If you could be reborn by sacrificing every memory you've ever made, would you?
I don't mean reincarnation. I mean rebirth. You—your body—reset to infancy. Your mind wiped clean. Like traveling back in time but leaving every trace of yourself behind. If you think about it, it's almost the same as dying.
So what makes a person a person?
Is it DNA? Is it the sum of their experiences? The people who shape them?
If two people lived identical lives from birth, surrounded by the same faces, would they be the same person?
And if two people shared the same DNA but lived completely separate lives, are they still the same?
These questions have lived in my head rent-free ever since they came to speak with me and my mother. They offered her the Re:Born Procedure. I don't fully understand how it works—something about reverting the body to an infant state while erasing every memory.
It was a groundbreaking discovery fifty years ago. Controversial, expensive, the kind of thing only the ultra-rich could afford. But now… it's becoming popular. Mainstream, even.
Mom is… sick.
No—sick doesn't even begin to describe it.
Her legs are swollen with fluids her kidneys can't filter anymore. Every breath she takes is a struggle, a harsh, wet rasp, because the fluid has started filling her lungs too. And her medications? A cruel joke.
The drugs for her kidneys strain her fragile heart. The drugs for her heart tear her kidneys apart. And hovering over everything: the constant vigilance of type 1 diabetes. Three insulin shots a day. Every meal. No exceptions.
So when those corporate guys offered her the procedure, she didn't laugh it off. She genuinely thought about it.
The price they quoted was about equal to her hospital bills so far—which is a terrifying amount of money, but still only a fraction of what the procedure used to cost. She could live again. She could start over. A new body. A new chance.
But then… Would she still be my mother?
The hospital was unusually quiet that afternoon. I walked down the hall toward Mom's room, the soles of my shoes echoing softly against the polished floor. When I stepped inside, she was lying there, fast asleep. The sunlight slanted through the curtains—golden and gentle—painting the room in a warm haze as the fabric swayed lazily in the breeze.
Her stuff were packed neatly in the wardrobe. Seeing them like that made something tighten in my chest. It's been a month since she was admitted. At this point, she practically lives here.
I set my bag down on the armchair and crossed the room to close the window. A sigh slipped out before I could catch it. Today had drained me—three presentations, one after another. Ugh. And I still had a client's video due tonight.
Ahh… I just want to sleep.
But I've got to make money somehow. Mom's been using her pension to cover the hospital bills, and I can't stand the thought of adding to her burden. So I have to take care of myself.
I pulled the curtains together, dimming the room a little. The soft beeping of Mom's monitor filled the silence, steady but fragile, like it could falter at any moment. I leaned against the wall for a second, letting my shoulders drop.
Sometimes I wonder when life became… this.
Hospitals, deadlines, bills. No room to breathe. No time for breaks.
Mom always told me not to worry about her—that she'd be fine, that I should focus on school, on work, on building a future. But how am I supposed to do that when her future is slipping away more and more each day? When every time I walk into this room, I'm reminded of how much she's lost, and how much more she might lose?
I stepped closer to her bed. Her breathing was slow, uneven, but peaceful in a way that made my chest ache. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, careful not to wake her.
"I'm here, Mom," I whispered. Not that she could hear me. Or maybe she could. I don't know.
My phone buzzed in my pocket—another reminder for the video deadline. I clenched my jaw.
"Yeah, yeah… I know," I muttered under my breath.
I sank into the armchair beside her bed, sinking deeper than the cushion should've allowed. The exhaustion hit me all at once. My eyes burned. My brain felt like wet sand.
Just five minutes, I told myself. Five minutes to rest. Then I'd get back up and keep going. Because… What other choice do I have?
Ah… this armchair feels so good. Where do they buy this? Maybe I'll look it up later.
I sank deeper into the cushion, letting my head fall against the backrest. The world blurred at the edges as my eyes drifted shut.
A knock snapped me awake. The sun had dipped low, turning the room a warm amber haze. How long was I out?
"Excuse me." The door slid open, and a nurse stepped inside. Oh—it was Risa.
"Ah, Rion. Good afternoon," she flicked the lights on and gave me a little wave.
I pushed myself upright and returned the gesture. "Afternoon. Usual monitoring?"
Risa crossed the room to Mom's bedside, eyes scanning the numbers on the monitor. "Yeah. We need to adjust her portions for dinner." She scribbled something on the digital board in her hands.
She was wearing her hair in a bun today—though a few strands had escaped and slipped down her cheek. Hm. This is nice. I'm glad I came today.
I averted my gaze as she glanced over to me. Shit, she didn't notice me staring did she?
"You look swamped. Long day?" She stepped over to the other armchair.
"Uh… Yeah." I sighed.
Risa sat on the armchair, sliding the loose strands behind her ear. The light caught her brown hair, making it glint, sweet like caramel.
I've seen beauties here and there, but something about her just… hooked me. I ended up staring longer than I should've. At least before she noticed and I pretended I totally wasn't.
"Make sure you rest, okay?" Her voice was soft, warm. "You can't take care of your mother if you're also sick."
