"Huh?" I mused as the sound of the flute filled the air.
Did I—oh, man...
"Long time no see. How are you, Harumei, or should I say Itsuki?"
"Long time no see. I'm fine, but what am I doing here? Isn't this the place where we met when I was reincarnated on my 13th birthday? Why am I here again?"
"What else? You died!" he said nonchalantly, a small smile playing on his lips.
"...Sorry, I think I misheard you. Can you repeat that?" I replied, forcing a smile despite the turmoil swirling inside me.
"You died," he said again, his smile unchanged.
"WHAT? HOW DID I DIE? WHAT HAPPENED TO LINDA? SHE WILL BE SO SAD! HOW CAN YOU MAKE ANOTHER MISTAKE, GOD?"
"Calm down! For your information, I didn't make any mistakes. You died while sleeping," he pouted, resembling a small child.
I took a moment to breathe deeply, trying to find some semblance of calm. Okay, if God hadn't made a mistake, then maybe I shouldn't blame him. Good, I seem to have calmed down now.
"...What about Linda?" I asked, desperate for some reassurance.
"Do not worry; she is happy. She is alive, although she was very sad when you died," he replied, a hint of sadness flickering across his face.
"That's a relief, so what now?" I asked, "What will happen to me?"
'I want to have a talk with you for quite some time.' He said and flicked his finger, and suddenly the broad, empty, white room transformed into a vast grassland with a small hill. There was a table with 2 chairs.
'Can you please sit down? It is quite an urgent matter.
"Okay," I said while trying not to shudder
I haven't seen him so serious. I hope it isn't something dangerous.
The grassland was quiet, save for the faint whistle of the wind brushing past us. God sat across from me, fingers steepled, his calm aura strangely heavy. My chest tightened. Something was wrong.
'Itsuki… no, Harumei,' he said softly, as though weighing every syllable. 'There is news I can't hide from you. Your parents… the ones back on Earth… they've passed away.'
The words struck like lightning. My breath hitched, and for a moment, my mind went blank. "…What… did you just say?"
'They lived long lives,' God continued gently, his flute resting on the table. 'But time caught up to them. They wished for only one thing at the end—that they could see you again.'
My hands trembled. Memories I had buried deep—my mother's warm smile as she meditated, my father's steady hand on my shoulder, the tears in their eyes when I lay dying—came flooding back.
"I can't… I can't see them ever again, can I?" My voice cracked.
'You can.'
And then I felt it: a shift in the air. I turned. At the crest of the small hill stood two familiar figures. My mother, her sari fluttering in the breeze, her eyes shining with tears. My father, tall and strong as ever, though lined with age, his gaze locked on me.
"Ha–Harumei…" My mother's voice broke as she ran toward me. "It's really you."
"Son…" My father's voice was deeper, steadier, but I could hear it trembling.
I couldn't hold it in anymore. I sprinted toward them, collapsing into their embrace. The warmth, the familiar scent, the way their arms closed around me—I had dreamed of this moment for so long.
"Mom… Dad…" Tears poured down my face, my words choked and broken. "I missed you. I thought I'd never see you again."
My mother stroked my hair as she used to when I was little. "We missed you, too. Every single day."
"You grew up well," my father said, his hand firm on my shoulder. "We thought of you often. We prayed you'd be safe, wherever you were."
I laughed through my tears, shaking my head. "Safe? Dad, I got hit by a truck and then reincarnated in a whole other world! And even here, I kept getting into trouble."
They chuckled, the sound like music to me. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed—just a family talking, laughing, together again.
"I… I wanted to apologize," I whispered, my chest heavy. "For leaving you like that… for making you cry."
"No," my mother said firmly, cupping my face in her hands. "It was never your fault. Not once did we ever blame you. We were proud of you then, and we are proud of you now."
My father nodded. "You carried a heavy burden, son. But look—you still smile, you still laugh. That's enough for us."
I held them tighter, afraid they'd disappear. "I love you… both of you."
"And we love you," they replied in unison. Their voices overlapped, warm and full of a love that death itself could not erase.
We stayed like that for what felt like forever, the grassland swaying gently around us. Finally, my parents pulled back, smiling through their tears.
"We'll always watch over you," my mother said. "No matter what world you're in."
"Remember," my father added, "you're never alone. Even when you think you are."
I nodded, biting back more tears. I wanted to freeze this moment, to live inside it forever.
But then God's voice broke the silence. He had been watching quietly, his flute resting on the table. His calm eyes met mine, and for once, I saw a gravity in them that unsettled me.
'Itsuki, now that you've had this reunion… there's something important I need to talk to you about.'
The warmth of my parents' embrace lingered, but the weight of his words settled like stone in my chest. Something told me—whatever came next would change everything...
To Be Continue<<<