❝ anterograde amnesia ❞

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chapter o8.
─ inability to
make new memories

To find a diamond in the rough could be the only job you could do for the rest of your life and not get paid until you find that precious stone.

But when you do find it, you'll see a spectrum of colors. The twist is, this spectrum doesn't just end with violet.

It starts with a passionate crimson, blending into something even more profound. Crimson blooms into love — of family, of friends, of that one person you yearn for.

No, sologamy wasn't an option.

Not because I didn't love myself. Self-love was the first step to feeling something special for someone else.

But because that particular shade of crimson had always, tirelessly and selflessly, tied itself to two people from their births, signifying who belonged to whom; revealing the world of colors to the soulmates chosen by the red ribbon.

I realized, as I looked down at my wrist and the fresh, red marks etched upon it, that I had another half too.

But the question was, how did we grow so old? Where had the time flown by?

— ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ —

"B-but, y-you look so old!"

Mama's expression was a mixture of sadness and weary resignation, but beneath that, there was a tired smile, a grin that still reached her eyes. "I hope I still look just as good."

"Mama!" I exclaimed, my frustration evident at her dry humor.

She laughed softly, but what followed was heart-wrenching. A single tear fell, quickly followed by a torrent from her azure eyes, as if a dam had burst.

I reached out hesitantly, attempting to wipe them away. The drip injection on the back of my hand slipped off painfully. She pulled me into a hug, and I soaked in the warmth she offered. It felt... nice... good even.

"Oh, dear, oh. Oh. I'm glad you're okay now. Oh, thank the saints. Oh!"

"O-okay now?" I asked, perplexed by her repeated "ohs." "What was wrong with me all along? Where's my Pengwing plushie?"

Mama's laughter was followed by a solemn tone. "You were diagnosed with anterograde amnesia nearly twelve years ago.

"I don't know if you remember, but you were at a summer camp in Pallet Town. You slipped over a rock and hit your head hard.

"The incident caused this condition," she sniffed, and I placed a comforting hand on hers. So much had happened? "You could never form any new memories, sweetie."

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my pounding heart.

He still had those familiar honey-specked chocolate eyes that glowed brilliantly when the sunlight hit them just right. His messy hair, with bangs that fell over his eyes, was as irresistible as ever. I longed to run my fingers through it, to experience cafune.

And his smile – it was the same, with that slight upturn of the left side of his lip over the right. Even though his smirk was softer now, it still carried the same zeal I remembered. I remembered.

His mouth moved, and though his words were soft, they felt like a delicate whisper meant for only me.

"Hey, Serena-chan. I'm Ash. Ash Ketchum."

His smile widened as he took my hand in his, and instantly, all the turmoil in my heart settled into a comforting calm.

"You—"

"Watashi wa anata ga watashi-tachi to atarashī omoide o tsukutte kureru koto o negatte imasu. Watashi to issho ni."

I smiled, feeling a profound understanding of every word he spoke. His voice was like a parable from heaven, soothing and gentle.

❝ All I do hope is you'll form new memories with us. With me. ❞