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Chapter 11<br />
When I finish talking it's pretty late. Sakura listens intently the whole time,<br />
resting her head in her hands on the kitchen table. I tell her that I'm actually<br />
fifteen, in junior high, that I stole my father's money and ran away from my home<br />
in Nakano Ward in Tokyo. That I'm staying in a hotel in Takamatsu and spending my<br />
days reading at a library. That all of a sudden I found myself collapsed outside a<br />
shrine, covered with blood. Everything. Well, almost everything. Not the important<br />
stuff I can't talk about.<br />
"So your mother left home with your older sister when you were just four.<br />
Leaving you and your father behind."<br />
I take the photo of my sister and me at the shore from my wallet and show<br />
her. "This is my sister," I say. Sakura looks at the photo for a while, then hands<br />
it back without a word.<br />
"I haven't seen her since then," I say. "Or my mom. She's never gotten in<br />
touch, and I have no idea where she is. I don't even remember what she looks like.<br />
There aren't any photos of her left. I remember her smell, her touch, but not her<br />
face."<br />
"Hmm," Sakura says. Head still in her hands, she narrows her eyes and looks<br />
at me. "Must have been hard on you."<br />
"Yeah, I guess...."<br />
She continues to gaze at me silently. "So you didn't get along with your<br />
dad?" she asks after a while.<br />
Didn't get along? How am I supposed to answer that? I don't say anything,<br />
just shake my head.<br />
"Dumb question--of course you didn't. Otherwise you wouldn't have run away,"<br />
Sakura says. "So anyway, you left your home, and today you suddenly lost<br />
consciousness or your memory or something."<br />
"Yeah."<br />
"Did that ever happen before?"<br />
"Sometimes," I tell her honestly. "I fly into a rage, and it's like I blow a<br />
fuse. Like somebody pushes a switch in my head and my body does its thing before<br />
my mind can catch up. It's like I'm here, but in a way it's not me."<br />
"You lose control and do something violent, you mean?"<br />
"It's happened a few times, yeah."<br />
"Have you hurt anybody?"<br />
I nod. "Twice I did. Nothing serious."<br />
She thinks about this.<br />
"Is that what happened this time?"<br />
I shake my head. "This is the first time something this bad's happened. This<br />
time... I don't know how it started, and I can't remember at all what happened.<br />
It's like my memory was wiped clean. It never was this bad before."<br />
She looks over the T-shirt I haul out of my backpack, carefully checking the<br />
blood I couldn't wash out. "So the last thing you remember is eating dinner,<br />
right? At a restaurant near the station?"<br />
I nod.<br />
"And everything after that's a blank. The next thing you knew, you were<br />
lying in the bushes behind that shrine. About four hours later. Your shirt covered<br />
in blood and your left shoulder aching?"<br />
I give her another nod. She brings over a city map from somewhere and checks<br />
out the distance between the station and the shrine.<br />
"It's not so far, but it would take a while to walk. But why would you have<br />
been over there in the first place? It's the opposite direction from your hotel.<br />
Have you ever gone there before?"<br />
"Never."<br />
"Take off your shirt for a minute," she says.