"Well, the hospital's taking care of her," I muttered, forcing a small smile, "plus you're here too."
"That's not what I meant," she said gently.
Something in her expression softened—like she could see straight through the smile I tried to hide behind.
"You're here almost every day, Rion. You look after her, but you never look after yourself."
My chest tightened a little. "I'm fine. Really."
Risa shook her head, not buying it for a second. "Being 'fine' isn't the same as being okay."
She leaned in, her hands reaching toward my face. Wait—what is she—
Her fingers brushed my temple as she gently pushed my hair aside. A quiet sigh escaped her. "Have you even slept? Look at your eyes."
Oh god. My face heated instantly. I looked everywhere except at her. Please, please tell me I'm not bright red right now.
"Wai—Risa—"
A rough, ragged breath cut through the moment.
"Sure is nice to be young," Mom's voice rasped from the bed.
Risa jerked back like she'd touched a live wire. "Ah—I… Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"Wha—Mom… you're awake?"
Mom gave a tired smile, her eyelids barely open. "Hard not to wake up with all that… flirting going on."
"F–flirting—?!" Risa practically melted into the armchair, her ears turning pink.
I shot a helpless glance between the two of them, my heart absolutely slamming in my chest.
Mom let out a weak chuckle that dissolved into a cough.
"Don't mind me," she wheezed. "Carry on."
"Mom." I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.
Risa looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.
Mom just smiled—the soft, knowing kind only mothers seem to master. A smile that hurt to look at, because of how tired it was… and how proud.
Risa jumped to her feet, clutching her board like a shield. "I—I'll go prepare your dinner now."
Before I could even blink, she bolted out of the room. The door hissed open—then shut behind her with a soft thump.
I stood there, absolutely frozen. My brain short-circuited as I stared at the door, then at Mom.
Ahh… what am I even supposed to say now?!
Mom let out a long, amused exhale. When I looked at her, she was smiling—weak but unmistakably smug.
"Risa is a nice girl," she said, dragging out the words as if savoring them. "I like her."She gave me a side-eye so blatant it should've been illegal.
Dear god. How does she still have the energy to be smug at a time like this?
"You seem to like her too," she added, turning her head slowly toward me.
Heat crawled up my neck again. "Mom—please."
Her smile softened—not teasing now, just gentle. "You do," she said. "It's written all over your face."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words didn't come. Because she was right. She always was.
Mom watched me for a moment, quietly, her eyes warm despite the exhaustion etched around them. "You deserve someone who looks at you the way she just did," she murmured.
And suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. The room felt too still. Too fragile. Like the sunlight was holding its breath.
"…Mom," I whispered.
She reached out a trembling hand toward me. "Come here, Rion."
I hesitated only a moment before moving to her bedside. The way she looked at me—soft, proud, and so unbearably tired—made something tighten in my throat.
The room deepened into blue as the last of the sun slipped past the horizon, shadows gathering in the corners like they were listening in.
"Don't wait too long," she murmured. "Life… doesn't give as much time as we think."
The words hit harder than I expected. I knew she wasn't just talking about Risa.
***
POV: Risa
Mrs. Meguriya's words echoed in my mind as I hurried down the hallway, the food tray wobbling in my hands.
F-Flirting…? Was I really flirting??
I nearly tripped at the thought. Oh no. Oh no no no. Now that I think about it… wasn't I being way too forward? What was I even doing back there? B-But… it felt like my hands just moved on their own when I saw his… eyes.
I pressed my lips together, heat crawling up my neck.
Absolutely not. Nope. Stop thinking about it. I shook my head hard enough that a nurse passing by shot me a weird look.
Focus. Dinner. Just deliver dinner. Not… whatever that was.
I stepped closer to the door. Just before I could press it open, it hissed apart on its own.
"Ah— huh? Rion—?"
He nearly walked straight into me. I jerked back, and the tray tilted dangerously in my hands.
His hands flashed out, steadying the tray before it could topple. "Ah— sorry…!"
"N-No, it's fine," I managed, though my voice came out embarrassingly small.
His fingers brushed mine as he helped me balance the tray. I froze. And then—against every ounce of self-control I thought I had—I met his eyes.
They were tired, a little dim from worry, but somehow still… warm. Too warm.
Stop staring! Stop staring!
We sprang apart at the exact same moment.
"I—I'm going to the vending machine. I'll be back!" he blurted, already speed-walking down the hallway like he was escaping a crime scene.
I stood there with the tray in my trembling hands, wondering if my heart was supposed to beat this loudly.
"Risa?" Mrs. Meguriya's voice drifted from inside the room.
"Y-Yes!" I blurted, a little too loudly.
I hurried in, and the door slid shut behind me with a soft hiss. My pulse was still racing—half from almost dropping the tray, half from him—but I forced my hands steady as I set the dinner tray onto the overbed table.
"Here you go, Mrs. Meguriya," I said, pushing the table gently toward her as she adjusted her bed upright.
