When I opened my eyes, I noticed a woman staring at me, and another older-looking woman was poking my left cheek with a finger, her eyes filled with concern.
Hello? It was my first question.
My only sound that came out was a gurgle, and I blinked.
Then I spoke again. But once more, the same thing occurred.
Why couldn't I speak? Anxiety began to build.
For some reason, all I could manage to muster was a slurpy hiccup when I tried to talk, which was then followed by the two women staring down at me as if I had performed an exceptional circus trick.
The situation wasn't right. I realized that making women smile was never this simple.
But I couldn't focus on that thought any longer because a sudden heaviness settled right around my shoulders as I tried to command my hands. It was as though I were caught in a gravitational bubble. Everything about me demanded an ungodly amount of power just to move. I could feel my muscles' exertion.
Where were my fingers? I could sense them with my neural connection.
Ah! There they were, but why did they look… so little and chubby?
The skin gleamed as though it were baby-soft, looking too smooth to belong to my once rough, clipped fingers.
Then I turned sideways to look around. My head bobbed weakly as I struggled to keep it raised. That was when the first lady—the younger one—swooped a gentle hand underneath my scalp to support my head. A smile and signs of crying were visible on her face. Thank you very much, stranger!
This act of hers reminded me of scenes where a mother holds her newborn. Wait a moment...
I was very confused by the situation I was in. After some thought and an examination of my surroundings, I realized I really was a baby.
But why did I look like a damned baby?
My attention shifted towards another person present at the time, an old man, as he approached us. He had the same expression that scientists have in movies when they come across an intriguing creature that they want to dissect. He tried to take me from the woman's arms, but she reacted the same way a fierce tigress would.
They were talking in a language I couldn't understand. I believe the younger woman was cursing at him. The older woman intervened just in time and took the old man away, though he didn't want to go. He left with a depressed face.
The strange woman was muttering something, but I couldn't understand her. Happiness was visible on her face, though she looked tired. Then she started to feed me. It was perplexing, but I automatically started to eat as I felt very hungry, slowly closing my eyes until I fell asleep.
…..
It took some time for me to adjust to my new circumstances.
I was a baby now, and I had made peace with it. The "great" thing about this whole situation was that I couldn't stop shitting and pissing myself.
Not so great.
When I tried to sync my cries with the times I needed to either piss or eat, the stranger who became my new mother didn't take the hints. Maybe it was because I was her firstborn, as I didn't see any other children to learn and gain experience in handling a baby.
So, I was often left with the stench of my little poo-poo in a crib that looked anything but modern. It was a wooden thing, mostly, and I spent most of my time there when my new mother and the other caretakers were out.
Using my senses and knowledge, I deduce that—similar to stories in manga, comics, and novels—I had been reincarnated. Cast off into a different world and turned into a baby. It was probably because of that paranormal occurrence—the way it occurred and my death.
Wasn't it supposed to be a truck? What did it mean to be killed by something bigger than a truck? Would I become an extra genius or powerful? Was I in a coma in a hospital? No. I didn't think so. Based on my memory and understanding, I was hundred percent sure I had reincarnated.
Well, at least I wasn't dead.
I didn't know how to feel about that. I had feared the day I would die until the passing of my father. Death often became an excuse I found comfort in whenever things got hard.
Even when my circumstances turned positive for a short time, I would think about killing myself to be free; only meditation and exercise helped me face those moments.
Never once did I consider there would be a life after death, however. That was news to me. This whole thing felt so alien that I couldn't believe it, but deep down, I knew for sure this was real.
My mother in my previous life had died in childbirth, so there was an awkwardness to this. I mostly choked on the breast milk, which was truly an experience. I didn't mind the taste, but I tried very hard not to cringe each time I had to plaster my face to her breasts. It felt wrong. It probably looked wrong.
But I could finally experience a mother's love in this life. In my past life, I had always wished my mom were alive; as a child, I became upset and jealous when I saw other children with their mothers.
I also had a father here, which brought back memories of my father from my past life. He arrived later—I don't know how many days had passed in this world, but I guessed about a week and a half in Earth time.
