1. Chapter 1 (1/2)

dear ...,

it is late at night, probably somewhere between eleven and twelve-thirty. i can't be sure, because my cell phone isn't by my side. it may be abnormal for a sixth grader to stay up this late on a school night, but it's just something that happens. i don't sleep very easily.

...

i checked my cell phone a little while ago. it is now two-fifteen. i want to write more in this little notebook i bought, but i'm a little embarrassed. katsuko-sensei says this is a good exercise for me, but i don't even know where to begin.

...

it is now exactly four am. i can't sleep. i'm bored. i guess i will have to write here after all. it's not like anyone will find these words.

i guess, if you want to be precise, everything all started a few years ago. when this "ritsuka" was born, and i met seimei, my older

other. i knew from the moment i opened my eyes, not knowing who i was or where i was, life would be abnormal for me. my mother instantly gave me the cold shoulder, reacting dangerously to her ten year old son who had changed dramatically overnight. my father didn't add much to the situation; he agreed with everything my mother said, including starting therapy with katsuko-sensei to

ing back the old "ritsuka". my older

other, seimei, was the only light in my life.

he did what every great older

other should and more; he played with me, he taught me about my "new" neighborhood and school, he showed me new things and made me happy. i was only with him for two years of this new life, but i knew i loved him more than anything else.

then he died. i know people die all the time, but why did it have to happen to me? there are plenty of children who have not experienced death in any way. but, then again, there are many who have. i was just unlucky.

seimei was murdered. they found his corpse the day after he went missing. i guess in a way that was good; it crushed my hope for his return before i became too hopeful. we're still not sure who the killer was. it could have been a gang of teenagers, a pervert, or someone who just truly hated my beloved older

other. but i didn't know anyone who possibly could.

my family moved to a new neighborhood. the new house was much closer to katsuko-sensei, which was a relief, but that would mean i would have to attend a new school. i didn't care too much. i didn't have many friends at my old school to begin with, after the incident, and i wasn't too preoccupied with finding new ones.

on my first very first day of my new elementary school, i had already caused an uproar. my teacher treated me specially, probably with the knowledge of seimei's death. the perky girl next to me cried when i told her she was stupid. all the students in my class glared at me, already deciding that they didn't like me.

and i didn't care. i didn't want friends. i was fine by myself.

when the last bell rang that day, i slowly went down the stairs and left my school. a girl from my class, the one who had been crying just a few periods ago, tried talking to me again. i didn't know what her problem was, so i

ushed her off and walked

iskly through the front gates of the school.

"why are you mad?" someone asked.

i heard the voice before i felt the land closed around my wrist. i stared for a moment into space, before i had registered who had quite said those words.

he was older than me. probably in college. he looked somewhat sophisticated, wearing a long coat and casually smoking a cigarette. he wore glasses at the end of his nose, and i

iefly thought that he seemed like a cool person, until i saw the top of his head.

there were no ears.

"who are you?" i demanded, trying to snatch my hand back. to my surprise, he held on tighter to my wrist, pulling me a step closer to him.

"you don't know me?" he said in this soft, tobacco-husky voice.

"of course not!" i yelled, trying again fruitlessly to take my hand back. why would i know this... adult? this impure adult, with no ears.

"i came to your house once, a few years ago..." he said, scratching his head and peering down at me.

i glared. "if it was more than two years ago, i don't remember you," i spat.

he looked at me, confused, but he didn't ask what i meant by that. "i was a friend of your