Korou

Six months had passed, and Anu had finally figured out his new name. For over six weeks, he had been paying extra attention to repetitive words or phrases that his parents and the white haired girl would use. And among those, one that was being utilised when he was in the picture was a single word, five syllables long. It started with the crisp soft soft-sounding 'K' followed by a long 'oh' then singular 'r' finishing with a smooth glide from 'o' to 'u'.

In the composite, it was Korou. That was his name.

"Ko...Korou..." He babbled, his arms holding onto the yum wall as he tried to stand.

"Korou, " he said again with precise articulation.

"Korou." He repeated, his tone gleeful as he waved his arms.

"Korou!" This time, he roared; his shrill voice reverberated through the Morung, swaying over the yum walls as his parents scurried towards him.

His father's eyes were wide open, and his mother knelt and cupped his cheeks. She babbled, and Anu now Korou could barely register.

"Korou?" He said, tilting his head.

His mother squealed and gazed at his father, who was laughing. He then pointed towards himself and said a two-syllable-long word: 'Baba'.

Korou's eyes sparkled, in his mind an old nursery rhyme played-Ba ba black sheep have you any wool? Parting his lips, he rolled his tongue and said:

"Baba."

His father's eyes welled up as he knelt embracing him. His mother furrowed her brows and pouted. She wanted to say a lot but was clearly holding back.

"Baba." He said in a joyous tone.

His mother now snatched him away, pulling him to her side. She then pointed towards her and said a single word with a single syllable: 'Ma'.

This too rang a familiar note as Korou spread a smile and puffing his chest declared: "Ma!"

It was now his mother's turn to weep tears of joy. This onslaught of words and letters continued through the day until Korou had to fake a yawn. After they had left, he noticed the white haired girl peering at him. Her body was pressed over the door frame as she wore a silent pout with a tinge of scarlet over her cheeks.

Is she jealous? Korou wondered.

"Che?" He called out to her using the only word he knew.

Arms crossed, she took a measured pace.

She is definitely jealous.

"Che!" He voiced enthusiastically.

The girl shook her head to the side in defiance and sat next to him. Her silver locks were trimmed nearly into a bun as she scooted towards the erum wall, an attempt to create a distance.

She then cast a sharp gaze towards him. Korou felt the back of his skin tremble. He was in trouble. Korou was aware of this look; he had been under its scrutiny on more than one occasion during his brief time with Ayano in his previous life.

He gulped and made an attempt to crawl to her side.

She said something, a word. Barely audible and carried three syllables. Was that her name? Korou's mind raced with possibilities as he tried to piece the phonetics together.

She repeated, her tone louder and quicker.

'At' was the first syllable, 'lan' the second, and 'anada' the third. Korou hesitantly began:

"At..." He stuttered and fumbled. "At... At...lanaddada"

The girl erupted in a cackle, her petite arm over her stomach as she rolled over the bed.

Korou felt his face heat up as he bumped his head over her chest.

This act made the girl break into uncontrollable laughter.

After what felt like forever, she paused and smiled slightly at a sulking Korou. She pulled him to her chest, embracing the younger boy. She then whispered: "Atla-che".

That was her name, or at least what she wanted to be called by. On that day, the white-haired girl finally had a name in his head.

Over the next three weeks, Korou spent most of his time mimicking the sounds, failing and learning to imitate what he had heard. Meaning would follow naturally is what he believed. First, he needed to embrace the tone.

At the end of his sixth month, Korou's home had morphed into a whirlwind of chaos. The morning trips to the stream had abruptly ended, and in its stead, a prolonged absence of both his parents from dawn till dusk had begun. The only company he had in those days was of Atla-che.

Crawling all over the floor, Korou tried to scale the house; however, Atla would block his path, arms stretched, dragging him back to the bed. Korou sometimes wondered what her age was. She was barely a few inches taller than him, though she had the advantage of using both limbs while Korou grovelled through the erum deck.

After a few days of stopping and dragging, Atla brought a book with her. Leather-bound, thicker than his straw mattress, as she placed it with a thud. Its edges, moth eaten, with pages rusty and tattered. Pushing open the belt, she lifted the cover.

The first page was a brush stroke of calligraphy of the pictographic composite symbol that Korou, before his untimely death in the previous world, was deciphering.

His eyes widened as he leaned in, his fingers grazing the outline. The Roman letter 'A' curved in the edges, connecting with a layer of Brahmi and then Kanji. The ugly medley of words is yet stunning and ethereal.

Confusing his shock for excitement, Atla pulled him to her lap and flipped through the pages. Each was a work of art with paintings depicting five people: three humans, a single elf, and a man with fish scales, a fin, and a tail, who were going on adventures.

Korou believed it was this world's equivalent of the fairy tales. Or maybe folktales. Every page was more nuanced than the last, with oil paints flowing over bringing scenes of dragon subjugation, monster slaying, and magical cities decimated to life. Korou, preoccupied by the symbol, was still mesmerised by the sight.

His eyes were plastered over one man, who committed some kind of heroic action on every page. In one, he was helping an aged man, in another, he swung his lion scabbard sword in a clean arc, in another, he was making merry with his party members and beastmen who were his enemies a few pages prior.

Another striking feature of the man from the book was the wavy silver hair locks similar to Atla's.

Did she belong to the same family as him? Korou mused over the possibility but soon discarded it. In his mind, he had already concluded this tome was a children's picture book narrating overexaggerated tales of a man, heroic enough to be remembered.

A few pages later, a vivid painting of an ecliptic lake stretched across the spread page. Its colours were vibrantly chosen as the water's surface glimmered like pearls under the sunlight. There were circles of grassy trails floating as rafts of bamboo sailed over. At the centre was a serpent, akin to the one Korou saw over the Pagoda, roaring at the white-haired man.

His expression was fearless, as his grey eyes roared of victory. His sword unsheathed, pointing at the beast. Over him was a woman clad in a black gown. Her raven hair fluttered while she hovered in the sky. She held a wooden staff in her arms, twisting naturally at the shaft. The pattern of a butterfly adorned it. And at the top was a conical dome with a diamond crystal glowing cyan.

Atla had a dreamy smile spread across her face as she stood up, imitating the motion of the swordsman. Korou, who too was enthralled by the depiction, latched onto the erum wall and stood up. If she were going to be the swordsman, he would gladly be the wizard. Being able to fly was something he had always imagined when he was still an innocent child in his previous life.

That day, the two fought imaginary beasts, took over the magical pirates, scaled towering cities and finally rode dragons. By dusk, the two had exhausted their resources and slept in each other's embrace.