"Just like that, take slow steps. Balance your body by holding the two rods and take small steps, each no wider than your foot." The nurse, Wenina Marble said. Her forehead was filled with sweat, her expression drained. She infused her psychic energy into Jyorta's body, augmenting his efforts and increasing the rate at which his muscles adapted to the movement and stress.
14th March, after a week of rehabilitation, Jyorta was now capable of walking, albeit with a crutch. Finished with the session, the nurse redirected him to a waiting room, "Your family member is currently in the process of applying for your discharge. They'll come to pick you up once they are finished. Take care."
"Thank you, for all your care." Jyorta—seated on a chair, his crutch placed to his right—bowed. The waiting room turned silent after the exit of the nurse, filled with the faint breathing sounds of Jyorta and the occasional creaks that resulted from his crutch scrapping against the floor, due to the slight tremors that coursed through his body. It was impossible for him to sit still.
Seconds turned into minutes as Jyorta had a bored look, unable to find anything of value in the waiting room that could pique his interest. His gaze shifted to his crutch, a long metal stick with a cross-piece at the top. The top was covered with leather, looking black in colour and feeling soft to the touch. He poked it with his finger, feeling it form a small depression.
Once released from his hold, the depression recovered, reverting to its initial form. Amused, Jyorta poked at another spot, this time at an inclined angle. The depression formed differently as compared to before, giving him a slight sense of satisfaction. Having nothing better to do, Jyorta continued to play with his crutch, the passage of time didn't feel as excruciating now.
Time passed, the door to the waiting room opened as a woman, 6 feet tall, sporting leather boots that made racketing sounds when tapped on the floor appeared. Her hair was tied up into a thick bun, concealed under her hat. Wearing clothes that were designed in the style of military uniform but meant as casual clothes, the woman had a stoic face.
The moment she entered, she noticed Jyorta biting the metal frame of his crutch, his expression imitating a dog, leaking out a whimper. It seemed he was having fun playing with it when his gaze focused on her, turning blank for a moment.
"Have you turned into a dog now?" The woman spoke, walking towards Jyorta. Hearing the voice, the gaze of Jyorta hardened, immediately replaced by a joyful expression. He set aside his crutch, exerting strength in his legs as he leapt towards the woman, his hands spread wide.
"Sister!" He lost balance after taking the first step, tumbling. Prepared to collide on the floor, he found himself in the embrace of the woman who had appeared before him.
"Are…" Heima hesitated, her face lacking a sense of warmth, "Are you feeling okay?"
"Of course," Jyorta replied with a smile, craning his face upwards to gaze into the visage of Heima. "The nurse helped me a lot. Soon, I will be able to walk normally."
"I see," Heima nodded, helping him with his crutch, leading him out of the waiting room. She notified a nurse stationed in the reception counter, exiting the hospital with Jyorta. She didn't talk much, patiently accompanying Jyorta as he walked with difficulty, trying his best to hold his crutch steady.
Boarding a metro train and finding a seat, Jyorta let out a breath of exhaustion, groaning in pain. He massaged the muscles in his leg, as taught by the nurse, Wenina Marble, relieving his strain little by little.
Shooting a glance at Heima, seated next to him, eyes closed and her back poised straight, exuding a confident, almost bordering arrogant demeanour, he couldn't help but wonder. The current Heima lacked any similarities to his sister from his memories, almost making him suspect her identity.
Even his perception of the soul failed to detect anything similar, thanks to a barrier surrounding her body, preventing him from sensing her soul.
'Except for Tier 1 and newly advanced Tier 2 Espers and Warriors, everyone else seem to have a barrier shielding them from my senses.' Jyorta thought, finally paying attention to her face. Large eyes, thin nose bridge, eyebrows forming drawn arcs, with a sharpness to them and a pair of succulent lips that were shaped like a bow, stretched taught when she pursed her lips. Accentuated by her sharp jawline, she exuded an attractive charm.
"Sister?" Jyorta faced to his right, craning close to her face, "Why did you leave me behind and became pretty all by yourself?"
Heima shot a glance his way, choosing to ignore his question. Unwilling to relent, Jyorta pestered her with a round of questions, each of which fell on deaf ears. The train stopped at a particular station as Heima got up, alighting the train with Jyorta in tow.
Boarding a lift and walking through a corridor, the duo finally reached a familiar house. Knocking on the doorbell, Heima waited. After a couple of seconds, the door opened, leaking out a stale stench from within.
Leading Jyorta through the door, Heima glanced at the living room, strewn with objects everywhere. There were also unfinished food parcels, scattered across the dining table. Some were left on the couch, leaving only a tiny place on it for seating. There lay Hancent, watching TV with a numb expression.
