[ Otani Apartment ]
Eiko found herself in a strange yet familiar situation. Nearly all her reincarnated lives began the same way—emerging into a new world, remembering every detail from the moment she developed in the womb to the instant she opened her eyes in her mother's embrace.
The only differences lay in her experience that come with her naturally long existence. With each life, she retained the knowledge and experience, allowing her to progress rapidly and fulfill her mission more efficiently. In this life, she had reached physical strength faster than ever before and formed the peak body that a toddler could muster. It was a clear advantage for when the Gods' lockdown finally lifted.
For reincarnated souls, the Gods had designed a system meant to safeguard them during infancy. A "grace period" before their missions began. This divine lock restricted access to the abilities carried over from previous lives, concealing their essence and forcing them to behave according to their biological age.
Even if Eiko possessed the will and understanding to act beyond her years, the system filtered her intent through this divine lens. It was a necessary safeguard, preventing extremists from targeting or exploiting reincarnated infants.
Dying during infancy was one of the greatest tragedies that will ever happen to an essence of reincarnation. Newly reborn essences were fragile, blank slates incapable of fully sustaining divine energy. A portion of their accumulated energy from past lives was used simply to summon them into existence. If an essence perished too early, their remaining energy would scatter—lost to the void, forgotten for eternity.
This was why the reincarnated were always granted a complete family: two caretakers to ensure survival through their most vulnerable stage.
Essences of reincarnation could not be created. They occurred naturally, born as divine excesses in the cosmic cycle. Their names served as unique signatures, each one irreplaceable in all realms. Only one exception existed: a single essence of reincarnation personally crafted by the Almighty One before his death.
The reincarnation chamber accounted for all these parameters before selecting a world for rebirth. Eiko often wondered how long it must have taken the Gods to construct such an intricate system.
Typically, the divine lock would lift when the reincarnated reached four years of age. Only then could they freely choose their paths and complete their missions.
Yet, in this life, Eiko noticed something unusual: her development was advancing too fast. She theorized that her essence had evolved so greatly that her new body instinctively adapted to match it, forming a stronger vessel.
Sometimes, Eiko could feel herself pushing against the boundaries of the lock—testing its strength, bending its rules ever so slightly to convey her will. But doing so drained tremendous amounts of energy, something she could not afford to waste.
During the grace period, she usually devoted her time to learning about her world. She spent countless hours listening, observing, and absorbing as much information as she could. Her mother, Mihara, was a blessing. She was patient, nurturing, and quick to notice Eiko's rapid development. She wasted no time in teaching her the basics, weaving everything that she could get her hands onto in their daily routines.
All of which, Eiko thought bitterly, to excuse and distract herself from the fact that her aunt Amano was cleaning up her shitty mess with a smile.
She would never get over this phase of life. And in this particular incarnation, the embarrassment was worse than usual. Her development had accelerated so much that, for a brief time, she had believed her divine lock had loosened, granting her greater control.
She was wrong. The system still stood strong, filtering her intent and preserving the illusion of normalcy. Even with heightened awareness, she was still prone to multiple "accidents" a day.
"What's with that look? Are you... embarrassed, Ei?" Amano teased with a mischievous grin.
Eiko's desperate attempt to deny it was once again filtered through the system. Instead of composed refusal, her body responded with a sad pout and trembling lips.
In a tiny, pitiful voice, she mumbled, "Yea... I try to be better in the future, auntie."
Amano's grin softened into a gentle smile. She chuckled warmly as she fastened the fresh diaper. "Nonsense. Accidents happen, no matter how much we plan. You live with them, accept them, and move on." She adjusted the diaper snugly to prevent irritation, then added, "Besides, you've been such a brave girl lately, coming to us whenever something happens. We'll always be here for you, Ei. That won't change. And very soon, I'll buy you your very own toilet so you can practice all by yourself. You've been growing so fast!"
