A/N: Hey, everyone! Welcome to my first "Angel Beats!" fic! I have been a fan for several months now, ever since I started watching the anime, and this fic has been put off for so long till now. And after so much time that was put into the production process, I sincerely hope that I do this justice.

Before we begin, let me make a super-long, super-detailed explanation about certain elements of the story, which I seriously recommend you read first before diving into the story. If you don't, there may or may not be a whole lot of confusion headed your way, depending on how well your comprehension is.

As to where the fic's premise comes from, this is obviously my spin on what happened during the events of the epilogue in Episode 13. I've read a lot of similar fics for inspiration, and while I absolutely loved all of them, I saw that they all had one few thing in common: the characters have all retained their names from their previous lives, which are practically being repeated. I mean, obviously, it is meant to tell the readers who is who in the world of the living, but considering everyone in SSS has been reincarnated, I have found it to be somewhat unrealistic for them to just be reincarnated back into their previous lives. I mean, I fully understand that the whole concept of death was not fully elaborated upon in the anime, but because of that, that's just how I feel about the whole thing. And besides, I always aim for my first stories in any fandom to be unique from others that have similar plots.

As a result, I've created new identities for the entire cast of "Angel Beats!", complete with full names. Now don't worry, they'll all regain their memories midway into the story, but for now, you will have to deal with these "new characters" for the time being. To avoid any confusion, I have compiled a comparison chart for the characters' old names and new names. I intend to post this chart at the beginning of every chapter so if someone gets pretty confused on which character has the name Arata Takahashi, for example, they could refer back to the chart and find out who has that name. It should be quite plain and simple, so I'm very confident there won't be any stress that'll be brought by the confusion. In addition, I've picked names that sound similar enough to the original names.

For the prologue, the chart is starting off with six names: Yuzuru Otonashi, Kanade Tachibana, Yuri Nakamura, Hideki Hinata, Ayato Naoi, and Masami Iwasawa, since all of them will have a significant amount of focus within the story. The chart shall be updated every time we learn a new character's SSS identity, but that will kick off midway into the story, when the ultimate reveal is made. Until then, the only six characters you will be able to distinguish easily will be the ones that I just mentioned. In the meantime, you will have to guess who's who in the midst of OCs I'm gonna hurl your way, since I'm sadistic and all that. :P

Anyway, enough with the super-long introduction! On with the chapter now. ENJOY!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own "Angel Beats!" All claims of ownership go to Jun Maeda, P.A. Works, and Aniplex!

PROLOGUE

Afterlife Name - Post-Afterlife Name

Yuzuru Otonashi - Arata Takahashi

Kanade Tachibana - Chouko Hashimoto

Yuri Nakamura - Kimiko Nishimura

Masami Iwasawa - Hasumi Itagaki

Hinata Hideki - Naotatsu Yunokawa

Ayato Naoi - Fuuta Ukiyo

April 11, 2026

Bedroom of Arata Takahashi
Takahashi Household

"Arata-kun, wake up! You're gonna be late for your work! This is the last time I'm gonna tell you that, mister!"

On his bed, sixteen-year-old Arata Takahashi turned on his side underneath his soft covers and moaned loudly, irritated at the start of another morning for him. If there was one thing that he absolutely hated the most during his daily routine, then it'd be having to wake up after a long night of nice, tranquil sleep, hands down. It annoyed him to no possible end; he even preferred eating his least favorite dish over waking up. And, to make matters worse, he would always have to leave that desirable state of carefree peace whenever he was having a rather good dream, whatever it was.

"Late for work?" Takahashi asked to himself, remembering the warning he received. "Wonder what the hell she means by that..."

Exhausted, Takahashi lifted his arm in a half-hearted manner, allowing his hand to search for his clock. Once his fingers touched the familiar metallic surface, he turned the clock face so he could see the numbers. Upon seeing them, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, wondering if his misread that.

He didn't. 8:55 A.M.

"HOLY CRAP!" Takahashi shouted in horror as he leaped out of his bed and rushed to his closet, opening the door with such force that the mirror on it trembled. "I AM GONNA BE LATE, I'M GONNA BE LATE, I'M GONNA BE LATE!" Desperately, he started picking the articles of clothing that were in easy reach, simultaneously trying to take off his sleepwear in the process. "OH GOD, OH MY GOD, CAN'T BE LATE, CAN'T BE LATE, CAN'T BE LATE!"

"Arata-kun, are you okay?" the same voice called. "Do you need some help?"

"I'm fine, Mom!" Takahashi yelled back. "I've got this!" Then, he added, with emphasized frustration, "AND STOP CALLING ME ARATA-KUN!"

