter air affects my skin as soon as the door shuts behind us. The difference between a harsh air conditioner and nature's breath was the difference between saccharin and sugar cane. Almost poetic. The aftermath of flurries paint the ground. Footprints on each walk way in all opposing directions. That still did not rule out the theory of being in an abandoned area disguised as a school. How strange is it to think this school had their regular classes everyday while I was locked away with no option to attend them. Do the other students know? If so, why is there no uproar? Perhaps it is all falsified.
Along many buildings, we passed the campus gates, onto an average looking sidewalk, down to a lonely park, onto a bench, and we still said nothing. Despite trusting Matsuda, possibly to my detriment, I stay on alert. I carefully watch for any movement or noise. The slightest sign and I take note of it. I refuse to let myself become injured in such a situation. It would be too shameful. A quiet moment to look around us. No one is here. Only the afterthought of a busy place as nature covers it in early morning frost. I could not believe how I have forgotten my love for winter. Only now I know I cannot enjoy it. The pressing matter at hand overtook any pleasure here.
"Alright, smart guy. Tell me what you think your situation is all about." Matsuda interrupts my thoughts with the exact question I expected. "I predict that I am a kidnap victim that the Committee, and possibly you as well, are using for either entertainment or study. A cruel mind game to test Hope's Peak's top student." I lay my thesis out bare bones. No purpose in adding my evidence without being asked first. He chuckles some. Shaking his head as he attempts to get comfortable, both literally and figuratively. "You're half right, I'll give you that." Only half right? How rare... I wait for him to continue before inquiring any further. He clearly wants to spill everything, but is unsure how. The correct words jumble around in his mind. "You could begin by showing me what you have in that folder."
Matsuda holds said folder tighter. "Look, this shit is absolutely insane. You're going to think I'm messing with you or exaggerating." I nod. "I have no reason to doubt you. You have not been lying unlike those men. I can tell you have been holding your tongue, but you have not lied to me besides the time you were forced." I once asked one from the Steering Committee a direct question with Matsuda in the room. 'When can I leave?' The apparently nameless member replied with the usual. 'We don't know. We need to monitor and make sure there's no issues with your cognitive function and blah blah blah. Right, Matsuda?' Immediately before he was forced to verbally agree, he twitched his nose quickly. He has never done it since. A give. It seems he recalls the time and pauses. Clearly surprised I remember such a thing. "Alright. It's a lot to take in. Ask your questions if you're too slow to catch on." The jab feels more like an ice breaker than any sort of insult. "I will do so." I stare blankly as he lets out a heavy sigh. Pulling out a small notebook from the folder and handing it to me. No labels. Completely ordinary on the outside. I do not hesitate to read it. Sloppy handwriting in a smudged pen greets me as I do so.
'June 17th.
Day 1: Big surgery in 6 days! Matsuda said after this, I'll be completely gone. No memories or anything. According to him, there's no way they'll push it back or cancel it. I worry it won't work and that'll be a different problem completely, but he insists he knows what he's doing. We talked about some movies with lobotomies in them. He said they usually aren't accurate. They tested my memory with chess and memory cards. I think I just suck at those. Then I got a science packet. Mostly biology questions. I used to be decent at science. They never told me my score. Remember not to act up around them! I got visibly annoyed when they didn't answer something, they didn't like that.'
Did I write this? Of course, I do not remember such a thing. Consenting to a lobotomy that would take away my memories sound like a foreign concept I would never entertain. Perhaps this was a past victim of the same circumstance, but that is not as likely. It was too close to when I arrived, I believe. I cannot be sure this is my past self's writing yet. The idea that I worried what the Committee thought of me also sounds like such a joke. Regardless, I continue to read on.
'June 19th.
Day 3: 4 days! Matsuda couldn't meet with me for as long in the morning. Running late. I asked how it could take him that long in the morning with his flip flops and overall half assed appearance. He didn't find it funny, but seriously look at him! They tested my memory with a packet of basic questions about myself. Familiar somehow. Don't know how'd they know anyway. Matsuda stopped me from asking.'
'June 20th.
Day 4: 3 days until surgery! Matsuda said those questions were familiar yesterday because they made me fill out a packet like that before we started anything. Don't remember that. I wanna read the original one. He said he would have to find it. Ironically, I already forgot what memory test I did today. I stayed in the shower for a really long time earlier since I got pissed that one of those old fuckers smiled really big at me. Said I was "coming right along" after looking over some chart. Pretty sure he thinks I'm really stupid. I'd be happy about the comment if the look in his eyes wasn't so gross. Had to walk away somehow. This'll be worth it!!! Don't give up!'
