Redo of a Romanceless Author’s Life Devoid of Love; Another Chance at Youth

Chapter 1.

Chapter 1. A Nosy Neighbor (1/4)

I raised my hand up and squeezed my forehead as a sudden intense migraine assaulted me. When it eased up, I took in a slow steady breath of air, opened my eyes, but suddenly froze up.

For an instant, I saw a bloodstained knife in my chest, but I blinked and it faded away as if it had been no more than a lie. It was but an afterimage or illusion of the mind perhaps.

“Haaaaaaah. Was that some sort of shitty nightmare or something?” I mumbled to myself in a low voice.

Stabbed? Me? What sort of nonsense is that?

Who would stab me in the chest?

I don’t interact with anyone, ever. I don’t even have any friends or enemies at that either. Why would I have such a nonsensical nightmare anyway?

Just who the hell would I be so concerned about, that I’d have a nightmare about being stabbed in the chest with a knife?

In my forty years of life, I can say with confidence I’ve never made the mistake of dating a single girl, so it’s not like I have a psycho ex who I’d worry about stabbing me.

Whatever, forget that. What time is it anyway? Is it almost time for my shift yet?

I should get… up?

It was only now my brain registered that I was currently seated in a chair. I wasn’t lying down on my bed. More specifically, I was looking down and I saw the edge of a desk, below that between my legs, a chair I was not accustomed to seeing. Though I was not accustomed to seeing it, it still felt somewhat nostalgic. It was something I hadn’t seen in a long time.

When I recalled when I last saw a chair so similar, it was no doubt some time back in high school. High school… they were days now long gone. Back then, I didn’t know just how much better things were compared to the mundane, uneventful, repetitive lifestyle of an adult with pointless responsibilities.

High school really wasn’t so bad when I look back on it. I may have kept it all to myself, but it was still fun since it was much easier to enjoy my hobbies and not have to worry about things like being fired for missing a few days of work with a company that wants to work you to death.

Repeating a year of school or failing a class? Hah! Looking back on it now that didn’t sound bad at all.

I did pretty well back in high school from an academic standpoint so I proceeded to university as that was what society considered the correct thing to do, but in the end, it all was for naught. Eventually, sometime after I graduated from university I found a job of sorts I enjoyed, but it had nothing to do with anything I studied.

If only I’d found it much sooner. I could have started it much sooner, even as far back as high school if I wanted. I could have completely forgone university and I would have made so much progress.

Alas, there was no point crying over spilled milk. What was done was done. It was impossible to change the past. Besides that, the answer I found turned out to be the complete opposite of what I was actually good at in high school. Reading was something I never did back then. The most reading I managed was manga. The thought of reading a novel was enough to put me to sleep.

To think that I’d one day come to write them. Never in my wildest dreams could I have predicted that.

I was far from what I would consider creative. I had no sort of imagination. But, it was a very slow and gradual process.

One day after running out of things to watch and mangas to read I thirsted for more fictional stories. I craved them. I was addicted to forgetting about this world and seeing the worlds inside other’s heads.

It was the only time I could experience human-like emotions. When it came to the real world, my ability to portray emotions was zero. I was a man with an emotional quotient in the negatives.

Things like feelings at some point became an alien concept to me. Only through other worlds did I ever feel any semblance of human emotion. At least, they allowed me to emulate them even if I couldn’t truly feel them myself.

When the day came where I could no longer be satisfied with the worlds inside other people’s heads and how they always came to an end or a standstill frozen in time, I embarked on a long journey to create countless worlds of my own. 

When my thoughts reached this point, another sigh escaped my lips. Sadly, I couldn’t keep reminiscing over all of this as there were more pressing issues at hand.

Such as… where the hell I was. The chair and edge of the desk, the culprits of my little trip down memory lane, I by no means had any recollection of falling asleep here. If that was the case, had I been moved by someone in my sleep?

My eyes slowly raised up and the world around me expanded. It was the sight of a rather familiar empty classroom. Six rows and six columns of desks and chairs lined the room. I was in the seat at the far back corner beside the window.

It seemed that I was… in a school for some reason.

I hadn’t been anywhere near a school for seventeen years now. Why the hell was I here of all places? Didn’t I have a shift to worry about? Wait, do I?

What’s the date anyway? Was it maybe my day off and I’d paid a trip to a school for some reference material and I fell asleep here? No… that’s definitely impossible. If I wanted reference material I’d simply search for some images online.

Thinking about finding out the date, my hand instinctively wandered down to my pants pocket at my sides for my phone.

