A Slight Detour

Omoide is weightless, his consciousness like a fine mist and his soul is like a pulsating golden orb.  They circle each other in the fading darkness. He wills both to merge and take the shape of his form left behind in the SUV on the World Plane. He can now sense himself as a more solid form, feeling gravity and a solid surface beneath his body.

As his equilibrium returns, he sits upright and spreads his hands out beside him. He knows he must open his eyes slowly as sometimes his consciousness is left floating or on the edge of some cavernous plane. He knows he will become very disorientated when this happens.

Slowly, he opens his eyes and gazes upon a sea of green grass that moves as a gentle breeze blows across it, bending the blades over in waves not unlike the oceans on the World Plane. This is a new illusion that his god has created and probably from the memories he has released to him. Was his god doing this for his benefit, to make him feel more comfortable in an environment that he is used to being in?

He surveys his surroundings looking for his god. He could have taken any form so Omoide looks for anything that stands out. He notices a large tree on a nearby hill. There is what looks to be a small child on a swing, gently moving in the breeze.  He is dressed in white flowing robes with his long silver hair pulled up into a bun, enclosed by a silver coronet held in place by a white jade bone.

Omoide looks down at himself make sure he is clothed. There have been times where he has come to in this plane completely naked and is pleased to find he is dressed in the same white robes as the child on the swing.  His hair is styled with half up in a bun, enclosed in the same silver coronet as the child's but with a black cherry wood bone to hold it in place.  Half of his hair is left down and flows over his shoulders, nearly to his waist.

He stands up and quickly makes his way over to the tree. He smiles gently at the child on the swing as he approaches, taking a knee and bowing deeply, cupping his hands and his arms reaching out, creating a circle as if he is hugging someone. "This soul bids you greetings, my god. He asks what can this humble soul do for his god?" He speaks quietly to the ground in front of him, not daring to look up at the child on the swing.

The god chuckles and places the toes if his bare foot under Omoide's chin, lifting his head until his eyes are visible, but Omoide still has his eyes closed. "My soul." The god says quietly in a child-like voice, " What can you do for your god, was that the question?" The god says in an almost teasing manor, like a sibling getting ready to tattle on a little brother or sister.

Omoide's brows furrow in confusion but he doesn't speak nor open his eyes as his god gently sighs. "You may speak, my soul. Why do you think your god summoned you here?" The god now sounds older and more menacing almost like he is expecting and incorrect answer and has the punishment already laid out in his mind.

Omoide tries to keep his face neutral and his eyes tightly closed, "This soul wouldn't dare to guess what my god may have on his mind. This soul has not collected any memories for release to my god. This soul serves no other purpose for his god. I am humbled by my god's summoning but do not have an answer to my god's question. If my god would be so benevolent as to tell this humble soul why it was summoned, this soul would be grateful and rejoice."

The god release a long and rather audible sigh as he removes his foot from under Omoide's chin, "You may stand and open your eyes to gaze upon your god now." The voice is now mature and low. This voice is what Omoide is familiar with. He relaxes and rises to his feet and slowly opens his eyes but continues to stare at the grass at the god's feet. Omoide sees a hand move into his line of sight and gently touches under his chin, slowly lifting it up so his eyes are looking directly into the god's eyes. "I said you may look upon your god now. Do you not want to see your god, speak face to face with your god?" The god's deep set blue eyes appear to be a bit bored as they gaze into Omoide's.

The god smiles and sits back on the swing under the tree, all the while continuing to watch Omoide's expression. "So, do I frighten you, my soul? Do you think I would harm my first soul on my world? You are like my child, all of the souls on that world are my children, but you are my first and hold a special place in my heart. Do you know what that is called, my soul?", The god tilts his head to the side and raises one eyebrow as he hums a little to himself.

Omoide is caught off guard as he looks upon his god, who is now a mature male.  Although he is casually seated on the swing, his form is tall and fit, filling out the robes completely.  His chest is wide but his waist is thin as powerful legs hidden behind the many folds of cloths, push lazily back to allow the god to move the swing gently under the massive cherry tree.  The god's silver hair is now styled as Omoide's but the coronet is the same.  His god's lips are turned up into a graceful smile that reaches all the way to his eyes which are pinched closed slightly.

Omoide doesn't understand emotions of the vessels of his world. He doesn't really experience them the same way so he is unsure why his god is asking him these questions. He knows that parents have a love for their children and children have a love for their parents but Omoide never had a parent nor does he have a child so he doesn't know what that feeling is like but he does know what it is called.

"Familial love, my god?" He replies

"Yes, that is what it can be called. But love is the most important word. Have you felt love for another, my soul?" The god stands from the swing and is suddenly right in front of Omoide. He is close, very close but Omoide can only stare into his eyes as he speaks, "I believe I have, my god. Or I do. I believe I love my god. Is that correct? What I feel for my god, is that the same love. Like the love a child has for a parent?" Omoide tries not to smile, feeling proud of himself for figuring out what his god was asking.

