The sun dipped lower, painting the room in soft amber as if the whole world were exhaling. My fingers flew across the keyboard, tapping frantically, headphones clamped over my ears, eyes locked on the interface.
Good. Halfway there.
I leaned back in the chair, rolling my shoulders, stretching my neck until it popped. A small moment to breathe.
Memories of yesterday's happenstance refused to leave my head.
Ayase-san...
Her bright red cheeks,
Her gentle pleading voice,
How she detonated a thermonuclear warhead straight into my heart,
How... soft and warm her hands were...
The thoughts didn't make me want to vanish into the floor.
Not anymore.
Instead they awakened an urge inside of me.
I stared at my hand. The hand that had clasped her hand. This hand... felt cold now.
My gaze drifted—first to the window, then to the bed.
Mom was sitting upright, glasses sliding slightly down her nose, her attention completely swallowed by the glow of her phone.
Re:Born Procedure — Terms and Conditions.
The words sat bold at the top of her screen.
I stared. And stared.
A heavy pressure settled behind my ribs.
I don't know much about it. I've only ever seen them on billboards downtown and infographics made for goldfish. Something about reverting your body into an infant. Like turning back time. A second chance in life.
She's at the edge of her life. I can't blame her for contemplating it.
But...
If she is reborn...
If she lose all her memories...
How would she even recognize me?
Would she still be my mother?
Would she still be the same person?
What makes as a person anyway?
The sum of their experiences?
If that's the case, then wouldn't she a stranger wearing my mother's skin?
...
She can't be seriously contemplating this… Right?
…
Right?
The room dimmed as the sun slipped below the horizon, washing everything in amber and violet. I raised myself from the armchair and stepped to the door. But when I reached for the light switch—
"Rion," Mom rasped, soft but steady. "I think… I'll take the procedure."
My breath hitched. The weight of her words were simply unbearable. And the world tilted.
I turned—cautious, weary. "…Seriously?" My voice came out thin, almost small.
I searched her eyes, desperately hoping for a sign of hesitation. There was none. Her eyes were still focused on her phone, calm and determined with resolve.
"…Mom."
Her gaze drifted to me, tired but hopeful. "Will you take care of me?" she asked.
The question struck straight through my ribs. Like she had stabbed me with worry wrapped in love.
But...
Can I truly live with the ghost of my mother...?
Would she eventually regain her memories...?
I don't know...
My hands landed on her bed railings, gripping the cold metal.
But will I take care of her...?
"Of course," I breathed.
Her lips lifted into that warm, gentle smile—the kind that made everything inside me ache, not from fear, but from a love too big to hold.
She never plays fair.
How am I supposed to say no when she smiles like that…
"But Mom… do we have enough?" I asked quietly.
She waved her hand. "Money isn't a problem. More importantly," Then her tone shifted, gaining weight.
"Do you know the requirements for the Procedure?"
...
Absolutely.
No.
Mom straightened. "Simply put; The guardians must have..."
She raised one finger. "A proper income source."
Alright. I have a stable job.
Another finger. "A stable living space."
We have a house under her name. So that's covered too.
A third—
"And a registered marriage certificate."
I twitched so violently the bed rails clattered like cymbals. "WHAT—?! M–Marriage—?!"
Mom didn't smile. She grinned. Like she was finally revealing her villain arc.
Is she joking?
Teasing?
Attempting murder by shock?
"Mom—this is serious—"
"I'm dead serious," she said, cutting sharply through my panic.
Silence followed suit, hanging heavy in the air.
My brain bluescreened. Steam probably leaked from my ears.
I opened my mouth—nothing.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"…Mom… you do realize I'm not even—I don't— I mean— I don't even have—"
"A girlfriend?" she supplied.
I flailed so hard my limbs were in four different dimensions. "M–MOTHER PLEASE—"
Her grin only sharpened as she lean closer, studying my face, seeing straight through me like a freshly cleaned pane of glass.
"Do you reallynot have a girlfriend?" She raised her eyebrows higher than the current inflation rate.
"Wh—?! I—!" I stumbled. My lungs refused to draw air and my throat refused to cooperate with my words.
Then she settled back. "You like Risa-chan, don't you?" The grin on her face dissolved into something gentle. "I'm sure you can talk to her about this."
"B-But—!" I stammered. "Marriage!"
"It's fine, Rion." she continued gently. "You have everything she could ever need." She started counting her fingers. "Income source, house, superior genetics..." Then her face twisted into something devious."Overflowing love~"
"Mother—Stop!!" I gripped the rails so hard they rattled.
"Oh my," She covered her mouth. "Don't tell me you don't intend to marry her?"
I froze.
"Ah~ My son is despicable~ Getting close to a girl but doesn't want to marry her—"
"I do!" I barked, shuddering her bed, stopping right on her tracks. Then my shoulders loosened. "...I do."
"I want to marry her..." The words came out of me like a gentle breeze. Honest. Too honest.
Then heat started rushing into my head with the force of a raging glacier.
Ah... This is bad...
I need to…
I need to—
"I need to cool down!!" I yelped, slamming my hand on the door panel.
The door hissed open and I stumbled out—
"Wha—Ayase-san?!"
She stood right outside the door. Bright red. Eyes wide. Frozen in place. Like she'd heard everything.
My heart plummeted to the earth's core.
"A-Ayase-san…?" I croaked.
Her lips parted, trembling. "I—I didn't mean to overhear that much!" she blurted.
My breath hitched.
...That much?!
Meaning she heard… something.
Which something??
ALL of the somethings?!
I felt my soul ascend and evaporate at the same time.
And Ayase-san—
Was still red. Redder than my future. She opened her mouth again, voice miniscule:
"…M-Marriage…?"
My mother killed me.
Ayase-san buried me.
And the universe tap danced on my grave.