Cursed Tongue: A Marvel Rebirth

Aaron slowly awoke, his body feeling lighter than it had in years. The familiar scent of antiseptic and the gentle hum of the heater told him he was in the orphanage infirmary again. But something was different this time. He felt… better, stronger, as if the constant weight of sickness that had plagued him for so long had been lifted.

He blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim light of the room. The last thing he remembered was feeling feverish and then everything going black. Now, as he lay in bed, he couldn't shake the feeling that something profound had happened.

"Aaron, you're awake," came a soft, familiar voice.

He turned his head to see Ms. Nakamura, the kind nurse who had cared for him every time his weak body gave in to illness. She looked relieved but still concerned, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of lingering sickness.

"Yeah, I'm awake," Aaron replied, his voice steady but filled with a strange new energy. He noticed it immediately—he didn't feel the usual fatigue that always followed an illness. Instead, he felt refreshed, almost… reborn.

Ms. Nakamura checked his temperature and pulse, her movements quick and efficient. "You had us all worried, Aaron. You collapsed a couple of days ago with a high fever. How are you feeling now?"

"Better," Aaron said, a bit surprised at how true that was. "Actually, I feel really good."She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm glad to hear that. But you need to take it easy. You've been sick so often."

Aaron nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. As he lay there, memories started to surface—memories that didn't belong to this life. Flashes of another existence, another time, where he had been someone else entirely. He remembered the accident, the sudden end to his previous life, and the strange sensation of being pulled into this new one.

He was beginning to recall his previous life in greater detail. In that life, Aaron had been an adult working in a suffocating corporate job, one that demanded every ounce of his time and energy. Every day had felt like a repeat of the last—endless meetings, long hours in front of a computer, and a mountain of paperwork that never seemed to shrink. The stress had been overwhelming, the pressure to perform relentless. But what had worn him down the most was the lack of freedom. The life he had led felt like a cage, one where he could see the world outside but could never truly experience it.

There had been a time when Aaron had hoped that getting a job would be the key to his independence. He had imagined that financial stability would grant him the freedom to do what he loved, to live life on his own terms. But reality had been far from that. Instead, he found himself more trapped than ever, bound by the chains of responsibilities and expectations. His dreams of freedom had withered, replaced by the grim reality of corporate life.

The only solace Aaron had found was in the hours after work, when he could escape into the worlds of anime and comics. Those stories had been his refuge, a place where heroes defied the odds, where ordinary people gained extraordinary powers and broke free from the chains that bound them. Aaron had lived vicariously through those characters, wishing for even a fraction of their courage, their strength, their freedom.

He remembered the nights spent watching episodes late into the night, his only respite from the drudgery of his daily life. In those moments, he had felt alive, free, even if just for a short while. Those stories had given him hope, a flicker of light in an otherwise grey existence.

But then came the accident. The last thing Aaron remembered from that life was the sound of screeching tires, the flash of headlights, and the sudden, jarring impact. Darkness had followed, and he thought that was the end. But instead of oblivion, he had awoken in this new life, in this sickly body that had confined him to the orphanage.

Or so he had thought. But now, as he lay in the infirmary, it was clear that something had changed. This body felt different—stronger, more capable. The frailty that had defined his existence in this life was gone, replaced by a newfound vitality. And with it came the memories of who he had been, of the life he had left behind.

"I… I think I need to see a mirror," Aaron said, his voice uncertain. He had to confirm what he was feeling—this strange sense that he was no longer just the Aaron he had been before.

Ms. Nakamura frowned slightly but handed him a small mirror from the nearby table. "Why? You look the same as always. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Aaron took the mirror with a trembling hand and slowly brought it up to his face. His reflection stared back at him, unchanged. His white hair, pale skin, and blue eyes were just as they had always been. But the familiarity of his appearance didn't comfort him; it only deepened the strange disconnect he was feeling.

"It's nothing," Aaron muttered, lowering the mirror. "I just… I thought I looked different."

Ms. Nakamura placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Aaron, you've been through a lot. It's normal to feel a little disoriented after being so sick. Just rest, okay? Everything will make more sense once you've fully recovered."

Aaron nodded, though he knew that wasn't the truth. What he was feeling wasn't just disorientation—it was the merging of two lives, two sets of memories. He was Aaron, the sickly boy from the orphanage, but he was also someone else, someone from another life who had lived and died in a completely different world.

As Ms. Nakamura tucked him back into bed, urging him to get more rest, Aaron's eyes wandered to the small television in the corner of the infirmary, which was left on quietly in the background. The evening news was playing, the anchor discussing various events of the day. It was a mundane, familiar routine—until something caught his attention.

"And in other news," the anchor said, "Stark Industries announced today…"

The name hit Aaron like a ton of bricks. Stark Industries. It was a name that didn't belong in this world—or at least, not in the world he had known before. Stark Industries was from a different reality, a fictional one. It was the world of superheroes, of impossible technology, of…

Aaron's head suddenly throbbed, sharp and intense, as if his mind was trying to sort through a tangled mess of memories that didn't quite fit together. Stark Industries? Was it possible? How could a fictional company from his previous life's beloved comics and movies exist here?

His vision blurred as the pain intensified, images flashing through his mind—boardrooms, skyscrapers, a man in a suit with a glowing arc reactor in his chest. It was all too much, too overwhelming. His brain struggled to make sense of the information, the memories clashing with the reality he knew.

"Are you okay, Aaron?" Ms. Nakamura asked, her voice distant, as if it was coming from the end of a long tunnel.

Aaron opened his mouth to respond, but the pain was too much. It felt like his head was splitting open, the two sets of memories fighting for dominance. With a final surge of agony, everything went dark, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Ms. Nakamura hurried to his side, checking his pulse and temperature again, but Aaron didn't respond. He had passed out cold, his body and mind too overwhelmed by the sudden flood of memories and the shocking realization that the world he was now in might be more than it seemed.