yogen | npc contact.3

( he gives a slow blink. like a cat. considers it, and thinks back on august... thinks about the barriers they've broken down... )

Say, Sensei... I don't suppose you were also involved in binding Kazuki-san before, were you?

( kind of a shoddy job if he was, but something amami's curious to know. )

No. If it were my choice, I would have left him be.

[ A healthy dose of fear in man-eating monsters builds character. They are friends, Kazuki claims, but unlike Kazuki, the counselor does not speak of him with the same warmth and affection. ]

Would you have done differently?

( interesting to know... amami looks at him for a moment, but decides to dismiss the topic; they're supposed to be talking about him and what he wants to do. if it's about the way that he approaches things though... )

I wasn't there. What I would've done won't change the way things are now.

( the things he does from this point will. speaking of which: )

What about the boundary that was on the school back then... There was one, after all — just like the one there is now, that keeps him outside. The ones that are up now were set up by you, so how about those ones?

[ They're supposed to be talking about him and what he wants to do. Amami is a terrible counseling patient, actually. ]

Sure. Why do you ask? The past is the past, as you said.

( oh!! yes!! there it is!! yes!! "sure" isn't really a committed enough answer for amami to take it as a full win, but it's at least enough for him to want to give his idea a try. it's fine. mizuki's just helping him with his goal-setting right now, is all. )

I just thought I might try something in that case. You can't change the past, but you can learn from it, right?

( but anyway, excuse him for a moment. he's gonna get up from his comfy seat, start peeking around the room — on the shelves and stuff for anything of interest that might stand out. )

That's right.

[ He occupies himself with his bowl of snacks while he watches Amami rummage around his office.

There's bookshelves along the wall, and according to past Ori, they contain "books on counseling ... relationship books, self help books ... [and] also a little section with crime fiction and erotic romance." The desk the counselor is sitting on has drawers but none of them will open if Amami tries, and the chair behind the desk that he never sits on is one of those black leather swivel chairs. The desk itself is always clear of everything on top except for a bowl of snacks and the counselor himself. ]

What are you learning right now?

( damn... is the latter half of that list meant to explain the first half? it kind of feels like they're related. amami's certainly setting that in the back of his mind to judge mizuki for later. )

I'm sure you can guess. ( sick and twisted that the drawers won't open though. ) —These are locked?

( not that he expects there to be anything particularly interesting in there, but the things that are hidden in locked drawers would likely be more interesting than those on open shelves, right? )

It might be better to call it "goal setting" though. Counselors are supposed to do that too, I'm pretty sure.

( he wouldn't know; he picks fights with his. )

[ No stop don't judge his taste in books ]

Yes, they're locked. I keep confiscated items inside. [ And sometimes he gives them away, kind of like those treasure boxes of trinkets libraries keep for summer reading. ]

My goal as a counselor is a simple and modest one: to help my students navigate their worries. What about you? What short term and long term goals are you working towards?

Obviously the one I'm working on for right now is getting us outside. For a long term goal though, I have to say, I'm not really a fan of how this "school" is being run right now.

( he pauses at this, tracing a finger along the spine of one of the books on the shelf before he continues in the same conversational tone. )

If you want one that's in-between though, I'd appreciate it if you'd return those memories of mine you took.

[ Oh, he looks a lot more engaged now, hearing that request. ]

Which ones?

[ THERE ARE SO MANY MISSING MEMORIES which ones are you talking about, Amami-kun ]

I'm not an only child, am I, Sensei?

( to his knowledge, he doesn't remember anything else — but that isn't right, now is it. )

Akehoshi-kun told me before, that I'd mentioned something like that earlier this year.

( you shouldn't joke around, he'd said, and amami remembers distinctly the feeling like ice cold water had been poured down his back at such simple words. )

You're not. Do you remember anything? Have a passing feeling, perhaps, or feel familiarity towards something?