His mother didn't respond, leaving Takahashi to sigh and resume his activities.

Finally managing to take off all of his sleepwear, Takahashi began to dress up. As he did so, he thought bitterly to himself, "Great. I am sixteen years old, almost turning seventeen, and my mom is still asking if I need some help with my damn clothes. Like I'm a little kid! Can't wait till I finally get myself out of this house..."

He finished putting on his clothes and quickly left the bedroom, brushing aside a lock of red hair that hung before his eye as he did so. As he traveled down the short staircase, Takahashi could hear the old family television set blaring. He was still surprised that a thing from sixteen years ago could still work in a time like this. The television seemed to be on a news channel that was covering a top story, apparently about some killer cult, but Takahashi didn't care the slightest.

"Good, you're awake!"

A middle-aged woman who had hair colored in the same scarlet as Takahashi's, wearing a blue dress with a polka-dotted apron, stepped beside the staircase's base. She crossed her arms and gave Arata a frown of disapproval as he passed her and rushed into the kitchen, where he found a plate of his breakfast lying on his usual side of the table, no doubt made by his mother during his slumber. However, Takahashi stopped dead after seeing what his mother had prepared.

"Uh, Mom?..." he asked.

"Yeah, I know you don't like Mápó dòufu, Arata-kun," the woman replied as she stepped into the kitchen, removing her apron as she did so, "but it's either that or that expired cereal that's sitting in the back of the food cabinet. Now, just eat it up, mister. You're gonna be late as it is, Arata-kun."

"Stop calling me Arata-kun, Mom..." the redheaded teenager sighed.

"Well, as long as you're in this house, then I can call you whatever I wish. And Arata-kun suits me best. So don't argue with me, mister. Now, eat up!"

Takahashi grumbled to himself. He loved his mother like any other son would, but whenever it was one of his busy days, either at school or at his part-time job, and things weren't going well for him, then she would go bonkers on him. It didn't surprise him to know the reason why; the job he had and the money it paid were practically the only things that kept them in their house and not out on the cold and unforgiving streets.

He waited until his mother left the kitchen to watch the old television set. Once she did, he stood up and rushed to the sink, emptying the entire plate of all the food that it held, all the while imitating the best slurping and munching sounds as he possibly could. Once all the food was down the drain, Takahashi turned on the sink to clean up any remnants of the dish that were still there. Then, he deactivated the water, finished off anything that might've remained in the drainage pipe with the sink's waste disposal system, grabbed the bag slung over his chair, and hurriedly walked over towards the front door.

"Alright-I'm-done-gotta-go-bye!" exclaimed Takahashi quickly as he unlocked the door, opened it, and left the house.

"Be careful, Arata-kun!" the mother replied, even though it was seconds after Takahashi closed the door.

Outside the house, Takahashi hopped on his bicycle, put on his helmet, and began to pedal down the concrete sidewalk. As he did, he looked around to survey the neighborhood he was in. He honestly couldn't believe that, much like the family's TV set, all of the houses comprising his neighborhood were made of more simpler construction materials that seemed more appropriate for twenty, maybe even thirty years ago, in comparison to the other neighborhoods that boasted more advanced construction. Takahashi could vividly remembered all of the pictures of buildings built during the 1990s and 2000s, pictures that he saw in all of his history textbooks; to him, it was as if he was living in that approximate timeline instead of the modern-day world. And it displeased him.

Nishitōkyō, Japan

As he pedaled into Nishitōkyō, Takahashi noticed a paperboy riding his own bicycle, pedaling across the street in order to get to his destination. Being a normal paperboy too, Takahashi could not help but severely dislike that job, for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost, his boss was a total pain in the ass, as if his schoolteachers weren't enough for him. Secondly...he could not see the worth of that job, seeing that the newspaper industry continued to operate right under the looming shadow of the so-called 'digital age'. It surprised (and actually distressed) Takahashi to know that newspapers were actually still a bit of a trend.

If Arata Takahashi had one honest truth that he upheld and always would till the day he died, it would be the fact that he wasn't that much of a big fan in stuff that originated from the olden days, products of previous generations. He dismissed them all as trash that the previous generations had forgotten to pick up, in his own words. This dislike undoubtedly stemmed from his strict upbringing in the rather simple, almost primitive environment that was his house, accompanied by a mounting childhood desire to learn more about the technological advancements that he kept hearing about from day to day.

It really didn't help him to know that he was working a job that should've been anything but alive by now.

Takahashi sighed in frustration and closed his eyes for a brief second.

"TAKAHASHI!" a voice bellowed. "TAKAHASHI, STOP, STOP!"

