「 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 」- 𝙻. 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚅 - 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚖

H.H.S.A Guidebook for New Inhabitants
Originally published in 803 A.D by V. Atticus
Edition 34

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5. The system of Initiatives has been in place since the founding of the Halfway House. It is a form of voluntary self-government that has kept peace within our community for hundreds of years.

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☥ ☥ ☥

A wave of emotion hit me stepping into the Memory Room. I was so overwhelmed at being suddenly immersed into such a visceral plane that in that moment, I could only stare breathlessly at my former home.

I was standing in the middle of the fields I used to play in as a child. Judging by the crisp air and tall green grasses swaying in the wind, it was spring. The sun's warmth was a blanket of vitality; so different from the stiff, filtered air I was accustomed to. Maybe a hundred metres past me was Wammy's House, with a solitary wooden cross atop the roof. The cabin where B and I had lived was nowhere to be seen. In Ryuzaki's memory, I suppose it didn't exist.

Ryuzaki was gazing out at the orphanage beside me, his expression unreadable.
"...Home sweet home." I muttered. I let out a sigh, kicking at the loose dirt below my feet. "Shall we?"

He nodded, and we began to head towards the orphanage. My senses reawakened at the rush of stimuli; I felt so lucidly the crunch of dirt under my feet, the grassy stalks brushing against my legs, the mild humidity of the air. It was all so stark and palpable; overrunning with life. Death is a dull and stale state of being, and despite its many comforts, you become deprived of things you once took for granted.

We came up to a gate fencing off a modest vegetable garden and greenhouse. I paused for a moment leaned on the fence, staring out at the grass fields. It felt easier than looking at the building itself. Ryuzaki clearly had a great deal of fondness for our orphanage, but my feelings towards this place were conflicting, and frankly quite painful. I asked myself why I was doing this. How did I find myself here again, after all I'd done to get away from this place? The sheer dissonance between the simple beauty of this scene and the terrible events that transpired here for me was... it was confusing. And I didn't know what I should feel. 

When I turned back to see where Ryuzaki was at, he had already vanished from the garden and left the back door wide open.
"Ryuzaki!" I called out, to no answer, and then sighed. I walked through the gate past rows of plants and up the steps. Inside, he was standing in the doorway of what was once the playroom.

He turned to face me.
"Sorry." He said. "I just wanted to take a look inside. I won't stay long. The only place I want to visit is my old bedroom upstairs. It should be intact."
"...Alright."

I followed him up a flight of stairs, which sagged under our weight. As a kid I'd get scolded for running up and down these steps, and when I was eight I broke my ankle flying down the banister. I remember not crying, so that my friends wouldn't cry either. I was so innocent then. Beyond said it was kindness; I'd call it naivety.
The familiar creaking under my feet anchored me to the building. I don't know how to explain it, but I felt an intimate physical connection to the wood below my feet. As if a part of me still lived inside it. Somewhere beneath these floorboards I'd find my old self, unmarred by the traumas of adolescence. For a second I envisioned myself as a child, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. No. I had to keep a brave face in front of him.

We came to the second floor, where Ryuzaki walked down and opened the second door down the hall. Inside was a messy room with books and papers littering the floor, and crumpled clothes and sheets.