Awakening in another world

Cold, hard, and a lingering, pungent smell of mildew mixed with disinfectant.

That was Lin Ming's first sensation when consciousness returned. He snapped his eyes open, and his blurred vision took several seconds to clear. Instead of his familiar computer screen and scattered Gundam model boxes, he saw a low, mottled ceiling stained with rust. The monotonous tapping of rain-or perhaps condensation-against the metal roof echoed in his ears, dull and oppressive, as though it would never end.

He tried to move, and overwhelming weakness and pain surged through his entire body. His brain felt as though it had been struck with a sledgehammer. Two torrents of memories collided wildly and merged-the twenty-six years of Lin Ming, a young man from Earth, and the brief life of this nine-year-old boy, also named Lin Ming. His head felt ready to split. He groaned, his hands instinctively clutching his skull.

"Bloody Valentine... the First Alliance-PLANT War... six years left..." His memories as a diehard Gundam SEED fan in his previous life surfaced like an instantly accessed database. The plots, characters, and events he had revisited countless times became icy spikes piercing the confusion, bringing a cold clarity.

He forced himself to calm down. Slowly propping himself up, he looked around. The room was roughly twenty square meters, with four metal-frame beds and sheets washed pale, smelling of bleach. The walls were made of the composite metal panels common in space colonies, their color already fading. Through the only small window, he could see stretches of metal corridors and dim artificial lights outside.

"Heliopolis... the neutral Space Colony of the United Republic of Orb..." he murmured, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar. It was a nine-year-old boy's voice. He raised his hands and saw two small, thin, pale hands with clearly defined knuckles. Thin calluses covered his palms and fingertips, evidently left by prolonged physical labor.

He struggled out of bed and walked unsteadily toward the cracked mirror on the opposite wall. An unfamiliar face looked back at him: slightly tousled short black hair, dark brown eyes, and distinctly East Asian features, though the mixed ancestry of space colony residents had given him a straighter nose and slightly deeper-set eyes. His cheeks were gaunt and his complexion pale. Only the depths of those eyes held a trace of something far beyond his age.

"Lin Ming... an orphan... parents died in an industrial accident a year ago..." Fragments of this body's memories gradually became clear. The boy was a Second-Class Coordinator who had grown up in the public orphanage in Heliopolis's Third District. Most children here were like him, the offspring of low-ranking Space Colony workers or lower-grade Coordinators, whose parents had either died in accidents or abandoned them because they could not afford to raise them.

As he tried to sort through his memories, a strange perceptual ability naturally emerged deep within his consciousness. It was not part of the original owner's memories, but some kind of "gift" that had accompanied his arrival in this world. Wherever he looked, countless translucent streams of data seemed to float in the air:

[Room dimensions: 7.25 m × 4.32 m × 3.15 m]

[Ambient temperature: 21.3°C]

[Relative humidity: 41.7%]

[Air composition: nitrogen 78.2%, oxygen 20.9%, carbon dioxide 0.04%, other gases 0.86%]

[Airborne microorganisms detected. Concentration: 1,523/m³]

He blinked, but the data remained clear. More astonishingly, he "heard" footsteps in the corridor outside-no, he did not merely hear them. He "sensed" them. A woman weighing approximately 51.2 kilograms was approaching at 108 steps per minute. An old injury to her right knee made her gait slightly uneven. Her distance from the door was 15.3 meters, 14.8 meters, 14.3 meters...

What... is this? Shock filled him. His knowledge from his previous life instantly suggested several possibilities-a sensory ability? Quantum brainwaves? No, it seemed more complex. He concentrated, trying to "observe" the wall. Instantly, data on its structural composition, thickness, compressive strength, and degree of aging flooded his mind, accompanied by slight dizziness.

It takes a toll... I can't keep it running all the time. He immediately relaxed his concentration. The detailed streams of data quickly faded, leaving only a vague, overall awareness of his surroundings, like a continuously active sixth sense. An idea struck him. He seemed able to control the degree to which this ability was activated. Full-power analysis imposed a mental burden, but maintaining basic threat awareness was far easier.