However, it was too late: Takahashi collided into a short and stocky man with a balding scalp, a graying black mustache, and squinted eyes that were radiating pure intimidation. Both fell onto a nearby stack of newspapers, causing it to collapse and bury the man neck-deep in dozens of copies.

Groaning and holding his head, Takahashi then realized who he ran into; he exclaimed desperately, "Oh, I'm SO sorry, Itagaki-sensei!"

Itagaki blinked, seemingly in disbelief, and then stared at Takahashi, his eyes burning with rage.

"You are late, Takahashi," he snarled savagely. "You are goddamn late. I was actually this goddamn close to firing your goddamn sorry ass. Then, you finally show up, but when you do, BOOM! I am sitting on my goddamn ass, buried neck-deep in a pile of my goddamn newspapers, and you're whining like a goddamn baby, giving me goddamn APOLOGIES! Do you have any goddamn idea of the time it took to make this goddamn stack, Takahashi?! HUH?!"

"I am SO sorry, Itagaki-sensei!" repeated Takahashi as he stood up and began picking up the newspapers. "I'll stack them again."

"You better goddamn do that, Takahashi," Itagaki growled in pure loathing as he stood up and dusted his clothes. "I paid a WHOLE lotta good money and effort in having those goddamn newspapers made and then stacked with that precision. And after you do that lil' chore, you have your goddamn paper route to take care of. And because of your goddamn late arrival here, as well as the fact that you were delayed by rearranging that goddamn newspaper stack, that means I am gonna have to cut your pay for today in...half. Consider yourself goddamn lucky that I didn't make it three-fourths, let alone a hundred goddamn percent!"

With that, Itagaki stormed off, his face flushed with a bright crimson. Sighing in relief, Takahashi resumed rearranging the newspaper stack.

"Need a little help with that, Arata?" a voice asked.

Takahashi smiled and looked across his shoulder to see the teenage girl with chin-length pink-red hair, who was standing a few feet away from him, smiling.

"Hey, Hasumi," he greeted. "Yeah, I'm probably gonna need some help on this."

Hasumi stepped forward and began picking up several of the newspapers alongside Takahashi, who merely continued looking at her. Hasumi was his coworker and also a fellow classmate of his at their high school. And admittedly, he had a rather big crush on her, although his hopes would always be dashed whenever she viewed their relationship as nothing more than a friendship, being blissfully unaware of his true feelings. Plus, there was...

"I apologize for my father...again..." she said.

"Why does he have to be such a pain in the ass?" moaned Takahashi. "I try my best. And how am I repaid? Only shouts and insults being thrown my way!"

"Well, he obviously doesn't really like you that much. Far from it."

"Heh. Well that's the news of the century."

"Yeah, well you should see him at home. Nothing but complaints." Hasumi looked at Takahashi. "Why were you late, anyway?" she asked. "You're never late."

"I guess I must have overslept last night."

"Why in the world would you oversleep?"

"Uh...it's the weekend, Hasumi."

Hasumi chuckled, then shrugged dismissively. "Doesn't excuse anything, especially when you have a daytime job to attend to every day."

Takahashi suddenly imagined himself hugging empty air as tears cascaded down his face, his breath growing shorter and desperate by the second...only that it actually wasn't him. Shaking his head to clear it of the strange thoughts, he resumed picking up newspapers.

As he did, he glanced at Hasumi, who was bent down as she picked up the newspapers near her. Strands of her hair fell down from her shoulders in a manner that Takahashi found rather graceful in its own right. Cracking a small smile, he remembered something that happened yesterday, something that he had been hoping would present a perfect opportunity for him to finally be able to confess his long-withheld feelings to Hasumi.

"Hey, Hasumi?" he piped.

She looked at him; he was briefly fascinated by her eyes. "Yes?"

"Be calm, Arata. This is not a date. It's just a friendly thing. You can't rush things just yet. Just ask her out as a friend... Not all that hard to do, right?"

He replied, "I have two tickets to a midnight concert of The White Crow. I know how much you love their music, so...I thought I'd take you along with me there-"

Hasumi smiled sadly. "Oh, I'm sorry, Arata. I already have a ticket, and my friends all took the remaining three tickets. Hey, maybe I'll see you there?"

"Yeah, yeah...maybe you will..." lied Takahashi. Then, he added in his thoughts, "At least she didn't bring him with her. That's good..."

Unfortunately, as he was distracted, the wind picked up and blew some of them away, much to his misfortune.

"GODDAMN IT, TAKAHASHI! LOOK AT THOSE GODDAMN NEWSPAPERS GO! GO AND GET 'EM, GODDAMN IT!"

