The joy from his earlier win was a fire in his veins. As he walked home through the confetti-strewn streets, the shouts of "Happy New Year!" seemed directed at him alone.
This year, his family wouldn't have to struggle. No more patched-up clothes, no more empty promises.
A quiet, confident smile touched his lips as he saw the future laid out before him, a clear and easy road.
But the memory of that road not taken brought a bitterness to his mouth. He thought of his so-called friends, Kaito and Haru, and the day they had played along with the rich, popular kids.
He remembered the icy cold shock of water, soaking through his hoodie and saturating his books. He remembered the sting of their laughter and the words,
"Look at the poor kid trying to keep up with us."
His mind replayed the scene, a video loop of their sneering faces and the disbelief that had frozen him to the spot. It wasn't the bullies that had hurt the most, but the mocking laughter of the two boys he had called friends.
His jaw tightened, and he clenched his fist, the knuckles turning white. The weight of his phone and the fortune it held felt like a heavy armor against all the slights of his past. He looked up at the sky, the last of the fireworks fading into smoke.
"Looks like lady luck is on my side this year,"
He muttered, a grin spreading across his face.
He reached a crosswalk, the familiar signal a clear beacon of safety.
The little figure on the light turned from red to green, beckoning him forward. He took a confident step onto the street, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. He felt invincible.
"Nothing can stop me now."
The words were barely out of his mouth when a flash of brilliant white light seared his vision from the right. The roar of an engine was the last thing he heard.
The truck appeared out of the darkness, its headlights a blinding, terrifying supernova. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and the final thought that passed through his mind was a soft, ironic whisper to himself.
"I thought I was feeling lucky."
Then, there was only darkness.
He slowly opened his eyes, not to the harsh glare of a streetlamp, but to a soft, enveloping white. He wasn't lying on cold asphalt; he was standing on something that felt like a cloud, impossibly soft and buoyant.
The space stretched out in every direction, an endless, serene canvas of white. He looked down at his hands, then back at the surreal landscape.
"Did I just die? Or... was that all a dream?"
He whispered to himself, the words feeling thin and lost in the vast silence.
A wave of hot, searing anger surged through him, and he clutched his head with both hands.
" My life... my money!"
he shouted into the emptiness, his voice echoing back at him.
"How am I supposed to enjoy it now? Did God play a trick on me? I was good! What did I do to deserve this?"
The rage built inside him, a storm of injustice and frustration. All that luck, all that effort, all of it gone in an instant.
The anger soon gave way to a hollow, gut-wrenching despair. He sank to his knees, the cloud-like surface yielding beneath him. His eyes filled with tears, not for himself, but for those he had just been so sure he could save. He bowed his head, his voice cracking.
"If I'm dead… what about my family?"
A brilliant, golden light suddenly burst into existence above him, and through the dazzling glare, a figure began to descend.
As she drew closer, the form of a stunningly beautiful woman with a graceful, perfect figure and long, flowing hair became clear. She was clad in white silks that seemed to shimmer with an inner light, and four magnificent, feathery wings fanned out from her back.
She landed as lightly as a feather, the moment her feet touched the ground, her four wings dissolved into a cascade of sparkling golden dust that faded into the endless white.
A serene smile graced her lips.
"You should not stress about what had just happened,"
She said, her voice like the soft chime of a bell.
"You are dead now, and this is the space where souls like yours come to be guided."
She gestured around the vast, empty space.
"I am a guardian and a guide to the souls that reach this space. You should rejoice, for you have made it here and now have the opportunity to go to heaven to spend your eternal life."
Yukio stared at her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and utter exasperation. The despair he felt only a moment ago was now replaced with a tired cynicism. He pointed a finger at her.
"Can it get any worse now? A cosplayer in front of me is speaking nonsense."
Yukio's despair only deepened. He continued to cry, his voice a choked sob in the vast white expanse.
"I'm dead... my family... my money..."
He lamented, the two biggest losses of his life swirling together in a storm of grief.
The angel's serene expression cracked. She put a hand to her chest, her beautiful features contorting in genuine offense.
"How dare you! I am no cosplayer!"
She declared, the ethereal calm in her voice replaced by a very human frustration.
"I'm an angelic guardian, god dammit!"
She took a step closer, her perfect face on the verge of tears.
"My name is Michibiki. I am a guardian, and a guide. You will treat me with the respect I deserve!"
Her voice trembled on the final words, her dignity clearly wounded by his disbelief.
Michibiki reached out and gently helped Yukio to his feet. Before he could pull away, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight, surprising embrace.
"It's normal to grieve over one's lost life,"
She said, her voice now a warm and sincere comfort.
"But your family, even though saddened by your passing, will still live on and remember you. They will be okay."
She pulled away, her composure returning.
"Look on the bright side,"
She said, offering a small, encouraging smile.
"You still get to spend your afterlife in heaven."
Yukio took a deep, shuddering breath, the grief finally receding. He looked at her, his cynicism returning, but with a weary acceptance.
"Okay,"
He said with a sigh.
"I'll play along with you."
He looked around the infinite white space, a small sense of curiosity taking over.
"Where to now?"
Before Michibiki could answer, another golden light appeared above them, a miniature sun that descended rapidly. As it drew closer, the light faded to reveal a new figure: a small boy, who appeared to be no older than ten or thirteen. He was dressed in shimmering golden and silver silks, a thick gold chain hanging from his neck. His hands were adorned with silver and gold rings on every finger, and a silver crown sat slightly askew on his head.
He landed in a flash of light, his expression an easy-going grin.
"Whoa, Yukio buddy,"
he said, his voice was high and boyish, filled with a youthful confidence.
"You don't gotta go to heaven. It's, like, sooooo boring there. No fun at all. Just trust me on this."
Michibiki immediately bowed her head, her hand pressed to her chest in a gesture of utmost respect.
"It's a pleasure to be in your presence,"
she said, her voice reverent.
"Lord Fukui."