Two days later, Mikaela opened his eyes to his usual ceiling. He looked around feeling groggy. He became certain he was in his room.
'Was that a dream?' he wondered.
The pain he had felt was too realistic to be a dream but nothing seemed to have changed, rather, nothing seemed out of place. He had woken up like any other day.
He pushed aside his bedding, realizing it was morning. It was time to train.
He walked to the mirror to take a look at his handsome face as he did daily, only to be left shocked.
In front of him stood a short boy with scarlet eyes and ebony dark wavy hair clowning to his shoulders. His signature features held enough evidence that he couldn't have been anyone else but him.
'That's me…but…'
His porcelain skin was pale and smooth while his muscles had taken a more defined form. A slightly lean body with film muscles, a thin waist, and no bulging tummy. The stubborn stomach had flattened out.
He looked at that in amazement. He wanted to rush out and brag to Lucien about how he got a flat tummy while Lucien retained a round tummy. He wanted to but…he felt embarrassed.
The downside was his more slender physique and smoothed-out features gave him a delicate touch. He looked more feminine now with more defined eyebrows, long lashes, smooth skin, and a thinner waist.
His mother's choice of clothes was no help in alleviating this problem. His pajamas, for example, cutesy wool shirt and pants with teddies drawn on them and pretty socks with heart shapes.
His hair would also be tied up in a cute hair band. It couldn't be worse than Lucien's clothes, but his face would make up for that shortcoming.
'Aaaaahhhhhh!!! My manly body. Give it back!!!' he screamed inwardly.
As Mikaela was agonizing his sissy looks in the mirror, Mitchell happened to walk in and find him staring in agony at his face. He worriedly walked over, observing what his son was looking at in the mirror.
"What's wrong, Son?" he asked.
"Papa, what happened to m-my face, my b-body?" Mikaela asked directly.
Mitchell realized the crux of the matter. He went silent for a while before finding a solution to this dilemma.
"You will have to ask your Aunt, she made the bath," Mitchell, chose to cowardly toss the ball to another.
"Okay!" answered Mikaela.
No longer bothered to find out. He knew his Aunt's hobby, to make the children as pretty as possible. He didn't feel the need to ask. He felt like he had resolved the mystery since he turned out like this due to the bath she made. Either way, it was best not to ask.
Mitchell secretly sighed in relief at his son's disinterest.
'Your Mom made the recipe, why do you think that happened to your body?' He laughed self-deprecatingly and walked to feel Mikaela's temperature.
It had been running high consistently over the past two nights and he had to spend so much time looking over his son. His slightly dark eye bags were proof of this. The only lucky thing was his superior body which would do fine with minimal rest.
…
After a week of good rest and plenty of sleep and food, Mikaela felt very relaxed. His mental fatigue from the minute of torture that day had vanished. Luckily, it didn't leave a mind demon or trauma on him. In actuality, he was out and about all day since he woke up.
His smile couldn't be any more brilliant as he played in the snow. He made snowmen and sledged on the snow not forgetting to drag Lucien from the comfort of his home. It had been a relaxing time.
Once again, early morning, when the sunrise started peeking out on the horizon, he held the sword. His body was already warmed up after a short jog around the yard.
He held the ebony sword and took his stance. A balanced, core pose he started with at the very beginning. Raising his sword high above his head and swinging it down to a horizontal angle from the ground. He swung the sword time and time again without satisfaction of his progress. His skills seemed to have dulled with a week of inaction.
Mikaela frowned at the discovery.
'Does that mean I should swing my sword 'every day'?'
Regardless, he maintained focus and finished his set of swings which had evolved from basic forward slashes to side slashes, horizontal slashes then diagonal slashes. All this was done while moving four paces forward and back to his original position.
By the time he was done, the sun had fully risen and the cockadoodledoo of roosters echoed around. His body was tired but his mental fatigue had died down and he was as energetic as ever before.
His body no longer suffered the effects of winter frost. He felt the cold but it wouldn't affect him as much. It was his most appreciated and urgently needed improvement since the trauma-inducing bath thus far.
'No more ginger tea!' apparently, he still loved honey.
He took a warm bath, changed, and went to find his Aunt.
Bianca was waiting with his breakfast ready on the table, toast, and a glass of juice.
She smiled at his arrival while setting other dishes like puffy pancakes, butter, freshly baked bread, and pan-fried eggs on the table.
Lucien came to the dining room with his pajamas and tired eyes, clearly having just woken up with bedhead. Merlin was fully dressed and Mitchell was as usual. His whole day attire never seemed to change.
"Mornin'!"
The morning greeting rang around the dining table.
Being famished, Lucien and Mikaela went on to their morning studies.
As agreed, they would start their studies at this age. At the very least, the basic reading, writing, and comprehension.
Grinas village offered no such service, being a secluded and undeveloped bunch. However, this didn't apply to the civilized world. Their parents having received academic education would want the same for their children. They knew the importance of this knowledge in one's life, plus, they wouldn't settle for any less for their children.
~_~
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