"Y-Y-Yes, sir," stuttered Takahashi nervously before sprinting off to catch up with them.

"Man, this life totally sucks ass," he thought with frustration as he caught up with the first newspaper and struggled to pick it up, only for it to continue fluttering away from his reach, as if it were mocking him and his efforts. It didn't take long till a small crowd gathered and began laughing at his antics.

"Aw, great. Now everyone's laughing at me like I'm an idiot. My house sucks, my living sucks, my job sucks, everyone and everything around me sucks...Hasumi's an exception, but I can only get so far with her... If I had the chance to redo my life within my grasp, I'd take it in a flash. ...Aw man, if only that were so..."

Bedroom of Chouko Hashimoto
Hashimoto Manor

Chouko Hashimoto opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. The bright sunlight was shining through the elegant window of her bedroom, bathing her eyes in its golden warmth. She blinked a couple of times before sitting up on her bed, an emotionless expression etched on her face, like engraved stone as it usually was. Letting out an indifferent sigh, she stared out of the window longingly, strands of her long silver hair falling down to her face.

"Chouko-chan!" a female voice called. "Your breakfast is ready, hot and fresh!"

"I'm coming, Junna-san," replied Chouko indifferently. Then, she whispered to herself, "On time, as always."

She got out of her bed, straightened out her silver hair, and then looked out of the window again. The sun was high in the sky, continuing to shine without any hindrance of clouds. If there was one thing that she liked about the day, it was the sun, plain and simple. It was so beautiful with its light. She couldn't possibly imagine her life without it, since it was practically one of very few things in existence that could make her life worth it.

After dressing up in her indoors attire, Chouko left her bedroom and stepped out into the hallway, watching as Fuuta walked out of his own, looking a bit tired, but no doubt rather dissatisfied that his peaceful sleep had been interrupted unceremoniously. His signature Mao cap hung over his eyes. She approached him, her trademark emotionless expression still etched on her face, but she knew very well that he could read through that facade like one would with a book.

"Good morning, Fuuta," she greeted, her voice stoic, as always. "I hope you had an exceptionally enjoyable sleep."

"Far from it, actually, to tell you the truth," he replied bitterly. However, he let out a short, hollow laugh before coolly flicking away strands of his dark-green hair that were handing in front of his face. "But...I guess it beats having to wake up every morning and help out Mom with all the chores."

"Come. Your mother has already prepared breakfast for us."

"Whatever you say, Chou-kee."

Chouko looked at Fuuta, her golden eyes glimmering. "I believe this marks the 700,000th time I've requested you to stop calling me by that ridiculous name."

"You counted, as usual." Fuuta shrugged and sighed. By that time, he and Chouko were traveling down the long, winding staircase that encircled a column like a snake constricting its prey. "Why is it that I'm not all that surprised?" He looked at his longtime friend. "Chouko, you know I'm just pulling your leg."

"Your sense of humor has always been rather strange and unimpressive, Fuuta."

"Any sense of humor would be strange and unimpressive to you, Chouko. For once in your life, can't you find the time to loosen up and just have a little fun?"

"I do have a little fun."

Fuuta sighed again. "You call spending hours reading a book or doing your schoolwork fun, Chouko?"

"I have to commit to what is required of me," Chouko replied, her voice even more monotonous and emotionless than before, as if she was reciting a script that she was extremely bored with. "As the heir to the Hashimoto legacy, company, and fortune, I must continue to sustain my lineage."

Fuuta let out an annoyed sigh. "Stop acting like you're hypnotized or something, Chouko. We both know that's a load of bull."

Chouko stopped before she could reach the base of the staircase; she began to ponder Fuuta's words.

Being the daughter of a wealthy businessman, and a member of the city's prestigious upper class, surprisingly did not grant Chouko any outstanding merits, as she felt like she didn't truly belong in such a community. After all, her parents were never really there for her because of their work, she was a social outcast at the private school she attended, and even outside of school did she not have any friends, except for Fuuta Ukiyo and his mother Junna, one of the housemaids.

It was definitely not much of a pleasurable life, and Chouko might've as well escaped from the bleak, meaningless requirements it demanded. She really would have. That is, if it were not for her strict and demanding father, who had the whole police department clutched in his hand and would undoubtedly use all of his influence on them to move heaven and Earth in their efforts to find her and bring her back to him.

It was therefore most logical for Chouko to merely play out her part, with the hope of some sort of miraculous intervention.

