"Ra… S..."
"Ran… S… n..."
"Ran So…"
"Ran Sozen."
At some point, while I was asleep, I was gradually pulled back to reality with the repeated muffled calls of my name. I lazily raised my head and looked up to find my homeroom teacher, Mr. Oz, standing directly in front of my desk looking down at me.
Unsure of the situation at the moment I asked, "What is it, teacher?"
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."
"Oh, I see."
Letting out a sigh, Mr. Oz explained, "Haaaah, since it's the first day I'll overlook it this one time. The classroom is not your bedroom, please get enough sleep at home. Anyway, just state your name to the class and tell us one thing about yourself."
"Ran Sozen. I like to sleep in class a lot, my apologies in advance. Good night."
Mr. Oz's lips twitched a bit likely thinking 'this fucking guy' as the class broke out into laughter.
"At least stand up and do it properly."
I let out a sigh and reluctantly stood up straight.
"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.
It looked like Mr. Oz still had complaints, but he opted to not voice them and returned to the front of the class while shaking his head as though he'd given up in defeat.
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 class, I could tell there was one particular gaze still directed at me even without the need to confirm it.
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 uncomfortable enough that I couldn't completely fall asleep and I was forced to listen to Mr. Oz blabbering with my eyes shut.
The day passed by as Mr. Oz spent three periods explaining 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 plan for each one. An introduction to the school was also given, explaining the available facilities and their locations. Expectations of students and whatnot were also covered, the typical stuff any school would have. It was just a bunch of common sense stuff to me.
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.
Since today was a half-day for the first day of classes 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.
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.
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.
Opening the door to my apartment I was greeted by nobody. It was completely barren. There was no furniture, only a bed in my bedroom. The kitchen had an oven, fridge, and several cabinets that were all empty. The counter was clear without a single thing on it.
If someone didn't already know somebody was living here they'd think the place was for sale. That's just how empty the place was.
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.
Her friend ended up looking after me for the last 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.
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 fairly competent 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.
Since I was competent enough in repairing them successfully, I occasionally 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 accordingly. Videos online were really quite helpful. If I matched the model and discovered a video with a device with a similar problem the fix was usually the same.
Imitating them was how I developed this sort of unexpected skill.
Although they still occasionally come to me after my mother's friend passed away, this particular source of income really wasn't something I could rely on all the time.
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.
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 alarm on the cheap clock I got from a dollar store for 3:30 PM then collapsed 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.
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 shit compared 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.
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.
An author. I'd like to write stories for a living I suppose. Though I'd still work a regular 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.
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.
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 particular 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.
Writing was never something so simple.
With that final thought, I inevitably fell asleep.