Chapter 2: Sounds of a Strange World
Rai blinked.
Or tried to.
The world was bright. Too bright. Too sharp. Too fast. Everything moved too quickly for him to understand. Hands reached for him. A voice called his name, soft and urgent. Rai… Rai…
He didn't understand anything except his rai.
Not the words. Not the sounds. Nothing.
Why do they make noise? he thought, though silently, not speaking, not knowing how. His mind felt… awake, but trapped in a body that couldn't do much. Movements were clumsy. Arms flailed, legs kicked, a cry escaped him again.
Warm hands caught him, lifting him gently into a different position. He tried to protest, but he couldn't. Only the sound of voices surrounded him—some high-pitched, some low, some overlapping. He only understood one thing: he was being watched. Carefully. Kindly. Protectively.
He tried to remember.
Memories came in flashes. Earth. Machines. Streets. Cars. Sounds that didn't exist here. Everything was confusing. Nothing made sense. No words matched anything he saw.
And yet…
He understood the tone.
Love. Care. Warmth. Safety.
Those things didn't require a language. They wrapped around him like a blanket, even if he couldn't read the words.
The woman picked him up again, holding him close. Her scent—something floral and sweet—calmed him, like a reminder that this body had someone looking after it. The man crouched nearby, watching, occasionally speaking, gesturing with hands that he didn't understand. The motions themselves made no sense, but the intention did.
He felt… held. Protected. Wanted.
Even if I don't know what they are saying, I know they care.
That thought alone grounded him. His mind, though strange and full of knowledge from Earth, slowed. There was nothing he could do yet. No speech. No movement. Only observation.
And he observed everything.
The patterns of their movements, the rhythm of their speech, the small things—how the woman's fingers trembled when she wiped his face, how the man's eyes softened whenever he looked at him, how the room smelled of firewood and cooked food. These details made sense, even if the language did not.
At one point, the woman looked at him and smiled.
"You're staring too much," she whispered. Her voice was gentle, but amused.
He didn't understand the words.
But he recognized the sound as friendly.
A tiny part of him—Earth-Rai—wondered how it could be so easy to understand tone and intent without knowing a single word.
Time passed slowly. Days blurred. Each day was filled with sounds he could not decipher, movements he could not imitate, and touches he could only feel. But every day, the same constant surrounded him: his parents. Always close. Always watching. Always caring.
This world… is different. Strange. But it is… alive.
And though he could not say it, could not even form the words in his mind yet, one thought echoed clearly:
I belong here. Somehow.