Shinigami Story

The story of a young shinigami that collects the souls of those on the brink of death

Prologue �" Hospital Room

Knock, Knock…

There was no answer.

After a few seconds of waiting, the hospital’s room sliding door was opened slowly and with minimal sound. A person entered and looked around.

That particular room, like every single patient’s room was painted with white paint so there were no designs or decorations, almost giving the impression that it was a vacant room. But unmistakably enough, two of the four windows covering the opposite wall were opened wide, allowing a soft and pleasing breeze to fill the room and the thin curtain to dance along it.

The person crept slowly and had to go around the covered curtain on his left that was seemingly protecting the person lying on the bed from him.

He moved it slowly and found that there was a sleeping young boy, possibly no older than ten, peacefully sleeping. The older boy, the one who just casually sat on the chair at the side of the plain, uncomfortable looking bed with blank, white sheets, gazed upon the boy.

He wondered why the boy had been admitted. He didn’t spot any visible injuries. Then he noticed the small heart machine on the small cupboard next to the chair. It was beeping slowly.

“Hello…” spoke a voice so suddenly that the older boy was almost startled, but he maintained a poker face when he looked into the boy’s weak eyes.

The younger boy sported blonde hair and beautiful green eyes that lacked the light of life.

“I’ve never seen you before…” the young boy said with a pleasant smile that would have fooled anyone but the older boy.

But the older boy simply nodded without trying to form a smile.

“I have a heart disease” the boy said sadly, looking almost in tears. “I’m going to die soon.”

Despite the gravity of the statement the innocent young boy said, the older boy simply nodded attentively, carefully listening to the boy.  

Then without warning, the young boy closed his eyes and slept. The older boy signaled it was time to leave for that day.

 

But the older boy visited again and again. He never encountered any other visitors, so he wondered if the boy was lonely. But a bouquet of beautiful colorful flowers was carefully placed in a long glass next to the heart rate machine, along with a big card, wishing the boy luck in a speedy recovery. Unlike the previous times, the young boy was awake and greeted him with a huge smile, and the older boy couldn’t help but form a small one himself.

The young boy narrated how his entire class had come to visit him just before the older boy came and were actively praying for him. The young boy was so happy by their gesture that he couldn’t help but cry, knowing that he would not survive it. Despite that, he could never tell them. Without leaving time for the older boy to speak, even though he wasn’t, the young boy spent at least an hour narrating the events of his life, and the older boy merely nodded, showing the young boy that he was keeping up with the entirely one-sided conversation.

The young boy’s voice kept getting weaker and weaker, occasionally stopping entirely, and forcing him to breathe heavily for a few moments. The older boy couldn’t interfere, but even if he did, he knew the patient would have stopped him. Despite the pain in the heart he was clutching, the young boy spoke with immeasurable joy and continued until he was out of breath, forcing out a complete summary of his life.

When he was done, till the day he was admitted to the hospital, the older boy gave a sincere smile, reciprocating the young boy’s, who was pleased to finally get more than just a plain, simple smile from his single audience member.

“Will we meet again?” the young boy asked, knowing that it was their last meeting, even though he had only seen him on only a few occasions.

“If you believe so, we will” the older boy said, speaking in a terribly soft and seemingly fragile voice. It was the first time the young boy had heard his voice so he was a little dazed by it. But he still smiled.

Then the young boy readjusted his head to look at the plain ceiling and closed his eyes, and dwelled into a deep and eternal sleep.

The older boy watched for a few moments and instinctively pushed his right hand forward in an attempt to pat the boy’s head, a gesture to acknowledge and praise the young boy’s efforts in fighting his terminal heart disease.

But before his hand could reach, the older boy stopped himself, knowing that he shouldn’t do so. Instead that same right hand moved towards the emergency button in order to alert the doctors. He felt his index finger hanging a little before pressing the button, giving himself a little time to look at the young boy for one last time.

 

A few days later, the older boy went into the room again. The young boy’s body had long left the room and laid to rest and he guessed the funeral was just over since he spotted a man and a woman in mourning clothes in the room. He saw a slight resemblance between them and the boy, so he thought they were his parents.

The blonde pretty woman, looking no older than thirty was sobbing slowly and quietly, consoled with a half hug by her husband, a wimpy looking man with brown hair and nerdy glasses, but his expression was unmistakably of immense sadness.

“Lima said that a nice older boy was visiting him recently” the woman said in a broken voice, almost trying to avoid the sickening silence that had accumulated after the doctor gave them the full report of the young boy’s disease.

“That’s what the boy kept saying” the stern looking doctor in lab coat told her with a little doubt. “But strangely enough, there are no records of visitors in the mentioned hours…”

“It was someone in a black robe” the woman added. “One of the hospital’s priests perhaps?”

“Unfortunately, this small hospital doesn’t have its own priests…”

“Maybe it was a god of death” said her husband with a joke, trying to lure his wife away from the doctor who was carefully picking his words in order to avoid upsetting her.

“Oh my…” the wife responded with a similar reaction. She masked her sadness with a laugh, one which had been kept inside for long weeks.