Lullaby

I felt my body heating up in a familiar way.

Sickness overcame me again. My body wasn't listening to me, and covered itself in a lot of sweat.

My body probably stank now…

Memories of all the times my aches, sweat, gassy stomach, and burping voice caused a disconnect.

Driving people to either be derisive or disgusted.

How could I blame them?

Sickness was a weakness. A man like shouldn't have had any. None to bring down my own worth.

If I couldn't do so, that was my own fault.

Without thinking, I tried to hold back my natural physical functions and controlled myself internally.

Forcing it to work a certain way.

But my grasp over these functions wasn't enough.

It felt like the bridge between all four fundamental aspects of my existence was too murky to grasp.

Meridians, nerves, consciousness, and spirituality were in the way. Blocking me from digging deeper.

They felt so unnecessary.

I discarded everything useless. The forces inside me that were unlike my previous body's state.

Unknowing of the consequences.

…..

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Steve felt a warm hand touch his forehead.

'Diana…' It was a gentle touch. Fleeting, but had the warmth of the sunset woven in its fleeting light.

He thought of who it could've been.

This was a new side to her. Even his own mother hadn't ever coddled him like this for a long time.

In fact, he couldn't tell how long she stayed.

Driving out the fundamental aspects he felt to be so 'foreign' made him thoughts disperse into mist.

Falling into a meditative trance…

The boy unknowing the danger he'd brought upon himself by rejecting his fundamental human self.

His grasp on reality slipping.

Unfortunately, Steve's unconscious rejection of his current state as a human was his own inability.

The preconceptions of his past life lingered in him.

Unable to accept that the 'human' body he was reborn into was different from his previous life.

Not working by the same rules of existence.

Even his Vital Gem started to fade from the silent rejection of his will. Sinking into his life force.

Disappearing from his body.

The person taking care of him didn't notice these changes. How he was crippling his future potential.

She only put a wet rag on his head to cool him.

Cleaning away his sweat so he wouldn't fall sick.

After a good while, Steve felt he was held in that person's arms and could hear hymns of a lullaby.

A melody without using words, only humming.

Their jovial and uplifting nature touching him.

Steve naturally started breathing in the fresh natural energy of the world. Filling his empty body.

Attracting Ether to himself.

But these colourless and imperceptible streams of energy could only slip through the boy's body.

His foundation being like a vessel with no bowl.

Almost like his physique was a pipe-like cylinder.

Despite this, naturally breaking in natural energies was his sole benefit. Only those first awakening themselves to the true nature of their body unconsciously did this. He had zero control here.

Even if that meant unnaturally forming Artes Lines by twisting and weaving the Vital Gem in his body.

Steve felt like his weak body needed a blanket.

So he wove his Vital Gem into something that could wrap around him, only to fail from the strain of such a monumental task. The little power he had in his Vital Gem could hardly be enough to cover him.

Thus, a cycle was formed.

Like the string weaving of a spider, Steve pinched the life force deep in his Vital Gem and wove it.

He created tiny Artes Line and wove them into thin strings, then wrapped them again into threads.

And when the threads were done, he wove them again into wires that were filling up his entire body.

Eventually, there was no cell in his body that hadn't been covered by the internal 'blanket' of Artes Lines he'd woven. Becoming the first to had completely cluttered up his body with such routes.

Whether this was a good or bad thing would only be told in the future. Nothing will come out of it yet.

The only important detail being his foundation being formed. There was nothing more to his state.

Whatever he'd do with it will be up to him.

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The voice sounded different from the usual Diana.

My consciousness was gradually resurfacing. It felt like I was being put back together with fragments.

Like a jigsaw perfectly being put back into its original state, without one piece left out of place.

A woman's sad lullaby started to fall on my ears.

"My father told me it's a beautiful life. Summertime will always render… the cute in your eyes. "

It started off with a clumsy rhyme. Like someone was just trying their best to make it sound nice.

I felt someone else's touch was in this melody.

Someone old. It felt like the singer was mimicking someone they remembered. Nostalgically singing.

"We'll build our little snowmen when the winter comes, but for now watch out for splinters when carving your life. So make sure you always open up your heart, to all the adventures. Make.It.All.Right."

Those last words seemed emphasised. As if the person was trying to calm a child missing them.

I imagined a scene…

A father patting the head of his daughter before going out. Leaving her to make her choices in life.

"Go against the tide. You only have one life. Make it about you and the stars you found in the sky."

That parental figure was guiding her to live life to her fullest. Showing her the beauties of the world.

But this was also filled with a sense of rebellion. As if he was asking her to break the chains that held her. The run away from her bad position and find a life outside of the comforts she'd already known,

"I'll always find you, and you'll always find me."

With those words being said, it was conclusive that the father had left himself. Leaving for a journey.

"Write a pretty poem. A story. Grab your favourite actors and pretend foes. And it won't be boring."

This part seemed more personal. As if he was endorsing her hobbies and giving encouragement to whoever he was talking to. Even though this was being remembered in the words of that daughter.

"Break all the trends. Before you know it, you'll run out of the baddies in the end. Make.It.All.Right."

