Heavenly Love

Chapter 1: Death and Revival

Hi guys! This a new story, still under editing, but I figured I would kick-start it by uploading the first chapter before chickening out. Please go easy on me and enjoy \(^_^)/

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Sakai Aoi sat dumbly in front of the fireplace, staring at the torn and burned piece of canvas, which still slightly smoked from the small fire that was set. The picture remaining showed half a lovely face, with peach-toned skin, framed by lightly curled, dark hair. A beauty mark under the eye, and the slight curl of red lips, gave devilish charm to the young woman formerly depicted. Besides this, the rest of the painting was singed, or entirely blackened from whomever set it ablaze. The picture must have been a sentimental piece, as the paint remaining was faintly faded, which suggested it was long- kept before being mutilated in this manner.

These details were only observed after Aoi finished dealing with the remaining symptoms of his host body. From the burning in his lungs, and the stinging in his eyes, he could only assume that the small body he now occupied met an untimely demise from smoke inhalation. He coughed up violently on the grand marble hearth, clearing his abused body of the remnants of soot. At last, he lay panting on the cool floor, attempting to soothe his headache by pressing his feverish forehead to the ground. With a pitiful groan, Aoi finally sat up to view his new surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was the huge, ornate bed residing in the middle of the room. Smoothly sculpted oak posts, a solid bed frame with delicate floral carvings, and billowy curtains draped down, displaying a romantic, and Aoi thought uncomfortably, a very feminine appearance. In a brief moment of abject terror, he considered the possibility that he may have been transmigrated into the body of a girl. With an apprehensive gaze, Aoi studied his newly acquired hands, which to his dismay were petite, and translucent, as white and soft as lotus petals. Similarly, the arms attached were slender and smooth, just like the idols he crushed on back in his original world. Most alarmingly, a glance down confirmed that he was wearing a soft gown that fell right above his ankles. Luckily, this momentary fear of becoming a lady was short-lived after a quick and reassuring check down what he could now safely assume was some type of oddly old-fashioned night clothing.

Once he identified that he was indeed the same gender as before the crossover, he then determined this furniture was most likely a hand-me-down. In fact, it looked like all the furniture in the room was, at least judging from the odd assortment of tables and chairs that seemed to come from multiple different origins. If not for how grand the pieces were, and how the room containing them was equally as meticulously cared for and elegant, he would have assumed this might have been a storage facility for a peculiar collector of antiques. His surroundings were no doubt created and maintained with wealth. Although each piece had a different personality, the exquisite details, including gold and jewel-studded decoration, pointed towards a disgustingly large amount of money thrown towards the furnishings. The room was just as luxurious, with crown moldings, and finely brushed, exquisite leaf designs threaded on richly dyed wallpaper. A tapestry of forest creatures hung prominently on the wall directly opposite from the thick oak, iron-clad door. The ceiling itself was a work of art with spiraling white and cream patterns, sloping gently upwards. Aoi dug his toes into the rich and soft rug beneath his feet, as the unfamiliarity of his surroundings finally sunk in.

This room and his clothes looked like something out of one of the eighteenth century American dramas his oneechan and mom adored. The large room was cold, the little warmth from the fireplace fizzled out. The thin cotton gown he wore did not ward off the chill, resulting in a shivering Aoi. The adrenaline of his transmigration subsided, leaving a cold and lonely man turned child. Remembering how his family would have been fascinated by all of this, he felt like crying bitterly, and so he did.

Amid his tears and hiccuping breaths, Aoi remembered his mom's lovely, crooked smile and laugh lines. Although older at his time of death, her beauty and vitality were visible to everyone she met. Her hugs were warm and unbelievably comforting, and there was nothing he would not give to have her arms around him right now. In a desperate attempt to hold the memory of her closer, Aoi wrapped his own arms tightly around his midsection. Although it brought little comfort, he thought it might just stop him from falling completely apart at the seams. His thoughts then wandered to how his pretty Oneechan, Himari, four years older than his twenty-one, would pinch his cheeks and coo at him, regardless of how old he got. Both would always lovingly gaze at him with the same downward slanted, sparkling eyes.

There was so much love and dependence on one another in the house, even more so after his father died on his way home from work a few years before in a car accident caused by a drunk driver. The three only had each other after that, and in the aftermath of losing someone they loved, the remaining Sakai family converted all their grief and despair into fiercely loving one another, knowing that life could be very unpredictable, and very unforgiving. And now, like the true bastard he was, Aoi also left them in a sudden manner, only he embarrassingly slipped on a patch of ice and died while heading to the campus canteen for lunch. If he weren't in such a rush for the limited half-off bowls of udon, then he would have noticed the slick patch of pavement at the top of the stairs.

His family relied mainly on Himari's salary and the settlement money from his father's tragic death. Although they were not in dire straights, Aoi still felt guilty for choosing to further his education, while contributing to the family income. He did offer to start working immediately after graduating high school, but his family thought it would be a shame to waste his academic talent and cut his schooling early. In light of this, he applied and was accepted to a well-known university near by. To make things easier on his family, he chose to commute to school from home and be extremely frugal as to be less of a financial burden. Yet in his resolve to not cause trouble for his mom and Oneechan, he caused them insurmountable grief by accidentally killing himself in the clumsiest way possible. 

He bitterly laughed, and then choked as his abused lungs started to spasm. A deep breath later, and his grief flooded back in. Unlike in the Sakai home, the smell of laundry detergent and home-cooked meals was absent in this sterile environment. Instead, the smell of burnt oils from the fireplace mixed in with the pungent smell of wood polish invaded his nose. In an attempt to relieve this sudden invasion of alien smells, Aoi hopped up and ran to the window to reach up on tiptoe to unlatch and open a window. Cold air immediately bit at his face, but it was a strong enough physical sensation to distract himself.

The night sky held plenty of clouds, with only a sliver of moon illuminating his surroundings. Low cut grass and silvery-green hedges could be seen below. Aoi deduced that he must be on the second floor, and from the wide stretch of fastidiously trimmed bushes, and neat flowerbeds, the second floor of some sort of mansion at that. The siding was brick, but beyond this detail, he could not determine much more about the house itself. Aoi leaned his head against the ledge and closed his eyes, blocking out the beautiful, but foreign view. As enchanting as it was, it was no match for the small yard he grew up in, with the surrounding Sakura trees lining the streets that would bloom so prettily in Spring. He stayed immobile by that window, his eyes tightly shut, for a long, long time. Once he was chilled to the bone, and drained enough to feel his puffy eyes start to close, he crawled his way up to and on top of that ornate bed to wriggle under the surprisingly comfortable duvet. The last thought before he passed out in fitful sleep was who the hell am I now?