Jerl !Qj7OhFhEyA 2013/04/27 (Sat) 06:18 No. 49531 But you guess you're right. Trying to remember some of the things you've quite clearly forgotten, and which seem to be quite relevant to your survival, is pretty important right now.
Finding a nice place to sit, you begin to think.
What is it that you can't remember?
Well, there's a lot of things that you've found that you should remember, but don't.
However, obviously some of them are less pressing than others. For example, Nitori. Even before she properly introduced herself, her name was on the tip of your tongue. The fact that she was a kappa wasn't as big of a surprise as you'd normally expect, either. However, you've re-learned these things, and it doesn't seem to have affected much.
(You've relearned them, but have you remembered them?)
No, you've remembered them. As soon as she introduced herself as Nitori, and as soon as she said that she was a kappa, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, as if it would have been strange to think otherwise. It's not at all like learning something new.
(Okay, so what else is there?)
Well, nothing really happened when you remembered those, but there's at least one bit of memory which you are being actively prevented from remembering.
(Where you're from.)
Yes. And, there's another important piece of information. Nothing has actively stopped you from remembering it, but Nitori seems to be quite convinced that it's incredibly closely related with whatever is preventing you from remembering.
(Yu-something.)
Yes.
You actually had that memory, almost. You got very close. It was one of the Japanese female names that you managed to think up.
(Yuuko, Yuri, Yuka- This one.)
No, it wasn't that one, though you do remember something there. What was it?
"Yuka." It's a fairly common name. Nothing happens no matter how many times you think it in your head.
Yuka. Yuka. Yuka. Yuka.
Nothing.
(Something's missing.)
Yes, something's missing. It's so close, and yet...
Kanji.
Your head starts to hurt, but somehow it's different. Rather than feeling like memories are being pulled out from deep inside, it's more like someone's jamming them into your brain forcefully.
(What the fuck is this?)
It hurts for a second, but then subsides.
You never learned Japanese properly. You picked up on a few kana here and there from anime and game titles, but nothing significant.
(No, stop. You shouldn't know this at all.)
Exactly. You shouldn't know it at all. But suddenly, somehow, you do.
Characters which you should not remember or recognize appear to you.
Yuka. There are many, many ways to write this name, just like most Japanese names.
You're not sure how you know this, but youll take it.
??, ??, ??, ??, ??, ??, ??, ??. These are all common kanji for writing the name "Yuka." You somehow recognize a couple of them as being used in the names of several voice actresses. How you know this, you have no idea, as you've never paid attention to the actual credits in credit rolls. Mainly because you can't read Japanese.
(You're reading Japanese right now.)
And yet, none of those seem special at all. It feels like there's another one that you're missing.
?, written - in hiragana and pronounced "ka". This character feels right. So it's the "yu" that's off.
Yu, yu, ??????"
?.
?"
??, pronounced "Yuka", roughly meaning "dim fragrance".
No, that's wrong. The kanji are correct, and the meaning sounds right as well, but something's wrong.
?. This is pronounced "yu".
?.
But it isn't only pronounced "yu". There are a few more ways to read it.
??, pronounced "kakuriyo", meaning afterlife.
No, that's wrong.
??, pronounced "kasokeshi". That isn't it either.
??, pronounced "kasuka". No, this is wrong as well.
??, pronounced "yuuan", meaning gloom.
.."
"Yuuka."
Yuuka?
Yes, that's familliar.
Yuuka. Where have you heard that name before?
Yuuka. Yuuka. Yuuka. Yuuka.
Green.
(Green?)
Yes, and red. And, yellow. These colors jump right out at you when you think "Yuuka", though you're not sure why.
(That's better than nothing.)
Green and red. You put all of your effort into trying to figure out what exactly this is supposed to tell you.
But it doesn't accomplish anything at all. The harder you try to think about it, the more it hurts, and the harder it gets to think.
(Perhaps you should direct this effort at something else for now.)
You agree. This is'nt getting you anywhere, and you don't have any way to know that it would be useful information even if it did.
(So how about the place you're supposedly from?)
Yes. A word that begins with "b", ends with "r", and is punctuated in the middle with falling flat on the ground a few minutes' hike away.
(Yes.)
You try to remember, but you come up more blank than you did with other things.
For one, you know exactly where you come from. You can remember the exact name of the town you were born in, the current city you live in, and even your street address. These come extremely easily.
But none of that information begins with a "b" or ends with an "r".
So let's think about this more logically.
It usually gets prefixed with "outside". You can only imagine that this is also incredibly important information that you could potentially use to remember something, but that by its self it isn't enough to warrant blocking.
Only when followed by "the" and then "b"somethingsomething"r".
"Outside." You don't usually refer to someone being from a specific place by saying that they are "outside" of something else.
So, what "b"somethingsomething"r" word fits after "outside the"?
There's really only one.
"Border."
But this is meaningless by its self, and it doesn't help you remember anything. There are a lot of borders, and people are said to be North, South, East, or West of them all the time.
Still, it isn't common to say that someone is from outside of the border.
After a moment of repeating that in your head, you're suddenly filled with a rush of pain.
This is a lot of pain. You can feel an absolute torrent of memories trying to come back, but they are blocked by something, and only build up pressure like a hose that's been kinked. They want to break free, to flood into your thoughts, but they're being held back.
(This is good.)
This isn't good.
(No, it's good. You've remembered something useful.)
No, this isn't good at all. You don't think that you can...
(That you can what?)
Keep yourself from passing out.
...
Your eyes suddenly snap open, and you pull yourself up to a sitting position almost instantly.
(Careful.)
You don't know what you're telling yourself to be careful about. Rather, you have no idea what anything.
(You should lay back down.)
You can't lay back down. You can't think to do anything. It feels like you've just been awoken from being put under with surgery anesthetics while simultaneously drunk. The room won't stop spinning, and you can't think straight at all.
(Lay back down. It's just a bit of shock. If you give it a minute, you'll be fine.)
You can't even tell which direction is down. Gripping your forehead, you attempt to calm yourself down, and only succeed in clumbsily smearing your sweat around.
(Lay down. It'll feel better.)
Your stomach turns. You barely manage to keep it down.
(You're going to lay down now.)
Without understanding what's going on, your body starts to move on its own, returning to a position lying on the floor.
(Just give it a few minutes for the shock to wear off.)
So you do.
...
(You feeling better now?)
Yes.
You crack open an eyelid slightly, allowing a small amount of light to penetrate through to your retina.
How long have you been like this?
(A little under three minutes.)
That short? Feels like it's been hours.
.>input