Alone, Aaron drew a steady breath. Day one of ninety had begun. He turned away from the screen and walked toward the door, ready to live as a reaper and ready to claim only what fate allowed.
The black hall faded, replaced by the brightness of a busy city street.. He blinked, while trying to adjust. The air hummed with strange sounds: roaring engines, distant shouts, and human voices. He wore simple, dark clothes now, the leather replaced by soft cotton, and his sword was gone. He was just a human.
A digital screen in his vision, provided by Ikhira, flickered to life. It displayed coordinates and a name: Haruna Tanaka. Beneath it, a small image of a woman, her face serene, with long, dark hair. Her time was short. His first mission.
He found himself standing on a sidewalk, surrounded by people who moved with a bewildering urgency. They seemed oblivious to his presence, or perhaps, he was simply another face in their hurried world. His human body felt strange, it felt like a vessel of unfamiliar sensations, although it was supposed to be that way. A gnawing emptiness began in his stomach, Hunger perhaps he thought, just as Ikhira had warned him.
He followed the digital arrow on his screen, walking among the humans, trying to mimic their steps. It was a dizzying journey through concrete floor and flashing lights. The destination was a hospital, as the screen indicated. A place where lives ended, or perhaps, where they were briefly prolonged.
When he arrived, the hospital's entrance was a hive of activity. Sirens wailed in the distance, which gave him a constant reminder of the weakness of human existence. He walked through the automatic doors, the cool air inside a stark contrast to the humid street. The scent of antiseptic and something metallic hung heavy in the air.
He walked through the floor of corridors, guided by the screen, until he reached a floor filled with hushed whispers and the rhythmic sound of machines. Room 307.
He paused outside the door, the spiritual form now his default. He was invisible, intangible, a shadow among the living. He pushed through the door, and the room was a stark white. A hospital bed dominated the space. On it lay Haruna Tanaka, the woman from the screen, her chest rising and falling faintly. Beside her, a young woman, no older than twenty, knelt on the floor, her face buried in the sheets, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Himari, the screen identified her.
He floated closer to Haruna. Her spirit, was beginning to detach from her physical form. Her time was truly short. He extended his hand, one he was performing for the first time in his life as the reaper of Time, though never in this new, grim capacity.
Suddenly, Himari lifted her head. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, fixed on the empty space where he stood. A tremor ran through her body.
"Mom," she whispered, her voice hoarse, "Mom, who is that?"
Aaron froze. She could sense him. This human girl, Himari, whose life he had inadvertently altered. He had not expected this. He had been told humans couldn't perceive him in this form.
Haruna's spirit stirred, her eyes, though unfocused on the physical world, settled on him. A gentle smile touched her ethereal lips.
"It's alright, my love," Haruna's spirit projected, her voice soft, a whisper only he could hear. "He's here for me."
Himari, however, seemed to sense the shift. She lunged forward, grasping her mother's hand. "Mom, what do you mean he is here for you?, mom ... Please mom" haruna's spirit turned to Aaron, a plea in her eyes. "Grim Reaper," she said, her voice filled with a mother's love, "please, just a moment. Let me say goodbye."
Aaron felt a strange pull, a flicker of something he shouldn't feel. Empathy. He pushed it down. His mission was clear. He was not to feel. He was not to interfere. But her plea... He glanced at the monitor beside the bed. The lines on the screen were still, but they were weakening. He had two minutes, no more.
"You have two minutes," he communicated, his voice devoid of emotion, a mere thought projected into her spiritual consciousness.
Haruna's spirit nodded. She turned back to her daughter, a wave of warmth radiating from her. Himari, though still unable to see him, felt her mother's presence. She buried her face in her mother's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Himari," Haruna's spirit whispered, her voice now barely audible, "my sweet girl. I am so sorry to leave you in this world, my time has come and I hope you stay strong. Live your life fully. Remember everything I taught you. I will always be with you."
Himari clung to her mother, her cries echoing in the sterile room. "No, Mom, please! Don't leave me alone!"
Aaron watched the two minutes tick by on his internal clock. He felt nothing. He could not. This was his punishment, his duty. The line on the monitor flatlined. A harsh, continuous beep filled the room.
"MOM!" Himari screamed, her voice tearing, raw with agony. "MOM! NO! WAKE UP! PLEASE!" She shook her mother, her injured body protesting, but she didn't care. "DON'T LEAVE ME!"
Haruna's spirit, now fully detached, looked at Himari with a profound sadness that transcended human understanding. She then turned to Aaron, a quiet acceptance in her eyes. "Thank you," she said.
Aaron extended his hand. Her spirit, a wispy, luminescent form, drifted towards him. He closed his fingers around it, and the warmth of her essence dissipated into his being. It was done. Her journey was complete. He had taken her soul.
Himari's screams continued. The nurses rushed in, their faces grim, their movements quick. They tried to pull Himari away, but she fought them, her cries echoing.
He remained for a moment, an unseen observer of the raw human emotion. He felt nothing. He could not. His purpose was to escort. And so, he turned, Haruna's soul now intertwined with his being, and moved towards the unseen doorway to the afterlife, leaving behind the tears of a daughter who had just lost everything. His first mission on Earth was complete.
Now he has just 89 more to go.