Those last words resonated again. I could hear the heartbreak in her voice when she spoke it again.

As if those words were her mantra.

"You should fight for who you wanna be. Don't look back on what it could've been. Run with your ideas and sing the story you want to sing. Don't let your favourite moments be the only thing they'll be."

And I was finally blown away by the feelings in the next verses. Unable to do anything but immerse myself in the verses. Feeling what she was conveying in the lullaby close to her heart.

"Don't worry about me. I worry about you."

"You had found it in the past, and so you'll find it in the future. A hope for human hearts to be free."

"You could make your way across the sea. Over the mountains and under the deep. Take a step forth."

"Make it all about you. Forget about the night."

"Find new places you have never been. Discover friends you never seen. Let it all join by the seams."

"And I believe you'll find yourself. Now I believe you'll never need my help. Little one has grown up."

"You'll live a life that's filled with the stories to be told, and continue forth with the ones yet to come."

"I'll make it through the darkness and make sure I'm coming home. So don't stop your feet. Sing."

"Never stop the song."

"I'll find your voice, and you'll find me."

"Even if I'm walking all alone, you'll know that I'll be going along. I'll be coming home. So wait for me."

"I'm always coming home. So let it be."

"Don't let me catch you dawdling now. Because tonight I'm coming home again as your knight."

"I'll find you like always, just want for me."

"I'll… make it all right." She ended her lullaby with a quivering voice. Unable to speak any further.

Drip. Drip…

Moisture hit my cheek. A tear fell and rolled down my face. It made my blurry eyes open up to see.

How long has it been? And what was this?

Mom Garcia was holding me with tears in her eyes after falling into the immersion. Nostalgic regrets.

Her feelings resonating within me.

When she started to cry, it was hard for me not to do the same. Feeling the same regrets in her poem.

The lullaby far more personal than anything I heard.

I fell asleep again after that. Waking up to find crusts in my eyes from the dried tears of last night.

Mom was there when I woke up again too.

I couldn't see her, but I felt her hand holding my own. Noticing when I was trying to get up myself.

She helped me up and guided me to the bathroom.

"Don't force your eyes open. Let me wash them." A responsible voice of a mother came from her.

It was the same as always. In the rare times she had ever looked my way, this was all she did.

Acting out her 'responsibilities'.

The only difference this time was that there was no longer this underlying coldness in her demeanour.

But there also wasn't warmth.

Was this her indifference…?

I felt uncomfortable when she grabbed a bucket of water and rubbed my eye crusts with a cloth.

Gently breaking them apart without harming me.

I could tell that she was being serious. Trying to not hurt me by pulling off the crusts on my eyelashes.

They cracked apart with time.

Her patience to wait for it to break showed me that this wasn't just 'responsibility' she would avoid.

This act was sincere.

When they finally broke off, I was greeted by my mother's eyes that focused on me for the first time.

Looking at me in a familiar way I remembered…

When was it that she had stopped looking at me like her infant son? How much did she know?

She left me to brush my teeth with these strange rocks I couldn't find an equivalent to in my world.

All I knew was that they were similar to toothpaste.

And that they were much better than the miswak sticks people in the village used as toothbrushes.

The latter being branch-like tooth cleaners.

The width of a large pencil with a brush at the end.

After having used the tooth cleaning rock on my teeth, I washed out the contents into the sink.

Again, I was reminded this wasn't the Middle Ages.

Though we were far out in the sticks, there were definitely developed countries in the world.

Or else they wouldn't have a functioning sewer system in place everywhere like they did now.

This village felt like it was a mix between modern and countryside elements. Completely balanced.

The only thing that made this place otherworldly was the staunch scent of classism in their gossips.

Talking about the people of the Vermilion Kingdom.

Rather than focusing on that, I focused on trying to get used to my data-overloaded five senses.

I made it downstairs, but found only one person.

Mom Garcia was making breakfast. The scent of the pancakes and butter made my mouth water.

"Dad and the maid have gone to get something to make you feel better. If they don't find it, you'll have to stay like this for a few months. Don't cause any trouble today, and don't get hurt." Garcia told me like her voice's tone was playing hot and cold.

She sounded like a tsundere.

"Thanks, Mom." I responded. Her back when she was called out like always by my childish voice.

Then continued to make something for Dad and Diana for later. Keeping me in the dark about it.

I wonder what happened.

After having my breakfast, I went out of the house to socialise… since this world had no 'schools'.

"Come back before dark." She spoke without turning. Continuing to cook without stopping.

I turned to look at the back of her head while leaving. Remembering the story in that lullaby.

Will she sing for me again tonight?

A part of me wanted to hear more lullabies from that beautiful voice she had. It had moved me.

Making me want to ask her about it personally.

Even so, I wasn't dense enough to not sense the distance between us… and couldn't be wilful.

Whether she'd sing for me again was up to her.

I decided to go out to get some fresh air. See the world with these new senses I was experiencing.

Finally looking away from her.

Hopefully, we could at least not grow further apart than we were now. Keep this intimacy forever.

I decided to think positively…