He turned his attention inward. His consciousness sank into its depths, where a warm core of light seemed to rotate quietly, radiating a faint but tenacious glow. He instinctively knew that this was the SEED Factor-the key to a Coordinator's potential. Yet unlike the mechanism described in the source material, which required extreme emotional stimulation to trigger involuntarily, this "seed" seemed ready to awaken at his command at any time.

He cautiously reached out to "touch" it with his mind. **Hum-**a warm current instantly spread from the core through his entire body. The world changed. Water dripping inside the pipes outside his window became distinctly audible; he could even count the frequency of the drops. His vision sharpened until he could make out the texture of dust in cracks at the corner of the wall. A surge of fresh strength replaced his physical weakness, and his thoughts accelerated significantly as countless pieces of information automatically sorted and analyzed themselves in his mind...

But the state lasted less than ten seconds before the core dimmed slightly and a faint weariness washed over him. Voluntary control, but with a time limit and a cost... each second imposes roughly the same mental burden as five minutes of fully concentrated thought... The ACCORD ability automatically supplied the estimate. He immediately stopped activating the SEED Factor, allowing everything to return to normal.

ACCORD-Adaptive Cognitive Combat and Operational Dominance System... that's what I'll call you for now, he silently told himself. ACCORD provided environmental awareness, information analysis, and a degree of prediction, while the SEED Factor could be voluntarily activated to comprehensively enhance his physical and mental abilities for a short time. Together, they would form the foundation of his survival in this dangerous world.

Just then, the footsteps stopped outside his door. Heavy knocking sounded, accompanied by a woman's coarse, hoarse scolding. "Lin Ming! Get up! Stop dawdling! Community volunteers are coming today, so all of you had better look alive!"

It was the caregiver Tanaka Megumi, a Natural woman in her forties with deeply rooted prejudice against Coordinator children. She considered them all "unnatural monsters."

Mei-he had decided to keep using this name, though deep down he knew that he was both Lin Ming and the future Mei Hock-quickly hid the shock, depth, and resolve in his eyes, none of which belonged to a nine-year-old. He replaced them with the timid, numb, bewildered expression of an orphan his age. He had to pretend. In this world, where Naturals hated Coordinators, Coordinators themselves maintained rigid hierarchies, and the shadow of Blue Cosmos lurked beneath the surface, any abnormality could bring disaster.

"C-coming..." he answered in a slightly trembling voice, imitating the boy's tone from his memories. Clumsily-deliberately suppressing his coordination-he put on the faded old clothes at the foot of his bed: gray work overalls made from coarse fabric, patched at the elbows and knees.

He opened the door. Tanaka Megumi stood in the corridor with her hands on her hips, a slightly plump woman with an unfriendly face. She scrutinized Mei from head to toe and snorted. "Hurry up! Breakfast is almost over. And straighten your hair. Don't embarrass the orphanage."

"Yes," Mei answered quietly, his head lowered. ACCORD's passive perception allowed him to clearly "feel" the impatience and underlying disgust in her tone, but his expression did not change.

The dining room was a spacious but shabby hall furnished with more than a dozen long metal tables. About sixty children of various ages were eating breakfast quietly-or rather, numbly. Their food was a pale yellow nutritional paste with almost no flavor, served in cold metal bowls. An oppressive silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint scraping of spoons against bowls.

Carrying his portion, Mei sat in an empty seat in a corner. ACCORD automatically analyzed the paste's composition: protein 23.8%, carbohydrates 52.1%, fat 8.9%, with vitamins and minerals proportioned to meet PLANT's recommended minimum requirements for Coordinator children. This confirmed that his body had undergone at least basic genetic adjustment, but he was not one of those elites whose genes had been meticulously planned before birth. The offspring of true elite Coordinators would never end up in a public orphanage like this.

