I lay in my crib, meditating on the concept of time. I had moved past the obsession of measuring or fully understanding it, as it seemed a useless exercise in my current situation.
What really mattered was feeling how my body grew and strengthened each day. As the initial tedium of being a baby faded, I began to adapt to this new existence.
That morning I observed my mother as she prepared to go to the shelter in search of water. Although dawn offered a fragile sense of security, I couldn't help feeling a knot in my stomach every time she went away. But there were other more pressing concerns in my mind.
Nutrition was my greatest worry. Despite my mother's tireless efforts to gather food, my body demanded more to develop properly. I knew that if I wanted to grow stronger, I needed to find additional sources of sustenance, but resources in the sewers were alarmingly scarce.
The nights, with their chaotic anarchy, made the search for food even more challenging. However, fate seemed to have taken pity on me when I discovered something promising behind our house: a surprisingly fertile plot of land.
What caught my attention most wasn't the soil itself, but its inhabitants: thick, twisted worms, the size of a thumb. My knowledge from another life instantly recognized their valuable nutritional contribution: rich in proteins, carbohydrates, and essential minerals. They could be the key to the development I so badly needed.
Despite my frustration at not being able to walk yet, I couldn't help smiling at the thought of the day when I would have full control of my limbs. Meanwhile, my mind planned how to take advantage of this invaluable resource.
My body progressively adapted to this new state. The first time I managed to crawl, I felt an indescribable joy, and my mother's effusive celebration made that moment even more memorable. Each small achievement was a cause for jubilation for both of us.
The real watershed moment came when I pronounced my first word. After weeks of secret practice, I gathered the courage to say:
—...Mama.
For an instant, I hesitated. It was a word I had abandoned in my past life, and I wasn't sure how to feel about reclaiming it. But my mother's radiant smile that shone like a sun in a gray sky dispelled any discomfort. In that moment, I knew I had made the right decision. Recognizing her as my mother was the first step toward complete acceptance of my new life.
Thanks to her constant conversation, I learned to master the language quickly. Meanwhile, I observed with fascination the dynamics of the underground shelter, where people exchanged goods and services in a rudimentary bartering system. Each day brought with it new opportunities to perfect my control over this growing body.
My name was Arceus, though my mother usually called me "Ars" affectionately. The name, which at first seemed somewhat naive to me, began to acquire a special meaning. My features, reflected in the metal sheet we used as a mirror, revealed reddish-golden hair inherited from my mother and intense red eyes, probably a legacy from my father. I couldn't foresee how my appearance would change over the years, but as long as I maintained a healthy weight, all would be well.
The days passed without rest, and my appetite seemed endless. My small stomach devoured everything I consumed and, almost instantly, asked for more.
One morning I woke up with a voracious hunger. My mother didn't take long to come to my side, as always, with a look of infinite tenderness.
—Are you very hungry, my little one? —she asked sweetly as she lifted me in her arms.
With now-familiar gestures, she prepared to feed me. I reclined on the white blanket and began to suckle eagerly. The warm, comforting taste filled me with satisfaction, and my feet moved instinctively with pleasure.
My mother, expert at interpreting each of my gestures, smiled as she noticed my contentment. With a playful caress, she tickled my feet, provoking spontaneous laughter. In a matter of minutes, my small stomach was satisfied. Her tender embrace and the soft pats on my back enveloped me in a sensation of peace and warmth.
I rested my cheek on her shoulder and closed my eyes, feeling completely safe in her arms.
—My little one, you're not eating too much, are you? —she joked with a melodic laugh.