Welcome to my mystical interpretation of my life. But before we dive in, let's start with introductions. I'm Yamada Tanjimo. Not the most remarkable name, I know, much like my life. I'll be your narrator, though I don't expect you to follow my every...
Strolling amidst the bustling crowd, faces blurred into a sea of humanity. It was rush hour, after all, so the throngs were anticipated. Yet, what caught me off guard was the palpable unease gnawing at me-anxiety, perhaps, heightened by my perception.
Before delving into my desires and decisions, allow me to introduce myself. I am Tanjimo Yamada, a student at Kurogane High School. Truth be told, there are rumors swirling about this school, but we can explore that in depth later.
My father, a renowned psychologist, orchestrated my parents' divorce before I was even born, convincing my mother to leave me in his care. Needless to say, I had no say in the matter.
From the moment I entered this world, I was under my father's care-literally. My recollections of those early days are understandably hazy, clouded by infant amnesia. Yet, according to a research paper I stumbled upon, my birth marked the onset of my parents' divorce, and my mother vanished from my life entirely. I was left in the sole custody of my father. However, he wasn't abusive, far from it. In fact, he was something much worse.
"...A pale white room, where subjects must wear nothing but the prescribed clothing, at least during the initial years of this test. Isolation within the designated capsule is mandatory. Their needs will be attended to by Secretary Kaori Yamamoto, while Yamada himself must ensure the maintenance of the capsule..." These were the words of the research paper if I recall correctly.
I was nothing but a mere test subject to my father, treated no better than a lab rat. To delve deeper, my father had been selected by a certain government group to conduct research, funded by their resources. Naturally, he wasn't willing to relinquish such a lucrative opportunity. So, employing his skills as a psychologist, he manipulated my own mother into giving up custody of me, ensuring I fell under his control.
After my birth, I spent my first 5 months enclosed within a capsule-yes, you heard that right, a fully isolated capsule. Fortunately, it was constructed entirely of glass, affording me the ability to observe my surroundings. This capsule was meticulously designed to guarantee the safety and comfort of an infant, and it certainly delivered on that promise. While my memories of that time are scant, I can confidently attest that those were the most comfortable days of my life.
However, there was one thing this capsule couldn't replicate: the maternal love that all infants crave-indeed, deserve.
I naturally cried, screamed, and whimpered, trying everything to attract attention. However, the capsule was specifically designed to suppress my cries-it had to be. After all, the cries of a baby have a way of disarming even the most resolute individuals.
However, a woman was moved by the mere sight of me. I vividly remember her opening the capsule. Whether it was day or night, how long I had been there, or who this person was-those questions didn't arise, mostly because I was an infant, but also because she held me close to her chest. I still recall her voice, the way her hair fell across my face, her comforting warmth. While I don't remember her face quite clearly, that moment marked the first time since my birth that I was held by someone. Sadly, it would also be the last.
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