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Description
A funny thing about dying.

You expect to see the pearly gates, or clouds, or stars. Something good. Something warm to embrace you.
There is nothing but fear.
Isamu plummeted off the building, his feet falling after him, guaranteeing him the fall would leave him dead or a vegetable for life. Well, he got one part right.
He would end up dead.
Orange hair getting messy from the wind as his gray eyes stared at the sidewalk 25..24...23..stories down. He already fell for about 15 stories.
He was expecting an angel to escort him from the fall, to save his life, but none came. Tears were starting to form, but were taken by the sky.
He had so much to do. So much to love, so much to avenge. His sewing kit was flying over him, strings and fabrics falling out and making a flag in the air.
Blackness.
At about floor number twelve, Isamu was dead. The pressure having already destroyed his circular system, crushing his brain, forcing his mouth to stop breathing. At floor five, his body was slumped and picking up speed, people in the windows gasping as a sixteen year old boy hit the pavement.
Head first.

The people of the offices thought that maybe he could have made it, they were stupid though. His brains were all over the sidewalk, and to ensure he wouldn't survive, his sewing kit landed, SPLAT on his head, Face flat.
And that was the death of Isamu.

Oh, how it started?
Wait a bit. If it was explained now, there would be no story.

--------------------------

Kanon led Isamu to the great palace. The hall was too filled to make an echo, yet Isamu tried, again and again. A man in a business suit yelled at him and went back to his cellular device...that looked to still have an antenna.
"Hey, Kanon, why does that guy have a radio?"
"He died like ten years ago." She explained, trying to keep the boy moving, and stop being such a nuisance to everyone around him.
Setting him in a chair near an office, she told him to stay where he was, making an appointment with the man inside.
Isamu listened and looked at the boring office, it was modern, no beyond modern. It had screens floating in the air, and shuttle doors like in Science Fiction movies. What was this second world like? Why was he good enough to end up in this world?
"Come in." The man said, pointing to a chair next to Kanon and making sure he was comfortable.
"Now, you know this is a world for second chances, right? Well I should explain everything in full then."
Isamu nodded, happy that he could get the answers to all his questions so easily. Not like in those terrible prolonged stories.
"You're name is Isamu, correct?"
He nodded once again.
"Well, Isamu, you are dead, as you already know. In this world, only those with special talents and die unnaturally are allowed here. Simple as that. Your skill, is your sewing and designing. We are lucky to have you. It is a dying art." The official looking man said, overly excited. It was annoying.
"Well, I lost my sewing bag. It fell with me." He said, unknown to the fact that at the moment it was planted on his head.
"Well, you can always get new supplies. There is a catch to this second chance world. You have a choice. You can live forever and sacrifice something of great importance, or live a normal life. Now, if you choose to live forever, you cannot bare children, you stay the age you are now, and the only ways you can die is if you are poisoned, murdered, commit suicide, or taken by the doubt."
"The doubt?" He asked taking all the information in slowly.
"Creatures that consume the people of this world." The man stood up, holding a contract to the other.
"What will you choose, Isamu?" He gave the other a pen.
Kanon remained quiet the entire time, patiently listening to the whole thing, making sure she didn't need to add anything.
Isamu thought long and hard, his face a mixture between misery and desperation. He finally signed the paper circling 'live forever' and passed the paper back.
"And what will you give up?" The man asked softly.
"The ability to completely fall in love." He answered and looked down, a soft tint of dread on him.
"Isn't that a little steep?" Kanon asked perking up an eyebrow.
"I owe it to someone..." He whispered.

Description
A funny thing about dying.

You expect to see the pearly gates, or clouds, or stars. Something good. Something warm to embrace you.
There is nothing but fear.
Isamu plummeted off the building, his feet falling after him, guaranteeing him the fall would leave him dead or a vegetable for life. Well, he got one part right.
He would end up dead.
Orange hair getting messy from the wind as his gray eyes stared at the sidewalk 25..24...23..stories down. He already fell for about 15 stories.
He was expecting an angel to escort him from the fall, to save his life, but none came. Tears were starting to form, but were taken by the sky.
He had so much to do. So much to love, so much to avenge. His sewing kit was flying over him, strings and fabrics falling out and making a flag in the air.
Blackness.
At about floor number twelve, Isamu was dead. The pressure having already destroyed his circular system, crushing his brain, forcing his mouth to stop breathing. At floor five, his body was slumped and picking up speed, people in the windows gasping as a sixteen year old boy hit the pavement.
Head first.

The people of the offices thought that maybe he could have made it, they were stupid though. His brains were all over the sidewalk, and to ensure he wouldn't survive, his sewing kit landed, SPLAT on his head, Face flat.
And that was the death of Isamu.

Oh, how it started?
Wait a bit. If it was explained now, there would be no story.

--------------------------

Kanon led Isamu to the great palace. The hall was too filled to make an echo, yet Isamu tried, again and again. A man in a business suit yelled at him and went back to his cellular device...that looked to still have an antenna.
"Hey, Kanon, why does that guy have a radio?"
"He died like ten years ago." She explained, trying to keep the boy moving, and stop being such a nuisance to everyone around him.
Setting him in a chair near an office, she told him to stay where he was, making an appointment with the man inside.
Isamu listened and looked at the boring office, it was modern, no beyond modern. It had screens floating in the air, and shuttle doors like in Science Fiction movies. What was this second world like? Why was he good enough to end up in this world?
"Come in." The man said, pointing to a chair next to Kanon and making sure he was comfortable.
"Now, you know this is a world for second chances, right? Well I should explain everything in full then."
Isamu nodded, happy that he could get the answers to all his questions so easily. Not like in those terrible prolonged stories.
"You're name is Isamu, correct?"
He nodded once again.
"Well, Isamu, you are dead, as you already know. In this world, only those with special talents and die unnaturally are allowed here. Simple as that. Your skill, is your sewing and designing. We are lucky to have you. It is a dying art." The official looking man said, overly excited. It was annoying.
"Well, I lost my sewing bag. It fell with me." He said, unknown to the fact that at the moment it was planted on his head.
"Well, you can always get new supplies. There is a catch to this second chance world. You have a choice. You can live forever and sacrifice something of great importance, or live a normal life. Now, if you choose to live forever, you cannot bare children, you stay the age you are now, and the only ways you can die is if you are poisoned, murdered, commit suicide, or taken by the doubt."
"The doubt?" He asked taking all the information in slowly.
"Creatures that consume the people of this world." The man stood up, holding a contract to the other.
"What will you choose, Isamu?" He gave the other a pen.
Kanon remained quiet the entire time, patiently listening to the whole thing, making sure she didn't need to add anything.
Isamu thought long and hard, his face a mixture between misery and desperation. He finally signed the paper circling 'live forever' and passed the paper back.
"And what will you give up?" The man asked softly.
"The ability to completely fall in love." He answered and looked down, a soft tint of dread on him.
"Isn't that a little steep?" Kanon asked perking up an eyebrow.
"I owe it to someone..." He whispered.