Shearing off another layer in his wood carving, Takara sculpted.

What he was shaping, he didn't know just yet. But he was moving slowly, his shaky arms taking the action as a practice of precision. 

Finding difficulty in exerting consistent accuracy, he paused. Dropping his arms limp at his sides, he let out a tired sigh.

Leaning back, against the wooden cabin wall, Takara rested. He was not much exhausted as he may look, but he often takes to being less active.

It wasn't more than a year ago when he broke his spine, after all. Stepped off a mountain cliff, to the woods down below, landing on his back flat to hard ground, bones shattering with countless fissuring fractures.

It was nothing short of a miracle he survived, but the success in his installation of a mechanical spine was a legendary achievement. Not that the rehabilitation was any easier. 

His back pulled back straight, a metal contraption at his nape that replaced his cervical vertebra protruding from skin, the round metal pivot sharply shooting back sunlight that hit its glossy surface. But that wasn't the end of the metal.

At his shoulders, a replaced ball-and-socket joint; his elbows, hinge joints; his wrists, saddle joints-- he could go on forever and ever, naming each and every joint on his body and how they were each replaced with a metal pivot that performed those functions for him. 

Without them-- he'd be what they call 'paralyzed', from the neck down, no less.

Half of him was metal, steels of every kind and rarity that really werent supposed to be in a human being. However his heart was beating, his organs were still running on blood and oxygen-- he was told that all except his left kidney was still human. realistically thinking, he may still be slightly more human than machine.

He wasn't quite sure if he could call himself a cyborg, or a robot, or perhaps, a machine?

Did it reeeeally matter?

Standing back up, taking creaky, wooden steps, the orb of a silver ankle twirling around to each twitch and adjustment, his prosthetic left foot, metal now scorching from the exposure to sunshine--

With a frown, he resigned into the cabin where the shade was.

"Takara!" an excited child called out to him, his voice nearly always alive and cheerful despite the sweltering blaze--

"What is it, Cross?" he groaned, his eyes squinting in irritation, unable to take the burn on his eyelids any longer.

The child made his way over, the hood of his sleeveless parka pulled up to shade over his eyes. His smile was wide and cheeky as he gleefully announced, "I see an island in the distance!"

And sure enough, past the horizon, where every surface of the sea was reflecting piercing sunrays into Takara's eyes-- a faint, dark silhouette stood out, a visible lump of island far away but close by.

With a sigh, Takara agreed, "Land ho."