Just a Sprout (1)

This too shall pass.

It was a saying a nurse had taught me when I was little. When my weak heart forced me to give up half my days at school, when the high school friends who used to visit my hospital room stopped coming and my profile filled up with pictures of college classmates I didn't know — this too shall pass.

My parents smiled in front of me and wiped away their tears behind my back. But I'd rather call that misplaced pity. Even after I got into university, there I was, still sitting on a hospital bed — yet thanks to it all, I'd learned to find joy in the tiniest scenes outside my window. Flowers blooming, branches swaying. Sunshine and rain trading places. All of it could delight me.

Of course, I do think slipping on a random banana peel and dying the moment I went outside to enjoy the sound of the rain was a bit much. The banana left me utterly dumbfounded. And of all the ways to go — cracking my head on the stone sitting right beside where I fell? Come on. Isn't that an absurd death? I'd expected to die in my parents' arms, and instead it was just a stupid accident.

But maybe that was a good thing.

Mom, Dad. I died the same death as everyone else. The beginning and the middle were different, but the ending was the same — so please don't grieve anymore. Who knows, maybe a new life is waiting for me.

That wasn't a lie told for comfort. The moment my life drew its curtain, a new life really did arrive.

······Just not a human one.

My cotyledons were a fresh, tender green. I had become a sprout. No joke — I had genuinely reincarnated as a sprout. I could even wiggle my cotyledons. Wiggle, wiggle.

My plump little seed leaves fluttered back and forth. Haha, how on earth did I end up like this? So reincarnation is real after all. The cycle of rebirth — it was actually true.

I didn't seem to be an ordinary sprout. I was a plant with no eyes, and yet I could see the three dimensions around me clearly, from every angle.

The space around me registered as a sphere. Small as the radius was, I could tell there was a weed growing in the plot next door. Hello, neighbor.

Reborn as a plant instead of an animal. It sounded bad, but once I actually became one, I found it surprisingly satisfying. Above all, the sunlight touching my cotyledons was wonderfully warm and cozy. Under sunshine like this, even the sourest temper would soften into something gentle and kind, wouldn't it?

I spread my cotyledons wide and drank in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the light. Ahhh, this warmth. Without my lifting a finger, the sun showered me with infinite love — simply because I was here. It was a warmth that loosened the heart and made everything melt into ease.

Through my roots, moisture carried nutrients up into me. The nourishment coursed through my tiny body, and even my spirits felt full.

Days passed as my body grew, and before I knew it, I was twice my old size.

Whoa, I got taller.

Still just two cotyledons, but broader and plumper than before. My stem had grown thicker and longer too — sprout though I remained.

My field of perception had widened as well. I'd wondered whether growth would change anything, but at some point it stretched outward all at once, like breaking through a wall.

Looking around, the neighboring weed now stood fully within my sight. It was taller than me. With the newly visible weeds around me coming into view, it dawned on me that I was simply small. Because I'm a sprout, after all.

Once I learned that a bigger body meant a bigger field of vision, greed took root. I want to see a wider world. Isn't there a way to grow faster?

Examining myself carefully, I could feel the nutrients rising from my roots spreading through my whole body and fueling my growth.

In that case, instead of growing evenly everywhere, wouldn't it be better to grow my roots first? I'd gather more nutrients, and that would let me grow faster.

Desire blazed up in me like the warm sunlight itself. Yes — let's do it right now. An ordinary sprout would struggle to channel everything into its roots alone. But I'm a mysterious sprout. Surely I can manage this much?

Baseless confidence swelled inside me. And it turned out that confidence was justified.

The moment I willed it, the nutrients gathered down into my roots. Whoa, it actually works?

Day and night cycled past. My sprout's roots fed on nutrients and flourished, burrowing deep into the earth.

The nutrients flowing in through my roots had increased dramatically. Though my territory grew more than half again as large, the soil grew more barren the deeper I went, and various other factors meant the actual gain in nutrients came out to roughly half.

Yoo-hoo, but look how much richer I already am. I'm a sprout smart enough to focus on my unseen roots rather than my current height. And a sprout sma-a-art enough to pour those gains right back into the roots again.

I concentrated the nutrients ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into my roots. My roots stretched deeper and wider, steadily claiming territory until they seemed ready to blanket the whole underground world within my sight.

Excellent. Everything's going smoothly.

I swayed my cotyledons with delight.

An earthworm churned through the soil underground. As it passed near my roots, cool, fresh air began circulating through the earth, and a pleasant crispness tingled at my root tips. Thank you, earthworm.

Wider and deeper.

Huh? Why did it stop?

I stretched my roots deeper and deeper, reaching beyond the edge of my visible range — and the nutrients scattered, unable to do their job. So concentrating nutrients only works within the area I can actually perceive. Good to know. All right, I suppose I've squeezed enough out of nutrient acquisition for now.

Now, what should I do...?

I decided to just bask in the sunshine. Yoo-hoo, I wiggled my cotyledons.

The moment I released my focus, nutrients spread evenly through every part of me except the overgrown roots, and as time passed my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠body shot up, sprouting fast.

About three days went by.

My cotyledons grew broader and plumper still, and I was taller too.

Roughly three days after redistributing my nutrients, my range of perception expanded in a single bound.

Through the weeds I spotted a pebble. So my next-door neighbor had a pebble living with them too. An ant carrying a leaf passed beside the pebble, then apparently decided its load was too big — it set the leaf down and started nibbling it apart bit by bit with its mandibles, the leaf trembling as it tore.

Wow, a hardworking ant. Now that I can see ants, I love it. I want to see even more.