"But what else can I do?" she asked, her voice laced with a tone of complete resignation as she looked at the floor blankly. "I have no expectations that I could truly call my own. Without the name of Hashimoto, I am...nothing." Her eyes softened as she narrowed them. "But with the name of Hashimoto, though, I'm the future owner and CEO of Japan's largest multimedia corporation, also one of the largest in the world, and in addition, all of the other successful businesses and enterprises in which my father holds the majority of their stocks." She looked up at Fuuta. "What else do I have to do?"

"You have your crazy-good piano skills!" exclaimed Fuuta, who was evidently becoming increasingly frustrated.

"One can only go so far with such skills."

"And that person will be YOU. I've heard you play, Chouko! People would go absolutely NUTS with you! Concerts would be sold out because everyone would-"

"Stop," Chouko interrupted coldly.

"No, I am NOT gonna end this talk again like this! Chouko, you-"

"I said stop."

"I am serious, Chouko-"

"Stop."

"We both know that your dad just has his head way too up in his ass for him to know-"

"Fuuta Ukiyo."

However, the latest sentence was spoken by someone else. Fuuta's blood ran as cold as the Arctic the moment he heard the booming, masculine voice. With a fearful squeak, the teenage boy looked behind him and saw the towering figure of Sadahiro Hashimoto looking down upon him, a tight frown on his face.

"Uhhhhh..." Fuuta's eyes widened, and his lower jaw was sliding further open by the minute. "H-H-He-Hey... G-Good morning, Hashimoto-sensei..."

Sadahiro let out a dissatisfied snort. "Well, I must say that I'm surprised to hear such deplorable nonsense being sputtered by the son of my best maid, and in the process of an especially lovely morning like this." He then looked at Chouko, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "And what's this about piano skills, Chouko? Please tell me you aren't messing around with Junna-san's piano again. How many times have I told you that you are forbidden to play it?!"

"Twenty-two times, Father," Chouko replied honestly; Fuuta sweat-dropped at her honesty.

"How many times must I keep telling you this, over and over again, before you finally listen to your senses, Chouko?" asked Sadahiro, crossing his arms. "Fifty? A hundred? A thousand?" He sighed and shook his head with disapproval. "A Hashimoto has no use for a mere instrument like a piano."

"A Hashimoto has complete and unanimous use for controlling the media and the entertainment industry, the two most pivotal things in today's Japan," Chouko replied. However, once again, it sounded more like she was reciting from a script that she was dissatisfied with.

Fuuta narrowed his eyes in anger, but Sadahiro smiled proudly.

"Exactly," Sadahiro replied proudly. "Now, I can only hope you remember those words the next time you approach Junna-san's piano, is that clear?"

"Yes, Father. It is as clear as a crystal."

"Good. Now come. Your breakfast is getting cold. We don't want Junna's work to go to waste."

The two teenagers followed Sadahiro towards the kitchen. As they did so, Chouko felt Fuuta approach her.

"What the hell, Chouko?" he whispered angrily. "You haven't even played the piano recently!"

"Yes, I am aware of that, Fuuta," she replied calmly.

"Then why'd you set yourself up like that?! You could've just told him the truth!"

"Yes, I am aware of that. It was just illogical to disappoint him."

Fuuta's eyes widened in horror at her response. "I-I-Illogical?"

"Yes, illogical. Say I were to indulge Father in the truth. He would then direct all of his rage at you for the derogatory statement you made about him. You would be subjected to his special punishment of running around the manor's perimeter for hours on end, without ever stopping, and I can remember your displeasure at such a punishment. In addition, he would possibly launch aspersions against your mother, the one who is educating you and shaping your behavior."

"I'd take all of that over you taking a fall for something you never did, Chouko! At least that would've been the truth!"

"Arguing with me isn't going to rectify what transpired, Fuuta. It is fruitless. Let's just let it go and enjoy our breakfast."

Fuuta was silent as the three entered the large kitchen, where Chouko's mother, as well as the butlers and maids of the house, were already gathered.

"What was with the delay?" Chouko's mother, a petite woman who shared her daughter's hair, asked.

"Oh, I was just giving Chouko another lecture about using Junna-san's piano," replied Sadahiro. "She just admitted to playing it again."

The mother shook her head in disapproval. "What is this, the thirtieth time your father lectured you about the piano, Chouko?"

"Twenty-second, actually," Chouko said indifferently.

"Oh no, please Hashimoto-sensei!" exclaimed a maid who was sitting beside Fuuta; she was stocky and had short yellow hair, with a kind and pleasurable face. "Chouko-chan is perfectly free to play my piano whenever she desires. There is no harm that can come from her doing so."