The god steps back and returns to the swing under the tree but doesn't sit down. He lightly touches the rope holding the swing and it glitters into dust that settles on the grass as a bench. Once all the glittering dust has settled, the god sits down and sighs again. "Yes, my soul. I do believe what you feel for your god is very much the same as a child feels for a parent. Someone that takes care of them and guides them through life." His god seems disappointed by this observation.

Omoide again takes a knee and watches his god as he settles on the bench and folds his hands onto his lap. "My god, why was I summoned?" Omoide realizes how familiar his speech was to his god and he visibly cringes. This is noticed by the god who begins to laugh lightly. "Omoide, you don't need to be so formal when me meet. You have been my first soul for thousands of years on my World Plane. In those terms, you are an adult and as your parent, I will respect your maturity when we speak. You do not need to treat me as if you are a small child. Do you understand?" He smiles and shakes his head slightly at the mortified look on Omoide's face.

"I believe I understand, my god. Is there anything else you would desire from this soul….from myself?" Omoide trips over his words trying to get used to the familiar language his god requests.

"Just one more thing, my soul. You may call me by name. This doesn't mean you speak with any less respect when you speak my name, that must be understood." The god wags a finger in Omoide's direction.

Omoide lets a smile barely reach his lips before a confused look takes it over, "M..my god, this soul doesn't know my god's given name…. I mean.. I don't know what to call you, my god."

The god's face is suddenly surprised and the realization hits him, "Of course you wouldn't know my name." He lays a hand over his chest and laughs again, "My given name in the Realm of the Gods is, tamashiinobannin but you, my dear first soul, you can call me Tamashii."

Tamashii bows slightly as Omoide bows more deeply, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tamashii and in turn, please use the name I am called on your World Plan." He bows again, "My name is Omoide."

Tamashii smiles and stands, then bows slightly, "It is very nice to meet your, Omoide, I'm glad we have been able to become more familiar." He stands upright again before he lowers himself to the bench, once again crossing his legs and placing his folded hands in his lap.

Confusion crosses Omoide's face again. "I would like to ask, why I was summoned?"

Tamashii waves a hand in the air in front of his face, "Oh, I felt your soul out of balance for a long period of time and was worried you may be distressed or ill. I'm relieved to see that you seem quite balanced now. Did something happen that caused your distress?"

"Nothing that would affect my ability to perform my tasks for you, my god." Tamashii raises an eyebrow and a finger at Omoide's return to formal speech.

"Well then, Omoide, you are free to return to the World Plane." That was the last thing Omoide heard Tamashii speak and the last thing he saw was Tamashii's palm touch his forehead.

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Keibiin sits in the driver's seat of the SUV, watching the camera's view of the rear compartment. Omoide is still unconscious but his vitals are stable so she is able to focus on hospital and police reports. She is searching for incidents where a person has been admitted under unusual mental stress or where the police are called out to apprehend a subject exhibiting certain behaviors. These types of incidences can indicate a soul with past life memories that are 'leaking' into their current life's memories. It's been a rather quiet few weeks in their area.

Movement on the monitor alerts Keibiin to Omoide's consciousness and soul returning to his body. She opens the intercom channel and waits for Omoide to speak. Keibiin knows that Omoide doesn't like to be seen or touched when he returns to this plane. He has said his whole body feels hyper sensitive and even his clothes are painful against his skin. When Omoide feels the summons start, he usually has enough time to undress and lay in a sensory chamber. Every now and then, it's out of the blue like this time, and he has to make due with what he has available. Omoide can refuse a summon, but it's very painful so he usually doesn't refuse the connection.

The camera's visual is cut suddenly. The rustling of clothes and groaning can be heard through the intercom.

"Ms Shugosha, time please." Omoide's voice is rough and low like waking from a fitful night's sleep.

"2 hours 23 minutes sir. Is there anything you need?" Keibiin replies trying to keep the concern out of her voice. She hears a few tones as buttons on the control panel are pressed and the slight hissing of a moving panel.

"Have we discussed getting a sensory chamber installed in this rolling fortress?" Omoide says in more of a groan than anything else.

Keibiin smiles hearing his sarcastic tone. It must not have been a bad summons then, she thinks to herself. "I believe we have but keeping the water temperature at scalding would consume too much fuel and cause mold and condensation." She chuckles back through the intercom.

"Ah yes, I remember the 20 page document you produced on the subject." An audible sigh can be heard and then the cracking of the seal from a water bottle. After a moment, he speaks again, "Let's get back on the road, please. Let me know when we are 10 minutes from our destination so I can redress." Another sigh and groan comes across the intercom.

"As you wish, sir." Keibiin cuts the intercom and pulls back onto the road and heads towards the highway. The sleek black SUV moves through the darkness as the stars twinkle above.