"What's wrong, honey? Aren't you feeling well?"
I opened my eyes and felt my mother's gentle touch against my forehead.
The sensation was warm and ancient, just like I remembered it.
Losing myself to my mother's gentle touch, I closed my eyes, choosing to embrace the delusion before me.
"Now, now. This isn't the time for sleeping."
Before I could sink even deeper, my mother's voice prompted me back awake.
I looked at her in confusion.
She was the same as ever.
Just like me, she was born with silk-like white hair, almost as pure as snow.
Her expression was gentle like always, and her eyes, gold in color, never once wavered.
If I could describe her perfectly, it would be someone passionate in showing affection.
"Heh. She deserves it. After all, I warned her staying up all night with that brat would be a bad idea."
Unlike my mother, my father was rough around the edges.
His hair, originally the color of blonde, had been dyed to white to match my mother's.
