Eating Lunch Alone Apr 21, 2019 22:26:22 GMT
Post by Diego Lacosta Santos on Apr 21, 2019 22:26:22 GMT
Tokyo may have been a diverse city, but those who weren't Japan-born tended to be Chinese, or Korean, Brazilian, or Filipino, or, (of course) American. Even in such a city, though, Diego hardly fit in, and not just because he was from none of those countries. For starters, he didn't know the language, though given recent events that was starting to become less of a problem. Outwardly he chalked it up to diligent study, but he knew it was really because one of his auditory hallucinations spoke Japanese - 'Psychemon.' How could she know when he didn't? Diego couldn't be sure, but it he was sure it was about the only good thing that ever came from his condition.
That condition, in his mind, was the real isolator. Who wanted to be friends with the weird kid? Diego was the kid who always muttered to himself, or just spoke out loud when he thought he was alone. He was the one who never seemed to have been focused when called upon and who struggled to comprehend simple questions just because of his disorganized thinking. It didn't shock him that he hadn't made any friends in Tokyo yet, though it did make him a little sad to eat alone when he used to be surrounded, laughing and joking and getting in the usual sort of trouble for a boy his age.
Eating lunch outside made him feel a little less bad about being alone. He liked being outdoors... and having lots of escape routes. But mostly being outdoors. He had a particular tree under which he liked to eat his bagged lunch, and like any other day, there he was doing just that. His hair and uniform were both disheveled, which was odd considering how perfectly symmetrical everything in his sandwich was. However, maybe 'alone' wasn't an accurate description of the way he ate lunch after all. He was never really alone anymore.
"Ya heard 'em, right?" Even though no one else could hear the female voice of Psychemon, Diego could never stop hearing it.
"I heard 'em," Diego answered, "Doesn't mean anything."
"How could the playground be bent and burned except from our battle?"
"It's not. The kids I heard talking about it weren't real, just like you. Dr. Clives is just gonna say the exact same thing when I tell him about it."
But what most people would've seen out of that exchange was a boy chatting in Spanish with nobody - and a full mouth, too.