"I appreciate your kindness, Junna-san," Sadahiro replied courteously, "I really do, but my daughter has way too much precious time on her hands to be able to concern herself with such trivial matters like playing your piano. She is now sixteen, a really important age for her. At this point, she must start preparing herself for what awaits her: a world of business, success, and vast influence." He patted Chouko's head fondly as he smiled. "As a Hashimoto, it is rather traditional for members of our lineage to prepare themselves at such an age, with no other concerns; it has always been that way ever since her great-great-grandfather."

"I understand, Hashimoto-sensei, but-"

Sadahiro's voice was much stern this time. "Again, I appreciate your kindness, Junna-san, but I've already spoken on the matter. Chouko has a bright future on her way, and under no circumstances can, or should it be hindered. Now, let us not disturb this breakfast any further and resume, shall we?"

"Yes, Hashimoto-sensei..."

Chouko watched as Junna sat down, a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. She briefly looked at Fuuta and saw that he was glaring back at her scathingly.

"I know you're infuriated, Fuuta. My apologies. It was just...illogical. That's all."

Bedroom of Kimiko Nishimura
Nishimura Household

Kimiko Nishimura groaned with frustration as the ringing of her alarm clock pierced the silent atmosphere of her bedroom, disturbing her tranquil sleep. Turning over on her side, she lifted her arm and slammed it down on the clock, deactivating the alarm. Then, she turned over on her other side and, with a sigh of relief, resumed her sleep. She just didn't have the time to wake up, especially not on a nice, warm weekend day like this.

Preoccupied with her tranquil sleep, she barely heard the door to her bedroom open. But once she registered what the sound was, she knew it was too late.

"WAKE UP, WAKE UP, ONEE-CHAN!" a boy shouted in her ear. "WAKE UP!"

"AGH!" Kimiko screamed in surprise as she quickly sat up on her bed. Then, she glared angrily at her younger brother, Kaisei, who was giggling. "KAISEI-CHAN! My GOD! I told you not to wake me up like that!" She rubbed her ear as Kaisei's giggles turned into laughter. "You're gonna blow out my eardrum next time..."

"You weren't waking up, Onee-chan," Kaisei replied, struggling to hold back his giggles. "I thought I'd help out. Besides, you're funny whenever you're angry!"

Kimiko let out a heavy sigh of annoyance. For his entire life, Kaisei was always the type of person who wouldn't get upset so easily, instead laughing or getting confused in the face of a situation. It was admittedly both adorable and annoying at the same time. Kimiko looked up at Kaisei again and, noticing his wide and bright smile, smiled back. It didn't matter either way; annoying or not, she just couldn't stay mad at him for long.

"Well, thank you for waking me up," she said as she continued to rub her ear.

Kaisei's smile widened. "You're welcome! Now come on, Onee-chan, it's breakfast time! Naomi and Tamika are waiting for us downstairs!"

Kimiko's smile instantly faded. She remembered the fight she and Naomi had last night, and hoped that Naomi forgot all about it...

She felt a hand clutch hers, and saw that it was Kaisei's. He smiled at her and said encouragingly, "Come on, Onee-chan!"

Obliging, Kimiko yawned before standing up and following her brother downstairs. The two of them entered the kitchen, where Kimiko's younger sisters Naomi and Tamika were already seated at the table. Tamika noticed the two enter and smiled toward Kimiko in greeting, but Kimiko noticed that Naomi was looking at her breakfast again, absorbed in her own mind, her dyed-black hair falling down her shoulders and obscuring most of her face from view.

"Good morning, Onee-chan!" Tamika greeted. "Dad had to leave early for work again, so it's just us."

"YAY!" exclaimed Kaisei, hopping up and down energetically. "That means more playtime for us, since it's summer and we can't go to school!"

"I don't think I can play with you right now, Kaisei-chan," Kimiko replied modestly. "I have some club stuff to take care of."

"Awwwww! Onee-chan, you're always doing stuff even if it's summer!"

"Trust me, Kaisei, by supervising the club will it be able to help thousands of people worldwide. What if I decide to play with you while some poor person on the opposite side of the world starves, having no food or drinks nearby, nor the money to get any, and they die because of that? Would you like that, Kaisei?"

Kaisei frowned pitifully, and then crossed his arms, puffed out his cheeks, and replied stubbornly, "When I become in charge of the world, everyone will get a lot of money so then they can buy their own food and drinks." Then, he looked up at Kimiko, beaming. "Then I'll finally be able to play with you all the time, just like the good old times!" He began hopping up and down in excitement. "Just you wait, world! One day, I'll be in charge of the world!"

Kimiko chuckled at her brother's bubbly enthusiasm and ruffled his hair. "Well then, your almighty highness, if you wanna become in charge of the world, I think that you should better start eating your breakfast! A strong and mighty ruler always eats his breakfast so then he can remain strong and mighty!"

