Chương 40: Okay, It's Gonna Go Slow, You Can Remove The Music

I look down at my paper. My less than blank paper, I wrote some things in there, all in English. I... I look at what I read. Then, I lift my paper, and look down, at another paper beneath it. With the number 4 on the upper left corner. I.... wrote a lot of stuff. And I barely started. I take my five pages of work, and put them in chronological order, from 1 to 5, looking at everything I did. Scribbled writing, in english, my writing looks pretty good. At first, it was hard to write with a new body but...

My gaze land on the box on the corner of my room. Yeah, I had my fair share of practice. Looking back down at my work, my CURRENT work, I see everything I did. Apart from the scribbled writing. There's some drawings, and some... mental maps as I call them, just some scribbling I did, with arrows around, pointing to other arrows, a mess. It's everything I managed to put through on paper. Everything I felt, knew, and believed on paper, I wrote and wrote, making a mess, not caring for how readable it would be.

That wasn't the goal, the goal was to put my thoughts and theories on paper, and be able to work on them. Most people. Even if they know English, wouldn't be able to read what I wrote. Which is great to hide my second language, let's just say it's the weird Japanese of a baby. Me though? I can read it, I know my writing. But even if I couldn't. It doesn't matter. As I said, the goal was just to work through my thoughts, to put everything on paper and work on a clear goal, on a clear path I should walk on.

The goal is simple. Figure out what's wrong with my body. Putting my pen down on my paper, I stand up, and walk off my cloak to stand on the now, almost fully dry ground. For a dozen minutes, I wrote, everything I knew about my body. At first it was basic stuff. Basic stuff everyone could guess or know. I'm a baby. Two years old. I look at my baby hand, and squeeze them. I'm fitter than most two years old, but weaker than older children because of obvious growing issues.

I'm smarter than most children because of my reincarnation, but I still do dumb child stuff, again, because my brain is still forming. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. I look down at my hand again, looking at my finger. I have a scar on my finger. And then, I started writing less obvious things The reason behind this scar is self-mutilition, I bit through my flesh to test if I could feel pain. The answer is... somewhat.

Taking a step toward the wall, I lift my foot up. Let it hang in the air, and without any kind of hesitation, I kick the wall. Simulating the pain one would feel when they slam their little toe on the side of a door or wall for example. I look down at my foot for one good second. And I kick again. I barely feel anything. It's not that... I don't feel anything. But it's weird, my sense of pain isn't like in my past life.

If I did something like that in my past life, I would definetly feel the pain, and probably stop. Of course, it isn't much, but it would be unenjoyable. I could probably keep doing that for a long time in my past life, but it's not something I would be eager to do. But right now? I'm pretty sure I could kick my baby foot on the wall for hours and fall asleep because of how boring it is. Which is... weird, because I'm a baby.

And now, compared to my past life, I should get hurt more by this kind of small little kick. Turning around, I walk toward my box. Pick up another book. And stand back in the middle of the room. I extend a foot forward, and let it fall on my foot.... and I have the pleasure of seeing my body not even reacting to the pain. It's just... Uh. I didn't even have the knee jerk reaction of stepping back or hold my foot in pain, no, I just... stared at my baby foot while a big book fell on it.

I push the book of my foot, and see the skin of my foot. It's red. Clear sign that I'm not invincible. But, I didn't react to the pain. Bending over to grab the book. I put it in my box while thinking about what I wrote. I know well about my pain tolerance. Because this is what it is. I lift a hand, and pinch my left arm. I pinch hard, dig my nail inside, twist the skin. And I can feel it, if I focus REALLY hard on it, I can feel it. However, I think my pain tolerance advanced too much.

I just don't fucking care about the pain anymore. It's... at worse, as annoying as the feeling of wind brushing against my skin, or long hair brushing against my skin. At worse it's like that. I can feel it. But I just don't fucking care, and my body. My body who should react to that, be ready to fight back, pull back, or reflexively try to avoid the pain... is not doing any of that anymore. No, the only thing my body is willing to do now is... well. This. I step in the middle of the room again.

Lift both arms up so I can see them well, and try to stand still. Soon enough, I manage to feel them. And even see them again. Those movements. What are they? On my paper, I wrote a theory about them. I think, that this, is the way my body use to reduce pain. Yes. Because, even if most of the normal pains doesn't really affect me anymore, or at least I don't care about them. There's still my disability. And compared to normal pain, who's...

pretty much so inconsequential that I could ignore pretty much everything, apart from the worst of the worst done to me. Well, actually. How far could I go? I look up at my scarred finger and decide not to think too much about this. I did theorize that extreme pain like breaking a bone or something similar would make me react, but I'm not sure, and I don't want to test this. Also, if any of those tests do hurt, well... I would lose my parachute. Yes, I have a parachute in this world.

This fucking world who's apparently in the middle of a war. My parachute is something I slowly started to rely on after my one year anniversary. If I'm too sick of living with this pain, and if anything gets too much... well I'll just kill myself. In any case! Those movements of mine! The waves, the shaking, the anything. As I was saying earlier. I do believe that this... -I see my body stepping to the right by it's own will. -... this bullshit. That I tried to stop as much as I could yesterday, is, well...

a way for me to avoid the pain. The more I move, the less pain I feel. That's why, my body, feeling the pain from my disability moves as much as it can. Which is... kinda crazy, it's the only pain I can really feel, and the reason why my pain tolerance is so high. This pain is so overwhelming that my body naturally figured out a way to avoid it. And the way it figured out is simple. Move. Move as much as possible, move left, right, up, down, in all planes, while you walk, while you sleep, always move.

I turn around to look down at my paper again. And at the rest of my theory. Well, a part I didn't finish yet. A big question mark I've been trying to tackle but still don't have any clear answer on. Why does moving help?