I reluctantly opened my eyes as the pale blue morning light filtered gently through the window. My bones creaked and cracked in protest as I slowly brought myself up to a sitting position, stubbornly refusing to use the automated controls at my bedside.

"It's getting harder each day," I murmured to myself, wincing slightly at the pain and soreness in my joints. I turned my gaze towards the fridge wedged haphazardly between the bed and the wall, smiling slightly at the pile of home-cooked meals and sweets delivered by my children and grandchildren the day before. The nurses had a fit when they heard my family's request, but I shut them down with a quite acerbic "I'm dying anyway." It probably wasn't very fair to them, but in my defense it'd save them from being overly sterile or careful around me.

I sighed. Yes, I'm dying. Of course; today I turn 100. A centenarian. There isn't much life left in me for me to really worry about it. I'm in some vague discomfort, obviously - that's what happens when your bodily functions start failing - but my heart has never been lighter. I was a little sad when Hina passed several years back, but when you're both this close to the end of your life the feeling doesn't really last.

In fact, almost all of my friends have passed on now. Kiri, Tsukuyo-chan, Miyu, Matsuri...well, Seina hasn't. She's never lost her pep, even now. Every now and then I'd see her challenging other seniors to wheelchair races; I think she'll still be here long after I'm gone. I don't have nearly as much energy as she does, but whenever she visits we reminisce about the past a lot.

I sighed again. So much has happened since our time at Shirojo. Hina and I married outside in Japan - then again in Japan when the government introduced the new law - and adopted an adorable little girl, who took after both of us. Whereas I used to cook Hina's lunches, Hikari would spend her high school mornings cooking snacks for after track practice.

Our son, though, didn't. To my longtime chagrin, Shinji somehow bonded instantly with Youka and Aki, picking up guitar at the ripe age of 7 and giving me headaches late at night until I all but shooed him out the door to college. Of course, I had to change my tune when he became famous and was named one of Japan's best musicians of the decade, but I still remember fuming and yelling at him to stop playing at 12 in the morning.

I stretched, forcing my old arms as high as they would go, and absentmindedly took one of the onigiri left out for me. Hmm...could use a little less salt, I thought instinctively. I snorted at myself scornfully. Despite retiring from full-time cooking some thirty years ago my chef's eye never faded. Besides, not like too much salt would harm me now.

I checked the old, beat-up timepiece on the nightstand. It was once a beautifully crafted watch, with gold inlays and a classy leather strap, but decades of use had seen its finish all but dulled and its band wrapped and rewrapped with various types of tape. I just couldn't bear to not use it - it was a wedding gift from Miyu and Matsuri, one of a pair. Hina never really had use for non-sports watches, so hers is still in pristine condition; in fact, we've decided to pass it down, hopefully for multiple generations to come.

"Hmm…they should be coming...shortly after lunch, they said?" My family was visiting again today. I think Shinji and Hikari will be okay - they're both grandparents of their own now and they know it'll be my time to go soon. I'm also not too concerned with the younger generations, though I have heard my grandchildren lamenting about losing my cooking at family outings.

I laughed gently. "All things considered, that's not a bad thing to be missed for." No, it certainly wasn't. My cooking had reached national attention early in my career, and though I did my best to stay out of the limelight reporters would still flock to my restaurants just to try and get an interview with me. Knowing that so many people loved to eat my food was gratifying, but I was never quite comfortable with the attention.

Somehow my thoughts turned back towards Shirojo. "Even then I never really enjoyed attention, did I?" I murmured, chewing slowly through the rice and seaweed. No, I never did. "'Black Princess', indeed," I scoffed. Despite my antisocial personality - or maybe because of it - my own popularity soon rivaled that of Ano's. It was initially a little annoying, especially given my preference being alone, but eventually I came to accept it. It was just another change brought on by meeting Sachi-san and Megumi.

My heart wrung at the thought of those two ghosts and I let myself fall back onto the mattress. Suddenly I felt agitated - yet serene. Anxious, yet calm. My heart rate increased ever so slightly - just enough to make me a little more awake. I drew an electrified breath and could only whisper one word.

"Tonight."

"Mom? We're here. Mom?"

My eyes fluttered open. I blinked a few times, allowing my vision to sharpen. In front of me I saw Hikari and Shinji, their families peeking out from behind the door. My heart pained and longed for something - something that I knew would come tonight.

"My children…" I reached out a hand to each of their faces, feeling the lines that the decades had brought them. I had to tell them. "Tonight."

Hikari blinked in confusion. "Tonight?" she repeated.

