It was dark—too dark to see. Johnny tried looking around, but no matter where his eyes darted, all that surrounded him was abyss. He could feel, but it was odd; he felt like he was on his back, yet his movements felt irregular.
This wasn't what being drunk felt like. His fingers felt fat, his limbs weak, his mouth pinned shut, and his whole body ached.
The darkness consumed him—was all he could witness—all that…
Suddenly, there was crying. Loud and annoying, right in his ear. It grew louder and louder… and then it stopped.
Then there was light.
Of course—his fucking eyes had been closed.
He looked at his surroundings, unrecognizable and disorienting.
He was lying on something soft, something padded. He felt oddly wet, yet warm.
Johnny looked to his left and saw two bright blue eyes, pale skin, fair blond hair… and no teeth.
"Whose fucking baby is this!?" Johnny tried to say. Instead, all that came out was blabbering—like a drunk man in his cups.
He kept trying to speak, but only gibberish came out. His tongue felt like mush, his voice high-pitched and crackly.
The baby next to him made similar sounds—no meaning, but oddly deliberate.
"Rah fushda, nei grou vuith alo heil."
That made even less sense than what he'd been trying to say. Johnny turned toward the voice and saw a man towering above him. He had to be a giant—Johnny was six feet tall, and this guy looked five times bigger.
Then Johnny looked down at himself. Chubby feet. Chubby arms. His manhood… the smallest it had ever been.
"Oh, fuck," Johnny thought.
"I… I'm… I'm a goddamn baby."
The realization hit him hard. The man above was blond-haired, blue-eyed, pale—just like the baby beside him.
Johnny glanced at the other baby again. The kid was staring at his own crotch with an angry expression.
"Mel inov vurr bij?"
"And they don't speak English either. Fuck."
Not many people considered the logistics of reincarnating as a baby. As a grown man turned infant, Johnny had plenty of issues.
No teeth meant soft food, mostly breast milk—something he refused to drink from the woman he assumed was his mother.
No ability to walk meant he went wherever his parents took him, including on boring nights when they sat in a room reading while he stared at walls.
No voice meant he and his brother were stuck in a wooden crib in his parents' bedroom—even when they thought he was asleep and decided to "embrace" each other.
Yup, Johnny was in the cuck crib. Not by choice, not happily, and with the added humiliation of constantly shitting himself. Seriously, a liquid diet didn't do him any favors.
Being changed, cleaned, fed, and burped—humiliating for a grown man.
Johnny never had kids, so experiencing newborn life firsthand was… something he hoped he'd forget.
Time passed, and he began to understand his parents' language.
His father's name was Zevran—tall, slim, a carpenter.
His mother's name was Serenya—always with them, giving odd looks, and trying to breastfeed when Zevran wasn't around.
Johnny wasn't the only refuser. His brother, Talen, also turned away from "the tap." Their parents had named Johnny Riven, but he still thought of himself as Johnny.
"They still refuse to drink?" Zevran asked one day.
"I don't understand," Serenya said. "My mother said they would latch on soon. It's been months. Scholars have examined them—no one can explain it."
"Do they not love me?" she asked, voice cracking.
Damn it. Technically, Johnny was her child. All she wanted was a normal baby. But how could he pretend, knowing what he knew about the birds and the bees?
"Why couldn't it have been the kind of reincarnation where I get summoned instead of reborn?"
Still… seeing her heartbroken hurt.
He sighed (or tried to) and reached for her bosom.
Serenya blinked, then slowly picked him up.
"Is it possible?" Zevran murmured.
Johnny closed his eyes and grudgingly began to drink.
"Reincarnation fucking sucks."
Weeks became months. Johnny learned to walk, speak simple words, and endure the hell of teething. He nursed less and less—especially once Talen followed his lead.
Eventually, their first birthday arrived.
His father made animal-shaped toys. His mother got books. Neighbors and family came over, and Serenya made an announcement.
"Thank you for coming to Riven and Talen's birthday. I've spent the past year bonding with my boys, but it's time I returned to work. In my place, we've hired a nursemaid."
A young woman entered, no older than twenty.
"My name is Nora. I'll be caring for the children and assisting the Eldrins."
She had tied-back brown hair, hazel eyes, and caramel skin—not the ruler-wielding old hag Johnny had imagined.
Soon people began giving presents one at a time along with what Johnny could only assume was a prayer of some sorts.
The presents seemed to be more aimed at Zevran and Serenya rather than the two boys.
The party continued, but then everyone gathered around the twins. The mood shifted—celebratory faces turning tense.
An old man stepped forward, his heavy steps echoing. He carried a twisting wooden staff topped with a clear orb and wore loose grey ceremonial robes.
He pointed the orb at Talen—silence fell. The orb touched his forehead and glowed. Then the man turned to Johnny. His orb glowed again—more brightly.
The man thumped his staff to the floor, looked at Zevran and Serenya, and nodded.
The room erupted in cheers. Serenya clutched her boys.
"Thank the Maker! My children are blessed with the energy of the world!"
Magic. Johnny was pretty sure that's what this was.
Praises rang out:
"Two of them?"
"I'm glad my prayers reached the Maker!"
"Will you send them to the Academy?"
Johnny hated the crowding. Talen looked sick.
"C'mon, throw up on someone so we can leave," Johnny thought.
No luck.
That night, Nora carried the exhausted boys to their new room—a single crib, safer for their size. She sat in candlelight until they drifted off.
Johnny pretended to sleep, listening as she slipped out.
Then—
"Firebool."
A whisper in English. Bad English, but English.
Johnny's eyes shot open. In the moonlight, he saw Talen's hand raised.
"Fireball!" he tried again. Nothing. He lowered his hand, noticing Johnny staring.
"Bitch," Talen said—clearly.
"Asshole," Johnny replied.
They sat up, studying each other.
"What's your name?" Johnny asked.
"Anthony," Talen said.