Yeah, here it is
Chapter 1: Did I forget
The Weight of Memory
Memories piled up, a haphazard tower built day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year. The whisper of a summer breeze, the calm and warm sunlight that kissed his skin, the quiet symphony of the neighborhood, its embracing arms – all these sensations threatened to drown him. Nostalgia would be the death of him, he felt.
These thoughts flooded his head, a relentless tide.
Had he forgotten why he was even here?
Tears, salty, refreshing, yet profoundly depressing, fell like the insistent tapping of rain against pavement. Wails resounded, cries echoed.
No problem there, he thought.
But from the eyes of every individual, bloodshot red, more tears flowed than ducts could possibly keep up with. Everyone dressed in black — a funeral in progress. The clouds above weren't gloomy; the sun shone through them, gracing the somber atmosphere with its gentle rays.
"He was... he was such a sweet boy…" A muffled voice, thick with tears and the built-up agony of pain, resonated. A woman and her husband held each other closely, a gesture of consolidation for their unbearable loss.
"It's okay, honey, it'll be fine."
"But my little boy... he's my baby."
Guilt, regret for the lack of time they hadn't spent with their son, hung heavy in the air.
One boy stood apart from it all, his mind replaying each event, but he decided it was for the best to stop and discard such thoughts. The mother of his friend cast him a judging glance. But why?
Was it because he was still alive after the recent incident? That had to be it. Nevertheless, he mourned his friend in silence.
Why don't I go console her and her husband? Tell them how amazing their son was, how kind he was, how funny he was? He could. But he wouldn't. He was a friend, not some hotshot. He had some shitty aspects to him, sometimes overwhelming his good qualities.
June adjusted his tie and blazer, his mind monologuing again.
Yeah, I'm a horrible person. This is the least I can do. Can't have a friend not attending his dead friend's funeral, can I?
But deep down, he knew why they were friends in the first place.
---
Three Days Before the Funeral May 18th, 2017 — 11:34 AM, Friday.
The sun had already broken through the night about ten hours ago. College students flooded the hallway, some worried about their projects, others caught in a drought of what their future held, and whatnot. The scent of roses filled the air.
It was his second year in college: West Brando University. June sat on the rooftop, the sun uncharacteristically gentle this morning. He held a doughnut in his hands, his mouth already filled to the brim.
"This doughnut sucks." He threw the rest over the roof, not particularly concerned with being sanitary.
June let his mind drift to nothing in particular until he heard a familiar voice.
"Yo. What are you doing up here?"
June's expression remained dull, disinterested. "I told you to stop bothering me."
"Stop bothering you!? But we're buddies."
"Buddies? I don't even know your name!"
The boy in question scratched his head, seemingly confused. "The name's Fyodor." He stretched out his hand, a smile on his face.
"Name's June. Really not happy to meet ya."
"You're really a stick in the mud, huh?"
"Screw you. Why do you keep bothering me anyway?"
"We've been close for a while now—"
"Close? I don't think close is the right word. More like acquainted."
June brushed his spiky brown bangs from his vision.
"Yeah, right... I've got a favor I wanna ask from you."
June raised his eyebrows. He didn't say anything, but he was intrigued by what this boy, of all people, had to ask him.
"You see, I've been thinking: what do you define life as? Is it living to be good, or living for the sake of this opportunity?"
June's eyes widened slightly, and the foot he had been tapping suddenly stopped. He looked to the ground, his gaze not particularly searching for anything specific.
"Why'd you ask me that?" he said, his gaze still on the floor.
Fyodor adjusted himself, settling comfortably. "Because when I'm graduating from college, I'd like to know my way of life, the path I'm willing to take."
"Hmph. Look at you, already looking ahead to the future. But to answer your question: isn't it stupid to ask someone you're not particularly close with to point you in the direction of how you live your life?"
Fyodor smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "It's not like that, bro, it's just a thought."
June went quiet, his eyes blank — not of thought, but of absence. The air around them felt flexible, making it easier to breathe, something June appreciated deeply.
But something bothered him quietly, making him knuckle his fist.
"Hey, June."
"What?"
"I don't have much time, but I'd want you to live a good life, for the rest of this year. You think you can pull it off?" Fyodor's voice went serious. He wasn't looking at June, who brought his head up from between his arms to look at him.