He silently swallowed the paste while discreetly observing his surroundings. Most children wore blank expressions and had numb eyes. A few younger ones sobbed softly, only to be swiftly silenced by the caregivers' scolding. He noticed that roughly seventy percent of the children displayed subtle Coordinator traits-slightly better-proportioned skeletal structures than others their age, unusually clear eyes, or exceptionally nimble fingers. But like him, they had received only second- or third-class adjustments, with limited genetic optimization.

"Hey, Lin Ming, why are you acting like a block of wood today? Did a nightmare scare you stupid last night?" A somewhat shrill voice sounded beside him.

Mei looked up to see a boy of about eleven or twelve sitting opposite him with a bowl. It was Kenta, a child from his dormitory, a year or two older than Mei was now. His parents had died in the same accident, and he was a Natural. Kenta was sturdier than Mei, with a viciousness on his face that did not belong on a child his age. He often amused himself by bullying the body's original owner.

ACCORD issued a minor warning: the target's heart rate was slightly elevated, his pupils slightly constricted, and his tone provocative. He was inclined to cause trouble in the immediate future.

Mei lowered his head and stared at the paste in his bowl, deliberately imitating a fearful, evasive look. "N-no... I just didn't sleep well," he answered quietly.

"Didn't sleep well?" Kenta leaned closer, lowering his voice but making his tone even nastier. "I heard adjusted monsters like you don't need much sleep at all. Isn't that right? Huh?"

Several children nearby stole glances at them, but none dared speak. The caregivers were at the other end of the dining room and seemed not to have noticed.

Mei's heartbeat quickened slightly, but he controlled his breathing. If it came to blows, he had a seventy percent chance of subduing Kenta without activating SEED. The price, however, would be exposing fighting skills inappropriate for his age, potentially inviting greater trouble. ACCORD instantly offered several responses: show weakness, change the subject, or create a small disturbance to attract a caregiver's attention. He chose the safest.

"I... I don't know..." He shrank back, his voice growing softer, even carrying a perfectly measured hint of tears.

Kenta seemed pleased with his reaction and sneered. "Useless." Then he ignored Mei and focused on his own food. But Mei could feel his gaze still sweeping over him occasionally, scrutinizing him.

Breakfast ended beneath the same oppressive atmosphere. The morning activity was a so-called "educational class," which actually consisted of studying basic subjects independently in a room full of outdated computers. With limited resources, the orphanage could provide only the most basic terminals. The children could choose learning modules according to their progress.

Mei selected the introductory mechanical engineering module. It would allow him to reasonably display some "talent"—laying the groundwork for future exposure to Mobile Suit technology—without attracting too much attention. He operated the sluggish computer, using his ACCORD Ability to understand and memorize the material at remarkable speed. Complex diagrams and formulas looked like simple puzzles to him. Yet he deliberately controlled his pace, occasionally clicking the wrong options or lingering over easy questions, making himself look like an ordinary Coordinator orphan who was "a little clever, learned somewhat faster than others but still needed to work hard, and occasionally made mistakes."

The class lasted two hours. During that time, he noticed a thin, small girl sitting diagonally across from him. She had also selected the mechanical module, but was struggling, occasionally biting her lip as her fingers hovered uncertainly over the screen. ACCORD's passive perception caught her whisper: "...How am I supposed to calculate this conductivity coefficient...?" Mei memorized her appearance. Perhaps he could "casually" help her sometime and begin building connections.

Lunch was nutritional paste again, though a few slices of synthetic vegetables made it better than nothing. Afterward came an hour of "free activity," during which the children could play in the designated domed park.

The so-called park was actually an area inside the Space Colony designed to simulate a natural environment, roughly the size of two basketball courts. Overhead, the artificial sky projection was set to "sunny afternoon" mode. The light was gentle but lacked genuine warmth. The grass was a genetically modified, short-bladed variety with a plastic-like springiness underfoot. A few pruned ornamental trees dotted the area, with benches beneath their shade.

Most children gathered to chase one another and play, trying to forget their worries during this brief respite. Mei sat alone in the shadow of a tree, leaning against its trunk. He appeared to be daydreaming, but his mind was racing.