He was tall and muscular in a manly way, with a well-defined body that clearly showed an authoritative demeanor. He had a well-maintained beard, which caused me irritation when my cheeks rubbed against his, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. He also started to sing a song with a joyful face—the complete opposite of his serious personality.
My new mother didn't use magic. There were no glowing lights or ethereal glimmers of spellwork. Nothing, so far, seemed particularly magical to me, which was a bummer.
One thing that grated on my nerves was that I couldn't understand the woman. She spoke to me as if she were aware of those parental videos that told expecting women to speak to their babies to establish a bond. It was a good thing that she tried, as it suggested she was being careful, but she still left me on my own pretty much all the time.
And hey, one crucial thing about being a baby again: I couldn't keep myself awake at all. So, I slept a lot.
...…
Days gone by. Beyond learning the new language, I spent the remaining time recovering the earliest memories of my life on Earth — right up to the moment I was born. My memories of what happened after the golden lightning struck me are vague, but what I experienced inside my mother's womb remains surprisingly intact. That clarity helped me form a credible hypothesis about my circumstances.
My fear of mathematics in my past life had pushed me toward other subjects. I became a history buff and developed a special interest in biology. I studied the human body with genuine passion — a passion that grew into a dream of becoming a doctor, a dream that my family's lack of resources eventually crushed. Now, that same knowledge made me a silent scholar of my own anatomy.
Within that dark, fluid sanctuary, I had been a silent observer of my own creation.
I remember spending roughly half my time in a dormant-like state. Despite that, I could feel my surroundings and perceive them clearly, retaining the gathered information without difficulty. During the other half, I could interact with my environment before surrendering to deep sleep.
At first, there was nothing — total sensory deprivation. Then came the sensations, and combined with the knowledge from my previous life, they formed a complete picture.
It began as a sensation of increasing numbers. I felt myself divide from one to two, two to four, four to eight, and beyond — constructing the architecture of my existence. My cells multiplied simultaneously and arranged themselves into layers I had no name for.
Then came structure. I felt a tube-like formation take shape — what I recognized as the early spine and brain. A heart-like structure formed and began to beat. Bud-like features emerged from that mass of cells. I sensed the rapid development of the brain, spinal cord, and sensory organs one by one.
What followed was the strangest sensation of all — my memories being etched into a new biological brain. It felt like compressing data into a zip file and transferring it from one computer to another. I could feel the transfer moving through my synaptic pathways, slow and deliberate.
The face, eyes, and ears took shape. The heart formed its four chambers. Major organ systems developed. Limbs grew from those early bud-like structures. I felt my bones harden literally — transitioning from soft matter into solid skeleton. Bio-electricity crackled through my developing nerves like miniature bolts of the same lightning that had killed me.
To map the limits of my fluid sanctuary, I stretched and kicked, testing the walls of my prison. Opening my eyes offered little help. I could hear sounds from outside the womb, though not clearly. Taste became active gradually — most of those early sensations left unpleasant impressions. I felt the pressure of my surroundings against me and my own pressure pushing back. I perceived my own movements. I could even track the rush of blood through my veins and, in time, learned to follow the bio-currents running through my body.
As my body neared completion and the space grew tight, my consciousness finally surrendered to a heavy, protective sleep — a deep-sea dive into the subconscious that didn't end until I took my first breath in this world.
The most interesting and puzzling part of the entire experience was a sensation that remained with me almost constantly throughout the womb — one that defied every medical and science textbook I had ever read. It was, in fact, the very thing that first gave me hope I had reincarnated into a magical world. It felt like being filled by something external — an ethereal pressure I still cannot explain.
I tried to study it, to understand it, but every effort led nowhere. The sensation would sometimes intensify without warning, and I could find no pattern or cause. Alongside it, I occasionally felt something else — a sensation that originated from within me rather than outside. It gave me the impression of a seed that wanted to grow but was held in dormancy. The two sensations seemed connected somehow. But both remain mysteries.
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