She suddenly heard Naomi scoff and looked at her, only to see that she was still looking absentmindedly at her breakfast.

Dismissing it, Kimiko sat down. Kaisei did as well and was about to eat his breakfast when Kimiko said, "Uh-uh! We have to pray first!"

"Oh, that's right!" replied Kaisei. "Uh, is it my turn?"

"Yep. Lead us if you will, Kaisei-chan."

Kaisei nodded, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands together; the others followed suit. "Dear Lord, thank you very much for this cool breakfast that's in front of us, and please make sure we have a happy and fun day. Then again, every day's a happy and fun day, but still, please make sure of that! Pretty please? Oh, and please take care of all the poor people on the opposite side of the world. They're starving, and they're thirsty. Thank you!"

He was about to conclude the prayer, but then, he quickly remembered something and added, "Oh, and please make sure that when I grow up, I could become in charge of the world so then I can do all of your stuff and you can take a break. Maybe you can start playing with your son now!"

Kimiko and Tamika tried their best to suppress their giggles.

"Oh Lord, please know that my brother's a little cuckoo, don't mind him," Kimiko thought jokingly.

"Amen," Kaisei said.

"Amen," added Kimiko and Tamika.

"Itadakimasu," they recited before eating their breakfasts.

A few seconds in, however, Kimiko heard the phone ring. Knowing who was calling, she ran over to the phone and answered it.

"Hey, Naotatsu-kun," she greeted.

"Morning, Kimmie," replied the voice of the club's Vice-President, Naotatsu Yunokawa. "Just so you know, there's been a little change of plans. The club meeting has been moved to my house. Ginga's parents had to call in the contractor to fix something in the house. Hopefully you remember where I live."

"How could I forget it? That garden of yours sure knows how to leave an imprint on my mind."

"Hey, don't insult my mom's gardening! She worked hard on- Nah, I'm kidding; my mom's gardening is crap." There was a brief silence. "Uh...nothing, Mom..."

Kimiko giggled; Naotatsu's antics really amused her sometimes. It had been quite a surprise for her the moment she knew he became the Vice-President of her club and would therefore be leading it alongside her, since he was well-known in school for not being the most reliable person. But as the past year progressed and Naotatsu was able to prove his worth as a leader, Kimiko now trusted him completely with the club's activities.

"Anyway," he continued, "that's the news. Think you've got it?"

"Yeah, I've got it," replied Kimiko. "Oh, and when you see Ginga, be sure to tell him that his parents desperately need to get themselves a new contractor. You know, this marks the tenth time in a row that our meeting had to be interrupted all because of something going wrong with his house."

"Gotcha, Kimmie. Bye."

"Bye."

Kimiko hung up the phone, just as Kaisei approached her, a giddy look on his face, which could only signal his trademark mischief.

"Was that Naotatsu-san?" he asked, smiling widely.

"Yes," replied Kimiko.

"I like him. I can't wait till he becomes my Onii-chan. Can it happen, Onee-chan, pretty please?!"

Kimiko's eyes widened in alarm; Kaisei always had this extremely strange impression that she liked Naotatsu and vice-versa. She knew it had to stem from the time he stopped by for an update on the club activities, only to wind up being antagonized by Kaisei, who initially thought he was an intruder and thus chased him around until Kimiko calmed him down. Since then, Kaisei had greatly enjoyed Naotatsu's company immensely.

"I'll-I'll see about that..." she stuttered nervously.

Ignoring her younger brother's celebrating over the announcement, she prepared to return to the table when she saw that Naomi was eating all her breakfast quickly. However, before she can say anything about it, Naomi had already finished her breakfast and quickly stood up from the table, preparing to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kimiko asked, stopping Naomi in her tracks.

"Nowhere," replied Naomi quietly.

"Please tell me you're not gonna play those games again."

Naomi glared at her defensively. "So what if I am?"

"Don't you remember what happened a while back?"

The black-haired girl sighed in frustration and replied angrily, "I'll be fine, Kimiko. It's not like that incident's gonna happen again, so stop badgering me."

"Just because it hasn't happened again, doesn't mean it won't ever happen again in the future. And even if it doesn't, you still have your head in those games all the time. Why don't you just spend your spare time helping Tamika with her kendo, or playing with Kaisei-chan?"

"Why don't you?" Naomi snapped accusingly. "You're the big sister, you help Tamika and play with Kaisei-chan."

"I may be their big sister, but you're their big sister too. They're your responsibility as much as they're mine, and you're not using your responsibility-"

"And I have to...why? They have you to depend on."

