Morning light filtered through the dense rows of palm trees, softly illuminating the scattered straw of a nest nestled beneath one of them. High above, the fronds swayed gently in the sea breeze, while the air was thick with the scent of coconut, dampness, and the earthy aroma of warm soil.
Nearby, fishermen busied themselves with unloading a fishing net stretched across the rocky shore, placing fresh fish into woven palm-frond baskets. The rhythmic thud of wooden boats echoed across the area.
At the edge of the field, children chased a ball made from dried coconut husk, tossing it among themselves, while women laid out coconut shells to dry on flat stones. Others braided ropes and light straps for tying small boats.
In the heart of this organized bustle, Nair remained in the nest below the palm tree, unaware of the world around him, attempting to stand on his new legs. His legs looked like frail sticks of straw. He stretched out a clawed foot, which slipped to the side, causing him to fall face-first into the straw. He tried to right himself again, tentatively feeling the ground. He paused for a moment, catching his breath in a pitiful silence, then slowly raised his head, ready to try standing once more.
Nair began his second attempt, cautiously bending his thin knees and trying to distribute the weight of his body over small claws that were still adjusting to supporting him. He took a clumsy step forward, but the inner edge of his claw slipped on the straw, and he tumbled face-first again. A faint chirp escaped his chest: "Cheep!"
Meanwhile, soft light seeped through cracks in the palm fronds, casting delicate, dancing lines across the straw-covered floor. Nothing had changed in the atmosphere: the scent of dry straw, the whispers of sleeping birds, and the steady pulse of time with its familiar rhythm. Yet inside the tiny nest, the silence had broken, and Nair's struggle to stand marked his first challenge in this new world.
He lifted his body with difficulty. His thin legs could barely support him, a strange feeling stirring within him—somewhere between determination and helplessness. He attempted a step, but his body trembled and collapsed onto the straw once more. His small breaths exhaled into the dust, laced with a trace of failure he didn't yet know how to describe. He backed away slightly and tried again. A step... half a step... another fall.
Though the straw cushioned the shock of each fall, it ualso deprived him of a firm surface to gain balance.
Dizziness overtook him, and he lost count of how many times he had fallen. All he knew was that he had no control over this strange new body, nor the strength to master it. Yet still, he kept trying. Each attempt clashed with one undeniable truth: he was now a chick… a tiny hatchling born just the day before, no more than a day into his new life.
He no longer possessed full control over this foreign body—not with a human mind.
After hours of trying, rising and falling again, fatigue finally overtook him. Nair decided to rest. He crawled clumsily—his head dragging along the ground—as he pushed his body with his clawed feet toward a corner of the nest, where he settled beside the hen's wing. She didn't notice him until he was right beside her. She made no sound, nor did she resist his closeness, as if she had instinctively accepted him as one of her own. He sat next to her wing, leaning into it, feeling the warmth of her feathers and the softness of the straw.
And here… he began to sink into his thoughts.
'One full day has passed since I hatched… just a single day. Yet it feels like an entire lifetime.'
His memory drifted back to that first moment of hatching—when the shell cracked open. The light had been dim, his fragile body soaked in moisture, and he hadn't understood what was happening. A strange body—small, wet, unfamiliar. None of his senses resembled anything he had known before.
'How am I supposed to face this world when I can barely stand?'
Nair sat in the corner of the nest, his tiny wings folded at his sides, his damp feathers clinging to bits of broken shell. He closed his eyes for a moment, then whispered to himself:
'Just one day ago… I was a human. Now… I'm nothing more than a helpless chick that can't even walk.'
The sound that emerged from him wasn't human speech, nor was it a rooster's crow—it was a soft, trembling chirp, barely audible. It conveyed nothing clearly, yet its tone held a blend of astonishment and confusion, as though his new body were struggling to give voice to his emotions through its alien sounds.
He took a deep breath and became aware of his new heartbeat—a rapid flutter, unlike the calm rhythm of his former human chest, a constant reminder that his journey had only just begun.
He remembered the moment he broke free of the egg yesterday, when the shell gave way under his tiny beak and a faint light washed over him. It was then he realized: he was no longer human.
A full day had passed since that moment—a day filled with wonder and disorientation, marked by endless attempts to understand what had happened. In his mind, the same questions played on repeat:
– How did I change from a human to a chick?
– Was everything I lived through a dream, or a truth standing before me now?