Kira Yamato... Athrun Zala... Lacus Clyne... Those names passed through his mind, heavy with significance. They should all still be children, perhaps each going through their own experiences as they grew. Kira should be in Orb, adopted by the Yamatos... Athrun is in PLANT, the son of Councilor Zala... Lacus... is also in PLANT, Chairman Clyne's cherished daughter.

Six years left... Bloody Valentine, the tragedy of Junius Seven, the outbreak of war... Urgency coiled around his heart like icy vines. He knew the countdown to tragedy had begun. He needed strength, knowledge, and the means to establish himself in this world. Then... he would change the courses of events he had sighed over countless times in front of a screen.

His ACCORD Ability needed training: he had to expand its perception range, improve analytical precision, and reduce its sustained consumption. He needed to explore the SEED Factor: how to extend its activation time, coordinate it more effectively with ACCORD, and precisely control the timing and intensity of its bursts in combat. His body needed training. This nine-year-old's body was far too weak, and he had to devise a strict fitness regimen. He needed to accumulate knowledge, not only of Mobile Suits and military affairs, but also politics, economics, and interpersonal relationships...

And... my identity. His gaze swept over the children running through the park. Being an orphan was both camouflage and a shackle. He needed a plausible opportunity to gain access to higher-level resources. He thought of the Hocks, Luna Maria, and Meirin. According to the "plot," he would meet them next year, on his tenth birthday, and save the sisters during a Blue Cosmos attack, leading to his adoption.

That will be the crucial turning point. But I can't waste the year before it. He already had a plan. He would exploit the orphanage's relatively lax supervision to rise before dawn for physical training, trying to activate the SEED Factor during exercise to improve its effects. He would use the library's computers, outdated though they were, to study more advanced Mobile Suit fundamentals and engineering. He would find opportunities to slip into the Space Colony's abandoned factory district, an ideal place to practice close combat and test ACCORD's predictive applications in actual fighting...

"Lin Ming!" A voice interrupted his thoughts. It was the thin girl who had sat diagonally across from him in the morning class. She now stood timidly before him, holding an old handheld learning device. "Um... I-I saw that you chose the mechanical module too... I don't really understand this formula for the conductivity coefficient... Could you... could you take a look?"

Mei looked up and saw her nervously twisting her fingers, hope and anxiety in her eyes. ACCORD's passive perception detected no malice. Something stirred in him. This was a chance to make a connection.

"I... I'm not really sure either, but we can look at it together." He gave her a shy smile and took the device. A basic circuit conductivity formula appeared on the screen. He slowed his speech, explaining it in the simplest language he could, deliberately making a "mistake" in one minor step before correcting it with a show of "sudden realization."

"Oh! So that's how it works! Thank you, Lin Ming!" The girl's eyes lit up, and she smiled gratefully. "My name is Yumi."

"You're welcome," Mei said with a smile. Yumi ran off happily. It was a small beginning.

That afternoon, the community volunteers arrived: three young engineers from Morgenroete, two men and a woman, dressed in neat work clothes. They brought several simple mechanical model kits, saying they were there to provide "an introduction to science and technology" and inspire the children's interest in engineering. Most children showed little interest and merely listened passively.

Mei, however, displayed "keen interest" and listened with "rapt attention." When a volunteer asked who wanted to try assembling a simple pneumatic-powered toy car, Mei raised his hand. He was selected from among the few children who had volunteered.

He approached the workbench and took a deep breath before the pile of components. Narrowing ACCORD's perception to the model in front of him, he began his "performance." He deliberately made his fingers seem somewhat clumsy, hesitated before picking up parts, and "occasionally" got stuck during assembly, casting "pleading" looks at the volunteer. Yet at several crucial steps-the meshing angle of the gears and the connections of the pneumatic tubing, for instance-he "happened" to make the optimal choices. Although he worked slowly, he wasted almost no steps.

In the end, he finished his car a little later than the others, but it ran with exceptional smoothness and stability, traveling the farthest in a straight line.

