Foregone Conclusions

Chapter 1: Tumult

Yelling. The crash and clank of steel as it bends and twists.

"S…!"

Hushed whispers on every side.

"-ou oka…?"

Camera shutters click.

"…can ou he me kid?"

A car horn sounds off frantically.

"KID! I said, are you alright?"

I suddenly cough roughly and blink tears from my eyes. I didn't know how those got there or why. My mouth tastes bitter. Like metal.

I stare up at the man who asked me that question. His face looks grim and his eyes look like they're tight with concern.

I try to push myself up but I feel a sharp pain in my ribs as I do.

"Eugh…" I groan out unceremoniously.

"Shit, maybe someone should call for an ambulance," the man speaks over his shoulder, as if addressing someone behind him.

I look up and for the first time, take the opportunity to notice my surroundings. I'm laying (well, sitting now) on a sidewalk and there's a large group of people crowding around me in a semi-circle.

They're looking at me like I'm an animal in a zoo exhibit. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

They're all whispering to each other. Some have their phones out and are trying to discretely take pictures. Others aren't so courteous and try to jam their phones as close as possible to my face to get a good shot.

Awkwardly, I look down and move my fingers to my hair in an attempt to scratch my head in what was a nervous gesture, but I find my fingers are unable to make contact with my scalp.

Instead, they encounter something hard. My fingers trace the outlines of that hard material and I suddenly realize that I'm wearing a helmet.

"…Do you know what day it is?" the man from before asks me.

I try to think long and hard but I can't place the date. However, I do know the month.

"…Um, April?" I ask tentatively.

"Geez," the man shakes his head. "That car really did a number on you, didn't it?"

Car huh… I don't remember anything about a car.

"Er, what happened exactly?" I ask as I scratch at my cheek. I feel something wet and sticky there. I notice that the crowd around me starts to thin as they realize I've fully regained consciousness.

The man breathes out. "Well, I didn't see the whole thing, but you were biking across the crosswalk, remember?" He pauses as if to gauge my reaction and my memory. I just regard him with my two dead fish eyes.

"Right. Well, as you were biking through the intersection, this black car suddenly comes out of nowhere and just comes ramming through and it clips you right on the back of your bike," he continues. "Lucky for you, it only smashed the bike itself, but it sent you flying straight to the sidewalk. I think you bashed your head pretty good. Thank God for that helmet you're wearing or your skull would be in more than one piece right now."

I move my fingers to rub at my helmet again, and this time I notice there's a huge dent near the right side. I gulp. He was right. I panic for a second.

"Wait, where's my bike?" I ask suddenly.

The man tugs a finger to his left. I look over and my heart sinks.

The bike that had served me so well starting from my middle school years was bent roughly and unnaturally out of shape. The back of the bike was twisted and the rear tire was all but obliterated. It seemed beyond salvage.

Bike-chan…

I whimper.

"I'm gonna call an ambulance," the man says. "Because it seems like I'm the only one here that gives a damn about a possibly dying kid." He adds that last part in with an annoyed mutter.

"Ah, I think I'm alright actually," I say. It's not a lie. My head is ringing slightly but I don't feel like I need something as dramatic as an ambulance. That just seems like it would be a waste of everyone's time. I feel mostly fine...

"Kid, you can't even remember what day it is," he deadpans.

"Umm…" I begin aimlessly. A stray thought suddenly pops into my head. I remember my parents staying home yesterday and lazing around the house. My dad kept going 'Hachiman, bring me some pudding from the fridge… Grab me a popsicle from the freezer would ya? Come on, today's my first day off in ages. Please help out your old man already…'

Classic, pathetic dad. It wasn't his fault, however. The life of a wage-slave really did drain your spirit completely. Crap, I really don't want to end up like him.

Oh yeah. So since my parents were staying home yesterday, that meant it was a holiday. Uhh, right! Yesterday was Showa Day. That had to mean that today was April 30th.

"It's April 30th." Proud of my deduction, I speak. "See? I'm doing fine. Thanks for your concern, sir." I attempt to stand to my feet. My ribs and legs protest slightly as I do, but I manage.

The guy just shakes his head and gives a quiet snort. "Like I said, that car did a number on you."

I regard him wearily. "Huh?" I mutter.

"It's not April 30th," he says with some gravity. I want to roll my eyes at him but he looks serious. "It's May 2nd."

My heart skips a beat. That can't be. I specifically remember my parents staying home yesterday.

…That was yesterday wasn't it?

"O-Oh," I say, looking down at my slightly bloody hands.

The man takes a quick, almost imperceptible glance at his watch. "Look, I can't force you to go to the hospital if you don't want to," he begins. "But you banged your head pretty hard, so there's definitely a chance you might have a concussion." He looks at me seriously. "So do us both a favor and don't fall asleep any time soon alright?"

I can't find any words to say so I just nod.

