[7.3] His Dream

It rained that day, once upon a time.

A summer rain, when a man received that awful, life-shattering news.

That man who, once upon a time, thought his greatest life dedication was his work instead of his family.

He wasn't there for his daughter that much. He thought he didn't need to be. Even when his wife left them far too soon.

She had her friends. She smiled more with Mikuma than she did with him. She was doing wonderfully in school. And she stopped asking him to do anything special for her.

Mikuma and her friends thought of her as soft-spoken and shy. But he could tell that his daughter had everything together, way better than he did when he was her age.

She had a strong will, much like her mother.

There wasn't much he had to do. As long as he kept her from any material wanting, that was enough for him to focus solely on his self-made empire.

One of the top in Japan, his pride and joy.

Maybe that's what he told himself, to dull the pain of losing Ime that truly never faded.

He only realized how hollow that label really was when it was too late, when his daughter was rolled up inside his castle and took up permanent residence. Unable to speak to him.

Unable to say goodbye.

---

His medical empire was worthless, he thought to himself, when the five-week mark had passed without her waking up—the turning point where most would regain consciousness or progress into a vegetative state.

Fate chose the latter. No, that scum did.

He had the resources to keep her alive for as long as possible, but that was all he could do.

For the second time in his life, he was truly and utterly powerless. Utterly useless.

Shame and a desire for any kind of distraction brought him to visit the shrine where Ime was for the first time in a while, wearing a suit that was respected in his world but now meant nothing to him.

Her grave was lovingly tended and cared for by the shrine keepers, who showed her more dedication than he was able to manage.

The two items at the base of her headstone that celebrated her life stood the test of time: glass sculptures of sea slugs and rhinos she adored, and an old metal weight that had lost its rope but still bore its old name. A namesake that wasn't visible right now.

There was nothing else he could do but place her favorite blueberry shortcake as an offering and kneel to pray and beg for her forgiveness.

For failing their daughter this badly. For choosing him, and turning around to do this to the greatest gift she left him.

And to watch over her, because he couldn't.

---

He spent days on end holed up in her bedroom, reading through the books on her shelf, of a series that matched the scribbled poster on her wall and the stuffed animals on her bed.

Magia Lyra.

That was her favorite series. Ime liked something with a similar title too. But he just nodded along without actually listening to her whenever she gushed about it. It was too difficult to follow, and it didn't interest him at the time.

A member of the Diet had complications in his hospital on the day she got that poster, when she repeatedly begged him to take her to some convention. It was not a great day for him, but that didn't last long. 

Yet that was the last time she ever asked him for anything.

His tears wouldn't stop falling as he turned through the pages of the adventures of a purple-haired girl and her faithful blue animal companion, a realization dawning on him.

Her hobbies, her interests, he barely knew anything about her. He never bothered to ask.

He thought she was fine and left it at that. He thought he was fine, staying at arm's length at work and down the hallway.

The man fell asleep in her room that night, collapsed on her circular carpet.

Six words echoed in his head over and over and over again. A prayer, sent to no one in particular, on the off chance that God, some God, was listening in at that exact moment.

Please let me help my daughter.

---

Was this a dream? He was having a lucid dream, but something felt off.

The only thing in front of him, other than darkness, was a pink castle.

Accompany her until the end of the dream.

The Host of the Dream...

He heard incessant, bodiless whispers of various genders all around him as he walked towards the strange building.

It was then that he saw her, at the gate leading into the castle.

His little girl, huddled in circles of light. Her hair was pink, her face was huddled up and buried in her knees, but he could tell from a glance, and in his soul.

This wasn't just a dream. That was really her.

"I'm scared..."

Two words were all he could hear from her muffled sobs that shook her body. Two words were all it took to destroy him.

He wanted to reach out to her. To hold her tightly in his arms and apologize from the bottom of his heart, assure her that everything will be fine and that he will always be there for her.

But he stopped. His feet wouldn't let him go any further.

He looked down in the darkness, seeing his reflection off the circular lights, and he could only lock eyes with the man in the mirror.

A father unworthy.

His daughter was alive, alone and scared. She needed him more than ever.

And yet... What right did he have? All of the things he desperately wanted to do, what right did he even have?

He, who was never there for her before? Who just assumed she was okay and left her to her own devices? Who chose his work over her? Who thought he wasn't needed in her life?

Even still, as her fears reverberated through the space, a part of him wanted to ignore that and just go for it. No matter how selfish, no matter how hypocritical.

But he knew his face wouldn't bring her any joy or comfort. There was no way it could. Yet he had to do something. He couldn't leave her there, all alone.

And so he thought, until a realization dawned over him.

Of course.

There was something that was around for her far longer than he ever was.

Something that never failed to bring a smile to her face, that she could take far more comfort with than with him.

The answer was so simple, he thought, as his body slowly shrank to a quarter of his height, his limbs shifting into blue plush arms and blue plush legs, his back growing little butterfly wings, and his face a slightly elongated snout and round ears.

This was what she needed the most. This was the form that she could confide in.

At last, he found the courage to step forward and call out to his frightened little girl—His greatest joy that he had taken for granted all his life.

And vowed to himself—Never again.

"Konpponwa! Keina! It's me-ppo!

"It's Yumeppo!"