[ He must, if he came to the counselor asking for the memory back, rather than dismissing the notion. ]

...

( it takes him longer than it should to answer. it's not that he doesn't know what his answer is, but...

that doesn't mean he likes it. )

I don't. I feel like I've always wanted siblings, but I don't remember ever having any before.

[ It's a start, and all you need to get somewhere is to start. ]

What is it about siblings that you feel you wanted?

( now it's edging into something personal — something amami clearly isn't entirely sold on yet as he spares a reluctant glance back to the counselor. )

I always thought every only child did, honestly. It's kind of lonely growing up all by yourself.

( he thinks... it's half of a whole answer, in any case. )

[ Why is he even here if he doesn't want to talk about personal things ]

Were you so different when you were younger? You don't seem to me to have much trouble getting along with others, and many children find friendships in classmates at school or other children in the neighborhood.

[ Unless Amami's like the counselor's kids who were quarantined off in the middle of nowhere, then maybe he gets a pass. ]

( sometimes you're just bad at counseling. listen, it's hard. )

I guess it wasn't so different. Of course, there were plenty of others I'd talk to, but at the end of the day...

( it was him. his parents cared, he's sure of that much, but he wouldn't say that they were especially present; the maid was kind to him, but she was paid to be; the kids at school were there, but he'd never felt close to any of them in particular. in the end, it always came down to him, wandering off on his own to seek out his next adventure — to find what was missing. )

[ At the end of the day... family is different than friends, he fills in the blank. Maybe that's true; he wouldn't know. ]

Family are people you can be a little more involved with, aren't they? People whose business you can stick your nose into, people you can take care of, people you can be proud of... What do you think?

... Yeah. Yeah, something like that.

( he doesn't like to agree with the counselor here, but listen, he does want to remember that family he had apparently cherished so close to his heart before. for now, his only frame of reference is with kamo-kun — with them, he can't say that such a description is wrong. )

It just felt... like something was missing, y'know? Maybe I did know something was wrong, even if I wasn't sure what it was, but I'd like to think... If I was an older brother, I'd really put my all into that, instead.

( haha )

You do seem the sort: an older brother who would feel something was missing even if he doesn't know why. An older brother who would never ever forget a sibling... but he did. How does that feel?

[ What sort of brother forgets his sibling? How weak does a memory have to be, to be lost like that?

...A good enough brother to feel like something's wrong, when it's easier to pretend nothing is, and face being a disappointment. ]

...

( how does it feel? there's guilt for one thing — a knot tied tight in his stomach, turning with unease the longer he has to linger on a question like this. to forget your younger siblings... he thinks of kamo-kun, of soft mochi cheeks wet with tears and shaking hands, of what they'd most been afraid of at that time — that he'll look at me like i'm a stranger. and here amami is...

he heaves a sigh, none too happy. )

It's not like it was a choice I made. This place... you guys haven't exactly been any kinder with our memories than the last one I was at.

[ Feelings linger, they bleed and stick and hang in the air, and it doesn't matter if Amami sucks at sharing because what matters is putting in the thought, and letting himself feel. The counselor is glad to see him not smile through this one. ]

What would be the point of making you forget?

I'd think I should be the one asking you that...

( there's a sharp edge to his tone, looking pointedly at the counselor... mr. memory thief. )

I don't think there's anything to gain from it, nothing aside from taking something precious from me.

[ ? He's not the only memory thief around here, but he's not about to tell Amami who that is. ]

No, there's a reason. One you may not understand, but there is one. I won't be able to help you get it back until you come to realize what that reason is.

( it's bullshit. at least, it reads to amami that way; he could give them back, if he wanted. he just doesn't want to. )

So this is your definition of "counseling", huh? You take our memories from us and then make us earn them back?

( he's frustrated now — impatience dripping into his voice even as he makes an attempt at keeping it even. )

Not sure how I'm supposed to figure out your "reason" without even knowing what the memories are.

npc contact.3

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