Epilogue for a Forgotten Life

Arata took a slow, soothing breath. 

He still had lungs. He was alive. Or was he? 

He didn’t dare open his eyes, but he could tell the ground was no longer shaking; he couldn’t hear any of the screams from before either. 

In fact, he couldn’t hear anything. Not even Hana’s breath. She was gone.

Was he still on the cliffside? The floor felt smoother than marble beneath his feet, but not as cold. 

He realized from the sensation that he wasn’t wearing his socks or shoes anymore; actually, he couldn’t feel any of his clothes. He was naked, yet he didn’t feel warm or cold, and he didn’t feel exposed.

He intuitively knew he was alone. Hana, Toma, Toma’s dad… no one in that moment existed but him. It was strange though. He was alone now, yet he felt infinitely more lonely back when this journey first began.

Arata steeled himself. He knew his only sense left to explore was sight, yet his fear was overwhelming his curiosity.

 He didn’t want to ruin this sense of tranquility. Is this how microbes or plants feel? Content to just exist. No desire. He almost felt envy. 

The bliss of not having to think. To just stay sentinel and focus inward. His body took in air and pumped blood to his organs.

It was curious though. He could feel his heart pumping and his chest heaving in and out, but he couldn’t feel any air. He felt a swell of panic and opened his eyes.

Nothing happened. He assumed he’d see a white endless void, but there was no light here, no air.

"Welcome."

Arata had expected it. The voice that started all this. It sounded both warm and cold, young and ancient, male and female. It was an impossible sound that didn’t come from without but within.

Arata tried to speak but couldn’t.

"Do not stress yourself, child," the voice echoed. "We can hear your thoughts."

We? Arata thought. Who is we?

"We are the All. You are the One. We are what becomes of the One, and you are what becomes of the All."

Arata wasn’t sure what to make of that. You’re what? The shared consciousness of humanity?

"Nothing so limited. Human exceptionalism is something that bears no weight here," the voice replied. "We are nothing more and nothing less than an ocean. The spring where all souls spring forth from, and where all souls may return to once their vessels expire."

It felt like the floor or whatever he stood on shifted beneath Arata slightly, making him sway. They may return? It’s not a given?

"It is not. A soul must accept its mortality and live selflessly to acclimate itself to the possibility of rejoining us."

Arata couldn’t accept all this. So I’m dead? Gaia… it’s…

"Your grief is natural, however, it is quite unnecessary. At least for one like you."

Like me? I don’t understand. What was the point of it all? Why tell us the end was coming? That was your voice, right? No more riddles! Explain!

"You presume you can command us, child? We are the collected will of eons. Shouting at us is as futile as commanding a tree to move."

Arata felt light shine onto his eyes, and slowly his surroundings took on more shape as his vision began to acclimate. It started with a mere glimmer, blurry, like foggy breath on a windowpane at the height of winter.

That soft radiant glow began to seep into the nothingness all around and the nothingness took form. It was slow, but soon his surroundings came into focus, like mist, forming swirling patterns like ripples across an infinite plane.

It stretched and folded, like threads of sunlight. A grand glowing tapestry. He stared, entranced. This was the All… what became of humanity after death. He felt awe. Arata calmed himself and continued his questions with more caution.

You spoke of judgment. What did that mean?

"The message was an opportunity. One that some squandered, and others, like you, grasped."

An opportunity?! You warned us of an end that was unavoidable! Why cause such panic? Why give some of us false hope it could be changed?

"The point of life isn’t to prolong itself, child."

Are you going to tell me what the point is? Arata’s frustration and helplessness were starting to overpower his awe now. He finally felt like he was getting the answers he craved, yet he couldn’t understand them.

"You are fortunate we did warn you. Under normal circumstances, a person like you would never have proven themselves worthy."

Arata didn’t know how to reply. How did I prove my worthiness to you?

"To join with us and move on, one must accept the inevitability of their death and separate themselves from their own ego by doing selfless acts. For a brief moment, near the end of your life, you achieved a state of true selflessness. With the end coming, this past year was your generation’s last opportunity to achieve what we have. Our warning was to make you aware of that. Most humans turned inward and focused on themselves. Their regrets, their wants, their safety. You, however, showed a determination to help another resolve their affairs and achieve contentment."

