Life, for a while, became like clockwork. Every day, Vin would wake up, taste the hospital's mid breakfast selection then go to rehabilitation.
Despite having the freedom to choose, Vin decided to continue school. Eventually, He got accustomed to sitting in the isolated corner of the class.
The only problem was that Vin had little contact with people. What few attempts he made were wretched, and ultimately he believed there was something awry with his character itself. So, he began studying people as well. Watching their habits and listening to their conversations in hopes he'd learn to be ordinary.
Soap, his physical therapist, was thoughtful of Vin. He took the heat whenever they got into altercations and continued treating him like any other patient.
Even after a week, Vin didn't improve in human interaction. In his mind, everything played out linearly; characters spoke in a manner that he subconsciously determined. But in reality, you hardly know what's about to come out of someone's mouth until it's out.
To build Vin's sociability, Soap organized a 'One-week alive party.' It was a simple gathering in the yard to celebrate him being coma'less for seven days. There were snacks, other stuff, and snacks. Really, it was a miscalculation on Soap's part to involve so much food.
That day a treasure cove existed underneath a large orange and yellow maple tree. While the music played, and boys and girls danced and played, Vin parked his chair at a long table. His eyes were wider than usual, and a rare twinkle lit his irises.
"Doritos," he voiced, tearing open a bag of chips. He partook in the snack for the first time in ages. Tasting the very much real flavor and discharging an awkward moan while he rashly chewed.
A short distance off, Soap merrily narrated Vin's tale to the guest. Speaking of how brave he was for facing reality and earnestly improving himself. "I, for one, can't express how proud I am of his progress," remarked Soap. "
"You know he can lift himself onto the toilet alone now?" continued the man, leaning his cheek on his palm like an endearing mother whose kid created a macaroni craft.
"Forgive me for rambling; let's give it up for the man of the hour, Vin!" Exclaimed Soap, pointing and herding everyone's attention.
Clapping and cheering flared, and all eyes were directed toward Vin, who shamelessly packed snacks onto his lap and smacked aloud while bobbing his head with sealed eyelids.
The audience gradually tapered their merriments, and it became utterly quiet. That is, except for Vin's sounds of delight.
"Hmm, I wish Miyo could taste too," he thought, unaware he was caught lacking, smacking, and snacking like a child.
"Kids, cover your ears for a second," laughed Soap, jogging over to Vin and pressing pause on his episode. He whispered into his ear, and Vin snapped toward the still crowd upon realization.
"..."
"I'll be inside," he said unhurriedly, gathering more food and then relocating to the ward. There, he hid inside a closet and continued to munch. He was indeed embarrassed, so he decided to lay low until people magically forgot what had happened.
Overall, the party plan was a bust. Nevertheless, Vin found a slither of happiness for the first time since he'd awoken.
<>
Days passed, and Vin began to resemble the other patients more. He'd eaten like a wild hog and accumulated some weight, enough to upgrade his training tool. His previous stick was discarded, and he began training with a thicker tree branch.
His drills were still limited to simple swinging motions; it was all he knew. But he did it until his arms were sore and couldn't persist.
He received peculiar looks from the other patients because of his remarkable perseverance. Day after day, without fail, he parked near the guard rail that oversaw the town and swung his stick.
Eventually, an inquisitive youth wandered up to him. Vin distinctly remembered it was a warm, clear, windy day because they had meatloaf for lunch. The young boy ignored personal space rules and settled only inches from Vin's chair.
He didn't announce his presence but leaned inward curiously and investigated Vin and the actions he performed.
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"Hey," the child had begun, no older than five years old. There were strands of grass in their lowcut cinnamon brown hair, and their light eyes blinked unusually fast as they spoke.
"Why are you always swinging branches around?" inquired the youth. To that, Vin gave a lengthy, detailed response of absolute silence.
"It's the easiest way to train without equipment," explained Vin, only it was in his head. He wanted to avoid another disaster, so he took deep breaths and thought clearly about what he wanted to convey.
"Alright, say it just like you've practiced." He stopped swinging, rotated toward his guest, then inhaled to speak. Though, by then, the child was gone. Vin's brows pinched together, and he grumped while glancing at where his visitor stood.
"Sorry, Miyo," he apologized, feeling he'd let his partner down by botching an opportunity to mature. The flaming bird flew atop his head and pecked his skull. "Do better," it indicated.
