Another Chance

It was the first time since the reincarnation that Korou dreamt of the cavern. Ayano's strained face, her cowering shriek, he could see it all vividly. In fact, he could see himself as well, or at least the 'him' before he became Korou.

His body, bloodied, crushed beyond the torso, spasmed. His lips parted as he tried to speak, but no words would escape. He had long lost the capability to speak.

Korou, as a spectator of his previous self, Anu, wondered why he was saved. Taking hesitant steps, he walked over to where his body fell. His lifeless arms held onto Ayano's open journal. There, his index finger touched the Hokkaido Shinyobun pictograph. The reason for all of the tragedy.

He had seen it multiple times. The curving lines meshing into Roman letters before meeting a Brahmi symbol, and finally the Kanji. An ugly medley of symbols. So ethereal it couldn't belong to his world. A curse.

And yet he wondered at the meaning it carried.

"Assumptions carry meanings that one blinded by arrogance can't see." The quote Ayano had used to open her thesis defence came back to his mind. It was four years ago when he met her. A young girl from the countryside, passionately in love with history.

In his first impression, she was an annoyingly enthusiastic individual. Sometimes she would throw a barrage of questions his way, each more intellectually competent than the last. It was enough to pique his curiosity, and before he knew it, Korou, then Anu, was dancing to her tune.

Within a year, they became overly attached. Ayano knew all of his quirks, and so did he. She was everywhere he went, and similarly, he too was there. It was only a matter of time before they would start dating. And that they did.

Within two years of getting to know each other, Anu engaged in a romantic endeavour with his colleague, who later became his assistant. It was a decent relationship at the start. He was happy, she was too; they would talk with each other, get work done, and support each other when needed. It was perfect, far cry from his own parents who were the knot of misfortune in his life.

But then the triggers began. His distorted reality, in tandem with absolutism and a bottled-up past, self-destructed over the fragility of his ego and the arrogance of a child. He was a child.

Ayano tried. She called, knocked, and even moved in next door to check on him. But he, incapable of love towards himself, could no longer see the value in passing it on to another. And with this, he broke things off. A selfish decision made up in the guise of self-isolation and distortion by the other one. A hurtful notion, intended to villainise himself and protect the other.

"It makes you sound like the villain." Ayano laughed through the tears. "Your arguments, proclamation, conclusion and even the entirety of qualitative analysis. I can see through you, Anu, I know you."

Why? Why does she have to be so perceptive?

But alas, his life moved forward. They parted, and the Hokkaido Shinyobun came in to fill the void. It all happened in quick succession; there wasn't time to think. For which he was glad, and even prayed to the Gods of script.

She was still around, as his assistant, but he reduced their interaction to a minimum, only meeting when time asked. But her, Ayano, was relentless. She would check him like a guardian deity, defend him at the high table, and find the origin of rumours within the Faculty of Letters. She would even go as far as becoming a lawbreaker on his last day as a mortal of Earth.

All her sacrifice was invalid to his mental construct, an anomaly, just like him in this alien world.

Korou knelt over his corpse, his eyes peeking over at the journal for one last time. The symbol now laden in blood had a scribble hidden below his finger. Leaning in, she tried to push it away as words; two written in neat English came to light. It was four syllables long and it read: 'Another Chance'.

Korou tilted his head, his eyes blinking rapidly. 'Another Chance?'

"Had she figured out the translation?" Korou wondered out loud, his voice echoing through the Shinyobun cavern.

His mind raced, questions erupted as a long-forgotten memory, and packaged trickled in. On their car ride to Shimokawa, right after she had passed on the Isekai novel to him. Ayano had said something.

"Dream? You want to go to another world?" Korou - Anu, then, had asked, astonished.

To which Ayano had replied:

"No." A defeated laugh escaped her lips. "I wanted another chance, not for myself, for another. And that's why it was delusional-" She paused, mist gushed from her breath as she turned. "-to trust."

Korou stood there, aghast. His nine-month-old body trembled underneath the weight of his past. She wanted another chance for him; she prayed for it, which is why she was there with him. Not because the Hokkaido Shinyobun mattered, but because he did.

And even this life, he had fortunately been rewarded with a silver spoon, was an answer to her prayer and maybe his mother. It was delusional, he let out a dry laugh. It was beyond delusional to make such preposterous assumptions, but someone had taught him: 'As historians, we make assumptions based on facts that the world presents to us. Only when arrogance sets in, do we get blinded.'

As the lines of the cavern blurred, the last audience with his final moment gradually entered its crescendo. His surroundings morphed as his body, still that of a nine-month-old, sank into the plush seat. He glanced over his side, watching the engines of an aeroplane rumble into life.

A ringing sound echoed. The captain made the final announcement. As the flight picked up its pace, he smiled at the memory. It was nearly a decade ago when he had giddily sat in this very flight. He had just bagged the prestigious scholarship and was flying to Stanford for the foreseeable future. He was so ecstatic that until the coastline of his home town began to recede, he did not realise the pain and the perpetual hollowness that followed when one left his abode.

It was a sharp pang; he hitched a breath, as tears involuntarily welled up. He bit his tongue, not wanting the others to see.

His nearly two decades of life, lazy afternoons by the beach, moments of tranquillity within the public library, helping his mother, though hesitantly, with their shack business all gone in the whiff of an eye. It was over. His life in his homeland was over.

And now similarly, so was his life in his homeworld. As the flight sailed past the skies, he saw the receding outlines of the blue planet called the Earth. His home. His resting place. Also, his regret. With a final glance, Korou closed his eyes and drifted off to a final slumber on an aircraft.

When Korou opened his eyes, he found himself cradled in the lap of Atla, who sat in the confines of the Umang as the butterflies, magenta-scarlet-obsidian, flocked over her olive face, bathing it in their myriadic glow.

She smiled as her fingers played with them. Korou, who had just taken the voyage of his life, felt warmth wafting through his chest. A smile broke away as he gurgled gleefully. Words were still years, if not months, away.

Noticing the awakening, Atla looked at him with a smile. Her voice was serene, brimming with a breath of tranquillity as she ruffled his hair.

'Another chance, not for myself but for another.' Ayano's voice echoed once more, fading with each repetition. He knew this might be the last of her he could relinquish.

When he was born into this world, Korou was still on an adrenaline high. Every day was a battle of survival and learning; to some extent, it would still be. But at this moment, as his past unwound itself, he took a deep breath.

His eyes plastered over at Atla's giggling one, and he made a promise to himself.

To answer Ayano's prayer and maybe his mother's, even though he could never forgive her and, by extension, parts of him, he would still give this life another chance, not for her but for himself.