Blinking away the remnants of sleep, my senses slowly came back online, the room around me revealing itself in fragments. A soft dark glow filtered through the curtains, casting dappled patterns across the walls. My sister was there, serene in her rest, her presence a calming sight amidst the haze of confusion. The air felt heavy with the residue of dreams, and as I shifted, every muscle protested, the training just hurt that bad.
As if attuned to my stirring, my sister stirred too, turning toward me with a gentle rustle of fabric. I didn't know what she was feeling as she rose and approached. Was she mad? Her unexpected embrace caught me off guard, but it was a welcomed warmth against the disorientation I felt upon waking. It was in that shared embrace that unspoken emotions found voice, albeit briefly. Pulling away slightly, her eyes searched mine, seeking answers to the unspoken questions lingering in the air. "Why did you deceive me? Something's different about you today. Are you okay?" Her voice, filled with a blend of worry and understanding, tugged at my heart.
Struggling to vocalize the turmoil within, I returned her embrace, a silent admission of vulnerability. "I'm sorry. I faltered during training, but I won't give up. I have a goal.” I confessed, hoping she'd comprehend the depth of my dream. Her hands found their way to my shoulders, a gesture of both comfort and inquiry. "What goal?" she asked, her eyes holding disbelief and concern. I admitted, "I want to join the MMA." It seemed like she was confused by this.
Out of nowhere, a sudden movement sliced through the air, and instinct propelled my forearm into defense. It was mom, her figure sharp against the morning light, her business attire still being worn. She didn't finish her work yet. As she retracted her hand, an apology followed, laced with a hint of underlying tension, "If you hadn't blocked that, I would've forced you to reconsider. I would've apologized if I'd really hit you. So, you're seriously training for this, huh? Don't give up halfway." Her words carried an edge, a tension that lingered long after she exited the room.
In the aftermath, silence enveloped us.
Aya continued to sway her legs back and forth, the room casting long shadows as the day drew to a close. "You know, mom never mentioned this to you, but she served in the army before she met dad." she disclosed, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and uncertainty. I have no recollection of this in the previous world. Was this a consequence of the switch or simply an uncharted facet of my real mother's life that I'd never known? Questions swirled in my mind, over and over, and they wouldn't stop.
With a graceful movement, Aya rose from her seat and made her way toward the door. "Just be honest and more cautious next time. Dad's beside himself with worry. I'll let him know you're awake and feeling better." she reassured before gently closing the door behind her, leaving me alone in the quiet of the room, the weight of their concern settling heavily on my shoulders.
Regret coursed through me as I reflected on the distress I'd caused my family. The urge to rectify the situation and dispel their worries fueled my will to complete my goal even further. No more deception, even if it meant facing unfavorable consequences. My gaze fell upon my phone, resting innocuously on the desk.
Reaching for it, I unlocked the screen to find a series of texts from Amaru, my mind shifting momentarily from familial concerns to the imminent conversation with someone whose assertiveness often bordered on aggression. Five texts stared back at me in sequence, each one presumably unraveling a narrative that demanded attention and consideration, although debatably undeserved.
3:15 "4;30 sound good?"
3:50 "why haven't you responded yet"
4:30 "c'mon don't tell me you fell asleep or something"
5:40 "don't make me angry! :("
6:10 "pls respond :("
Amidst the flurry of texts, a playful thought flitted across my mind, momentarily lightening the mood. "That's kind of cute, actually. Hopefully, she isn't a yandere or something," I whispered silently, a touch of humor weaving through my thoughts. With a swift reply, I tapped out a response to Amaru, aiming for a casual tone. "chill, I was training. Also, yeah, that sounds good I'll be there." The phone slipped from my hand, signaling a momentary respite, a chance to catch my breath and perhaps a fleeting moment of rest.
Yet, the tranquility was short-lived as a familiar notification chimed, heralding another message from Amaru. "Oh, sorry haha, okay, I'll be there! :)" Her prompt response piqued a question in my mind – was she always on her phone, or was she just crazy for me? It was a puzzle, one that added a layer of curiosity to the already intriguing situation.
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The thought of my hair, an unruly mass reaching down to my knees, pulled me from the digital back-and-forth. It had become an annoyance, a persistent inconvenience demanding change. As I contemplated the cumbersome length, a decision formed – it was time for a change. I had handled my own hair before; this shouldn't be too different, right?