As I scanned around for anything else, I suddenly noticed something in the air. I couldn't see the high sky itself, so to call it loosely "midair" — there was something floating there.

A square hologram. Most of it lay beyond my range of perception, so I couldn't make it out properly, but the shape of its lower edge was unmistakably that of a rectangular window.

What is that thing?

Whatever it was, it seemed a rather shy existence — the bottom edge vanished before long. What could it be? I was curious, but it was outside my field of vision, and there was no way to find out.

Fine. Next time it shows up, I'm getting a good look at it.

I poured nutrients back into my roots. Freed from the limits of my sightline, my roots expanded their territory without a hitch, boring into moist soil and winding around grains of stone.

Nutrients flowed in through my new feeder roots. Take what you gain and gain more with it. The fresh nourishment spurred my roots on — thick roots pushed the soil apart to make room, and fine rootlets threaded densely into the gaps.

Time drifted by. The ant returned to its nest, and dew settled on the pebble. Under a sky kind enough to oblige, the sunlight embraced my gently swaying cotyledons, and moonlight patted them to sleep.

Yoo-hoo, let me recite a poem I know.

The tree with deep roots does not sway in the wind — it flowers sweetly and bears much fruit; the spring with deep waters does not fail in drought — it joins the stream and finds its way to the sea.

Good poem. Very good poem. From today on, I am a deep-rooted sprout.

My body grew for about three more days.

A little way past the pebble, I could now see a boulder. My pebble neighbor had family! A big, dependable family — so large I couldn't quite take in all of it at once.

When I turned my attention upward, the hologram shape caught my eye again. It had appeared and vanished any number of times by now.

All right, time to reveal your true identity.

The square holographic window was plain as day. A short display of letters and numbers.

Sprout Level 4? Influence Radius?

Something familiar. I've seen that kind of thing in webtoons.

I... have a status window?

My cotyledons trembled with shock.

Sunlight draped over my cotyledons like a blanket, and a soft breeze set them swaying happily. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle.

Yoo-hoo, another beautiful sunny day. Born in a place this drenched in sunlight, I must be the luckiest sprout alive. Thank you, Sun.

My daily production had finally hit triple digits. Seeing the flow of rich nutrients entering my roots spelled out in numbers made it wonderfully easy to keep track.

So that's why I needed four days' worth of growth. Status window, thank you for telling me.

In gratitude, I spread my cotyledons wide. I'll even show you a special exercise I just invented. I swung both cotyledons in rhythm, together, my stem bouncing along a little too.

Let's name it: Growing-Taller Exercise.

Doing this has an incredible effect. Truly. I feel like I'm growing. The feeling. Incredible effect.

I worked hard at my cotyledon calisthenics.

Nutrients streamed in from every direction along my roots, and a rich sense of satisfaction filled me from stem to seed leaf.

Time passed. The nutrients filled my experience gauge and pushed my body further along.

Whoa, new words appeared. Neighbors, as of today I am a MAX sprout. Please, from now on, call me Max Sprout.

Oh?

Apparently I'd grown up splendidly — grown enough to leave sprout-hood behind and become something else entirely.

A decision about my future, then. Just as adulthood ambushes you out of nowhere, this moment had finally arrived for me too. It felt strange — and wonderful.

What should I become?

A flower is beautiful. Waking to the hummingbird's trill, savoring the honeybee's kiss, watching the butterfly's wingbeats day after day — that would be delightful.

A tree is steadfast. Swaying its branches through swirling rain, standing against storms to shelter its neighbors, casting shade for heat-weary deer — that would be delightful too.

Either way sounded lovely. And so I chose...

Healthy — so that whatever comes, I can grow strong enough to become anything at all.

A fresh luster spread across my cotyledons.

Waah, I'm healthy now!

From today on, I am a hea-a-althy sprout.

The sunlight came pouring down in brilliance. Thank you as always, sunshine.

A raindrop fell. My cotyledons trembled and swayed. Ooh, how refreshing. One drop, then two, rattling my seed leaves — and then the rain came pouring down in earnest.

The rain soaked the earth and seeped deep underground. Moisture wrapped around my roots, drenching even the finest rootlets.

Ahh.

My cotyledons swayed with pleasure. The soft rhythm of the rain spread through my whole body. I couldn't see the clouds in my field of vision, but I knew how tenderhearted a cloud must be to send down rain like this.

Thank you, cloud. This is all thanks to you.

Rainwater absorbed along my roots. Abundant nourishment flowed in and coursed through me. I sent it all down to my roots, and they sank deeper into the earth, fine rootlets digging into the soil.

Through the long, scattered rhythm of the rain, my body grew by leaps and bounds.

About two days drifted by.

The great, sprawling boulder now fit in a single glance. Not just its sturdy front face — I could even see its shy back side. So that's what my neighbor really looked like.

Scanning farther along the edge of my vision, I noticed an unfamiliar plant. A flashy thing flaunting a yellow unlike anyone else's — a flower.

Wow, there was a flower in the neighborhood too.

With the cloud's kindness blanketing the world, I couldn't see that brilliant yellow shining in the sun, but its petals, glistening with rain, were beautiful all the same.

So this is how rich and varied the world around me really was. My known world had grown wider.

The big, dependable boulder. Its little pebble of a relative. Blades of grass trembling in the raindrops. Ants sheltering from the rain beneath those blades.

And now, at last, a flower.

The clouds drifted away and the rain ceased. Sunlight curved down and lit the world bright. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Water droplets slid from my cotyledons, and birdsong rang out across the air.

The world was beautiful.

So very, very beautiful.