"I have to go," he starts as he begins to slowly move away from me. "Take care of yourself kid. Sorry that happened to you. I wish someone would've written down that bastard's plate before he bolted off."

"Y-Yeah. Me too," I say. "Thanks."

The man nods and then begins walking down the street, his hands buried in his jacket pockets.

I somehow find myself not believing him. Not because he seemed untrustworthy or anything, but because if he were telling the truth, then the fact of the matter was that there was something seriously wrong with me.

There were only a few things in my life that I was proud of myself for, but one of those was my memory. I'd always had a sharp memory. Usually I would use it for stupid stuff like remembering ninja hand signs, or baseball stats, or some other stupid stuff, but regardless, I knew that my memory was solid. I specifically remembered that yesterday was a holiday. As such, given that assumption, there was no way it could have been May 2nd today.

I suddenly realize it's pointless to speculate. After all, I had a device in my pocket that could answer all of my questions in a matter of seconds. In fact, telling me the date was the least that it was capable of.

I stick my hand into my pocket and fumble around until I feel a rectangular-shaped object. I grab it and fish it out.

Upon seeing the device, tears come rushing back to my eyes.

Like my poor bike, my phone was completely bent and broken. I realize that I must have landed on it.

The screen was shattered to pieces and judging by my failed attempts to turn it on, it seemed that the damage wasn't only superficial. No matter which way you sliced it, the result was the same. My phone was completely toast.

My parents will probably end up killing me when I tell them about the sad fate of my poor little phone. Life really isn't fair at all…

Sighing, I attempt to jam it back into my pants pocket, but as I do, the tips of my fingers suddenly feel a strange texture. I push them further in, and they come into contact with something slightly rough.

Fishing around, I manage to pull out the culprit. In my hands is a small, folded piece of paper. I pause.

What the heck… Is this a gum wrapper or something?

I gaze cautiously at the paper. At the very least, it was bigger than a gum wrapper, but not by much. I eventually shrug and decide to unfold it.

Inside, an assortment of words and numbers are haphazardly scribbled.

8700 Soryu Way. 13:00. 12.

I eye the mysterious piece of paper with great uncertainty. Umm, what the heck? Am I supposed to understand what this means?

I look around nervously, suddenly feeling like I'm some sort of spy that just got tangled up in a web of lies and deceit. Was someone trying to tell me something here? Did I get lost en route to a rendezvous with an arms dealer? Should I duck before a sniper takes me out?!

I shake my head to clear myself of these useless thoughts. I look at the paper again.

8700 Soryu Way. I didn't know that exact address per se, but it was clear that the first part of the message was in fact an address, and I did know where Soryu Way was. In fact, it was actually only around 11 blocks away from the street I was currently on.

Was this where I was heading before I..?

I moved on to the next part of the message. If the first number were truly an address, then the purpose of the second set of numbers suddenly became very obvious.

13:00. Or in other words, 1:00 PM. I didn't know why I had this note in my pocket to begin with, but if I were reading things correctly, it appeared that for whatever reason, I was supposed to arrive at that location at 1 PM. Although discovering that much did answer some questions, it raised about a hundred more.

I looked over to the last number again. 12.

With no other information to go off of, the number itself meant absolutely nothing to me. Twelve what? The Twelve Disciples? Twelve Days of Christmas?

I was at a loss as far as the last part was concerned, but at least, I had managed to crack the first two parts of the strange code. Or at least, I think I have.

Suddenly, I hear a loud sound reverberate through the nearby area.

Ring.

The sound resonates heavily and sends a chilling vibration through my chest. I quickly realized that it was the bell tower located in this part of Chiba that was the source of that noise. It sounded every time the hour changed.

I only heard one solitary ring. Which meant that the hour had just changed to 1 o'clock. 1:00 PM.

I stare at the note again.

Squeezing my eyes, I try to think back to the events that had transpired before I came to on the sidewalk with a mangled bike and a broken phone. However, despite all of my efforts and concentration, I was left with nothing. I couldn't remember a single thing that had happened.

My very last memory was of my parents lazily wrapped around each other on the couch watching reruns of old gameshows…

If the man from earlier was to be believed, then today wasn't actually April 30th. It was May 2nd. If this were true, then that meant that I had lost all memory of the last two days of my life.

It was an incredibly alarming thought.

But somehow, even though I couldn't explain it, I knew in my gut that the note I had pulled from my pocket was important. I just couldn't remember how exactly.

I suddenly felt a strong determination to find out.

Picking up my mangled bike, I begin to roll it slowly towards Soryu Way.

It was time to put together some pieces.

AN: Looks like we've got a bit of a mystery on our hands eh? I've been working on my other stories, but I've also recently had the strong urge to exorcise some ideas from my head, and experiment with different writing styles. Which means you all get to be my guinea pigs. Lucky you! I already have a few more chapters written out so it shouldn't be long before another update. Thanks for reading.