"I just said why."

Naomi's frown became more pronounced. "That's lovely. Now, if you'll excuse me, my friends are waiting me to log in."

"You're not going anywhere until you put your plate in the sink and wash it-"

"Oh, shut up, Onee-chan," interrupted Naomi nastily. "Stop acting like Mom, 'cause you're not her."

"I may not be Mom, but as the eldest child, and the eldest sister, I have to fill in her role as best as I can."

Naomi's eyes narrowed angrily, and she clenched her teeth. "Oh, there you go again, asserting your control and dominance again through your so-called logic! Stop telling me what to do, Kimiko; you have no right to be in control of my life! Mom would've let me do as I choose!"

"No, she wouldn't have," Kimiko replied, her anger rising, "because you're prioritizing your games over your own siblings, the ones who need you the most!"

"Again, they have YOU! Why should I be needed?!"

"Because they love you!"

"No, they love YOU!"

"STOP IT! STOP FIGHTING!"

Kimiko and Naomi looked at Tamika, who had stood up from her chair, tears dripping down her cheeks. Kaisei was also crying, which shocked Kimiko.

"You two always keep fighting!" Tamika shouted. "Always there's fighting, always! Do you have any idea how I feel about this, or Kaisei?!"

Kimiko gasped and stood up, approaching Tamika as she collapsed onto her chair and began sobbing.

"Tamika, Kaisei, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I promise you, Naomi and I won't fight again. Right, Naomi?" She looked up, but saw that Naomi was already gone. With a sigh, she walked over to the sink and retrieved paper towels, giving some to Tamika and Kaisei. Then, Kimiko glanced at Naomi's abandoned plate.

"She still didn't even take care of her plate." Kimiko looked longingly at the staircase where Naomi undoubtedly disappeared at. "Oh, Naomi. What do you think I'm doing wrong? Why do you hate me? I know I'm not Mom, but I try my best for her and for you guys. After all, I'm your big sister. I have to care for you, right?

"Then what am I doing wrong?"

"O-Onee-chan?"

Kimiko looked down and met the watery eyes of Kaisei. He was tugging at her shirt like a needy child.

"Why are you and Naomi always fighting?" he asked sadly.

"I'm...I'm not really sure, Kaisei," replied Kimiko solemnly. "But just know that we still love you and Tamika. We're just...working something out."

"When will you two stop fighting?"

"I don't know, Kaisei. ...I...I really don't know. You're probably just gonna have to wait..."

Kaisei merely nodded and sadly left the kitchen, as did Tamika. Kimiko watched the two of them go before looking back up at the staircase remorsefully.

NEXT TIME ON "THE WINGS OF AN ANGEL"

Takahashi: Hasumi, why can't you try out that thing you suggested?

Hasumi: You be careful, alright? There's killer cultists loose in the metropolis.

Tamika: Onee-chan? What's wrong?

Naotatsu: Well, I came to get you, of course. I know how much you don't like to walk alone.

Kimiko: Every time a new mass grave is found, all the news channels go crazy like it is the end of the world or something.

Touya: As said by these articles, the mainstream reporters' rhetoric seem to be aimed more towards glorifying these psychos over anything else.

Ginga: There's no way Sadahiro Hashimoto will change the way his reporters are covering this story, even if we're backed up.

Kimiko: "...There's absolutely no way I can stop something like that from happening again..."

Chapter 1: Inner Regrets

A/N: So, how's that for the first chapter for my first "Angel Beats" story? Be sure to let me know in all your reviews! Criticism is welcome, but I do not want any flaming. Please be sure to use kind words, so then that can guarantee any actual improvement over any erroneous tidbits (with the exception of the old name vs. new name thing, THAT I'm gonna stick by till the very end). As for what is going to happen later on into the story, well, I obviously can't spoil you the details, but I will tell you that it's gonna be one hell of a ride! Hopefully, that is. But I'm confident that I'll enjoy this very much.

Now, before I sign off, I want everyone to know that this is my first time using Japanese terms and honorifics and such. So, if there is anyone who's well-versed in the Japanese culture and language who is also reading this story, please give me a shout-out and some advice if you see any errors or misuse of any terms. I want the dialogue of the story to be closely faithful to traditional Japanese speaking, which I'm obviously not familiar with.

Also, I just want everyone to know that there won't be another chapter for this story until early July. My family and I are going to southeast Asia for a vacation and to visit relatives living there (Philippines, to be specific). I ask you all to please be patient until I get back. It'd very much appreciated! :D

Well, hope you enjoyed this prologue! TheCartoonFanatic01 is out. PEACE!