Haruto's awareness flickered in and out, like a candle struggling to stay alight in a storm. He was weightless, adrift in a vast, dark emptiness, with only fragments of memory—a flash of light, the sound of steel clashing, a piercing scream—surrounding him in scattered bursts. These remnants tugged at him, just beyond his grasp, as though his mind held secrets it refused to reveal.
Slowly, a strange sensation seeped into his awareness: warmth. He couldn't see it or understand its origin, but it wrapped around him, soft and gentle, cradling him like nothing he had known before. It was comforting, calming even. And then there was sound, faint at first, like distant murmurs through a thick fog.
Where am I?
Haruto tried to focus, to hold onto that single thought as everything shifted around him. He struggled to open his eyes, feeling an odd weight pressing down on him, keeping him locked in darkness. After what felt like an eternity, his eyes fluttered open, and the world around him swam into view—a blur of colors and light, as if he were seeing through frosted glass.
Shapes hovered above him, large and undefined, yet there was an undeniable familiarity to the scene. He could make out two figures: one with soft eyes and a warm smile, looking down at him with an expression that seemed so gentle, so unguarded. Another figure, broader and shadowed, stood nearby, their presence radiating strength. He strained to focus, to understand what he was seeing, but his mind was still fogged, a barrier that kept clear thoughts just out of reach.
What's going on? he wondered, feeling a jolt of confusion. He tried to speak, to ask who these people were, but all that came out was a feeble sound, nothing more than a tiny, helpless cry. The sound startled him, unfamiliar and small, and it only deepened the confusion settling over him like a shroud.
The woman—at least, he thought she must be—smiled brighter at the sound, her hand brushing gently across his face. Her touch was soft, a warmth that eased some of the tension coiling inside him. She murmured something in a language he couldn't grasp, her voice low and melodic. The words drifted over him like a gentle breeze, comforting but unintelligible, adding to the overwhelming strangeness of his situation.
Why can't I speak? Why can't I move?
He tried again to lift his hand, to reach toward the woman's face, but his arm barely shifted, a clumsy twitch that didn't respond to his commands. Panic flared within him, the urge to escape, to understand, but his body refused to obey. He was trapped, bound by his own limbs, helpless to do anything but gaze up at the two figures who looked at him with expressions of boundless love.
This…this doesn't make sense.
Time passed in an unsteady flow, slipping through his grasp as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he awoke, he tried to piece together his surroundings, but the world remained a blurry, soft place filled with warmth and care, yet utterly unfamiliar. The sounds around him—gentle laughter, murmured words, the hum of lullabies—felt like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't solve. And each time he sank back into darkness, he clung to the fragments of awareness, as if they were the only things tethering him to something real.
On one of these hazy days, he awoke to the feel of sunlight streaming onto his face, warming his skin in a way that felt almost nostalgic. He blinked, his eyes clearer this time, and for a brief moment, he could see a glimpse of the room around him—a simple, wooden ceiling above, the rough-hewn beams casting shadows that danced in the light. The woman held him close, her face near his, smiling as she whispered softly.
What happened to me?
He tried to focus on her face, to search for answers there, but all he found was tenderness and joy, an expression that made no sense to him. She held him gently, stroking his cheek as if he were the most precious thing in the world. The warmth of her touch spread through him, calming the questions swirling in his mind, though they remained unanswered.
He felt his eyelids grow heavy again, exhaustion pulling him back toward darkness. As he drifted, he could feel the weight of his own confusion, the pieces of himself that felt shattered and scattered, yet beyond his reach.
Who am I? he wondered, the thought slipping from his grasp as sleep claimed him once more.
And in the darkness, his last thought lingered, a question that echoed softly in the silence.
What…what's happening to me?