Chapter 2

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Translator: Soafp

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Having decided to sort out my thoughts first, I headed to the school store with Ryosuke.

On the way—

“…Hey, I heard those guys are in Class B.”

“No way. I feel bad for the people in Class B…”

Whispers, like backhanded gossip, slipped into our ears.

“They're talking about you, Reita.”

“No, they're talking about you, Ryosuke.”

We shoved the blame onto each other and laughed it off as usual.

This wasn't anything new. It was just part of our everyday life now.

Even after entering high school, Ryosuke and I had continued doing whatever we wanted.

It wasn't like we caused huge scenes or anything, but before we knew it, we had become outcasts.

So-called delinquent students.

We'd been like this for years, so we were used to it. The gossip didn't bother us at all.

No matter what people said now, it didn't hurt in the slightest.

But…

Now that my memories had returned, there was a strange, complicated feeling mixed in.

The person I originally was didn't belong on this side.

And because of that, I felt just a little out of place.

It was a strange sensation.

Like I wasn't really myself…

“Man, this school's full of honor students. So boring.”

Ryosuke grumbled as he looked around.

“If you hate it so much, you should've gone to a bottom-tier school.”

“I hate dumb girls. I like messing up the serious ones. Honestly, I studied just to get into a decent school for that reason.”

“…You really haven't changed. That's some messed-up taste.”

Even I was a little put off.

Going that far just to satisfy your own desires?

Ryosuke's twisted preferences never failed to surprise me.

…Though it was way too late to be thinking about it now, why did I ever become friends with a guy like him?

He was obviously the kind of person you'd only lose by associating with.

And sure enough, here we were, being talked about behind our backs.

Well, that was partly my own fault too.

Still, for the first time in a while, I felt a twinge of regret.

I must have made the wrong choice back then…

If I hadn't pushed my childhood friends away, maybe I could've lived a brighter future.

With my own hands, I had twisted my life.

As I sank into that regret, I recalled the time when I first lost my memories—

It was my first year of middle school.

After a traffic accident, I lost my memory and fell into a condition known as dissociative amnesia—where memories like people's names and shared experiences partially disappear.

It wasn't due to brain or physical damage.

The doctors said it was caused by the shock of losing my father in that accident.

Fortunately, it wasn't severe enough to prevent me from living a normal life.

After a short hospital stay, I was able to return to everyday life with support from those around me.

But without my memories, relationships became a struggle.

Of course, I had forgotten my childhood friends too.

The fear of not recognizing anyone around me—it felt like I had wandered into another world.

That said, they still remembered me, so the relationships themselves hadn't disappeared.

My childhood friends came to see me during every break, running over from their own classes.

They must have been deeply worried about me.

I was happy.

Even if I had lost my memories, I hadn't lost everything—that thought brought me comfort.

…But that only lasted at the beginning.

At the time, we had just started middle school, and I hadn't been able to build any new relationships yet.

So I ended up becoming an outcast in my class.

My childhood friends tried to help, explaining my situation to others so I could fit in somehow…

But that only made things worse.

From the outside, I probably looked like “some weird guy being taken care of by three girls.”

Even if people knew the circumstances, society still tends to look at things with suspicion.

Just like how people distance themselves from those with illnesses or conditions, I ended up being put into that same category.

Well, if that were all, it might have been fine.

But gradually, rumors about me started to spread.

They said I was a womanizer who took advantage of my memory loss to surround myself with girls.

I wanted to snap back, “What kind of nonsense is that?”

But I knew speaking up would only make things worse, so I stayed silent.

Of course, my childhood friends stood by me.

No matter what others said, they insisted we were still childhood friends.

But as we continued to ignore it, the situation escalated to the point where they themselves started being targeted.

Looking back now, it was probably the work of rotten people.

After all, my childhood friends were all popular.

Top-tier beauties in the grade—meaning it was likely jealousy that created those rumors.

Without realizing any of that, I made the choice they wanted…

I distanced myself from my childhood friends.

Even when they told me not to worry about it, I couldn't stand the thought of someone suffering because of me.

And… maybe because I had no memories, there was also a disconnect between us.

To be honest, I felt uncomfortable.

To them, I was a precious childhood friend.

But to me, they were practically strangers I had just met.

Of course, I understood it logically.

I knew they were important to me.

But emotions don't work that neatly.

The more they tried to stay close to me, the more I felt the sting of everyone's eyes.

I was only a first-year middle schooler back then—immature, unable to properly accept their feelings.

And so, I forcibly pushed them away.

That was my greatest mistake.

Worse, I said things I never needed to say—words that hurt them deeply.

“Because I had no memories” wasn't an excuse.

I said things that should never have been said.

And just like that, I completely severed my ties with them with my own hands.

After that, I was alone.

I spent my school life in dull, gray isolation.

The teachers, who should have known my situation, pretended not to see anything.

I still remember the annoyed looks they gave me.

It made me think the world was truly rotten.

My mother wasn't someone I could rely on either.

She was still grieving after losing my father in the accident.

Without memories, I had no one else to turn to.

There was no one who could save me.

And then—he appeared.

Ryosuke Yamanobe.

As if slipping into the empty space in my heart, he planted himself right by my side.

Even now, I don't know why he approached me.

We had no connection before, no reason for it.

He just suddenly showed up.

Well, one thing was obvious—it wasn't out of kindness.

Ryosuke was rotten to the core.

The kind of guy who would casually date multiple girls and make them cry.

He wasn't the type to harm people indiscriminately, but he had twisted tastes and lived as if the world revolved around him.

Maybe he just wanted someone convenient to mess around with.

In reality, I did end up going along with plenty of bad things.

Even back then, I knew there was nothing to gain from getting involved with him.

But at the time, I had no choice but to accept it.

If things had gone on like that, the loneliness might have broken me.

And before I knew it, I had been dyed in the same colors as him.

Like splashing black paint over a rainbow canvas of memories with my childhood friends, I had overwritten everything.

If you asked whether I regret it, of course I do.

But because of it, I found a new version of myself.

I regained the will to keep living.

Given the worst situation, I believe I chose the best possible option.

That's exactly why…

I can't go back anymore.

Even if I remember who I used to be, it doesn't change the fact that I'm a piece of trash now.

The past won't disappear.

Everything I've done with Ryosuke will stick with me forever.

And the fact that I hurt my childhood friends won't go away either.

Besides, just because my memories returned doesn't mean my personality did.

My heart is already stained in darkness.

Even now, the fact that I feel almost no disgust toward Ryosuke proves I've lost my resistance to that kind of evil.

If someone like me were to show up in front of my childhood friends now…

Would they really be happy to see me?

—No. Impossible.

They'd definitely look at me with disgust.

Maybe it's better not to tell them my memories have returned.

It would probably just make things painful for both sides.

…In the end, the best choice is probably to keep living as I always have—

Like the piece of trash I am.