The world came into focus slowly, like a blurry picture sharpening under a lens, the soft, diffused light sneaking through the curtains turning the crib into a hazy playground of shadows and glows. My tiny body felt heavy and uncoordinated, like it was still catching up to my mind—arms and legs that wobbled when I tried to move them, a constant frustration for someone like me, trapped in this infant shell. Reincarnated—yeah, that's what I was, or at least that's what it felt like. Memories from before were fuzzy, like old photos faded at the edges, but the thoughts? Sharp as a tack, even if I couldn't form words yet or do much more than gurgle and crawl. The wooden bars of the crib surrounded me like a cozy jail, the mattress soft and lumpy beneath me, smelling faintly of baby powder and that milky sweetness from Mom's feedings. Above, the mobile dangled with colorful shapes—red stars, blue moons—spinning lazily in the gentle breeze from the cracked window, their shadows twirling on the blanket like a silent dance.
To my right, there was Ava—my sister, my twin—still sleeping peacefully in the shared crib, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady, rhythmic pattern that I envied. Her golden eyes were closed under long lashes that fluttered occasionally, as if she was dreaming of chasing butterflies or whatever babies dreamed about. Her tail was curled neatly around her leg like a cozy blanket, the fur soft and fluffy, matching the light fuzz on her ears. She let out a soft coo in her sleep, a tiny sound that was almost cute, if I wasn't so busy trying to figure out this whole new life gig. Being a baby sucked—helpless, dependent, my brilliant mind stuck in a body that could barely roll over without effort. But Ava... there was something about her that felt familiar, like she wasn't just any baby either.
My own tail caught my eye then—fuzzy and black, swishing just within reach like a playful snake. It was weird, this extra appendage, like an bonus limb I hadn't asked for but couldn't ignore, twitching with a mind of its own sometimes. In my old life—whatever that was, the details lost in a fog—I didn't have one. This hybrid thing was new, strange, but kinda intriguing. I reached out with chubby fingers, grabbing at it clumsily, feeling the soft fur give under my grip like plush velvet. Tug, release, watch it flick back with a springy bounce—fun, in a simple, mindless way that my adult brain found oddly satisfying. I giggled, the sound high-pitched and bubbly, coming out more like a squeak as I batted at the tip, chasing it in circles on the mattress. Who knew having a tail could be this entertaining? It wagged happily, almost mocking my attempts to catch it, the sensation ticklish and new, sending little shivers up my spine.
The door creaked open then, a soft sound that made my ears perk up—Mom, Miko, with her cat-like grace and golden eyes that always seemed to see right through you. She walked in quietly, her steps light on the floorboards, her nightshirt swishing with each movement, her own tail swishing behind her like a contented wave. She looked tired, bags under her eyes from our nighttime demands, but smiled warmly when she saw me awake, her face lighting up like the sun breaking through clouds. "Morning, my little explorer," she purred, her voice soft and melodic, reaching into the crib to pull me out gently, her hands warm and steady, enveloping me in her lavender scent. She scooped up Ava next, who stirred with a yawn, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists, and carried us both downstairs, her arms strong and secure, the house waking up around us with the faint creaks of settling wood.
In the living room, Aunt Akira was waiting, sitting cross-legged on the rug with toys scattered around like colorful treasures—blocks in bright primaries, rattles that jingled softly. She took us from Mom with a grin, her black hair tousled but her energy high, settling us on the soft play mat. "Go have fun, sis," Akira said, winking at Mom with a knowing look. "I've got these two troublemakers."
Mom disappeared back upstairs, her footsteps fading on the stairs, and I started playing—or pretending to, crawling toward a shiny red block, my knees padding softly on the rug's plush fibers. But curiosity pulled me like an invisible string—escape time. When Akira turned to coo at Ava, I wriggled away fast, my tiny body surprisingly agile, heading toward the hallway. Faint sounds drifted from upstairs: moans, rhythmic thuds against the bedframe, breaths heavy and mingled. What were Mom and Dad doing? It sounded... intense, like the grown-up stuff I'd glimpsed in flashes from my old life. I paused at the base of the stairs, tilting my head—wait, that was... oh. Sex. They were having sex. My adult mind pieced it together easily, a smirk forming in my thoughts even if my baby face could only gurgle.
Before I could crawl up the first step, Akira's shadow loomed, her hands scooping me up gently but firmly, her laughter light. "Nope, little guy, not today," she said, putting me back next to Ava on the mat. "Miko and [reducted] are having their own fun up there. Grown-up time—you stick to blocks."
I thought, *We all know what they're doing—it's not rocket science.* But I just babbled innocently, grabbing a block and banging it against another with a clack, the wood smooth and cool in my hands.
Glancing at Ava, who was staring at me with those knowing golden eyes that seemed too wise for a baby, I realized—she was like me. Reincarnated. It hit me when I saw her "writing" earlier—scribbling deliberate lines behind the couch with a crayon when no one was looking, not random baby scribbles but intentional marks, like she was testing her motor skills for something more. To remind her we were being watched, I reached out slyly, pulling her ear gently—*Be careful, sis. Eyes on us.* She yelped softly but nodded subtly, a tiny acknowledgment in her gaze, before going back to "playing" with a rattle, shaking it with feigned enthusiasm.
After about an hour—the time stretching as we stacked blocks into wobbly towers that toppled with crashes, the colors bright and captivating even to my adult mind—[reducted] and Miko came down to the kitchen, laughing softly with flushed faces and disheveled hair, the scent of their "fun" faintly lingering. Ava got clingy toward Miko immediately, crawling to her leg and cooing for pickup, her tiny hands reaching up insistently. I wanted to do my own things—stacking more blocks independently, exploring the textures with curious pokes, content in my solitude.
The day continued its gentle flow—[reducted] heading to work after breakfast, the house filling with the sounds of play and naps, Akira keeping us entertained with silly faces and toys that jingled. When [reducted ] returned that evening, the sun setting in a blaze of crimson and gold that painted the living room in warm hues, I pretended to play with the toys on the rug—stacking blocks absentmindedly into precarious towers that wobbled and fell—but eavesdropped as he asked Miko about Lilly and the Chimera project, names that tugged at something deep in my fuzzy memories from this life and the last. Ava joined me subtly, "playing" close enough to listen in too, her golden eyes flicking up occasionally, our twin bond letting us share knowing glances amid the innocent facade. The past was stirring, whispers of old secrets creeping in, but for now, we were just babies—watching, waiting, our adult minds hidden behind gummy smiles and crawls.