The Ballerina

"Calamari. Marshmallows. Fish sticks. . ."

A young girl's voice was reading aloud. But where was I? What happened? Did I survive drowning?

My eyes slowly opened, showing me lying in the middle of a vast forest. The familiar chirping of birds I'd heard before rang, along with faint water sloshing somewhere near.

"Cats, beetles, crows, pandas . . ."

That's when I saw her: a blonde girl, maybe ten or twelve-years-old, floating in the air reading a book. She wore pink ballerina clothes, complete with a puffy tutu and flesh-toned leggings—not someone I'd expect to be wearing the most annoyed expression possible.

"Biking? No way." She was floating upside down now, still peering deep at her book. "Wow. Plot twist."

"Ummm?" I sat up. "What's going on? Where am I?"

She glanced at me, disgusted. "You died. Now you're here. Simple as that."

Ah. I had no reason to doubt her, considering I still wore the suit I drowned in. "So what is this? Heaven?"

"It's whatever you want it to be."

"Which means . . . ?"

As if angry, she slammed her book shut and hovered towards my face. "This is an in-between world between your old world and the next one! How have you not realized that?"

"S-Sorry. I'm still kinda shocked by everything that happened."

"Oh, yeah. Sucks how you went out. But that's just life, huh?"

The little girl, who I assumed was some sort of goddess, flew higher up and kept reading her book. It gave me time to process what'd occurred earlier.

So . . . That glasses woman on the train chose her daughter over me. Logically speaking, I couldn't blame her. In our life-or-death situation, it'd be unreasonable to expect she could swim back up hauling a grown man and young girl in tow. Choosing who she cared about most, and who gave everyone the highest survival chance, was sound.

I sighed and gazed up at sunlight shining above; but it gave me no warmth. I felt empty. Hollow. I couldn't feel any relief until knowing if both girls survived or not.

"Hey," I asked the goddess floating overhead. "Tell me—did that little girl I tried saving not die? And her mom too?"

"Don't know, don't care," she said, turning some pages. "I only know what's written in this book."

"Book?"

"Yeah. It's your story. Look." After moving her fingers off the cover, the title Jin Aizawa's Life came into view, written in golden, English letters. "Kinda boring story though, not gonna lie."

"Is that—a book about my whole life? Before I died?"

"Yup. Has everything in here, from things you like, dislike, accomplishments, etcetera. Was reading off your favorite foods earlier."

Well she definitely wasn't wrong about calamari. "Can I read that book you're holding?"

"Nope!" She stuck her tongue out and floated higher above. "The universe gave me this to help properly judge you."

"Wait, you're judging me? So you're gonna decide if I'm a good or bad person?"

"It's all subjective, naturally. But so far you're off to a bad start."

"Did I do nefarious deeds in the past I'm unaware of?"

"Yeah. You decided calamari tastes good. Gross!"

Somehow I doubt this is gonna work out very well. Soon, a breeze blew through my black hair that helped calm me, but I was still nervous. What were the worst things I'd done in life? People I'd upset? Promises broken? Anything could be a strike against me.

The little ballerina kept hovering overhead, flipping through pages. Every now and then she'd peer down at me and sneer, like she just read something incriminating.

"Say," I told her. "Are you God? Or Buddha? Amida?"

"I'm whatever you want me to be," she said, still reading. "Don't think hard."

"Do you at least have a name?"

"Mmmm, just call me Angel. Since I have these fake wings on my back."

"What are they for anyway?"

"Intimidation."

"Right . . ."

Another silence passed as she kept reading her book. But I decided to skulk around the familiar green forest. It'd been bothering me for a bit, but I felt like I'd been here before. From flowing creaks sparkling with water, to those flute-like chirps of bush warblers in the background, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic.

I stepped forward towards the trunk of a towering oak tree. Dark-gray bark boasted a rugged, almost gnarled surface that could cut hands. It was a cathedral of wood and leaves, armed with branches weighed down by acorns.

"Hmmm?" Something below caught my eye. I knelt towards the base of the tree and inspected a golden ooze. Sticky, slick tree sap was leaking out from bark while a rhinoceros beetle approached.

The armored insect—black with a huge horn—started lapping up tree sap. It was a sight I'd seen countless times before. Which helped jog memories.

"Well well." Angel the ballerina floated beside me to examine what I found. "Did you realize your predicament yet?"

"Yeah, look." I pointed. "This kind of beetle is mostly nocturnal, but it's not impossible to see them during the day either."

"And?"

"That's something I learned when I was a kid, and lived in Hokkaido. So we're probably inside a forest right now near Sapporo."

"Ding-ding-ding!" Angel did a backflip in the air. "This is all a simulation of your memories, but it's more like a walkthrough of how you'd imagine things."

The beetle on the bark was still lapping sap. With a careful hand, I reached down to try picking him up, but I phased right through him.

"You can't interact with anything living," Angel said. "Nothing here is real, which includes you too."

"Unfortunate." Being reminded about being dead sucks. "So why is a ballerina showing me this mountain where I chased beetles?"

She chuckled. "This is all for me, not you."

"Huh?"

"Remember: I'm judging, and seeing these places you've visited helps this process along."

Having my fate held by a smug girl felt grim, though it was nice of her to ease me into the afterlife with some nostalgia.