Arata remembered how he felt trying to ensure Toma got the second chance with his father. The chance Arata never had. 

So that makes me worthy of what? Joining you? Losing my individuality? Arata wasn’t sure if he cared if he couldn’t be himself anymore. He wasn’t sure anything so trivial mattered. All he had was a sense of curiosity.

"It is an irony of existence. Only those who surrender their sense of self are afforded the opportunity to maintain it. While we are a collective, we are also a community. At any moment, we can allow one of our drops to separate from the ocean for a time. It is our own will that we remain as we do."

Can you show me?

"Certainly."

In an instant there was a light. Arata found himself in an endless golden field. 

The rice field he cycled past every day. The very field where Hana and he played all those years ago. He could feel all the things that were missing before. 

The sun’s heat cooked his skin. The wind flowed through his hair. And he could feel the unevenness of the soil beneath his feet.

"We chose this location from your memories, but I didn’t expect to recognize it myself." A high-pitched voice echoed behind Arata. He turned.

Before him was a beautiful woman, as naked as he was. Yet strangely, Arata didn’t balk at this. Such trivial things didn’t seem to matter to him in this place. She looked a few years his senior. Her gray eyes shone with quiet, yet proud strength.

Arata found his voice again. "W-who are you?"

"You must have some idea." The woman smiled, calm and knowing. “I have watched you struggle on my account from within the All.”

Arata blinked, realization dawning without effort. "Minakasa."

She inclined her head, her long dark hair lifting slightly in the breeze. Her expression was warm, but a subtle sadness lingered beneath her eyes. 

"We may have lived centuries apart, but this is a special place to both of us. I used to help my father with the harvest before my dreams started."

"Your dreams? You mean your prophecies?"

"It’s nothing so mystical," she replied. "As you’ve probably guessed by now, all humans are capable of some level of precognition. It’s a side effect of our spiritual connection to the All, a timeless entity. Some humans are just better at it than others. I was ahead of my time. My skills were noticed, and I was summoned to Sekikyo by the emperor. But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the story."

Arata stared down at the shimmering rice stalks, his fingers brushing over their grainy tips. "You put your life at stake to protect the people. You agreed to marry him to convince him to spare your town. Is that why you were worthy of joining the All?"

"It is," Minakasa said softly. "I must admit, I am flattered to know my tale hasn’t been forgotten even after nearly a millennium. And yet, the time has come for it to disappear, along with this planet we called home. The only thing that endures is the All."

Arata frowned and lifted his gaze to the endless golden fields, feeling the immensity of it all press down on him. "The All… it said some souls don’t get the chance to join. What about Hana? Toma?"

Minakasa’s expression softened, her eyes tracing the horizon as the wind tugged gently at her hair. "Some souls are more ready than others to move on. They will continue their journey."

The answer stung more than Arata expected. His chest tightened. "And if I refuse to join you?"

"Your soul’s journey will continue, like your friends. A new life with new memories. But you may very well find yourself among their souls in that life. Bonds draw souls together, even in future lives, though the nature of your relationships may change. A lover in one life might be a brother in the next."

Arata stared down at his hands. The rice stalks shifted with each breeze, their sound a soft, calming hiss. He swallowed hard. "We’ll be reborn? But the world?"

Minakasa’s eyes dimmed a little, her voice low and heavy. "Our world is no more, child. Like many in the countless cycles before, its time has come to an end."

The weight of her words pressed deep into him. It was reassuring to know life continued. 

The end was not the end, but it was also deeply unsettling to realize that no legacy, no history, could ever truly endure. 

Life, the spirit, would always migrate to the next vessel, the next planet, and all the progress made before, all the hard-won lessons, would have to evolve again from nothing.

"Does the cycle have an end?" he asked quietly, searching her eyes for some sliver of hope.

Minakasa shook her head gently. "Only the Creator could speak to that."

Arata’s heart pounded. "The Creator? So, there is a God?"

She gave him a sly smile, her voice tinged with irony. "Who can say?"

Arata’s frustration bubbled up. "What?!"

Minakasa’s smile turned wry. "I might be part of the All, but our nature is fundamentally no different than yours. We are no more divine or knowledgeable than the sum of our parts."

He stared at her, his mind racing. "So you’re limited by your own observations, even as a mass of spirit?"

