Sigh.

“…Eon? Wha-What do you mean?” Mom questioned. Albeit hesitant, albeit scared. Seemed as if she knew the true meaning of Dad’s words.

And my repetition of them.

Repetition and understanding of them.

I didn’t answer her, instead choosing to look at my Dad. What had he experienced? To become the bearer of this sentence?

I knew what it was in my case. But in his? Not so much. The man himself…

Dad returned my gaze, silent turmoil flowing behind his eyes.

The situation had become a little stressful in just a few minutes. As if it wasn’t from the very beginning.

When did I awaken? How long had I been gone? Why was I here? Instead of my home? Or a doctor’s clinic?

Wait… did we even have doctors here? Surely we did right? Or are we still stuck in the medieval quack—

“…”

[Heh… Hahah… Ah. Why the fuck is this so funny? Eh? Mr. Pillar of Specialty?]

“Haah…”

“Eon?”

The water splashed around me as I stood up —shaking my head. It should have been the last of it, yet it was not.

Under all our collective noses, Mana had begun treading towards the statue of the little girl of Dreams. She had a forlorn expression on her face, reminiscent, yet questioning.

It took our attention for as long as it could have. Then it shifted back to me. Her eccentricity had become somewhat of a daily occurrence. Though…

“Weird, isn’t it?” Mom spoke. Never mind, the focus would remain on her for a bit more.

Dad remained silent. As he had been, for god knows how long at this point.

Right. Shouldn’t be throwing around that word around so willy-nilly.

Back to what Mom was saying.

“…that child. She never expresses much emotion. She never did. Even when little.”

“Even when little?”

“…!!”

Our heads simultaneously spun around to the sight of an old man materializing into existence. The parents bowed, somewhat hurried and surprised. I myself, just gave a simple greeting. Elder Veritas greeted back, and then continued on with his question.

“Did she… that child. Was she that unexpressive even at birth?”

Why is that a question? A child will normally cry when they breathe air for the first time, now won’t they? Either that, or they are probably dead.

“…”

“…”

‘…’

Seriously? She’s been like this since birth? Huh.

“Dear, she cried when she was born, right?” Mom inquired with her husband, while showing somewhat of a hesitant expression. She had been showing that a lot in the time I had come alive into this world.

Though…

“…”

It seemed as though Dad planned to keep his mouth shut till the very en—

“I don’t remember.”

“…”

Are you serious right now? No not just Dad, but Mom too. How in the world do none of you remember something so simple yet life changing? Those were her first moments after birth.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Mom. Dad.”

They both turned to me. The old man did too, keen on watching from the sidelines till he acquired the answer to his question. As for why he had even asked of it, that was a separate matter.

“Do you even remember Mana’s birth?”

“”…””

They both remained mute. For a bit. Then they looked at each other, eyes widening.

‘…’

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Can I go back to sleeping? Can I just forget everything and erase myself? This is tiring.

How… in the three heavenly flying f**ks. Do you not even remember the birth of your own daughter?

[Heh… Hahah… Ah. Why the fuck is this so funny? Eh? Mr. Pillar of Specialty?]

I am tired. Definitely. I just keep remembering these words. Why?

The parents questioned their existence, their memories. I questioned the very situation itself. The progenitor of it, and the subject.

Speaking of subjects… the subject of this little charade conversation of ours stood before the statue.

Space did not make much sense in this place. What we visualized to be distant, could be covered in a few minutes. What was right before us, took eons to reach. In the same vein, it had only been a handful of seconds since our conversation had been initiated. A minute at max, with all the pauses we had done.

And the mental-memorial gymnastics that we were doing as well.

In this short time frame, Mana had already reached before the ginormous statue. Crossing a distance that felt as if it would take ages to reach.

“The more you know, the more you wish you didn’t.”

I had certainly crossed the simple knowledge-hungry stage. I was far too deep in, far too blind. Curious, yet also terrified.

Even then, I needed answers. And that I would get.

I began moving towards the feral child, hoping the space of this dimension would shed the same grace on me.

It did.

Not as strongly or potently with her, but enough.

It was difficult to realize the exact moment I put my foot beside her. How long had it been? A few seconds?

Or a few years?

Not the current priority.

The little girl stood still, her visage morphed with wistfulness and anger.

And confusion.

She turned to look at me, almost as if she knew I would ask her questions. She waited a bit, and we both feasted our eyes on the statue once more.

Titanic.

Not the movie…

[Heh… Hahah… Ah. Why the fuck is this so funny? Eh? Mr. Pillar of Specialty?]

F**k.

Shut up already.

‘Haaaa…’

The statue was a behemoth. Arguably the largest physical creation I had ever seen. Even larger than the cathedral itself. How it fit into it in the first place… I had learnt my lesson on not wasting braincells. Especially on useless things.

“Mana…”

Silence reigned supreme. Our parents had once again begun their conversation with Elder Veritas. Probably discussing about everything that had gone down in these past 3…

”How long was I out for?”

“Brotha was out for 2 days. Everyone was worried.” Huh. She had gone back to how she originally was. Her sudden shifts in emotion were no more, for I had difficulty reading her.

Once again.

Even after all the memories that I had relived.

They weren’t mine. But I had lived through them.

Yet, I felt as if I was trying to read a complex, undefined, absurdly long integral derivative function.

Frankly useless to waste time on.

Stil… 2 days. My diary has two pages worth of content missing then. Wait never mind, it’s three.

“What about you?” I asked her. She half faced me, while titling her head in response.

“No I wasn’t talking about you being worried or not.” She faced the statue once again.

“What I wanted to ask was…” Her glance had returned with my pause, now side-eyed.

“Why do you keep looking at this statue? What do you see? What does it mean to you?” To be able to show so many expressions. What... Just what is it?

“Does brotha not remember it?” She glanced at the statue once more. “Never mind, you don’t. That’s for the better.” She spoke the last sentence under her breath.

Yet in a space where silence lost its throne only to water splashing and gears turning —the latter was periodic and erratic I might add— nothing much stopped me from picking up on her words.

Remember what exactly? And why is it for the better? And if it IS for the better…

Then why have you suddenly begun gritting your teeth? Suddenly angry?

Suddenly frustrated?

Sigh.

I seem to be sighing a lot these days. Anyways…

Beating around the bush will get me nowhere.

“Mana… why am I special?”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Stay calm.

“Why am I needed?”

She turned to me, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"...What do you mea--!" An incomplete sentence later, they should confusion.

Then surprise.

Not at me.

But at herself.

How did I suddenly begin reading her again? Understanding her again? I had no idea.

Her surprise morphed into heavy, clouding confusion.

Then irritation.

Then, she fell.

I was quick on my feet —had to thank my height and athleticism for it. Grabbing her as she stumbled. While she kept struggling to find her footing, I helped her stabilize.

Should I have called our parents? I should have, but I didn’t.

They were discussing something important. I could tell that much.

And the spatial dance continued to enchant its play, for the distance felt far, far wider than it had ever been.

“Brotha…”

She grabbed my shirt, her hands trembling.

I couldn’t see her eyes. Her hands felt longer than they should have been.

Never mind, they were just her nails.

Why was she trembling?

Stupid question.

“Why are you asking these questions? What do you even mean? My head is hurting.” She spoke feebly.

I gently patted her purplish-hair. Or at least tried to, before she forcefully stopped her tremors, and let go. Her hand once again clutched her head, proving her statement.

I should have tried to focus on her more.

I did.

But not in the sense that I should have.

My meeting played once again before my eyes.

That horrifying bastard. H-he….

Sigh…

I definitely was sighing more these days.

[Where to begin?]