Assuming this truly is my past self's writing, what outcome did I think would be worth a lobotomy? How idiotic could I have been? Completely illogical to believe a lobotomy would help in any form during the modern age. They are still professionally performed in some cases across the world, of course, yet it still had no logical ties judging from the information thus far. I continue on. Only two more entries to deduce the truth if this is all he brought for me to analyze. Almost like he is testing me.
'June 21st.
Day 5: 2 days until surgery! I remembered something! I remembered my mom helping me pack my things. She kept saying she'll miss me and to call her whenever I can. I couldn't remember her number. I told Matsuda about it. He just apologized. I asked where my cell phone was, he didn't know. I started freaking out because I couldn't remember what she looked like or why I was packing. How long ago was that? The test was repeating a spoken sequence, then a packet over history. I asked an old man if I could call Mom. They didn't give a straight answer.'
'June 22nd.
Day 6: 1 day until surgery! Matsuda opened up to me about his girlfriend. Said she's some model and showed me a picture of a gyaru. I called him out for lying. Not sure if he was kidding or testing to see how stupid I am. Seriously, everyone here treats me like a lost kid or something. Gave me some cliche story about childhood friends too. I don't remember any of mine. They tested me with a math test. Not sure how I did.'
My mother? I will not lie and say I have not questioned what the woman was like. Before I understood that the Committee continuously lied, I wondered why she and others did not visit me. Now I have to question if she knew where I was at all. Within a moment to process what I read, I came to a couple predictions. "I am guessing that I either had a neurological disorder I believed you and the Committee could help or I allowed them to experiment on me consensually. The word decent here implies I did not have a talent for biology. Perhaps I became greedy for more talent or never had many to begin with." Voicing it all aloud makes the entire thing sound ludicrous. Why would the committee lie about some car accident if there was not a nefarious reason behind it? Something is missing.
"However, this does not explain how dodgy the Committee has been." I add after another second to think. Matsuda debates before continuing, possibly thinking of how to explain. "You're close. Really close. That was the easy part, now here's the crazy sci fi shit." He hands me a thick packet of unstapled documents. By only a glance, I knew it was a report typed out on a typewriter and copied. My immediate thought went to one of the Steering Committee typing this on a typewriter instead of a computer for either paranoia reasons or technological illiteracy. I flip through to check something. The last title said 'Day 168 - December 1st, 2009'. Hm. Starting at the beginning, I expected the document to start with an explanation or introduction, yet the first page went straight into day one. I have been trapped here for slightly longer than I thought, yet it still feels like forever.
'Day 1 - June 16th, 2009.
Hinata Hajime did not respond well to lobotomy number one. He panicked during the procedure. We expected as much. He still had the ability to talk back after it was done, so lobotomy number two is scheduled for the 23rd to get him more docile. Our neurologist, Matsuda Yasuke, has proven to be uncomfortable after performing his job duties today. We hope there is no need for a replacement. We gathered a few of Hinata's belongings and planted them late tonight at the rainbow bridge. It is only a matter of time before they are found and the police reach a satisfying conclusion. All is beginning well.'
A photograph of my EEG brain scan. The delta waves indicate I was asleep during this in stages three or four of the sleep cycle. A bizarre choice. I skip to day eight, the longest entry thus far, to figure what is said about the results. I do not remember any lobotomy, so clearly I need to find the first thing I can remember. Waking up after a surgery, getting told their make believe story, and testing my gaming skill. Something that feels like years ago.
'Day 8 - June 23rd, 2009.
Hinata's, or shall I say Kamukura Izuru's, procedure was successful. Unfortunately we had a slip up with him waking during so. It appears he does not remember this event. As soon as he woke up, we tested his memory and such. He took to our story quickly without any hesitation. We are glad his dedication to our academy is wired into him in such a state. When tested, his skills of video gaming was shown to improve significantly. All signs point to our mission succeeding. Kirigiri had a confrontation from Kamukura's mother. I steered the conversation on track successfully. Side note: The woman waited an entire week before checking in with our academy for her missing child. As a father and grandfather, I have to wonder what kind of parent she is to be this neglectful towards her son - regardless of how insignificant he was.'
Perhaps I should be upset or offended he accused my mother, a woman it feels as if I had never met, of being a neglectful parent, but I was much too disturbed thinking about how any of those men could be grandfathers. I believe I pieced it together. A theory so completely strange it had to be fiction. Worst of all, it appears I consented to this treatment. I must have been one disturbed individual to even consider such a thing. "The Committee staged my suicide off this bridge in order to continue to give me talent by means of experimentation. Judging by that last line, I never had any to begin with. I agreed to this experiment with full knowledge of the process for whatever my sick reasons were. Is that it?" I ask while closing the packet. I had no need to read any further. No desire to dig into each day for now.
