My name is Takeshi Sato. I'm a theoretical and experimental physicist — yes, you heard that right. I have two majors. Some call me a genius, but the truth? I'm just a nerd who spent his entire life studying. It's not that I loved it; it was simply what the times demanded.
But that doesn't matter now. I think I've been hit by a car. I can't feel my body—I can't move. I suppose this is the end. At least no one will miss me. Well… maybe my co-workers will, for a day or two, before they forget.
Maybe I'll finally get to see what heaven looks like.
Then a sharp, unbearable pain shot through my spine. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Hell lasted only a few seconds, and then everything went black. No pain, no light—just an endless, suffocating void.
Strangely, I felt calm. I wondered if this was heaven, or hell, or something else entirely. Minutes passed in that pitch-dark nothingness, and I couldn't help feeling disappointed. I hadn't lived; I hadn't discovered anything. I had no wife, no girlfriend, no close friends. I always dreamed of adventure, but that, too, had failed.
I had wasted forty-three years.
But then I imagined another life—one where I was free to follow my heart, to live for the moment, to chase the thrill, the adrenaline rush that made life worth living. I would answer to no one, wait for no consequences.
Then suddenly, everything went white for a few seconds. Then black again. Slowly, I began to feel my body. It was as if I had lived through the worst nightmare imaginable—and now, finally, I was awake.
I opened my eyes. I was in a room I had never seen before. The ceiling was made of warm, polished wood, unlike anything I'd known. I lay in a bed, my body drained of strength. I realized I hadn't died—but when I tried to sit up, something felt… wrong.
My hands were small. My legs were small. I touched my head. Panic surged through me. I was in a child's body. It felt impossibly real. It wasn't a dream—I knew it because it felt every bit as tangible as reality itself.
I thought perhaps I was reliving my own childhood, but no… I hadn't been this pale as a child, and we had never lived in a wooden house. Confusion and panic roiled through me, but after a few minutes, I managed to calm myself.
Then I noticed something else. There were no lights, no lamps, no power outlets. It felt like a house from a time long before electricity, entirely reliant on sunlight. Had I somehow traveled back in time? It would explain everything… but I wasn't sure.
That's when I heard a door open. A young girl stepped in, barely in her teens, dressed in a classic black-and-white maid uniform. She carried a small wooden tub in her hands. And then she screamed:
"The young master has woken up!"
I jumped. My heart began to pound. Heavy footsteps followed her voice, growing louder by the second. I realized… they were calling me "young master."
The maid stepped aside, and the door slammed open with a loud bang. My pulse raced. I was in trouble. And then, a woman leapt toward me, touched my face, and kissed my cheek. She wasn't angry; she was worried. Then she wrapped me in a hug.
It was strange, but comforting. Warm. I let myself be held, letting the emotion wash over me. This wasn't practical behavior—it was purely instinct, purely heart. For a moment, we just stayed like that.
Then she looked into my eyes. "How are you feeling, Arnold?"
Arnold. The name shocked me. This wasn't my body—it was Arnold's.
And then something even stranger: she wasn't speaking English or Japanese, but in my mind, I understood her perfectly. Every word. I just knew what she meant.
I looked at her more closely. Too young to be a mother, pale skin, pointed ears… What was going on?
I asked, confused, "Who are you?"
Her expression told me to stop joking. This was serious.
And then she said: "Look. It's your mother."