June thought. June wondered. June wished.
He wished he could lead a good life, lead an honest life. His whole life, he'd been stupid, with big ambitions but no motivation to achieve them. He wasn't lazy; he was very aware of his faults. It was something he acknowledged he fell short of.
But that was the worst kind of incompetence.
But what was the harm in trying?
"If that's what you want? Okay, then I will."
"Huh? I was joking." Fyodor stuck his tongue out teasingly, but June wasn't even minding him. His thoughts were actually set in stone.
"I'm serious. You just helped me force a new chapter of my life. Thanks for that."
Fyodor saw his expression and knew immediately he wasn't joking at all. "I see... You're welcome then. And by the way, you're also stupid it took you this long to open a chapter of change in your life by an unfamiliar guy such as myself."
"I'm stupid alright... I guess we have something in common." June raised his fist for a bump. Fyodor's eyes widened with a glint, his hand quickly forming a fist, colliding with June's.
"Yeah."
---
Present Day — May 21st, 2017
Everyone departed. Vehicle engines revved, driving off from the cemetery. Some conversed with Fyodor's parents, who were struggling to keep it together.
June laughed to himself. "Live a good life for a year? What a joke."
He stood up from under the tree he had sat beneath, his steps measured as he went nowhere in particular.
But this is supposed to be my chapter of change, right? What is wrong with me? June gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching.
"It's not a must to honor the dead, but we can acknowledge their wishes to honor ourselves."
June turned around, his gaze landing on a tall figure who had his hands folded behind him. Although the hood of his uniform obscured his face, only his lips were visible. The uniform was all black, the reflection of light bouncing off it giving it a blue sheen.
"And what does that mean?"
The tall figure smiled, his presence exuding confidence. "Well, most people seem to want to honor the wishes of the dead because they're their last and dying wishes. But the misconception is that people would also take up these wishes even if they don't align with what they envision for themselves."
June furrowed his eyebrows as he questioned, "So basically, I shouldn't give a damn about how my dead friend asked of me after death?"
"It depends. What you should look for in that wish is how it affects you. Is it good or bad? What really matters is that a wish, by definition, is a gain from asking. So you shouldn't be looking at it coming from the dying breath of a dead person."
June went silent, his eyes going hollow. "Is that so?"
"Yep!!!" the tall guy replied in an energetic manner. "I'm Jean. Jean Vandetta, a professor from the American Neavu Ritual School."
"Neavu Ritual School?"
"Don't worry, it's like, a SUPER secret organization," Jean said, patting June on the shoulder.
"If it's so secret, then why tell me? Better yet, why is it a school? Aren't schools meant for a public space?"
Jean straightened up as he placed his hands on his waist, his facial features still hidden. "Yeah, you're right!!! It's just that I told you because you're unique."
"Unique? What the f*** are you on?"
"An expected reaction, but all will be revealed when you join our institution." Jean said happily, clasping his hands.
"What are you talking about? I just started my second year in college. I can't just ditch it for some imaginary secret organization... Why am I even talking to you? You're probably just some crazy dude."
"Another expected reaction."
June just shrugged Jean off, walking away to go meet up with Fyodor's parents. "If you'll excuse me, I've got some important things to do," he said, walking off.
Jean turned to look at Elizabeth, who had her platinum blonde hair tangled around her finger, twisting it.
"You sure know how to piss people off with your 'ick'."
"It's a separate talent I've got, probably my strongest and my most proudest."
"But he does seem to have potential, especially how his own seems to bend to the environment."
"Shhhh!!! We don't want to ruin the surprise. We're here for the funeral to gather more information. This incident isn't ordinary."
"That's for sure. Spontaneous explosion, killing 80% of students in the college present that day?"
"Yep, it seems sketchy, which just solidifies my theory that this is a Destructive-level threat. By the way, have you disclosed the information of the cause of death to the parents?"
"Not yet, they seem to be unstable right now. Thought it'd be best to give them a breather before we hit them with some twisted bullshit."
The platinum blonde woman pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a lighter. She puffed out a stream of smoke.
"Still haven't put down the cigarette, huh?" Jean asked with a smile.
Elizabeth smirked in return, adjusting her suit and tie. "But of course. A normal person can't go a day in this profession without blowing off some steam."
Jean shrugged, his smile flattening. "There's going to be problems... A lot."