"Correct. We can only infer that there might be a creating force that could have started the cycle and imposed the laws that every atom, every being must follow. If there is a Creator, that entity has remained silent since then."

Arata’s fists clenched at his sides. He had hoped for clarity, but it seemed some mysteries would always remain out of reach. He exhaled sharply. "Maybe we will finally hear from the Creator once all souls either reach the All or fade."

Minakasa’s eyes grew serious. "Souls can fade."

She stepped closer, brushing her palms down the sides of her thighs, her gaze thoughtful.

"As I told you, only the All is eternal. Individual souls that fail to return to the All after numerous lifetimes of selfishness and ignorance will eventually fade and fail to reincarnate. That is why each successive iteration of the universe is less abundant with life. In early cycles, countless planets in the heavens supported human life. By our times, only Gaia was left. It will be the same for the next world."

Arata’s breath hitched. He asked the question that had been lingering since this all began. "What is life like if I join you?"

"You exist as part of the All and as yourself," Minakasa explained. "You have your own personal paradise, shaped by thoughts. Each member of the All can interact with each other freely or observe the current cycle. When worthy souls die, we offer them the chance to rejoin. Time is nonlinear here."

Arata hesitated, searching his heart. After a long pause, he finally said what was on his mind. "I don’t think I can join you without my friends’ souls. I’ll take my chances moving on to the next world with them."

Minakasa regarded him with deep understanding. "Are you certain? The next world has already started. I fear this one may be one of the last cycles. Life is so depleted that most of the universe is barren, and only the most selfish and confused souls are still trapped in the cycle of reincarnation. We have peeked ahead at their history. Allow me to show you."

The sky above shimmered, shifting like liquid glass. Images began to form, one after the other, vast and breathtaking. Arata saw the slow formation of a planet, meteors swirling, continents shifting, deserts stretching, and pyramids rising. He watched as glittering towers of glass and steel sprouted and collapsed, as cities built themselves up and crumbled down in endless cycles.

Minakasa’s eyes were somber. "This Earth, as they call it… it’s a violent place, full of ignorance. There’s potential there, but your soul is already pure enough. Why choose hardship over paradise?"

Arata looked down at his feet, his voice steady. "Besides wanting to be with my friends, I guess I just thought of something else. A lot of what you told me is hard to grasp, but you said the souls who fail to accept death and selflessness can't come back to you, and eventually said souls will waste away.  Well, this might sound arrogant, but maybe in my next life, I can help others find the way, even if I lose my memories of this life. I've found that my friends were like a light house for me, showing the way. Maybe I can do that for someone." 

Arata planted his feet and spoke with more confidence. "My dad named me after a legendary greenfox, an animal he thought was cursed. The stories always had someone following him  as he lead them astray. I always thought that way about myself, I always thought I was bad luck, that I lead people to bad places. Well, I guess I think it sounds fitting if I take ownership of that legend. Flip the script. Become the greenfox who actually does guide people to salvation."

Minakasa’s smile deepened, pride and sorrow shimmering together in her eyes. "That is a wise way to look at it. Others have chosen this path before. They appear as enlightened prophets or teachers, wise beyond their years."

She closed the distance, raising a gentle hand as if to brush his face. "Be warned, Arata. What you are about to do will not be easy. The world you are entering is one of chaos, where kindness is often mistaken for weakness."

Arata only nodded, resolute.

The last thing he saw was Minakasa’s warm, bittersweet expression as she whispered, "Goodbye, Arata."

Light engulfed him, shimmering brighter and brighter, until the rice fields and sky folded away. His breath caught. He felt weightless, falling and rising at once, as if pulled by some unseen tide.

And then—darkness.

A sharp gasp shattered the silence.

His new lungs filled with cold air for the very first time. He cried out instinctively, his tiny fists clenching and unclenching in fear. He felt fabric enveloping his soft skin, gigantic warm hands wrapping around him, and lifting him. There were voices surrounding him, happy voices, stunned voices. He couldn’t understand them.His eyes opened, blinking due to the harsh lights above.

He saw unfamiliar faces, blurred and unfocused? He didn’t know them, he didn’t know himself. But all the same, a feeling bloomed in his chest as a woman drew his infant body near and hugged him, a feeling of simple contentment and hope.

The End.