Vin acknowledged his wise companion, intently squeezed his instrument, then continued to perform heavy swipes. He became engrossed in his exercise and neglected to hear incoming steps. So, he was startled when another branch swung down on his left.
"Whew," respired the child, exerting himself and taking even heavier vertical swings than Vin, who peered at him. "Like this?" the boy questioned.
Since neither knew what constituted a proper strike, they glanced idly at each other. After a moment, they both realized it was better to just do whatever and beat the shit out of the air concurrently.
It was primarily silent training except for their elevated breathing. Vin thought about what to say but worried the wrong thing would drive the boy away. At that moment, he just wanted to enjoy the company of another human. And he did, they both had to ease off the gas, but they trained for half an hour without suspension.
It was going well; until a stormy individual invaded their turf. "Mars!" they shouted, ambushing the boy and grabbing his wrist. Vin immediately recognized them as the teen that got him sentenced to the corner of their class.
Upon being seized, the boy utilized his weapon and struck the arm that grasped him. "Let me go!" he yelled. The wooden object did little to free him, and the older boy shouted back. "You're supposed to be in bed, Mars! What are you doing exerting yourself!"
"Stop treating me like a kid! I want to play!" The child rebutted and refused to leave, but an adult woman entered the stage and claimed him. The three shared the same soft eyes and pinkish lips, so Vin presumed they were relatives.
As a rule from his father, you leave families to their affairs. In hindsight, Vin knew Gavin was probably just sick of others concerning themselves with how he raised his two athletic children, but it stuck.
His training partner was taken that day, but it wasn't the last time he saw the boy named Mars. Every day around the same time, he would find Vin and join him in training. Using the same branch and mimicking him like a silent pupil.
What would've been a week later, the boy asked Vin again why he committed to training so religiously. The response was even shorter than he initially planned, and he told him "to become. Strong."
Their relationship changed following that encounter. Mars became twice as active and always resisted when his family came to fetch him. For his own reasons, the child wanted to evolve as well, and he saw that possibility through Vin.
<>
Time advanced terribly slowly in the real world compared to his dreams. There were inconveniences he didn't have to deal with before, like using the bathroom, studying, and being pricked with needles.
Still, Vin found it gratifying to witness his gradual improvement. And, a month after awakening, he was moved to handrails. It was finally time to learn how to stand.
Soap stood behind Vin in the gym and readied to catch him in case he fell. Miyo was also present; they grasped their master's shirt like a crane and prepared to pull up.
"Remember, don't move all your weight at once," instructed Soap. "Today, our goal is just to stand on two feet; once you clear that hurdle, we can move on," he added, rubbing his hands in prayer.
Vin was parked in between two rails. He peered at them both for a moment, then exhaled in annoyance. Lifting his arms, he promptly grabbed the rail on the left and then the right.
"Take it slow! Don't rush!" panicked the instructor, hovering over Vin like an overbearing guardian.
On average, kids started to walk after 12 months. It's always an unforgettable, heartfelt moment that parents want to capture on video and treasure.
What Soap didn't know, was that Vin and his sister learned to walk only seven months after birth. And after 13 months, he was already balancing on a penny board.
Vin was a golden child, and that talent was only latent while inside a coma.
He artlessly grabbed, then lifted himself from the chair. Since his upper body was more substantial, he hovered for a moment before lowering onto his feet. After Vin became accustomed to standing, he put one foot in front of the other and stepped while sustaining himself with the railing.
Behind him, Soap slapped both hands on his waist and chortled. "Well, that was anti-climactic, wasn't it."
Vin's lanky body stopped him from walking sooner. Eating four meals daily and having Miyo sneak extra snacks for him hastened that process. In addition, he vaguely remembered the sense of walking from his dreams, at least the repetition of doing so.
It didn't take long before he released the rod and began walking alone. He was wobbly, but he didn't feel impaired by his injuries. Whatever surgeries had been performed were successful, and he owed it to his father's efforts.
Vin continued and roamed to the room's window, where he gazed outside. It was infinitely more pleasing to view the world from his feet; everything was, somehow, fuller.
"If I can walk, I can run, jump, race," he thought, setting his open palms over his scarred arms. "Dad, now that I can skate, you'll want me again, right?"