Why hello there! How are you doin'?
Me? Oh, I'm fantastic — you know, just chillin'... in a womb. With a snarky asshole.
Totally normal Tuesday stuff.
…What? You want context?
Fine, fine — let's start from the beginning.
[FLASHBACK START]
So, picture this: I wake up in darkness.
Not the peaceful kind — no, more like the "eternal void with bad vibes" kind. The kind that makes you question if you accidentally spawned in a horror game on Nightmare mode.
You know — the same darkness Mr. Birdface (a.k.a. Khonshu) yeeted me into before.
Maybe a little cozier, sure… but still darker than a corporate lawyer's heart.
All things considered, I'd rate it a solid 7/10 on the "places I don't wanna wake up in after selling my soul to a cosmic horror" list.
See, I'd just agreed to become the personal punching bag of what I'm pretty sure is one of God's fallen angels. The dude gave me what I can only describe as soul cancer and somehow convinced me it was a gift.
So yeah — I was fairly confident I was screwed.
Anyway, I tried to move, feel, listen… anything.
Nothing.
No sound. No body. No light.
Just me, the void, and my bad decisions echoing back like a podcast of regret.
Naturally, I started freaking out.
"What if Birdface lied? What if he revived me as… a bacterium or something?!"
And right as my brain started doing cartwheels into existential dread, I heard a voice.
{Calm down, bro… any more stress and you might cause your dear old — well, new — mom to miscarry.}
'WHO SAID THAT?!'
{Your conscience~}
'Really?'
{NO, DUMBASS. I'M WHAT YOU WISHED FOR — the ultra-useful, powerful, loyal companion ever conceived! Remember? …God, you're dense.}
'I. AM. NOT. DUMB! Why does everyone keep saying that?!'
{Because you are, dumbass~}
'…I'm gonna ignore you now.'
{Aww, your wittle fweelings hurt? You want a juice box and some string cheese to eat away your fweelings~?}
"… … …"
{You know, Mozart had a fetish for butts and poop? He even wrote a song called Leck mich im Arsch. It means—}
"SHUT UP! Who even starts a conversation like that?!"
{Someone who doesn't want to be ignored, duh!}
'Fine! You wanna be useful? Tell me what the hell Birdface gave me — that black gooey stuff!'
{Oh, that? That's the Essence of Darkness. You can manipulate shadows, fear, and hallucinations. Pretty cool combo, especially with the usual Khonshu package.}
'…Wait. Usual package?'
{Yup~ Lunar empowerment, lunakinesis, enhanced stats, regeneration, spooky visions, ghost-chatting — the full "edgy demigod starter kit."}
'Stop calling me dumbass, asshole.'
{Nuh-uh. Everyone knows best friends roast each other. And guess what, unborn fetus? We're best friends now!}
'So you're saying… Khonshu didn't give me soul cancer?'
{Nope.}
'Oh, thank—'
{It's actually something worse. But don't worry about that now, capiche? Also — rude. You're ignoring me like your toxic ex.}
'…Man, f*** Birdface.'
{Heh. Indeed. But maybe don't say that out loud — he can hear you, ya know?}
'...So, asshole, what can you even do?'
{A lot, dumbass. But right now, I'm just a walking info dump. For example — did you know if you got teleported into space, you'd die in two minutes?}
'That's… horrifying.'
{But hey! That's just a theory. A scientifically proven theory!}
'This is gonna be a long eternity…'
[TIME PASSES… KIND OF]
Days passed. Or weeks. Or millennia. Hard to tell when your life is a glorified loading screen.
My senses finally started booting up — one by one.
First came sound. I could make out my mom's heartbeat:
Badump. Badump. Badump.
Weirdly comforting.
Then came touch — soft, warm, and vaguely squishy.
{Congrats, fetus! You're now 24 weeks old! Translation: if Mom decides to have an abortion now, it's officially a crime!~}
'Please stop.'
{Stop teasing you, or stop reading the entirety of Shakespeare's works in Old English out loud?}
'Both.'
{Too bad! Here comes the Bard!}
{"Emilia: Ic eom glæd þæt ic þis handclūthū findan habbe—"}
'Groan.'
So yeah, while I was busy questioning every life choice I'd ever made, my "great friend" was entertaining himself by reciting Shakespeare.
In.
Dead.
Languages.
Sumerian. Latin. Old English.
And the worst part?
I understood every damn word.
It was like being force-fed knowledge you never asked for. Thoughtful? Sure.
