The morning came with a heavy mist that lingered thickly over the fields. Shinji woke feeling strange, his body hot and uncomfortable beneath his blankets. When he tried to sit up, his head spun, and he quickly lay back down, eyes closed tightly.
His mother came into the room quietly, noticing instantly how pale and restless he looked. Her cool hand pressed gently against his forehead, and she sighed softly. "You're burning up, Shinji. It seems you caught a fever."
Hana appeared behind their mother, eyes wide with concern. "Is he okay?"
"It's just a fever," their mother reassured her calmly, gently smoothing Shinji's hair. "He needs rest and water. Hana, fetch me some fresh water from the well."
Hana quickly nodded and hurried outside. Shinji lay still, eyes barely open, staring quietly at the wooden ceiling. His thoughts felt strange, scattered and mixed, like leaves blown in every direction by the wind.
Mother gently lifted his head, giving him a sip of water from a small cup. "Drink slowly," she said softly, watching him carefully. "You'll feel better soon."
Shinji swallowed weakly, the cool water soothing his dry throat slightly. But even as he lay quietly again, the room began to blur around him. Slowly, the familiar wooden walls seemed to fade away, replaced by strange, flickering lights.
His heart quickened in confusion and fear. Instead of the gentle walls of his home, he saw bright, harsh lights shining down on wet pavement, neon signs glowing in strange colors, and tall buildings stretching upward into a dark, cloudy sky. A loud noise echoed around him, the sudden honking of cars, people talking quickly, footsteps rushing by.
Shinji's chest tightened in sudden panic. He knew this place, yet it felt impossible, too loud, too fast, too frightening. He was standing on a crowded street, rain soaking through his clothes, bright lights hurting his eyes.
Suddenly, a loud screech filled the air, sharp and terrifying. A car skidded toward him, its headlights blinding. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't listen. Fear surged through him, strong and sharp, and he felt frozen, trapped
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Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the terrifying scene vanished. Shinji gasped sharply, eyes snapping open to find himself back in his familiar room, the soft sounds of the village around him.
"Shinji?" Hana's voice was gentle, worried. She sat beside him, placing a cool cloth carefully against his forehead. "You were breathing funny. Are you okay?"
He swallowed hard, trying to calm the racing of his heart. "I...I'm okay. Just a dream."
Hana watched him carefully, her eyes gentle but unsure. "It must have been scary. You look frightened."
He didn't know how to answer, struggling to understand what he'd just seen. The place felt real, too real to simply dismiss as a dream. He'd seen it before in vague flashes, but this time it felt clear and sharp.
"Just rest," Hana said softly, gently patting his shoulder. "I'll stay close until you feel better."
Shinji nodded slowly, grateful for her comforting presence. Yet inside, his mind was spinning. The strange images stayed clear and sharp in his memory, like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite put together.
Their mother returned quietly, carrying a bowl of warm soup. She gently sat beside him, carefully helping him sit up. "Try to eat a little. It will help."
Shinji sipped slowly at the soup, tasting almost nothing, distracted by the strange memory. Eventually, he lay back down again, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Hana and his mother stayed quietly beside him, their gentle voices softly speaking to each other as he drifted back into a restless sleep.
Throughout the day, Shinji's fever rose and fell, dreams and reality mixing confusingly together. Sometimes he felt gentle hands soothing him, heard soft voices whispering calm words. Other times, he drifted back to that strange place, wet streets, bright lights, noises that frightened him deeply.
In the evening, as the sun gently faded, his fever slowly started to break. He woke quietly, calmer this time, looking around the softly lit room. His mother had fallen asleep in a chair nearby, her breathing gentle and steady. Hana sat quietly by the window, staring out toward the fields, lost in thought.
"Hana?" he whispered softly, voice weak.
She quickly turned, eyes lighting up softly with relief. "You're awake. Are you feeling better?"
"A little," he answered quietly, trying to sit up slowly. "Where's Father?"
"He's helping Ren's father repair their barn roof," Hana explained gently, coming closer and carefully helping him sit. "He'll be back soon."
Shinji rubbed his eyes weakly, trying to clear his foggy mind. The strange images from his dreams still lingered, quiet and confusing. "I had strange dreams," he said softly, unsure why he wanted to tell her.
She nodded quietly, sitting beside him. "Fever dreams can feel very real. Sometimes it's hard to tell what's real and what's not."
He hesitated, gently staring down at his blankets. "It felt like a memory."
Hana tilted her head slightly, looking carefully at him. "A memory of what?"
Shinji hesitated again, unsure how to answer without sounding strange. "A place… I've never been."
She reached out softly, squeezing his hand gently. "Maybe it's just your imagination playing tricks. Fever can do strange things to your mind."
He nodded slowly, accepting her words, even though inside he felt uncertain. Something about that strange place felt real, important even. But Hana's comforting presence made him calmer, helping quiet his confusion.
Later, when Father returned, he came straight to Shinji's bedside, gently checking on him. "You gave us quite a scare," he said softly, eyes warm with quiet concern.
"Sorry," Shinji murmured weakly.
His father smiled faintly, placing a comforting hand gently on Shinji's forehead. "Just rest. You're safe now."
That night, when everyone had fallen asleep, Shinji lay quietly awake, staring thoughtfully at the dark ceiling. The strange memories still lingered, softly tangled in his mind, but the comforting presence of his family made them feel quieter, less frightening.
He reached slowly into his pocket, gently touching the bent nail again, feeling its cool, familiar shape. The small object felt comforting, real, a solid thing in a confusing moment.
"Whatever that place was," he whispered softly to himself, gently holding the nail tight, "I'm here now. And this is home."
He closed his eyes slowly, breathing gently until sleep finally took him again, calm and steady.