Chapter Text
48 hours ago, a pink haired high school girl ended up in the emergency room.
They said she had taken a really bad fall—hit her head in all the wrong places, damaged all the wrong parts of her brain. They also said it was a miracle she even survived. They said many things—too many things, too many questions, she thought.
“Your birth name is Gotou Hitori,” that was the first thing they had told her. “Does that sound familiar?"
Of course it didn’t. For the last 24 hours since she had woken up, nothing sounded familiar. Not her birth name, not her registered school, not the names of her emergency contacts.
All she knew was that she was in a hospital with a banging headache. She didn’t particularly like it. Not only was she being looked at like some specimen, but the sounds—so many sounds!
The rhythm of the clock ticking every second. The rhythm of nurses and doctors going back and forth. The rhythm of IV drips and heart monitors. Hitori didn’t know why her ears captured sounds in rhythms, but everything registered with too much clarity. And when she tried to distract herself with her thoughts, her head started hurting as if to remind her of her injury.
With a sigh, she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against her bedsheets, adding another rhythm to the room full of rhythms—almost like a metronome, she thought… but how did she know what a metronome was?
The click of the door broke her thoughts. A nurse entered with two adults she didn’t immediately recognize.
“Gotou-san, your parents are here to see you,” the nurse said gently.
“My parents?” Hitori glanced past her, seeing an older woman with pink hair and an older man with bangs that partially covered his face. From the bags under their eyes, it looked as if they hadn’t slept at all.
“Hitori,” the pink haired woman said with a weak smile. “Are you alright?”
“…” Hitori tilted her head. “Who are you?”
The pink haired woman stepped back as if the words physically wounded her. It made Hitori feel a little sad for some reason.
“What did you say?” she whispered. “I’m your mother. Don’t you recognize me?”
“I…” Hitori racked her brain but found nothing, only bits and pieces that she couldn’t parse.
“Your daughter suffered a severe concussion,” the nurse answered for her with a frown. “She has long term memory loss. It’s a miracle that’s all that happened.”
The pink haired woman—who Hitori now understood to be her mother—cupped a hand over her mouth, tears forming in her eyes. “Oh my goodness… that can’t be!”
“Hitori.” The man with long bangs placed a hand on Hitori’s shoulder. “Is it true that you don’t remember anything?”
“…yes,” Hitori answered, feeling guilty for making her supposed parents upset. “It’s nice to meet you, mom and dad…”
Her dad didn’t cry, but a shadow fell over his eyes and his hands shook. He turned to the nurse. “How long do you think this will last?”
“No one can say for sure,” the nurse responded. “Memory loss affects everyone differently. She might remember bits and pieces over time, or maybe even nothing at all. It all depends on her environment.”
Her dad nodded solemnly. “We’ll bring you home this afternoon,” he said to her. “Your friends said they wanted to see you first.”
“…friends?” Hitori tilted her head. For some reason it was a surprise to her, but she nodded anyway. “Okay.”
Her parents glanced back at her before leaving with the nurse. A few minutes later, a group of three young girls came in—one with blonde hair, one with blue hair, and lastly, a striking one with red hair—their faces all filled with worry.
The blonde was first to react. “Bocchi-chan!” Before Hitori could respond, the girl threw her arms around her. The hug nearly knocked the air from her lungs.
“Wait—”
The blonde began crying immediately. “You idiot…”
“Huh?”
“You scared us…”
The blue-haired girl sighed. “Nijika.”
The blonde sniffled. “What?”
“You're suffocating her.”
Only then did the blonde release her. “S-Sorry.”
The blue-haired girl folded her arms. “You act like she died.”
“You were worried too!"
“I never said I wasn’t…”
Meanwhile, the red-haired girl remained near the door, and judging from the quiet way she stood, she seemed overwhelmed by the situation. “…is she alright?” she asked in barely a whisper.
“Seems fine,” the blue-haired girl said. “How are you feeling, Bocchi?”
Bocchi? Is that a nickname?