The young woman guiding him looked at him in surprise, then crouched down and asked gently, "Have you played with models like this before?"

Mei shook his head, giving her a childlike smile with a touch of pride. "No. I just felt... that they should go together this way. When the gears meshed, I heard a click, and it felt right."

The woman exchanged a glance with her male colleague, surprise flickering in their eyes. "You're very talented. What's your name?"

"Lin Ming."

"Keep working hard, Lin Ming. You might become an excellent mechanic someday," the woman encouraged him, patting his shoulder. Mei nodded vigorously, but remained unmoved inside. This was merely the first step of his plan: a plausible beginning to displaying his "talent" without arousing too much suspicion.

That evening, he returned to the crowded eight-person dormitory. The smell of sweat and dust filled the room. Kenta and two other Natural children who usually followed him were whispering in a corner again, occasionally casting malicious looks at Mei. ACCORD gave him a vague warning, very low-level, but suggesting there might be a little trouble tonight. Perhaps they wanted to steal the half biscuit hidden under his pillow-saved for emergencies-or play a prank while he slept.

Mei gave nothing away. After washing up, he climbed into bed and quietly tucked the biscuit into an inside pocket of his clothes. Then he hid a sharpened plastic ruler, salvaged from a discarded learning device, beneath his pillow within easy reach. It was a meager little weapon, but it might prove useful at a crucial moment. He did not grow overly tense, merely keeping ACCORD in its lowest-power warning mode, monitoring the entire room like an invisible shield.

Night fell, and the Space Colony's artificial sky switched to its nighttime display, dotted with false stars. The other children in the dormitory soon began breathing evenly. Mei lay on the hard bed without the slightest desire to sleep. He tried sinking his consciousness inward again, touching the SEED core of light. This time, rather than activating it fully, he tried drawing out an extremely faint thread of warmth and letting it circulate slowly through his body. Weak, but continuous. He felt his perception sharpen, allowing him to clearly hear children talking in their sleep in the next dormitory and "sense" through the wall the slow footsteps of the caregiver on night patrol. At the same time, he used ACCORD to analyze the subtle changes in his body: reduced heart rate, minor metabolic adjustments, a slight increase in nerve conduction speed...

A sustained low-power mode... perhaps it could be used for nighttime vigilance and physical recovery... He silently recorded the data. About an hour later, a trace of fatigue appeared, so he stopped guiding the current and allowed everything to settle. ACCORD remained in its lowest-power passive warning mode.

Sure enough, a faint sound came late that night. One of Kenta's followers crept to Mei's bedside and reached beneath his pillow-clearly seeking the biscuit he expected to find there. Just as his hand was about to touch the pillow, Mei "happened" to turn over, muttering indistinctly in his sleep. His arm swung "accidentally," striking the reaching hand.

"Mm!" The child startled and quickly withdrew his hand. He cast a guilty glance at Mei, who seemed to remain sound asleep, then crept dejectedly back to his own bed. ACCORD's warning cleared.

Mei opened his eyes in the darkness. His dark brown eyes were perfectly clear, without a trace of sleepiness. He reviewed the day's experiences and adjusted his training plan for tomorrow: rise at four in the morning for basic physical conditioning, activate the SEED Factor in intervals during exercise, and observe its effects on strength and endurance; continue controlling his performance during morning classes; use afternoon free time to find a way to consult early structural plans of Heliopolis in the library and locate a more secluded training spot...

He knew that from this day onward, he was no longer a powerless spectator who could only sigh helplessly at a screen. He was Lin Ming, and also the otherworldly soul who would soon become Mei Hock. A variable who knew the course of the future, a nine-year-old child carrying two sets of memories and extraordinary abilities.

This time, the ending may not be the same. He gazed at the false stars outside his window, his eyes seeming to pierce the Space Colony's outer walls and reach toward the vast, cruel sea of stars. An ordinary day in Heliopolis had ended. But within this young body, a soul determined to stir the storms of the Cosmic Era universe had fully awakened and quietly begun gathering strength.