The wheels of his lone suitcase dragged on the floor, producing an unreasonable noise. Riku didn’t transport many belongings. His only luggage consisted of a single suitcase. He believed that he would be living in the future, not the past, so any reasoning to take many small trinkets was now irrational. Besides, his personal room didn’t contain many possessions—only essential things. He wasn’t one to collect and allow things to accumulate; all he needed were his indispensable memories. As long as it was a treasured memory, then he should be able to extract the memory and relive that experience. This compilation of them unexpectedly included his worst ones. If anything, they were one of the more important recollections. He needed to remind himself of the malicious actions he had caused. If he lost his grasp over them, then the events might mirror each other once more.
While he would return to Ouran, but his new experience would slightly differ from his previous time, even if a minor span of months had elapsed. He had been assigned to a new, vacant room. Although having a whole area to himself did have some appeal, it didn’t appease the male. That meant that he would have to maintain the entire space, which, he had conceded, was commodious. Not to mention that the unnerving quiet emptiness would also affect his disposition. But he could gradually become accustomed to it. A simple, solitary life similar to the one he had during his embarkment. It would eventually become a little lonely, but it should be bearable. He wasn’t going to shut himself in his room after class time elapsed, so he could still converse with others. Continuing to meander towards his room, the Master passively repeated the digits that had been etched into the cavities of his databanks: 603.
603.. 603.. 603..
He usually wouldn’t forget something this simple, but it was always a plausible thing that wouldn’t appear to be a pleasant mistake. He would have to drag his suitcase along with himself back to the main office and implore for his room number. It was a manageable distance, but retracing his steps after this much progress wasn’t enjoyable. Exerting extra, unnecessary labor in this fervid weather wouldn’t appeal to the average person (unless, of course, that person was someone coveting to either dismiss time by spending it outside or one who enjoyed exercising) and he, being one himself despite several seemingly unrealistic abnormalities (including his ability to brandish an oversized key), had an aversion to such an act.
The irritating clamor of the wheels ended. The entrance to his room appeared before him. Grasping the cold handle contrasting to the summer’s ardent heat, the youth opened the door with a gentle nudge. The typical, uniformed dorm room of Ouran was displayed. It was identical to every one of them lined through the hall. “..Just as big as I remember,” he breathed. Conveying his suitcase to the bedroom on the left, he claimed it as his own. The direction of left suited him more than right. Right had an alternate meaning—correct. When somebody is right, something that they discussed or did is correct. Left’s other meaning would be ‘gone’. When an individual has left, they are gone. Riku wasn’t a ‘right’ person; his actions in the past had no sense of rationality nor justice. Left had been a reminder that he was the one who had ‘gone’. He was the one who had left those islands.
Situating his suitcase near his bed, he placed it so that when it was unzipped, the contents wouldn’t flow out. He began to gingerly tug at the zippers that sealed the suitcase, its ‘guts’ being revealed. The process nearing its end, he heard the sounds of footsteps crossing through the hall. Their echoes intersected each other, creating the problem of the person’s location. With each second, they neared the room. While he doubted it was a person other than a student, his other, alarmed counterpart gave him a reminder to close the door. Quietly treading to the entryway, he noiselessly shut the door. The footsteps had stopped. Returning to his room, he detected a shadow settled inside. A person had materialized.
Of course, the male, who hadn’t been expecting anybody, was speechless.
”..Did you enter before I shut the door?”