Watching Heima and Jyorta standing in the living room, Hancent gazed at them with silence, coming to a realisation only after a while. He stood up, stretching his back, leaking out a yawn, "It has been a long time since someone other than me lived here. Freshen up, the two of you. In the meantime, I will clean this place up."
"Okay," With a nod, Heima entered her room, leaking out a grunt at the messy state of the bathroom. Without any maintenance, the dust had accumulated everywhere, also corroding and forming rust on the supposedly stainless steel taps.
Heima looked at her room, shaking her head, and walking out. In silence, she exited the house. After 10 minutes, she returned with some cleaning equipments, giving a part of them to Hancent. She then began to dust her room, showcasing her speed as a Warrior. Thirty minutes later, the room was spick and clean, the dusting equipment lay in a pile of debris, broken under her extreme application.
After that, she cleaned her bathroom, allowing it to regain some of its lost dignity, muttering, "These taps are beyond faulty. I should call a plumber to change them anew."
Putting away the cleaning equipment, she noticed Jyorta seated atop the bed, fiddling with a notebook, his expression looking lost. Heima glanced at the notebook, finding it to be the one he used during class. It was the sole notebook remaining, the only reason being the absence of the subject on the day the disaster occurred. All of his other books, items, ID cards, etc. had been disposed of by the authorities—having been soaked by the blood of the massacred students.
Leaving him alone, Heima decided to first take a bath. After that, she ordered dinner for the three, finding it a pain to cook. After having not cooked for a long time, Hancent too was rusty. Hence, he consented to the idea of ordering food from the outside.
The atmosphere was gloomy as the three ate their dinner. Jyorta tried to strike a conversation with them many times but found unable to after seeing their expression. It was like they had shielded themselves from their surroundings, making it impossible for words to reach them.
Finished with his dinner, Jyorta returned to his room, sleeping on the bed, his expression changing. He no longer seemed young and immature, his mentality filled with curiosity, shrewdness, and caution.
'So, this is the room Jyorta and Heima used when they were young. And, Heima seems to have taken the next room when she returned home after a year in the military academy. Though, judging by the previous state of the room, it looks like she hadn't been home for the past few years either.'
He rubbed his hand over the notebook, feeling its texture, drowning in nostalgia. 'Being Jyorta leaves me disadvantaged, my expressions and emotions creating trouble. Moreover, the sister and father characters look like they are hiding something. Their eyes are filled with sadness, despite their efforts to conceal them. Moreover, the father character looks like he had aged considerably in the past few days, not having come to meet me even once since the day I woke up.'
"I am worried about them," Jyorta muttered, having reverted to the character. He then fell asleep. A minute later, the door creaked open as Heima entered, her gaze cold, filled with suspicion. She watched the sleeping Jyorta, her eyes turning green. She stood like a statue, her breathing coming to a halt, her eyes sweeping past Jyorta, scanning his body from head to toe.
She stood there, in silence, unmoving. An hour passed in stillness, her eyes hadn't fluttered even once. Seeing the sleeping face of Jyorta, her expression remained unmoved. Seeing the faint perspiration condensing on his face and neck, Heima switched on the fan, exiting the room.
Once the door slammed shut, there was a faint tremor in Jyorta's eyelid. But, his body remained still, in a sleeping posture. He severed connection with most of the actuatory muscles in his body, creating the perfect condition of a state of rest.
'What the heck was that? It was scary! Creepy!' He mentally screamed, severing a connection with his skin to prevent goosebumps from appearing on them.
Two hours passed, Jyorta was wide awake. Still, he dared not move, remaining in his spot. After severing most of the connections with his body, even if he wanted, he couldn't move.
Time passed as he gradually grew tired. Despite severing most of the connections, he was still connected to his brain, heart, and other vital organs. If not, then they would start to fail one after the other, a reason the cause of which he hadn't yet discovered.
His brain sent instructions to the rest of his body to rest, releasing the related hormones into the blood mixture. Jyorta fell asleep, his breathing pattern unchanged, thanks to his prior measures.
At the corner of the room, to the top where the ceiling intersected with the walls, Heima gazed at the sleeping figure of Jyorta. She had never left the room in the first place.
Tier 3 Skill—Sensory Invisibility!
Using her skill, she sneaked back into the room a moment before she closed the door, using her superhuman speeds to the limit. She also ensured to mask the disturbance in the surrounding air, using her skilled movement patterns to direct the vectors in stirring up the wind in relation to the fan she had just switched on.
Her eyes green, shone in the night, focused on the figure of Jyorta, not wavering for even a second. Only at dawn did she retract her gaze, opening the door, using her concealment and superhuman speed to make it appear as if she was opening from the outside. She entered the room, planning to wake up Jyorta.