A New Start(2)

A gentle warmth suffused Murata's body, assuaging the torment wrought by the foreign memories. His eyes fluttered open, met by the gazes of numerous individuals who regarded him with a kinship that stirred his soul.

"I'm relieved to see you well," one of the women from his recollections sighed, her relief palpable as she enveloped him in an embrace, her delicate fingers tenderly caressing his hair. "I feared you had turned daft from that tumble off your bed."

Murata's lips parted slightly, but he found himself at a loss for words, his attention drawn to the faces of the others present. It dawned upon him, a realization forged by their reactions and the sincerity reflected within their eyes.

So, the boy has perished, and I have assumed his mantle, he ruminated.

Though unintentional, he had inadvertently displaced the boy's soul, merging their essences and inheriting the vast tapestry of his memories. In essence, he and the boy were now inextricably entwined.

"Thank you, mother, for your unwavering concern," Murata expressed, his voice laden with gratitude. The people's expressions contorted in astonishment, their widened eyes fixed upon him. The man who had healed him retained a faint, verdant luminescence upon his hand.

"Ha! It appears the knock on your noggin has miraculously jolted your feeble brain into gratitude," Murata's father jested, provoking vigorous nods of agreement from the onlookers.

"Son, were you struck with a fever? Stay put, and let mother examine you," Even his mother appeared bewildered by the sudden transformation, reaching out to assess his temperature.

"No, mother, as father rightly observed, my dormant intellect has finally stirred from its prolonged slumber," Murata retorted, his tone reproachful rather than incensed. The people recoiled in shock once more.

"You... insolent child! Your demeanor betrays a semblance of normalcy!" His father shook his head in disappointment, only for a swift blur to dart beside him.

"B-brother!" A young girl, her hair fashioned into two braided obsidian tresses, her eyes mirroring the vibrant green of their kin, flung herself into his embrace.

"Oops!" Murata caught the girl's petite frame, feeling her nuzzle against his chest.

"I missed you, brother! I missed you," she clung to him tightly, her hold akin to a koala unwilling to relinquish its perch.

"This girl weeps every time you slip into unconsciousness," his mother remarked, shaking her head while tenderly smoothing the girl's sleek tresses.

The identity of this girl still puzzled Murata, until a memory clicked into place—the young girl who had been an ever-present shadow by the boy's side.

Ah, my little sister, he realized. His gaze softened as he beheld her endearing countenance, her teardrop-stained cheeks pressed against his chest.

"I apologize, Nasu. I shall never forsake you again," Murata whispered, his hand caressing her hair.

The little girl lifted her head, her gaze fixed upon him. "Promise?" Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, beseeching him earnestly as she clutched his neck with both hands.

"Promise," Murata affirmed, a tender smile gracing his lips before enfolding her in an embrace.

Yet, as the room quivered in unison, a startled gasp escaped their lips. Their attention swiveled towards the window, witnessing the undulating motion of trees.

Observing the floor and ceiling, it became evident that this supposed room was, in truth, a moving wagon!