Matsuda sighs again. As if he is trying to come to terms with reality as well. "...You only knew that it would give you talent. Not about how or any of the gory details. It's fucking disgusting, isn't it?" He did not filter how he feels about this. I would never expect him to. I process the revelation in silence, and I cannot repress a smile. A smile that hurt my cheeks as it turns into a small laugh. Matsuda looks at me with genuine fear for a split second before hiding it with partially artificial strength. He does not understand. "... I admit it must be jarring to see me smile after this long, but it is rude to be frightened." I attempt a bit of a joke. He does not reciprocate. He is much too concerned in believing I have lost my mind.
"Matsuda, this is amazing. This is the first time in a while I have been incorrect about a prediction on the first try. I could have never come to this conclusion from that room." I continue to smile as I explain myself, yet it fades as soon as I realize how I no longer know what to do. For once, I have to wonder what my options truly are without it being a daydream. Before I have the chance to get too invested in this dilemma, Matsuda notices me slipping back into my thoughts and touches my shoulder. How long has it been since I felt human touch outside of medical work? "I have that packet of personal questions you answered before. Wanna look at it? I read through it already." I do not care how rude his invasion of my privacy is. It was all taken away regardless. "Please." I return the packet as he hands me the other and moves his hand away. Wondering if I need to know this, I put it in my borrowed clothes. Would knowing who I used to be make things worse? "...You can't be stupid enough for those geezers to catch you with that." I take a sigh of my own before a reply.
"I have approximately 17 different hiding locations in that room. Although, I do not have to return, correct? Even if you say I do, could I not simply run and find help?"
"And where would you go? Back home to Mommy? Even if your parents believe you, they'll be considered crazy for trying to get any justice against this prestigious school. As Hinata, you're legally dead. As Kamukura, you never existed."
He is completely correct. Other factors at play make an escape route difficult, if not impossible. "Police would not believe this story. If I found my way back to my family, they believed me, and I convinced them to not take this to any sort of jurisdiction, would I have a chance?" I ask plainly. I have a suspicion the school had a plan for this. Even if they did not plan for me to get out, there are many other possibilities that could hold me back. Health concerns related to the work they did, not having any records as this identity, and possibly having to explain a falsified story to police as to how Hinata is still alive. Or should I say how I am still alive? Those are only the ones I can think of at the top of my head.
"No. If everything worked out like that, the Committee still has ties with the Yakuza. I asked after that first lobotomy about what they'd do if you escaped somehow. They said it's impossible but if you miraculously backed out or word got out, they'd get them to kill you and whoever helped. Now, I'm not telling you what to do. I'm not scared of some old bastards who need a third party to do anything. You can run off right now and I won't stop you, but I doubt you can make it out there with a normal life. We have you on a fuck ton of meds that control your pain and a bunch of other shit I can't keep track of. I know they plan on introducing you into society. Just not sure when or how." Matsuda speaks his mind while staring at me intently. He is not afraid. That much is true. However, he is wishing he could fix this. The guilty thoughts show behind his icy eyes as he awaits an answer. A tricky problem, yet the solution is incredibly simple and unwanted. Perhaps I should fight for a chance at a normal life, but I cannot do so with the way things are. The troubles, the amount of luck I would need, and the guilt make success look improbable at best.
"I will stay. I do not want you to get injured due to your assistance on this." Deep in my heart, I know this emptiness will not leave no matter where I go. Without a legal identity, I know life would not return to how it once was. Regardless of how simple or difficult I considered my life to have been. If I was willing to get artificial talent, it is clear this emptiness is a part of me. Without the one person I can consider my friend, the likelihood of losing my mind amplifies. "Don't stay just because you think you're doing me a favor." Matsuda snaps back with a bit of hostility. "I am not. I do this for multiple reasons, but Matsuda, I fear what would happen to me if I were to lose you." Expecting another sarcastic comeback or getting brushed off, it comes as quite the surprise when I am hugged instead. Tightly, as if I could fall apart at any second. I do not ridicule him or make an attempted joke. Such a reaction would only embarrass him. Instead, I choose to hug back. He repeatedly mutters: "I'm sorry, Hinata. I'm so sorry." I do not respond verbally for I cannot give meaningful enough comfort. A crime I cannot forgive myself for.