Unfortunately for me, my phone was missing. Did I drop it? My eyes lowered back down to the ground as I scanned my surroundings. It wasn’t anywhere to be found. Had I simply forgotten it when I left home? Or had someone stolen it while I’d slept?

I suppose there wasn’t any real way to tell.

I took a look up at the clock on the wall and confirmed the time. It was 8:40 in the morning. Well… this was more than just somewhat concerning. If school is currently in session I might be in a bit of trouble. Classes would be about to start.

What would happen if a forty-year-old man was found pretending to be a student?

I shivered at the thought.

Creepy.

I’d definitely be branded a creep.

Just when I was coming to terms with reality and thinking of immediately fleeing, as if the world was not on my side, the door slid open.

My heart sank to rock bottom. This was the worst. If a student or teacher saw me here I was screwed. However, the instant my eyes landed on the person behind the door, my eyes narrowed into small slits. It was more than just difficult for me to accept the identity of the figure before me.

Mr. Oz! That was impossible! My eyes were surely deceiving me… he’d long been retired. I specifically remembered this detail since he retired the same year I finished high school. Did he come out of retirement in his 70s? No… he by no means looked to be in his 70s.

An unsettling feeling began to sink in.

This familiar classroom that I thought to just look similar to one of my old classrooms... along with the appearance of this teacher… what did it mean?

Wait, was I even awake right now? Was this one of those weird dreams inside a dream? Where you wake up once only to find out you were still in a dream?

I looked doubtfully at the teacher entering the room with a bit of wariness.

When he entered our eyes met.

“Oh, what a surprise, I didn’t expect a student to beat me to the classroom on the first day of classes. That’s usually never the case for me. Kids are usually lost looking about left and right while trying to find the correct room right about now.”

Like a deer confronted by bright headlights, I remained completely still unable to move an inch.

Was this… really a dream?

It felt far too surreal. Seeing a teacher I hadn’t seen for so long that is. Memories of the time I spent in my first year of high school resurfaced. It mostly consisted of just the things I learned and my typical daily routine. I didn’t exactly have many memories that involved other people. I was more or less a friendless isolated loner. For me, it was rise and shine, head to school, get on with my classes, return home, watch anime, eat, go to sleep then repeat. That was how I typically spent those days. For me, being alone never really bothered me. I fully enjoyed my alone time, much more than when I was around others.

I was a man of solitude. I didn’t believe in things like love or friendship. My peers and teachers meant nothing to me back then. They were just people I figured I’d spend a few years with before I never saw them again. Passersby in life, no more, and no less. Any form of relationship was worthless in my eyes. 

Seeing my lack of response, the teacher before me didn’t seem mad.

“What’s your name?” He patiently asked.

“My… name?” I mumbled to myself so quietly I didn’t expect him to hear.

“Yes, your name so I can check you off for attendance. Might as well get that done now.” It seems he’d somehow heard me and was quite attentive, able to hear even the quietest of students.

“Ran.”

Mr. Oz looked down at a paper in his hand and said, “Ron? Hmmm… I don’t see your name here. What’s your last name?”

“Sozen.”

“Sozen? Sozen… Sozen… ah here it is. Oh! Ran, as in R, A, N? I thought it was with an O, no wonder I didn’t find you.”

“Uh… yeah, there’s no O. It does sound pretty similar to Ron though. Lots of people make that mistake.”

It’d been a long time since I had to have this conversation with someone. I can’t remember the last time I had to speak to someone in the flesh. It’d been years since I locked myself up in my room and started working remotely from home. It’d reached the point where there was practically never a need for me to talk to others anymore.

That’s beside the point though. Just what the hell is with this situation?

Is this a dream or not? It feels too real for it to be a dream. It feels more like I’m actually reliving my first encounter with my first homeroom teacher in high school.

A deep frown formed on my face while I tried to better understand what was going on.

I’d really like to wake up if this was a dream. I’m not particularly interested in reliving the past in a dream.

Well… assuming it was a dream that is.

An absurd notion popped into my head. I was reminded of the most recent story idea I’d been playing around with in my head.

The premise was that of someone who’d only discovered what he wanted to do much later on in life and returned to his youthful years to get a head start. It was something of that nature at least. It wasn’t fully fleshed out or anything though. I hadn’t really reached the point where I’d thought of characters and their backstories for classmates and teachers or anything.

Considering how I never paid attention to those sorts of things in my youth, I could hardly even remember what any of my own classmates were like either. Even remembering their faces was difficult for me right now. As for their names… I had no idea what they were. If I saw them again I felt like I’d recognize them, but that was the extent of my memories from the days I spent in school.

