The corpse didn't dissolve right away.
Shinji noticed that first.
The curse lay where it had fallen, twisted and still, its form slow to lose cohesion. He waited, watching for movement that didn't come.
Only then did he let himself breathe properly.
His chest burned. Each breath scraped, shallow and uneven. He bent forward, hands on his knees, until his legs steadied.
Way too close. Should've handled it better. He had almost not made it.
That shouldn't have been that hard.
He straightened and moved on. Standing still felt dangerous here, like an invitation.
As he walked, the pain in his limbs faded into a steady throb. His body protested, but it kept moving.
That was new. Strangely reassuring.
In his old life, pain like this would have stopped him. Here, his muscles kept going.
He pushed onward until he reached a shallow stream and crouched beside it. The water was cold. He drank, ignoring the metallic taste.
When he looked up, his reflection stared back at him.
Younger. Thinner. Eyes sharper than he remembered.
"Alright," he muttered.
He stood and took a step.
The movement came more smoothly than before.
He stopped.
Did it again.
The same result.
Shinji frowned and tried once more, this time pushing it—moving faster, sloppier, letting fatigue drag at his balance.
His foot still landed where it should have.
He stayed still for a moment, breath held tight.
Not adrenaline.
Residual memory. Or something close.
This body knew how to survive. Not consciously—but deeply, in ways that didn't wait for permission.
Good.
The next curse found him near dusk, after a long stretch of walking through sparse, shadowed terrain.
It was larger, hunched and heavy, its presence thick against his skin. When it turned, Shinji felt it at once.
He didn't retreat.
He lowered his stance and waited.
The charge came fast.
Too fast. Quicker than he could brace for.
The impact knocked the air from him and sent him skidding. He rolled, vision flashing white.
For a moment, he stayed down, blinded by the impact.
Then he forced himself up.
The curse turned slowly, confident now.
Shinji took a breath that barely filled his lungs and moved.
He didn't think about timing.
His foot slid into place. His weight shifted. He struck low, then high, following a sequence his mind hadn't planned.
The curse staggered.
Shinji pressed in, pain flaring through his ribs. He drove forward—something gave.
The curse collapsed.
He stood over it, breathing hard, waiting for his legs to fail.
They didn't.
Much later, after he found shelter beneath a broken overhang and the night had fully settled in, he tried the movement again.
Once.
Then again.
Even tired, even sloppy, his coordination surprised him.
His body still followed through.
Shinji sat there longer than necessary, staring at his hands.
Just as he began to relax, the panel appeared.
No sound. No flare. Just a quiet presence at the edge of his vision.
He didn't dismiss it immediately this time.
He stared at it, jaw tight.
Whatever this was, it hadn't helped him in the fight. Hadn't warned him. Hadn't intervened.
That made it tolerable.
He closed it.
Pain lingered, dull and constant, but it didn't frighten him. If this was hell, it was at least a physical one.
That, he could work with.
As he lay back against the stone, one thought settled in clearly.
If he survived something once—really survived it—
this body wouldn't forget.