To Eiko, Amano was an angel—understanding, patient, and endlessly kind. She had loved Eiko even before birth, her affection radiating through every touch, every word, every moment. Amano was steadfast, always present, always giving. A steady rock for their little family.
When Amano lifted Eiko from the changing table, the toddler grumbled softly in protest, although she did not try to wriggle from her aunt's grasp. Amano only rolled her eyes. "Ever since you learned to walk, you never let me carry you anymore! Let auntie enjoy it for once."
Eiko heard the faint melancholy in her aunt's voice but didn't press. She simply rested her head against Amano's shoulder as they walked through the apartment.
It was the smallest home she had lived in across all her lives but it was the warmest. It was filled with love, laughter, and genuine connection. For fleeting moments, Eiko forgot her divine mission and simply lived. In those moments, she was grateful for the lockdown. It allowed her to be a child, to make memories she knew were precious and temporary.
When they reached the living room, Eiko immediately noticed something off. Normally, her mornings were spent studying with Mihara—books, puzzles, and learning materials neatly laid out. Today, none of them were there.
Mihara wore a troubled expression, though she replaced it quickly with a smile when she saw them. Eiko, however, caught the faint sadness that lingered behind her mother's eyes. For the past seven days, Mihara had been quieter, her brows perpetually furrowed in worry in times that she thought Eiko wouldn't notice.
"Mommy!" Eiko squealed as Amano handed her over. Mihara hugged her close, showering her face with kisses until the toddler giggled uncontrollably.
"There's my little genius! Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah. Missed you," Eiko replied, her voice muffled against her mother's shoulder.
Mihara laughed, reminded of Amano's own dramatics whenever they were apart. "I missed you too, you little sap."
"I'll be in my room for a meeting if you two need anything," Amano said, her smile slightly strained. She turned to leave, but paused at the doorway.
"Are you sure about this? I can reschedule the meeting—"
"You can join later when it's done, boo," Mihara said with a playful wave.
"But you can totally wait for me."
"I think it's better if I do this alone for now. We've talked about this, remember?"
Amano sighed in defeat. "Alright, alright. You win. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
Eiko watched the exchange closely. She had seen this dynamic play out many times before—Amano's overprotectiveness clashing with Mihara's quiet determination. Usually, Amano would relent, either sulking off or hovering nervously nearby. But this time felt different.
A sense of unease crept into Eiko's chest.
Were they separating? They aren't even together, but they're breaking up?! Am I going to be a child of divorce again?!
Her panic rose, her head darting between Amano's retreating back and Mihara's tense expression.
Then Mihara chuckled softly. "I think you're getting the wrong impression, Eiko. You and I are alike in that department, it seems."
I did? Eiko thought, bewildered.
"You okay, Mom?" she asked.
Mihara kissed her forehead. "Yes, sweetheart. Your aunt and I were just discussing something important. Something that I thought you deserved to know."
She placed Eiko on the rug so they sat face to face.
"Important?"
Mihara nodded. "Yes. Your aunt didn't want to tell you—she thought you were too young—but I convinced her otherwise. You remember how we play Unko Okane Doriru? Well, our real-life situation is kind of like when we're about to lose the game. Your aunt Amano's job barely covers our needs, and since Mommy can't find work right now, she's been pushing herself harder than ever. Recently, she was offered a new position at an international company. It's a wonderful opportunity, but it comes at the cost that Amano wouldn't be around as much anymore. She would have to leave to this far away place."
Eiko blinked.
"She'll be working on a place called I-Island," Mihara continued gently. "She'll earn lots of money so we can live more comfortably. We'll still be able to talk to her when she's free, but visiting will be difficult. Security there is very strict, so... it might be a long time before you see her in person again."
The news hit Eiko harder than expected. Relief that it wasn't a "divorce" quickly turned into dread. Amano wouldn't be around anymore. Even if she stayed in touch, her absence would leave a hollow ache.
