Chapter 4.
<strong>Chapter 4. A Nosy Neighbor (4/4)</strong>
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ra… S...”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ran… S… n...”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ran So…”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ran Sozen.”
<span style="font-weight:400">At some point, while I was asleep, I was gradually pulled back to reality with the repeated muffled calls of my name. Izily raised my head and looked up to find my homeroom teacher, Mr. Oz, standing directly in front of my desk looking down at me.
<span style="font-weight:400">Unsure of the situation at the moment I asked, “What is it, teacher?”
<span style="font-weight:400">Mr. Oz, slightly annoyed, raised his right hand to his forehead and squeezed his temple with two fingers. He then said, “Introductions. We were doing self-introductions but it seems you wouldn’t be aware of that since you’ve been asleep this entire time.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, I see.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Letting out a sigh, Mr. Oz exined, “Haaaah, since it’s the first day I’ll overlook it this one time. The ssroom is not your bedroom, please get enough sleep at home. Anyway, just state your name to the ss and tell us one thing about yourself.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ran Sozen. I like to sleep in ss a lot, my apologies in advance. Good night.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Mr. Oz’s lips twitched a bit likely thinking ‘this fucking guy’ as the ss broke out intoughter.
<span style="font-weight:400">“At least stand up and do it properly.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I let out a sigh and reluctantly stood up straight.
<span style="font-weight:400">“My name is Ran Sozen. I enjoy my alone time, so please don’t bother me when you see me alone. That’s all.” I sat back down.
<span style="font-weight:400">It looked like Mr. Oz still hadints, but he opted to not voice them and returned to the front of the ss while shaking his head as though he’d given up in defeat.
<span style="font-weight:400">With that over and done with, I was free to doze off again. Though the rest of the students had redirected their attention to the front of the ss, I could tell there was one particr gaze still directed at me even without the need to confirm it.
<span style="font-weight:400">Despite that, I ignored it, hoping she’d get tired if I didn’t show whatever reaction she was looking for. Though unlike how easily I dozed off before, her gaze left me ufortable enough that I couldn’tpletely fall asleep and I was forced to listen to Mr. Oz bbering with my eyes shut.
<span style="font-weight:400">The day passed by as Mr. Oz spent three periods exining a variety of different matters. From school rules and general procedures, to the subjects that would be covered in the first semester and an outline/lesson n for each one. An introduction to the school was also given, exining the avable facilities and their locations. Expectations of students and whatnot were also covered, the typical stuff any school would have. It was just a bunch ofmon sense stuff to me.
<span style="font-weight:400">Though as far as I was concerned, it was all stuff that lined up with the first year I remembered in high school. It seemed that things weren’t quite as simple as having it all just been a dream. At least for the time being, I felt that I could draw that conclusion.
<span style="font-weight:400">Since today was a half-day for the first day of sses we were dismissed at lunch. We were free to go home. That being the case, I was the first to stand up and exit the room.
<span style="font-weight:400">When I passed by my nosy neighbor she smiled and wordlessly waved her hand sending me on my way. I didn’t bother to reciprocate the action as I wanted to keep our interactions to the bare minimum if possible.
<span style="font-weight:400">As such, I quickly returned home on my bike without making any stops along the way. When I got home, I was already rather tired.
<span style="font-weight:400">Opening the door to my apartment I was greeted by nobody. It waspletely barren. There was no furniture, only a bed in my bedroom. The kitchen had an oven, fridge, and several cabs that were all empty. The counter was clear without a single thing on it.
<span style="font-weight:400">If someone didn’t already know somebody was living here they’d think the ce was for sale. That’s just how empty the ce was.
<span style="font-weight:400">I was a high schooler, but there wasn’t anyone to look after me. I was entirely on my own. My father abandoned my mother with me at birth and ran off on his own while my mother died when I was twelve on a business trip for work. She’d left me with one of her friends. She had no family here to help her with raising me.
<span style="font-weight:400">Her friend ended up looking after me for thest two and a half years, but not too long ago, she had a heart attack. With her assistance, she somehow hooked me up with a part-time job at a convenience store when I was 14 which allowed me to cover some of my own expenses.
<span style="font-weight:400">When my mother died, there was insurance money left to me as well, but that typically goes down on a monthly basis even with the part-time job I have. Though there are some months I’m lucky enough to be able to scrounge up some extra money. As I’d always been fairlypetent with electronics from a young age, whenever a friend of my mother’s friend had a broken device they needed to be repaired, they’d often go to me.
<span style="font-weight:400">Since I waspetent enough in repairing them sessfully, I asionally earn some extra pocket money that way off her friends. I couldn’t do it all so when I felt it was something beyond what I could deal with I’d advise them ordingly. Videos online were really quite helpful. If I matched the model and discovered a video with a device with a simr problem the fix was usually the same.
<span style="font-weight:400">Imitating them was how I developed this sort of unexpected skill.
<span style="font-weight:400">Although they still asionallye to me after my mother’s friend passed away, this particr source of ie really wasn’t something I could rely on all the time.
<span style="font-weight:400">It’s honestly a miracle I’d been able to rent out this apartment when I was still only14 years old. I had to lie about my age and forge several documents. I even went so far as to create fake references connected to free temporary online phone numbers. I didn’t want to rely on anyone else but myself to survive.
<span style="font-weight:400">Having returned back to this time in my life I felt exhausted. I dropped my bag on the ground and entered my room. I set an rm on the cheap clock I got from a dor store for 3:30 PM then copsed on my bed. My shift started at 4:00 PM and ended at 9:00 PM. It amounted to about thirty hours per week since I also worked six days a week, Sunday being my off day.
<span style="font-weight:400">After I got back at 9:00 PM, I used to go all out with studying… but now… I don’t think that will be necessary anymore. If my memories aren’t just a dream… I have a university-level education. High school was honestly kiddy shitpared to what I went through while studying electrical engineering in university. Though I never did end up using that degree for a job, I still nevertheless enjoyed learning about it.
<span style="font-weight:400">This time… I’d honestly rather not waste my time attending university. I already know what I enjoy doing most. Back then it was something unfathomable for me to think I’d ever want to do.
<span style="font-weight:400">An author. I’d like to write stories for a living I suppose. Though I’d still work a regr job while I’m at it since I have little hope of ever making it big by doing it. It’s just something I enjoyed.
<span style="font-weight:400">I never had any sort of imagination at this age… but unlike before, I do now. In the 15 or so years I spent writing stories I wrote millions upon millions of words. Those stories may not exist any longer in this world, but I still remember them. However… I don’t simply want to go and write all the same stories all over again from scratch. I’d rather write new stories.
<span style="font-weight:400">I felt a bit sad thinking about how those stories would never see the light of day again, but it couldn’t be helped. Every story was written in the moment based upon how I felt at a particr point in my life. If rewritten again, they would no longer be the same as the original as the emotions that had gone into writing them would gradually grow distorted and deviate from what they once were.
<span style="font-weight:400">Writing was never something so simple.
<span style="font-weight:400">With that final thought, I inevitably fell asleep.