Disclaimer: I do not own PoT. However, this fanfiction is completely my responsibility (in other words, my fault)

Part 1



"Thank goodness, he's alive!" "Hey, can you hear me?" "Someone, call an ambulance!"

…Are they talking to me? Are they talking about me?


"He's not responding!" "Is he unconscious?" "No, don't think so. Look, he's muttering something."


"Did someone catch the license plate?"

…hurts…help me…Momo-sempai…

"We're losing him! Where's the goddamn ambulance?" "KID! HEY KID! STAY WITH US!" "Wake up!" "You can't sleep, not now!" "Is that a siren? Thank god…" "Is it too late?"



He couldn't open his eyes. They just wouldn't open. He tried to lift one arm to rub his eyes, but his limbs wouldn't cooperate. He attempted to speak, to call for help, but he couldn't make his lips move the way he wanted them to. What came out was so quiet his own ears could barely hear it.


What the heck was Momo? What was he saying? Why couldn't he tell people what he needed?

"Good, he's awake." "Do you think he'll be ok now?" "Well, he's mainly ok. No internal ruptures, just broken bones and his head." "Yeah… but that head injury…" "He has a bad concussion, and there's bleeding in the cranium that could cause amnesia. How extensive, we can't say now." "We'll just have to wait and see, observe him for a while. Hopefully he'll be fine…" "Oh, were they able to contact anyone?" "No, the witnesses said the driver stole his bag. The kid has no ID, no phone, nothing except the clothes on his back." "Crap, that's gonna be troublesome." "Did they at least get the license plate?" "Yeah, but it was a stolen car." "Better and better, huh?"

Someone… somebody… help him…

He felt himself fading into the darkness once again.


"Hey, can you hear me?" He faintly registered a kind voice asking the question. He had to answer somehow. Nodding was beyond him, he couldn't make a sound at all today; the only thing he could do was twitch his fingers, so he did that. "Did you see that? There was a response." Now what? What was going on… "Ok, we're going to ask you some questions now. Twitch once for no, twice for yes. Can you understand me?" Twitch, twitch. This was hard, actually. Had he always had such difficulty moving? "Ok. Good. Now, do you know your name?" Name? His name… his name… Twitch. "Are you saying you don't know your name?" Twitch twitch. "Jesus. Jesus Christ. He doesn't know his name. This must be a bad one." "Ok, can you tell me what country you're in?" …Twitch. "Shit. He forgot everything." "All right, last question. Do you remember anything that happened?" Pain. Does pain count? Twitch twitch. "Ok, at least he remembers a little of the accident. We'll ask him more when he can move a bit better." Footsteps into the distance. He slept.


He could sit up now, even be fed a little food. He had the slightest impression that being fed was shameful, but he couldn't think why. He lay in his bed, surrounded by white sheets, white pillows, white walls. Had the world lost colour?

No, no it hadn't. Some people walked in with black hair- but still wearing white robes. Evidently it was just common to use white. Why white? It made no sense.

"Ok, he's sitting up. Can he talk?"

"I'm right here, you know."

Silence from the people dressed in white. Who were they? Did they know him? Why would they help him otherwise?

"So, you can talk. Do you mind if we ask a few questions?"

"No, go ahead. At least it means you know I'm here."

One of them, with longer black hair and a curvy body, nodded and said, "Ok, he can still talk, so he didn't forget that. He also has a clever tongue."

His tongue wasn't clever, was it? Could it really move on its own? He stuck it out to test that theory.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"I'm seeing if my tongue is clever."

"And how are you doing that?"

"I'm seeing if it moves on its own."

Laughter. "He may be able to talk, but he seems to have forgotten what idioms and colloquial language are."

… What was an idiom? And what the heck was colloquial language?

"Ok, so… do you know your name?"

Questions. "I don't think so. I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"I… I don't know…"

"Ok, we'll leave that aside for now. Do you know what country you're in?"


"Hmm… Ok, do you remember anything from the accident?"




"Ok. Anything about what happened?"

"No. Just pain."

"Ok. Man, you don't say much, do you?"


A sigh. "Ok, last question for today. Is there anything you remember, anything at all?"




"Well, what is it?"

"… I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know what it means, or if it means anything."

"Well, can you tell us what it is?"

"… Momo."



"Hmm… sounds to me like a nickname."


"Or a name of a stuffed animal or something."


"Is this what you meant when you said you didn't know if you knew your own name?"


"Well, the most important thing in your life is usually the thing that leaves the strongest memory. Because one's name is almost always the most familiar, it tends to be the only thing remembered in extreme cases. So, for now, we'll call you Momo, alright?"


They left.


Momo… he liked that name. But somehow, it didn't seem right. Like it wasn't his name. But they said a person's name is the most important thing, right? If it's remembered first, wouldn't it have to be important? This was confusing. Who exactly was he? Did it really matter? What was a name worth anyways? It was just something that people called you, right? Right?

Momo… he fell asleep with that name on his lips.


"Momo! Get up! It's time for some exercise!"

It had been a long time already. He was getting used to being called Momo now. Maybe it really was his name. Maybe just being disoriented had accounted for the strangeness of it at first. Or maybe just being called that name over and over slowly made it his. If they suddenly started calling him Jeff, would he come to accept that name as well? It made him wonder, gave him something to think about as he traveled up and down the stairs. The hospital- they'd told him that was where he was- had big windows, so he could see outside. Some people were out there. They were doing something on some green rectangles. The rectangles were split in half by a barrier- a net? And there were some white lines, forming a T, on the green rectangles, on each side of the barrier. It looked funny. Who would make such a thing?

Weird… some people were standing near the ends of the rectangle. He could see them holding something. It looked like a round net on a stick, except the stick had a fork in it, and it attached to the round net that way. It looked almost funnier than the rectangles. Momo let out a laugh as he limped up and down the stairs. What could they do with such a strange contraption? Then he saw one of them toss a tiny yellow speck up. Momo thought, "Is that a ball?" It was so small. How could they possibly hit it? But the person that threw the ball up swung with the net on a stick, and managed to hit the ball. Incredible. They must have great hand-eye coordination to do that. The yellow speck landed on the other side of the barrier and bounced. Now what would the other person do?

...They swung at the ball and hit it back. Momo found that really funny. What, were they just going to hit the ball back and forth? What a boring game. But he found himself drawn to it anyways. It reminded him of something…

"Momo! What are you doing? You're supposed to be exercising!" Momo winced. He didn't like this nurse. She was always really strict, and she didn't let him get anything from the drink machines. "Sorry." Momo began to walk up and down the stairs again. He wondered why he had said sorry. It wasn't like he'd done anything wrong to the nurse, right?

Life was really confusing sometimes.