Just when I was gonna ask another question, she snapped her fingers. Immediately the scenery around us changed to a dim, contemporary apartment. Afternoon light was blocked by black curtains hiding a skyline behind them. And though faint, I could smell lemon-scented freshener wafting through the living room.

"Wh-What?" I stammered, shocked. "Why are we in my apartment?"

"Final goodbyes." Angel glided onto a couch and began reading her book. "Besides, isn't it comfier here?"

I was too occupied walking through my kitchen. A familiar coffee machine on the counter still boiled water, while hums of an old fridge beckoned me to grab and open it. Inside were bare essentials—milk, eggs, beer, and a big, glass pitcher of lemonade!

"Oh!" I happily said, pulling out the pitcher. "Can I drink this?"

Angel over on the couch laughed. "Your book did say you loved lemons. Go for it."

Without hesitation I chugged lemonade straight down my throat. Cold, sweet sensations trickled through me as I savored the beverage like it was someone's last meal.

Which it probably was.

I emptied the pitcher and set it on the counter. But from behind me I could hear a girl's giggles.

"Hehe," Angel over my shoulder said. "You hand-squeeze all your lemonade, right?"

"Yeah," I said, wiping my lips. "Just wondering, but what else does that book say?"

She started flipping through pages while floating away. "Hmmm . . . Jin Aizawa, 25 years old. Journalist. Single. Lives alone with his cat. Obsessed with lemons. Wants to settle down with someone but can't because he likes yucky calamari."

"How much of that was editorializing?"

"Negligible amount. Humph!"

I went to sit with Angel back on our couch. It was a minimalist living room that made tidying easier, though not something I'd ever thought about sharing with a goddess.

Angel flipped to another page. "Heh. Says here you popped your cherry in college, but you thought you disappointed her, so you apologized after. Lame!"

"Don't tell me my life story," I grumbled. "But I think I'm at peace now, or whatever, if you wanna take me away."

"We're getting there. There's just more things I wanna ask."

"Fine."

She closed her book, and for the first time made a solemn face. "If you were given a second chance at life, would you change anything?"

"About myself?"

"Yes."

Hmmm . . . It was food for thought I'd never really considered. But since Angel knew everything about me already, I began pondering a unique response. "I'll let God decide if I'm a good person or not. There's not much I'd change about me, honestly. With another life maybe I'd try harder to understand people; put myself out there a little more."

"How so?"

"I suppose like a, 'see something, do something' life, so I don't die with regrets next time."

I fully expected her to ask about those regrets, but she just gazed up at the ceiling, calm. Then she smiled. "I'm surprised you haven't mentioned more often that you died saving a little girl. It'd help your case."

"Huh? It's not important. Anyone would've done the same if they were me."

"And look what that got you."

Confused, I watched Angel hold up her book and show it to me sideways, exposing stacked pages.

"Normally," she said, "I'm happy if a book is this thin. It's a lot less to read. But at the same time, it's sad because that means someone died early in life— a story unresolved."

"Sorry my life wasn't more interesting?"

"That's not what I meant. Just that it's harder judging someone with less to show me; for you at least though, I think that's endearing."

When my lips moved to reply, I saw a black cat wander out from the hall. The feline walked with cute struts towards a cat bed in the corner and curled up for rest.

"Oh, Mittens!" I said to get his attention. But I remembered too late this was all just an illusion.

Angel sighed. "You still can't interact with anything living here. That'd be almost cheating on your test if you could."

"Cheating sounds fun," I chuckled. "Now that I think about it though, Mittens will starve if I can't come home to feed him. Hopefully my brother or one of my coworkers comes by to check on things."

Angel had started rapidly flipping through pages of her book, ignoring me. "By the way, Aizawa. For some reason there's no mention of your cat's name anywhere in your book. Why is that?"

"Oh. That's probably because Mittens didn't have a name until recently. I just called him 'Cat' usually since he was a stray."

"No . . . name?"

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

She sat there in stunned silence, as if still absorbing my words. It took another few moments before Angel exhaled and shook her head.

"It's not strange to give something a name that doesn't have one. I'm sure Mittens was happy to finally be named."

"Sure?" This girl's acting aloof now. I couldn't get a read on her as she floated away off the couch.

With a snap of her fingers, the scenery around us changed. We were both floating in an endless, black void. No sound. No scents. No sights. Just our glowing outlines in the darkness that seemed to be fading.

"W-Woah!" I said, trying to right myself. "What's happening here?"

Angel was gliding towards me. She clutched her book close to her chest, a conflicted expression growing.

"This is your last stop," she said. "From here, your judging process finalizes. And you'll be slotted for reincarnation into the next world."

"W-Wait! How did I do though? My evaluation."

"I cannot comment. Those were the rules we set forth for our feud."

Feud? But I kept sinking farther and farther down into the darkness. My arms flailed around, desperate to grab anything. Panic coursed through me just like when I sank into the water's depths.

"H-Help!" I shouted.

"We will never meet again," Angel above said. "Your story shall continue, and your role has been assigned. Live free, Jin Aizawa."

I saw a book sail down past me that disappeared into the abyss. And then my unwilling body chased along like a bullet.

Nothing could be perceived anymore as I rocketed down, down towards nothingness. Where nothing echoed. Nothing shone. Even thoughts evaded me, until nothing of me remained.

And the next world approached.