Crackle!
As the familiar warmth took over his body, Valentine closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.
The flames engulfing his skull expanded and created an external shell around his body, and within the flames caressing his skin, he could feel his mind undergo a multitude of changes, becoming lighter, clearer, and sharper.
Within the flames, he observed many changes that occurred around him, rapidly lighting up the room with a familiar four shades of glow and creating the thirteen suns above Sunday's head.
Awesome...
He marveled as they shattered like brittle glass and descended across his features. His face started to visibly change shape with faint popping underneath; his bone structure was adjusting to the ethereal form above his eyes as well as the flames, which surprisingly didn't feel hot despite being all over his skin.
It was beautiful.
Not just because it looked like something out of a fairytale, but also because everything seemed synchronised in his eyes. It was as if the colors were not simply for decoration but rather a symbol that gave it its purpose.
His friend once told him that everything has its own form because of how it works and what it produces; no matter how much one tries, it will still stay fundamentally the same.
Going by his logic, these flames would melt anything that comes in contact with them.
But somehow, it didn't.
It had the opposite effect, granting life rather than taking it.
Like clay, his head was molded into something proper instead of being wrapped in bandages with only his face to show.
At the corner of his eyes, he saw strands of hair falling down his forehead; once dirty and unkempt, it was now shining under the pale sunlight, in its best shape.
Valentine took a deep breath, and for once, it didn't hurt him to exhale.
"Thank you."
Sunday whispered under his breath, his voice now clearer and more distinct.
Ending it with those same words as the last time, he stood up from his stool, dusting off his clothes from ash that settled all over them.
Sweat was pouring down his face, staining his beard, which looked like a tangled mess. Even his gaze, which was as vibrant as the sun, had gotten duller over time.
It was clear that doing this ritual of sorts was exhausting.
Sunday took a brief look at Valentine's face, which was as smooth as marble, and showed a light smile.
His features had changed a lot after the blessing.
The youth had a slightly pale face and smooth skin thanks to being newly formed; his soft, delicate features made him look calm for once, with half-closed eyes and thin, closed lips.
Seeing this, his heart warmed up.
"Your mind is clear now; you can ask me questions, but I won't guarantee an answer."
Sunday's words were as blunt as before, making Valentine grumble from annoyance.
He waited for a couple of seconds, staring back at the confused boy whose gaze was focused on something outside, before letting out a laboured sigh and turning for the door.
Then suddenly...
"Wait!"
Valentine called out with a clear tone, prompting the old man to turn back with an expectant look in his eyes.
"Do you need something?"
"No, uh... kind of."
What's with my voice...
Holding onto his throat for a moment, Valentine was confused.
He never sounded like that; his voice was now higher, as if a teenager's... which he was. His growth spurt made him sound like he was in his late 20s.
Now, however, it was back to the young and cheerful tone he always used with his teachers whenever he got into trouble.
Furrowing his brow, he coughed a couple of times, trying to adjust his voice to what it was before, but the only thing he managed to accomplish was a meager replica, something that made him look like a complete idiot while his voice cracked with each attempt at forming a sentence.
Sigh.
It's annoying, but I think I can get used to this.
Giving up on the idea of changing his tone, he looked down at the floor where countless sparks still lingered for a few moments and then dispersed into tiny fragments, scattering into the air.
I still hadn't asked about this... Power... He uses.
For the past week, he kept seeing things that would not have been possible no matter how much people tried to do them.
Fire that didn't feel warm no matter how fiercely it burned, creating new limbs out of his broken ones and reattaching them as if it were normal, the endless sky that felt like it were looking down on him, and the entire ordeal of him being kept here in the first place.
Not to mention Sunday, the man who could somehow control such miracles and use them on Valentine, prompting more questions to flood his confused mind.
He wanted to know about everything.
How did you find me?
Who are you really?
Where are we?
Do you know the way out?
But all of them seemed like something that would be a bother for an old man like him to explain.
Moreover, Valentine didn't want to tire him out even further by taking up his free time; he was, after all, the one healing him, and he had yet to figure out what kind of healing he was doing to replace his mangled body.
Let's take it slow...
He still had a couple of weeks left to be healed completely; asking a question or two shouldn't hurt, and even then, no matter how much he thought about it, Sunday could answer with a lie instead of helping him, though less likely after seeing his kind-hearted nature.
Swallowing hard with his healed throat, he asked him a question that had been lingering in his mind.
"When you found me..."
"Yes?"
Valentine's eyes drifted to the open door, locked onto the window where he could see the outline of tall trees swaying.
"The first time you saved me... did I have anything with me?
Any clothes, phone, maybe even food, anything that stands out or could be useful?"
"Hmm..."
Sunday furrowed his brows in thought, rubbing his giant chin. Then, with his half-closed eyes, he nodded.
"I think, yes. I will see where it is."
"Thanks, and can you later leave them here on the nightstand? I want to rest a little..."
"I see. You did... bleed... a lot."
"True..."
With how much blood I lost, it could be enough to fill up a whole fishtank.
But since the ritual made it evaporate and somehow restored a portion of it inside, he couldn't complain.
Valentine looked up at Sunday, who was still sweating and was starting to have trouble speaking through his breaths.
At least this much, this much I can do.
"Sunday."
He suddenly said his name, to which the giant nodded.
"I haven't really introduced myself properly, and I... can't, just call you by your name when you don't even know mine."
"Ha?"
It was funny to see someone be so nice to him; even normal doctors wouldn't act like that with their patients, but this old guy was playing his butler without even asking for payment.
No matter how many times Valentine started suspecting him, he still gave him food and shelter with clearly nothing to gain in return.
Truly a good Samaritan.
Stretching out his only functioning limb towards the bear man, he gave him an awkward smile and spoke with a strained voice.
"My name is Valentine, but others call me Val."
"Ah, I... understand."
Looking curiously at the tiny hand in front of him, he shook hands with it in an awkward manner.
Val looked at him in surprise.
"Have you never shaken hands before?"
"I... did..."
"Must have been a pretty long time ago then."
"It was."
Exchanging some words for a while, Sunday left the room to get some rest. Valentine did the same, though without leaving his room, which was still a cage to him in a way.
He didn't mind it anymore now that he properly introduced himself to the man whose age seemed six times older than his own.
As he stared at the closed door, he looked down at his new hand, which had three giant imprints of fingers all over its skin, stinging.
Damn, it hurts.
Truly a monstrous build.