She gave me a small smile. There was a glint in her eyes—familiar, knowing—that almost made me look away.
I swallowed, trying to focus on the food rather than the echo of Rion's gaze in my mind.
Ahh... I need to calm down...
"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Meguriya said as I settled the tray in front of her. She picked up the spoon with trembling fingers, so I helped guide her hand just a little. She noticed, and smiled. "You're always so gentle."
I felt my cheeks warm. "Well... I'm just doing my job."
"Mhm." She took a small bite, then glanced at the door Rion had vanished through. "My son… he's a handful, isn't he?"
I let out a tiny laugh. "He's… energetic."
"And stubborn," she added. "He won't admit it, but he rarely sleeps. He thinks I don't notice." Her eyes softened. "He's been carrying everything on his back since his father passed."
My heart tightened a little. I didn't know that.
Mrs. Meguriya continued, her voice dipping to a thoughtful hum. "He doesn't let himself rest unless someone reminds him to." She looked at me—really looked. "But today, when you touched his face… he didn't flinch away. That boy jumps at his own shadow normally."
I froze. "T-That was—! I didn't mean to—"
"I know." She chuckled softly. "You care. Even if you haven't realized it yet."
My breath caught.
Care…?
Before I could find a reply, the door hissed open.
Rion stepped in, slightly out of breath, holding a canned coffee in one hand and a jelly drink in the other. He stopped mid-step when he saw us.
"A-Ah… I, um—got these." He held them up like evidence. "For me. I mean—one's for me, one's for Mom. Not both for me. I mean—"
He was rambling. His ears were turning a soft red.
Mrs. Meguriya hid a smile behind her spoon.
I… couldn't help smiling too.
He set the jelly drink beside the tray.
"You can have it," Mrs. Meguriya said, flicking her hand dismissively.
"Huh?" Rion raised a brow. "No way. This is your favorite."
"Boy." Her voice sharpened—soft with age but still carrying that mother authority. "You haven't eaten anything today, have you? Look at you. I don't remember giving birth to a skeleton."
Rion recoiled. "Wha— I—"
She didn't let him finish. "Don't even try. I can tell. I'm your mother."
I couldn't help the small chuckle that slipped out.
Mrs. Meguriya pushed the jelly drink closer to him, insisting.
Rion hesitated, scratching his cheek. "Nooo. I'll just take whatever leftovers you don't want." His eyes drifted hopefully to her tray.
"Nuh-uh." She wagged a finger. "I'm finishing this."
"Huh?? But the food looks so good today…" Rion slumped in defeat.
"Exactly." She huffed triumphantly. "Which is why it's mine."
My eyes shifted between them and the tray. Wait—
"You've been eating her leftovers?" I asked, tilting my head.
Rion turned to me like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Hm? …Yeah."
A realization clicked so hard I almost heard it. I touched my chin thoughtfully.
"So that's why her plates were always spotless…" I muttered.
Rion flinched. "No— wai—"
"Yeah, that's right." Mrs. Meguriya fixed him with a razor-sharp stare. "He's only been eating leftovers."
"Wait— hang on—"
"You've only been eating leftovers??" The words slipped out before I could stop them. "That's not healthy! You have to eat, Rion!"
He went completely still, like someone had hit pause on him.
"This boy…" Mrs. Meguriya sighed, shaking her head. "Usually I'd drag him to a proper restaurant myself. But I can't exactly go anywhere in this condition, huh?"
Her brow lifted—slowly, deliberately—as her gaze slid toward me.
"Unless…" she added, "someone else can drag him for me."
…What?!
"What?!" Rion blurted at the exact same time.
Heat rushed up my neck so fast it almost made me dizzy.
Is— is she expecting me to take him out?
H-Huh???
What am I supposed to say to that?!
"M-Mom… I think you need to cool down…" Rion edged toward her bedside carefully, as if approaching a ticking bomb.
"You be quiet!" she snapped at him, then broke into a cough. When she looked back at me, her eyes were startlingly clear. "So, Risa. Will you go out with my son?"
I froze.
"Mother!!!" Rion yelped, voice cracking in pure panic.
Go out?!
Go out?!
My vision wobbled for a second—my heart thudding so loudly it felt like the whole room could hear it.
"Ah, I mean go out," she clarified, completely deadpan. "Like outside. To a restaurant."
Oh my god. What is wrong with me?!
The two of them bickered—Rion sputtering, Mrs. Meguriya poking at him with that sharp tongue—while I tried to pull my soul back into my body.
"So?" Mrs. Meguriya asked again, pinning me with a knowing stare. "What do you say?"
I opened my mouth, but the words lodged in my throat. Both of them were looking at me—waiting.
Rion looked exhausted. Pale. And if he really hadn't been eating properly… That wasn't healthy. Someone needed to make him eat something real.
Mrs. Meguriya was counting on me.
"My—"
"'My?'" she echoed, leaning in.
I dropped my gaze, letting my hair fall to hide the heat flooding my face.
"My shift ends at eight…" A breath caught in my chest. "Let's go have dinner after."
…
I said it.