The resolve took shape swiftly, and I ventured to the bathroom, gathering the essentials for an impromptu haircut. A pair of all-purpose shears and a trusty blow dryer joined me as I returned to my room, determined to conquer the chaos of overgrown locks. Aware of the impending mess, I made a detour to the storage closet, emerging with a vacuum cleaner in tow. With a deep breath, I began the transformation.
Positioning myself before a mirror with phone in hand, I meticulously navigated the shears, relying on both reflection and my phone to guide my hand. The strands fell in controlled chaos, each snip a step closer to reclaiming a manageable style. The hum of the comb provided a rhythm to the makeshift salon, diligently erasing the evidence of this impromptu grooming session.
As the minutes ticked by, a transformation unfolded in the reflection staring back at me. With each precise snip of the shears, my appearance shifted, gradually reclaiming a semblance of order and refinement. My gaze shifted from my reflection to my phone, seeking solace in the familiar realm of a beloved manhwa character. Yet, to my surprise, he was gone, replaced by a female character sporting a markedly different hairstyle.
A vivid recollection of his signature look surged into my memory—a style I had admired and emulated for its inherent coolness. Determined, I replicated his iconic hairstyle, carefully sculpting my locks with practiced precision. The passage of ten minutes marked the culmination of this impromptu grooming session. The end result was a transformation that exuded a sense of sophistication and masculinity, a departure from the unkempt lengths that had burdened me moments ago. A sense of satisfaction settled upon me as I surveyed the refined outcome in the mirror, my hair now a symbol of classic charm and assuredness. Yet, beyond mere aesthetics, it was a manifestation of the decisions made today—a day fraught with unexpected turns and revelations.
With the evidence of my impromptu styling strewn around, I wielded the vacuum cleaner, efficiently erasing the remnants of cut hair that now littered the room. The vacuum's cylinder quickly filled—a testament to the extent of my grooming endeavors. However, the prospect of lugging the appliance downstairs seemed an insurmountable task in my current state of exhaustion. The events of the day, from the startling switch to encountering a new family and the rigorous workout session, had drained me completely. Yet, amidst the fatigue, a sense of accomplishment lingered. Reflecting on the whirlwind of experiences, I found a rare sense of contentment in the choices made.
Driven by weariness and a sense of closure, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep unusually early for someone of my age, bidding the day farewell at the unexpectedly premature hour of seven forty—a respite welcomed after a day that had rewritten the script of my life in unforeseen ways.
The day began with the comforting cascade of water in the shower, a solace that seemed heightened by the choice of cold water—an invigorating embrace that awakened my senses. It wasn't bone-chilling, just a cool contrast to the usual warmth, leaving me feeling refreshed as I concluded the morning ritual. Returning to my room, a glance into my closet unveiled a collection of clothing that felt alien to my style—skirts, onesies, and various other items that didn't resonate with my preferences. A shake of my head dismissed them outright. Opting for a simple ensemble— a black t-shirt paired with brown pants that exuded a sense of understated comfort—I prepared to face the day ahead.
Embarking on the walk to school, the city unfolded before me in a different light, each corner vibrant with a newfound liveliness. It wasn't just the scenery; it was a change in perspective. The streets teemed with vitality, bustling with the activities of everyday life. This transformation wasn't just external; it was within me, a stark contrast to the previous apprehension and isolation I had felt.
A mundane routine took an unexpected turn when I retrieved my phone, only to be startled by an unexpected image—Amaru's face looming behind my screen. Startled, I recoiled with a gasp, finding her presence disheveled, clad in tattered clothes and a crop-top. Though I typically detested crop-tops, her demeanor didn't seem to exude any overt inappropriateness.
Startled and somewhat annoyed, I confronted her, "Why'd you startle me like that?" Her response was straightforward, carrying an undertone of frustration, "You ignored my texts. It's just karma." Was her irritation warranted? A pang of guilt tugged at me, compelling me to make amends. Seeking reconciliation, I draped my arm around her shoulder, offering a branch of social interaction, "Let's head to school, shall we?" Does she like this? Or am I too aggressive? Her response was soft, her hand tenderly resting atop mine as she agreed, "Yes.." Ah, I guess she did like it.