Chapter 8: I'm Starting to Run Low On Revelations. I Need to Replenish Them

I'm Starting to Run Low On Revelations. I Need to Replenish Them

Tomohiro and I used to visit each other's houses as if it were a given, but at some point, that kind of childhood-friend-like relationship disappeared. When I say "at some point," I didn't mean it just disappeared naturally, but it was when Tomohiro's heart was broken.

As a reincarnated person, I couldn't possibly make such a mistake and not know the right timing.

Well, regardless of the reason, when that kind of interaction disappeared, it naturally left me with a lot of free time. Of course, being a diligent reincarnated person, I spare no effort in improving myself and spend a fair amount of time maintaining relationships. Hanging out with my classmates, for example. This amazing, high-spec body of mine can hit high notes beautifully, so karaoke is one of my favorite things to do.

Still, compared to when I was helping with housework and raising Akari at the same time, I definitely have a lot more free time. It would be different if I had something I could devote myself to enough to call it a hobby, but the only thing I can be truly passionate about is my faith.

Thinking about it, I realized that I should just pray. Luckily, school is currently on summer vacation, so I had even more free time. And since I have my own room, I have no shortage of places to pray.

Having made up my mind, I quickly prepared a fictitious outing itinerary to avoid any interruptions. When I said I was going into the mountains to find myself and wanted to participate in a training camp at a non-existent mountain hut, my parents looked worried throughout, but ultimately gave me permission. It's proof of the trust I've built up since I was little.

What a betrayal, hehe.

I managed to calm my little sister, who was crying and not wanting to be separated from me, and after she saw me off, I quickly returned inside the house.

Now I have some free time. Three days and three nights of prayer is something you don't often get the chance to do when you live at home.

I empty my stomach and bladder beforehand, and it's time for some fun prayer. I set my alarm for three days later, not to worry my family and to ensure my own safety. If they suddenly hear a loud alarm coming from their daughter's room, even though she's told them not to, they'll step in to check on it.

My childhood friend on life support who just barges into people's rooms because I haven't contacted her is gone, so I have to protect my own life.

Once I've made that much preparation, and finally put on a diaper, I'm all set. All that's left is to pray until divine inspiration strikes. It's a simple process anyone can do. I'd recommend it to everyone, but I don't do anything because I know I'd be treated like a madman if I told anyone.

Why am I so sure? Because I've proven it with my childhood friend.

...  Oh God, my God, my very own God. I'm worried about my future. Is this the right direction for me? Am I making a mistake?

...And besides, the path I chose from divine revelation couldn't possibly be wrong, so it's all good! Yes!

I continued praying with this lighthearted feeling for two days. My head was pounding from lack of sleep and dehydration, but these things were trivial in the face of faith. The faint voices of my family, the rumble of the campaign trucks, the notifications on my phone—they're all insignificant. There are almost no important things in this world that take priority over faith. Of course, I would stop praying if a family member collapsed or my house started to smell burnt. Human life is more important, after all.

Fortunately, nothing seemed to interrupt my prayer, and I suddenly found myself under a ceiling I'd never recognised. This was my second time, so I knew right away.

This was a hospital.

I had no desire to experience it again, but re-experiencing it made me realize how strange it was. 

As soon as I woke up, my little sister immediately came crying and clung to me. Apparently she was worried about her big sister and wanted to be there as much as possible to keep an eye on her. It was so adorable and lovable.

Sorry for worrying you, maybe I'll do it again someday though.

My little sister's angelic face was a mess with tears and snot, and as I gently stroked her head, telling her everything was okay, the simple-minded girl quickly calmed down. Just like how I feel all fluffy and happy when Mama pets me, my little sister is quick to respond when I pet her. Maybe it's the result of imprinting from a young age? She's so gullible and adorable.

Now, after my little sister fell asleep in my arms and I confirmed that the hospital nurse had contacted our family, it was time to check the results.

Was there any reward for lying to my family and praying until I collapsed?

This is more important than having made my little sister cry. 

In conclusion, I have once again received a wonderful revelation.

The revelation are falling from my eyes, sparkling above my little sister's head.

She's beautiful.

Yes, she's beautiful. She inherited Mama's excellent looks and high-spec body, and even though I'm a reincarnated person with a low profile, my hard work and achievements are real.

In that sense, I too am definitely one of those people who sparkle.

No, I don't need to say it. It's presumptuous for someone like me, who relies on a high-spec body and is an ordinary person inside, to talk about sparkling talent.

I, and no one else, understand that better than anyone. However, given that I haven't found my ideal target yet, I've realized that creating one myself is also an approach.

In other words, becoming a Zanpakuto myself.

I will increase and increase my value, and when I reach my peak, I will lose my dignity.

Hmm, as someone who was once an artist, I find it interesting that I too will end up as a form of art. Not just creating, but becoming one. If a person works hard enough, they can become a national treasure, so perhaps I could become art too.

Of course, I'll continue to look for natural talent rather than man-made ones like me, but my standards are quite high. So I thought I'd come up with a second-best solution, a compromise.

So begins my story of becoming a strong, kind, beautiful, true princess.

Aim to be a Grand Princess!!

As I was reconciling my current situation with my revelation, my parents came rushing into my hospital room in a panic.

Oh dear, you're not allowed to run in hospital hallways.

What a naughty parents.

"Hikari! Thank goodness, you're awake..."

Mama was breathing heavily, happy that I was awake. If she speaks too loudly, Akari will wake up, so I gesture for her to be quiet. Mama nodded and walked over to me. It's not important, but Mama's heavy breathing is lewd. It's sure to have a harmful influence on young people.

Is she a weapon to destroy sexual preferences, perhaps?

Whether or not she knew I was thinking this, Mama sharpened her expression, stood in front of me, raised her hand, and slapped me across the cheek.

There was a shock, a loud noise, and a hot cheek.

Even my Dad has never hit me!

These actions were so unexpected that my thoughts froze for a moment, and it was only when I saw Dad calling Mama's name and panicking, wondering what she was doing, that I finally realized she'd hit me.

My judgment was slow. 

"Hikari, I have no idea why you did this. You're a smart kid, so I'm sure there's some reason I can't even imagine. That's why I won't ask about the reason, and you don't have to tell me. You were willing to lie to do it, so there must be a reason you can't tell us."

Mama's voice sounded like something I'd never heard before. It was a little trembling, as if she was desperately trying to stay calm.

"It's our fault you didn't tell us. But there's one thing I want you to remember. We may seem stupid to you, but we still try to understand you. We're trying our best to understand you. And above all, as parents, as a family, we care about you. So never do anything that will worry us like this again. If you absolutely have to do it, just tell us first, we won't ask for a reason."

A warmth slowly spread across my cheek. It was the spot where Mama had slapped me. The heat spread from there throughout my body, and felt like it was pooling in the center of my chest. 

Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face.

Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, and even though Mama-sama was working hard to stay calm, I found myself crying. I didn't have the time to joke around or make fun of her, I just burst into tears.

It couldn't be helped. Anyone would feel that way if something like that happened to them. They felt a sense of responsibility for my strange behavior, which, objectively speaking, was incomprehensible, and for not blaming me for not telling them about it.

I'm sure they must have often struggled with how to interact with me, even though objectively speaking I was excellent.

Come to think of it, my parents had always tried to help me behave like a normal child.

If this isn't love, then what is? If the love shown to me by my mother, the woman who couldn't contain herself as she watched me cry, isn't love, then what is?

I realized, more than ever before, that I was loved.

I had no choice but to realize it.

I felt so much love that even the pain my left cheek was feeling was endearing.