Chp1

Roshi woke up with the feeling that something was wrong.

Not the kind of wrong that made your heart race or your body panic.

No—this was quieter than that.

It was the kind of wrong that sat gently in your chest, like it had always been there.

The ceiling above her was unfamiliar.

White. Smooth. Cracked faintly in the corner, like something had once tried to escape through it.

She stared at it for a long moment.

Then she blinked.

Slowly.

“…Where am I?”

Her voice sounded soft—too soft, like it didn’t belong in the room.

Or maybe it didn’t belong to her.

Roshi pushed herself up, her head throbbing faintly as if she’d been dreaming too hard. The blanket slid off her shoulders, pooling at her waist.

Cold.

Everything felt… cold.

Her fingers curled slightly against the bedsheet.

Even that felt strange.

Like she was touching something for the first time.

---

The room was simple.

A bed.

A small wooden desk.

A window with thin curtains that swayed even though the air was still.

And silence.

Too much silence.

Roshi swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the floor—

—and for a second, she hesitated.

Why did that feel important?

She didn’t know.

Still, she stood.

The world didn’t spin. She didn’t fall.

But something inside her shifted.

Like she had just stepped into a place that had been waiting for her.

---

She walked toward the window.

Each step felt careful, measured, as if her body remembered how to move—but she didn’t remember learning.

When she pulled the curtain aside, light spilled across her face.

Soft. Pale. Almost unreal.

Outside, the world looked normal.

Trees swayed gently. The sky stretched wide and endless, painted in a quiet shade of blue. A few distant rooftops peeked through the leaves.

It should have felt comforting.

But it didn’t.

Instead—

It felt like looking at a memory.

One that wasn’t hers.

---

“…Roshi.”

The name slipped out of her mouth without warning.

She froze.

Her reflection stared back at her in the window.

Pale eyes. Soft features. Hair falling loosely around her shoulders like it had been arranged by accident.

She tilted her head slightly.

“…Is that… me?”

No answer came.

Of course it didn’t.

Still—

She kept staring.

Waiting.

As if the girl in the glass might say something first.

---

A sudden sound broke the silence.

*Click.*

Roshi turned sharply.

The door.

It had opened.

She hadn’t heard footsteps.

Hadn’t felt anyone approaching.

But now—

Someone was there.

A figure stood in the doorway, half-hidden by the dim light behind them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Roshi felt it again.

That strange, quiet wrongness.

But this time… it wasn’t inside her.

It was between them.

---

“…You’re awake.”

The voice was calm. Steady.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

Roshi’s fingers tightened slightly at her sides.

“…Do I know you?”

The question came out softer than she intended.

The figure paused.

Just for a second.

But it was enough.

Enough for something unspoken to settle in the air.

---

Then, slowly—

They stepped forward.

Light touched their face.

And Roshi felt her breath catch.

Not because she recognized them.

But because—

Something inside her did.

---

“…You don’t remember?”

The question wasn’t surprising.

I wasn’t confused.

It sounded…

Expected.

---

Roshi’s chest tightened.

“…Should I?”

Silence.

A long, quiet silence.

The kind that felt like it held something fragile.

Something dangerous.

---

The person in front of her studied her carefully.

Not like a stranger.

Not even like someone meeting her for the first time.

But like someone searching for something that used to be there.

---

“…It’s okay,” they said finally.

Their voices softened—just slightly.

“We’ll take it slow.”

---

Roshi didn’t know why—

But those words made her feel uneasy.

Not comforted.

Not safe.

Just…

Uneasy.

---

Because deep down—

Without knowing how—

Without knowing why—

She felt it.

A quiet, creeping certainty.

---

Something about this wasn’t right.

Something about *her* wasn’t right.

---

And the strangest part?

---

It wasn’t the missing memories.

It wasn’t the unfamiliar room.

It wasn’t even the person standing in front of her.

---

It was the feeling—

soft, distant, almost gone—

that somewhere, somehow…

---

She was supposed to remember.

---

But didn’t.

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