I nodded and looked right into her eyes, feeling stronger than I had ever before. "Yes, tonight."

"Oh…" Hikari breathed out, eyes downcast, before slowly looking back up and smiling sadly. "Tonight, then."

"I-I-I don't get it, Mom," Shinji stuttered. "What's tonight?"

I turned my gaze to his anxious face. "Tonight," I said simply, holding his gaze steadily until he dropped his eyes, nodding resigned acceptance.

"I...I understand, Mom." He looked away to wipe a tear, trying to keep his composure.

"Don't cry for me. I've lived a long, happy life with no regrets. Well-" I amended, looking pointedly at Shinji's leather jacket, "-few regrets."

There were some scattered laughs at that. I pulled my children in close. "Don't worry. You've both been independent from me for a long time now. It's okay to cry, but live happy lives." I never told them about Sachi-san and Megumi. It just felt...intrusive? Uncomfortable? Private? Regardless, I felt that sharing my meeting with two spirits would make my children less hardworking, figuring that the existence of an afterlife negated the need to really concentrate on the living.

Hikari sniffled. "I'll miss you, Mom."

I patted her hair gently. "I know you will." I still remember the pain I felt at my own parents' passing; the knowledge that I would see them again did little to lessen it. "But we won't be apart forever."

She nodded, annoyedly wiping her tears away. "Besides," I continued, pushing them away gently and fixing them with a half-smile, "we still have today together."

I nodded to Shinji. "Bring the family in."

I sighed and lay myself gingerly on my pillows. At my request the blinds and window were left open, and I could look out into the endless sea of sparkling stars, feeling the evening breeze on my face. I don't know how long I was like that, but as the night drew on I could feel the longing in my heart steadily increase.

I closed my eyes. Everything had been put in order for my death years ago, and I had said a personal farewell to every member of my family, doting on some of the younger ones one last time and giving my own type of stern advice to some of the adults. The atmosphere was fairly muted - how could it not be, with me on death's doorstep? - but I felt a general sense of peace and acceptance among the family. Shinji even tried to crack a joke - "Say hi to Mom for me, Mom" - though I probably could have done without that.

"Peace and acceptance…" I murmured to myself. I kept my eyes closed, allowing the wind to wash over me. Eventually, I could feel it in my heart.

"It's time, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

My heart soared, all the longing and yearning melting out of me instantly. I felt a smile appear on my face. I recognized that voice. Calm and soothing, motherly and patient. Still keeping my eyes closed I asked, "Are you here to take me home?"

"Of course we are! Don't be stupid!" A second voice, louder and more annoying. Yet my smile grew even broader.

I snorted in amusement. "I was having a moment here, you know."

"Oh, whatever. Just get a move on, Yuna!"

"Alright, alright!" I laughed, opening my eyes and turning back towards the interior of the room. Standing - floating - next to me were two figures, one dressed in black and the other in white. A mature, loving face and a bubbly, spunky face.

"Sachi-san, Megumi," I breathed.

They smiled at me. "Hello, Yuna," Sachi-san greeted me. The two spirits glowed in the moonlight. I was again reminded of their initial departure from the enoki tree outside of Shirojo, and how they were breathtakingly beautiful as they passed on.

Behind them, though…

"Hina?"

"Mm, Yuna-nee!" Hina's sharp green eyes glimmered with happiness. I felt my own eyes tearing up.

"I missed you, Hina," I managed to squeeze out.

She nodded in response. "I know. But we don't have to be apart anymore."

"She's right." Sachi-san put a hand on her shoulder and looked at me. "It seems our candy charms came true. You certainly lived a long life, and I don't sense any regrets."

"Mm-mm." I shook my head. "None."

"Are you ready, then?" Sachi-san asked. "The others are waiting for you."

Others? Ah...my friends. I closed my eyes, taking one last deep breath and holding it for as long as I could.

"I'm ready."

As I opened my eyes, my body's weight disappeared as I reached towards Hina's outstretched hand. The closer I got, the more my physical weatherings disappeared, and as I passed by a mirror I saw my appearance regaining youth, free of the lines and wrinkles that came with age. When I reached Hina I pulled her into an embrace, kissing her deeply before turning back towards the room I had occupied until recently. I saw my hundred-year-old body resting peacefully under the covers, appearing to only be asleep, a slight smile resting on its face. I turned towards Sachi-san and Megumi, hand clasped firmly in Hina's.

"I'm ready," I repeated.

Sachi-san smiled, then gestured towards the sky.

"Come, then," she said, leading the way.

"It's time to take you home."