He could feel his heart beating like a drum, pumping blood through his veins. He opened his eyes, but he could not see. His entire body felt rigid, especially his feet that were unusually cold and numb. A sterile bed sheet covered his body, which he lightly touched with the tip of his right index finger. He listened to the pulsating beep of machines to his right. He tried to make a sound by opening his mouth, but could not. He tried to move his head, but could not. The tip of his nose was warm. He knew that the room that echoed the rhythmic beeps of the machines off its metallic and glass walls was warm, but he could not understand why his feet felt so cold. Fatigued, he fell back into a dark world of dreams.
Voices woke him. He was glad to hear them, but he did not understand them. Japanese was the language they were speaking. He was able to understand a word here and there in their conversation. Words he had learned while working with the Japanese engineers of his Grand Prix team. He did not recognize the voices, but he knew that there were two men and a woman who spoke Japanese with a Catalan accent. Doctors, he tried to whisper in their language. The three adults stopped talking and looked at his lips.
"Lleónart, do not strain yourself to speak just yet," the woman said in Catalan as she approached him. "We are working to slowly restore you. Just rest. You are safe."
Her voice was comforting, sensual, and sincere. He relaxed.
"Your muscles are emaciated from so long in this bed, but we are rebuilding them," she explained. "Takagawasan, your patron, has gone to great lengths to bring you back from your deep sleep. You will regain your strength and your senses. Please be patient."
"How long?" he tried to say.
She did not understand him. "Just rest. Soon all will be revealed to you, but for now just rest."
He then slipped away into another deep sleep.