She has seen this one play out as well. Eventually her aunt would be too caught up in work to even say hello and that hallow ache would turn into a large ravine.
She had never known a world without her aunt. The thought was unbearable.
As her mind raced to make sense of it, the system interpreted her emotions in the only way it could: tears. Her eyes welled up before she could stop them, and soon she was crying in earnest.
That, in turn, broke Mihara.
Mihara pulled Eiko in, her gentle figure trembling as she hugged her daughter for as much as her little body would allow. Her muffled sobs quaked her whole body with each breath.
"I know," she choked out between hiccups. "It's going to be hard, but we don't have a choice. If things were different—if I wasn't cursed by that evil man—Amano wouldn't have to work so hard. She could stay here with us..."
Despite her tears, Eiko's mind sharpened. Cursed? Evil man? There was more to this story—something about her father Amano or Mihara had never mentioned.
She hadn't really put much thought in her father's absence. Shelving it as an unimportant detail in her life but now it confirmed an inkling suspicion that her father was not a good person.
Mihara wiped Eiko's cheeks, forcing a trembling smile. Her heart broke at the thought that Amano wouldn't be there for Eiko's first birthday.
She had made a wish when Eiko was born. She wished for Amano to be there to witness Eiko's firsts and feel the love and warmth in her daughter as one of the ways to repay Amano's never-ending kindness.
Just then, the door opened. Amano stepped out, wearing a bittersweet smile.
"I leave for one minute, and you two are already a mess," she teased, kneeling beside them. "What am I going to do when I have to fly out of the country? My babies are so needy~"
Eiko knew Amano was trying to lighten the mood—but the words felt hollow.
"Auntie is so mean!" Eiko cried, flailing her tiny arms in protest. A tantrum at the brisk of exploding. Her fists landed softly against Mihara's shoulders—yet the instant they made contact, the furniture around them rose into the air.
Every object except the carpet and their bodies defied gravity.
Eiko froze, horror dawning as realization struck. Her powers—they had activated. The lock should have prevented this. It wasn't even the fact that she could wield it was the problem, but the potency was too pure. How was everything in her nursery not yet blown to dust?
Panic set in. Her small hands glowed, tears streaming as her breathing quickened.
She worried for the safety of the ones she loved. Externally, the little kid looked around in a panic and then down to her glowing hands. Her panicking continued to build, another strong sob and build up of mana that could potentially—
Then Amano reached out, gently cupping her cheek.
The glow faded. The furniture loudly crashed on the wooden floor, shaking them for a moment before balancing out.
"It seems you can do it while you're awake now too," Amano murmured, glancing at Mihara. "She's growing stronger. I need to do this, Mihara."
Mihara nodded weakly, wiping her tears. "I know. We've already talked. I'm just... just really emotional right now."
"...must be that time of the month, huh?"
THWACK.
"Amano! You can't be serious!" Mihara scolded, but the laughter that followed softened her tone.
Eiko barely heard them. She stared down at her trembling hands. Amano's words echoed in her mind. She can do it while awake now too.
Did that mean it had been happening often in her sleep? How hadn't she killed them already? The system must not have accounted for the sheer volume of divine energy she'd amassed before her last death.
After all, it took fourteen high-quality essences of death to kill her and her wife. None of them made it out alive in the end and the destruction of their battlefield would be a reminder of the Great War.
Her panic eased as Mihara pulled her close, whispering softly, "We'll figure everything out, Eiko."
Despite knowing how little they understood, despite the danger she posed to everyone she loved, Eiko felt an unfamiliar calm.
This was the kind of family she'd been blessed with—kind, patient, unwavering. Even if distance or fate separated them, their love remained.
Eiko loved them both deeply. And she vowed, with divine certainty, that no harm would ever befall them.
Now, she needed to learn to control her power before it could destroy everything she held dear.
***
a/n: I forgot to add a word count on the previous chapter! It's been updated now :)