The last thing he could recall was sitting down to dinner. Then, utter darkness fell… and after that, he awoke in a new world. He had guessed then that the dark room was his shell, and that everything he experienced had taken place inside the egg.
'It all makes sense now…' he whispered to himself.
The total darkness and silence had come from the shell that enclosed him, and the strange vibrations were nothing more than the hen's instinctive movements—turning her eggs to ensure their healthy growth.
That odd feeling, as if his body belonged to him yet didn't—that was the truth. It was his body, but not the one he had known his whole life.
'Am I dead? But how?'
Nair hadn't suffered from any illness—he was a young, athletic man in good health. Aside from a fatal accident, he couldn't imagine any other reason for his death.
'I was at home… I don't remember any accident. Did I suffocate? But I didn't even eat a single bite.'
Nair tried to make sense of his strange situation, but the absence of answers pushed him to postpone his search for clarity.
'I have more pressing matters now.' he thought, contemplating his new body.
He was just a tiny chick now, and despite the shock and confusion that had overwhelmed him in the initial moments, he didn't feel panic or fear. His deep reading of various novels and anime had mentally prepared him for strange situations, though he never imagined anything this bizarre.
No doubt, his previous experience in the pitch-black darkness—when he suddenly found himself there, unable to move or speak without any warning—had fueled his speculations and guesses that he had crossed over into another world.
Although there was no definitive evidence yet that he had truly entered another world, the possibility that he was still in his old world remained.
But above all, what astonished him more than anything was the nature of his new body. He had entertained many possibilities—remaining human, transforming into a fantastical creature like a dragon or some mythical being he had read about. He had even, in fleeting moments of whimsy, imagined becoming something inanimate, like a sword! But to become a tiny chick? That never crossed his mind… not even in his wildest, most daring fantasies.
Yet, he accepted the reality swiftly, for he had no other choice. Instead of wasting time on questions that wouldn't yield answers, he decided the best course of action was to adapt to his new body.
His immediate priority, then, was to escape the egg. He had only managed to free his head so far, and that alone was no small feat. He spent the remainder of the day trying to fully hatch, only to end up on his back, unable to move.
After exhausting attempts to roll and shift, he finally succeeded in finding a proper position and slowly and painfully crawled out of the egg.
'That was the worst day of my life.'
Nair recalled what had happened the day before, and he could only describe the feeling of achievement when he finally emerged from the egg, as though he had won a gold medal in the Olympics, despite his subsequent failures to move or even stand properly.
His body was so fragile, more than he could have imagined, not to mention the stickiness and moisture that clung to him. All he wanted at that moment was a bath to rid himself of the uncomfortable state he found himself in.
In the end, Nair had no choice but to drag his new body beneath the hen's wing, as a strong chill had taken over his small frame, and he feared he might die from the cold. The idea of dying from the cold on his first day seemed absurd, and he felt it would be a disgrace, not just to him, but to all who had crossed this path before him.
The sun was nearing the horizon then, and Nair was utterly exhausted—not only physically but mentally as well, as the experience had been incredibly draining. He recalled how, in those moments, he crawled to seek refuge under the hen's wing, the biting cold still fresh in his memory.
When he finally settled into that warm spot, a deep sense of relief washed over his weary body. He took a deep breath, immersed in the comfort he hadn't felt in hours, and then surrendered to a deep sleep. He didn't become aware of his surroundings again until the sun rose the next morning.
Since the moment the sun had risen that morning, Nair had been tirelessly attempting to stand and walk—one try after another, each fall followed by an attempt to rise again, with an unwavering determination… until the moment he found himself in now.
He lifted his gaze to the sky, where the darkness was slowly descending, and realized how deeply he had become immersed in his thoughts during his rest. The entire day had passed in an unyielding attempt, from the first rays of morning until now. His pause wasn't due to a lack of willpower, but because his body could no longer move from sheer exhaustion.
As evening approached, the warmth of the morning faded, and the cold began to seep back into his small body. Nair crawled slowly under the hen's wing once more, seeking warmth to dispel the tremors in his body and soothe the beating of his heart. There, amidst the warm feathers and the soft whispers of the wind passing through the palm fronds, he was gradually overcome by sleep. And as his eyelids closed, a sarcastic thought crossed his mind...
'Oh, the irony of fate… Yesterday, I was running like the wind, and today, I celebrate if I take a single step without falling. But that's fine… Tomorrow, I'll laugh at all of this.'