After a short break in our little exchange, Mr. Oz looked at me again after he scribbled something down on the paper in his hand.

With a smile he introduced himself, “It seems you aren’t lost and didn’t enter the wrong classroom. I was hoping you had so I could say I was the first to get here. I’ve never not been the first to arrive on the first day of classes, it seems my long record has been broken. I can only blame myself for getting complacent. I’ll have you know, I used to get here an hour early on the first day of class when I initially started teaching. Back then, this would never happen.”

“I can leave and come back if you want to keep your spotless record if you want.”

“Hahaha! It’s fine, it’s fine. I’d just be seen as a petty teacher if I were to worry over such little unimportant matters.”

I felt a sense of déjàvu. This conversation was strangely nostalgic. If I wasn’t mistaken, this was precisely how things played out back then on my first day of high school as well.

I took a deep breath in and calmed my nerves. I relaxed all the muscles in my body and let the tension in my shoulders unwind. Back then I always wore a cool, composed, expressionless face. I never let any sort of emotions leak out. Even at the age of forty, things hadn’t changed much.

“Oh, that’s right, Ran, I almost forgot to introduce myself. I will be your homeroom teacher for the year. My name is Mr. Oztscheki, but most students just call me Mr. Oz for short.”

“Right… Mr. Oz.”

“Anyway, other students should start showing up soon. I should start preparing for class. If you ever need anything or want someone to talk to about anything, don’t be afraid to come and see me.” He said that with a big smile on his face.

“Sure...” I responded without showing much on my face.

He was quite the friendly approachable teacher.

“You know, you should probably smile more. You’ll be more approachable to your classmates if you do.”

“Smile more? Maybe… but that’s not something I’m very good at.” In my last year of high school, I’d practiced putting on a fake smile since I knew it was something needed in the world of scummy adults, but I was never very good at it. I always looked stiff when I tried to put on that fake smile. My eyes were dead and devoid of expression after all. Any smile with my dead eyes would appear that way.

“If you’re not good at something you can always practice. With enough practice, I’m sure you’ll be able to.”

Easier said than done.

“You don’t seem convinced.”

“That’s… not the case… I’m sure you’re probably right. Practice makes perfect.” From the experience I’d gained with writing stories over the years, I could agree with that saying to a certain extent. You could certainly become better at something with practice, but that didn’t mean you’d ever reach a satisfactory level let alone perfection.

“It’s good if you understand that.” Seeming satisfied with my response, Mr. Oz said no more and took a seat at the long teacher’s desk at the front corner of the classroom beside the window. He’d begun his preparations for today’s class. It seemed he was also taking some more time to try to familiarize himself with the student names in his class as his eyes were moving from left to right across the paper he’d just confirmed the spelling of my name with.

He likely didn’t want to botch any student’s name if he took attendance out loud today. He could just get the students to do self-introductions or something if he was that worried about it. If I remembered correctly though, that day he read out the names and had students raise their hands if they were there or not. As for whether there were self-introductions… I couldn’t remember at all. I hadn’t cared to learn about or pay attention to any of the other students in my class after all.

In my eyes, I was alone in this world. There weren’t any other people. The one I knew best was probably my teacher as I did pay attention to what was being taught at the very least to a certain extent.

While thinking over things in my head, time slowly flowed forward. I was feeling a bit tired so I folded my arms on top of my desk and rested the side of my head on top of them. I looked up at the clear sky outside the window, the sun shining brightly in the distance. 

If today was the first day of class it would mean it was September. The season, Autumn. Even though I thought this was nothing more than a dream, I was unable to wake up. Well, even if it were one, there’s not much of a rush to wake up either way. Maybe I could get some ideas for the story I’d been playing around with from this long ago dream of the past.

After a while blankly staring at the scattered clouds drifting along their way in the sky, the sound of the door sliding open came from behind again.

Since I was in a comfortable position I couldn’t be bothered to turn my head to check on the identity of the person who’d entered. It was most likely another student. But why would I care? They had nothing to do with me.

There was my story I guess, but I was so comfortable I just didn’t feel like budging an inch.

I could hear footsteps approaching closer to me but paid it no mind.

I thought they would take a seat at a desk closer to the front of the class, but against my expectations, I’d been incorrect in my judgment. They’d instead come to a stop directly to my side.

I could have turned to look at this point, but I instead closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I didn’t particularly want to interact with them. I’d rather just keep my distance and take the chance to observe the happenings in this dream as though I were an uninvolved third party.

Of course, things never played out as you wished they would.