“My head hurts,” Hitori answered honestly. Then she hesitated, remembering how crushed her parents looked. There was no point hiding the rest. “And… I don’t remember any of you.”
All three of them broke at those words. The blonde girl parted from Hitori and wiped her eyes, as if trying to hide her tears. The blue-haired girl closed her eyes, not crying, but clearly upset in a subtle way. The red haired girl’s face went completely pale. She grabbed Hitori by the shoulders, looking her directly in the eyes with a tearful expression.
“Hitori-chan!” she cried. “It’s me! Ikuyo Kita!”
The name didn’t sound familiar at all. None of their names sounded familiar. And for some reason that realization hurt harder than it should have.
“I…” Hitori looked away. “I’m sorry.”
Kita stared at her, tears rolling down her eyes. “We practiced together.”
Hitori lowered her gaze. “I see.”
“We performed together.”
“I see.”
“We…” Kita’s voice broke. “We did so much together. But you don’t remember any of that, do you?”
Hitori felt her chest tighten. “I’m sorry.” The words sounded pathetic, but they were all she had.
The blonde girl gently placed a hand on Kita’s shoulder. “Kita-chan.”
Kita’s eyes shone. “But—”
“Don’t,” the blonde girl shook her head. “She’s suffering just like we are.”
Kita clenched her fists, then slowly stepped back. The room became painfully quiet. Eventually, the blonde girl pulled over a chair and sat down. “If you don’t remember us, I guess we’ll just have to introduce ourselves again.” She pointed to herself. “I’m Nijika Ijichi.”
“Ryo Yamada,” the blue-haired girl said casually.
“And I’m…” Kita swallowed. “...Kita.”
Hitori looked between them and closed her eyes. “...nice to meet you,” she said finally.
Their expressions fell again at her words. All three of them were trying their hardest not to let emotion show—but they couldn’t hide it. They really cared about her, that much was obvious. But… was it her or someone else?
“What kind of person was I?” she asked suddenly.
All three girls blinked.
“What?” Nijika asked.
“You all seem so worried for me,” Hitori explained. “So what kind of person was I for you to feel this way?”
The three exchanged glances. Then, unexpectedly, Nijika laughed. Not because it was funny, but because the answer was impossible to explain.
“You?” She wiped at her eyes. “You were the most anxious person I’ve ever met.”
Ryo nodded. “Pathologically anxious.”
“Ryo!”
“What? It’s true.”
Hitori stared. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Kita managed a small smile. “You could barely talk to people.”
Hitori could hardly believe this. She was talking to them right now, wasn’t she? And she had talked to the doctors, and the nurses, and her parents. Was she really that shy?
“Aren’t I talking normally?”
That question erased the smiles from their faces. Nijika looked away. Kita’s expression faltered. Even Ryo’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“That’s the thing,” Nijika said quietly. “You seem different.”
Different? Hitori stared at them. What does it mean to be different? Wasn’t she still their friend no matter what changed? Why was it that despite their strained smiles, Nijika still looked worried, Ryo still looked concerned, and Kita still looked heartbroken—as though they were mourning someone?
The realization made Hitori strangely uncomfortable. She didn’t like that look in Kita’s eyes especially, that look of seeing something foreign. She apparently wasn’t a stranger, so why did they see her like she was?
“Bocchi-chan.” Nijika’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.
“Hm?”
“You’re keeping perfect time.”
Hitori looked down. Subconsciously, her fingers had begun instinctively tapping to some distant sound in the hallway. It was as if they already knew what they were doing. She stopped, staring at her hand as if trying to find something.
“...is that important?”
The three girls exchanged glances.
“Yeah,” Kita answered with a sad smile. “Because music was your whole world.”
Music? For a brief moment, the word echoed strangely in Hitori’s mind. Something stirred, something deeper… but it vanished as soon as it came, being replaced by another headache. She winced and grabbed her head.
“Bocchi-chan!”
Nijika was immediately beside her, but Hitori barely heard. She was too focused on that single word. Music. The word lingered in her thoughts long after her friends eventually left.
If music really had been her whole world, why couldn’t she remember any of it?