. Mira was completely unaware of her surroundings as she lay unconscious, the battle between the two mutant plants having moved on. The creeping thyme, one of the combatants, had been thrown against a nearby tree, its sap dripping steadily onto the ground. As it struggled to get back up, it launched another attack, and some of its sap splashed onto Mira's face and body. The plant's massive size was intimidating, its body sprawling across the ground like a living, breathing behemoth, three times the size of an elephant.
As the sap made contact with Mira's skin, she jolted awake, her eyes flying open in agony. She felt like she was being burned alive, the pain so intense that it was all she could do to writhe in torment, her mind consumed by the sensation of flames licking at her skin. The burning sensation seemed to sear her very soul, and Mira's vision blurred as she screamed, the sound echoing through the forest.
The burning eventually subsided, replaced by a new kind of pain that felt like her bones were being shattered and reassembled, over and over again. Mira's body convulsed in agony, her muscles screaming in protest as her bones seemed to shift and reform. For two days and two nights, Mira endured the torture, her screams echoing through the forest, but she was left untouched by the beasts and mutant plants that roamed the area. The scent of the plant kings that had fought here kept them at bay, a temporary reprieve that allowed Mira to focus on surviving the agony.
As the hours ticked by at a glacial pace, Mira's body slowly absorbed the sap, and the pain began to subside. When it finally stopped, Mira lay there, exhausted, battered, and broken, but alive.
If she knew that absorbing this much mutant plant sap would be considered a miracle by researchers, she would just roll her eyes, attributing it to her being a protagonist in a strange, twisted novel where doing the impossible was just normal. After all, protagonists were known for their uncanny ability to survive against all odds, and Mira would just think that she was that not-so-lucky female protagonist - someone who's always suffering through unbearable pain and emerging stronger with every trial. "If being the protagonist is like this," she'd think to herself, "I'd rather not be the heroine; it hurts so much."
As Mira gazed up at the clear blue sky, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. She'd been lost in thought for a while, her mind a blank slate as she stared upwards. Her optimistic nature had always been her coping mechanism, allowing her to find the silver lining in even the most trying situations.
People often called her a fool for being so accommodating, but Mira didn't mind. She knew she was being used, but she didn't let it bother her. As long as she could maintain her peace, she was willing to let others do what they wanted. She'd learned that giving in was often easier than dealing with the drama and nagging that came with saying no.
Mira's family often praised her for being a good daughter and sister, a loving girlfriend. But behind her back, they'd whisper that she was too good, that she was foolish for sacrificing so much for others. Mira didn't care. She knew her life was hard, working tirelessly to earn money only to have it taken by her family. But she didn't do it out of a sense of duty or obligation; she did it because it was easier than dealing with the conflict.
She'd given up on having friends, too. Mira was intensely empathetic, able to sense the emotions of those around her. She could tell when people genuinely liked her and when they were just pretending. It made it hard for her to form genuine connections, so she kept to herself. Despite it all, Mira wouldn't call herself good; she just preferred to avoid hassle and maintain her peace, no matter the cost.
Mira's thoughts drifted to her mother, who had named her Miracle due to her miraculous survival at birth. It was a fitting name, she thought, given her history of bouncing back from adversity. She chuckled wryly to herself, thinking that she had indeed been like a cockroach since birth – resilient and hard to kill.
Her mind wandered to the promise she had made to her mother on her deathbed. Her mother had asked her to take care of her brothers and father, and Mira had promised to do so. She had fulfilled that promise, sacrificing her own needs and desires to ensure their well-being. But she'd finally reached her breaking point. Her health was deteriorating, and the exhaustion had become overwhelming. Years of constantly giving without receiving anything in return had taken its toll. Despite the promise she made to her mother, Mira couldn't help but feel that she'd done enough. She'd carried the weight of her family's responsibilities for far too long, and it had come at a great cost to her own well-being. In her heart, Mira knew her mother wouldn't want her to suffer like this. She'd protected her peace for so long, but it had become a fragile thing, barely holding on.
As Mira reflected on her life, she couldn't help but wonder if she was indeed the protagonist of some kind of story. From her miraculous survival at birth to her current predicament, it seemed like the universe had been testing her in ways she never thought possible. The thought brought a mix of emotions - a sense of purpose, but also a dash of irony. "Maybe this is what they mean by 'protagonist syndrome'," she mused, "where the main character's life is just one big, never-ending trial by fire."
As Mira sat up, she felt the profound changes coursing through her body. Her senses were heightened, and a newfound vitality and strength flowed through her veins. The air was fresher, the sounds clearer, and her body felt... different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew she'd been transformed.
Focusing on her inner energy, a soft, pink glow emanated from her palm. The light grew brighter, and she felt a tingling sensation in her hand. A small, delicate mushroom emerged, its cap a vibrant pink and its stem slender and elegant. The mushroom seemed alive, radiating gentle, nurturing energy. Mira felt a deep connection to it, as if it were part of her own being.
The mushroom was the size of her palm, soft and light pink like cotton candy. It had a cute, chubby appearance, with sparkling diamond dust sprinkled on it and crystal-like dew drops on its cap. Mira gazed in wonder, feeling a sense of amazement. As she realized the mushroom was her companion spirit, her first thought was that it was adorable, and her second was that it didn't look powerful. It seemed harmless, but she felt a profound bond with it.