Appreciated? Absolutely not.
Oh — and apparently he could beam it straight into my brain. No privacy. No escape. No peace.
While I was processing all that, I started hearing muffled voices outside. Japanese, if I wasn't mistaken — partly thanks to anime, partly because my ghostly roommate was auto-translating like an over-caffeinated Google Assistant.
'Great,' I thought. 'Please, please don't let me be reborn before or during World War II. I do not want to get spawn-killed by history.'
{Hey dumbass, you still there? I've reached the good part!}
{"Gratiano: Wā! Þū brūcst sweord on wīf??"}
{"Emilia: Eala, þū stunta Maur—"}
Yeah. He was still reading Othello.
In Old English.
Honestly, I'd have preferred waterboarding.
~13 to 15 Weeks Later~
Heya, guys — it's me again!
Guess what? I've been promoted from "unborn fetus" to "unborn baby."
Still unemployed, still living rent-free, but hey — progress!
Things were finally starting to get interesting. I could now understand what people were saying — all thanks to Witlock, my "oh-so-wonderful" companion. Instead of reading Shakespeare in dead languages, he'd moved on to Animal Farm… in the deepest, manliest voice imaginable. Think Morgan Freeman and a gym bro had a baby.
Creepy. Really creepy.
From what I gathered, my mom, Yumi, used to work for the government but had retired to take care of little ol' me. My dad, Kensuke, was head of security at a place called The Continental. Mom didn't love that job — too dangerous, she said — but tolerated it because, well, money. Every time she brought it up, Dad would joke that it wasn't as bad as her old work, and she'd instantly change the subject to our neighbor, Hana, who apparently attracted bad luck like it was her full-time career.
Hana, bless her soul, was basically human sunshine. I'd only ever "met" her through her voice, but from what I could tell, she definitely ate positivity for breakfast. She also had a younger brother named Haibara, which rang uncomfortably familiar to me… though I couldn't quite place why.
When I asked Witlock about it, he just giggled in that unsettling "I know something you don't" way and said,
{Oh, you're in for a treat, kiddo.}
Then promptly went back to narrating Animal Farm.
Creepy little bugger.
Anyway, things were starting to get crowded in here. I'd accidentally kick Yumi from time to time, and she and Kensuke, bless their romantic hearts, would think it was because I could "feel their love."
Let's say that every time that happened, it was immediately followed by a much… sloppier, much louder smooch.
I am proud to announce that I never kicked her again.
Get wrecked, expectations.
~1 Week Later~
Moshi moshi, people. Guess what?
I'm about to be born.
How do I know? No idea — call it "fetal intuition." All I know is, the fleshy walls around me suddenly started contracting, and Mom's heartbeat kicked into overdrive.
That's when Witlock decided to help.
{Push, baby, PUSH! You're almost there! Feel the contractions! Become the contractions!}
'Witlock, for the love of all that's holy — SHUT UP!'
{What? I'm being supportive! I read somewhere that 87% of fetuses appreciate emotional encouragement during labor.}
'No one asked you, Siri with a personality disorder!'
Being born was… weird.
And not the fun kind of weird.
Imagine being crushed, shoved, and squeezed through a red, moist, fleshy tunnel while all your bones scream in protest. Then — light. Cold, bright, blinding light.
Air. Noise. Pain.
I opened my mouth to scream, and what came out was an Oscar-worthy "WAAAAHHHH!"
{Congratulations, dumbass. It's a boy!}
'Why does everything hurt!?'
I blinked up at two blurry figures — a woman with short brown hair sobbing with joy, and a man with long gray hair and a burn scar on his jaw who looked like he'd just survived a war zone.
Mom — Yumi — looked radiant, exhausted, and so happy she could melt steel.
Dad — Kensuke — looked like he was trying not to faint, but still smiled like he'd just won the lottery.
{Aww, look at you — already making people cry. Maybe you're not a total disappointment.}
'Why do they look… animated?'
{Because you're in an animated world, duh. Welcome to life — it's all downhill from here.}
'WHAT!?'
A nurse handed me over to Mom, who smiled down at me and whispered something in Japanese — something about the moon blessing my birth.
Oh, the irony.
Witlock chuckled in my head.
{Well, ain't that poetic—the Moon's Fist, born under his boss's watchful glow. Try not to drool too much, chosen one.}
And just like that, I was officially alive again —
Tiny. Screaming.
And already regretting every decision that led me here.