A couple days after the prior week, Ao's mother, who had spent most of the past week confined to bed, seemed to wake with energy as she pushed herself up. She stood tall, almost as if she didn't just give birth.
And this was the first time Ao was able to see her body completely. Her figure was striking—an hourglass shape. Every step she took was purposeful. Her black hair, now fully illuminated in the dim morning light, revealed faint blue tips. The color shimmered like flames as she turned her head. Ao stared, his tiny body cradled against her chest, and though he felt no attraction more so a swell of pride.
She's… radiant, he thought. Not just beautiful, but… powerful. She's definitely a 10/10 to anyone else, I'm surprised my dad managed to get with her.
Once dressed in simple, practical clothing, she tied a length of cloth snugly around herself, securing Ao to her back. The cloth held him close to her body. She swung open the bedroom door, stepping into the main living space where his father stood waiting.
Shiro was towering over her at a height of 6,6". His shoulders were broad, his build was like something carved from ancient stone. His white hair, streaked with veins of black, caught the light. The slits of his pupils were animalistic, rested in eyes that seemed like an animal on perpetual alert.
He turned to them, his face breaking into a grin. They met halfway, noses brushing against each other. They exchanged words, though the sounds were incomprehensible to Ao.
He observed carefully, his mind piecing together what it could. From the way Shiro gestured toward the small table with two bowls of steaming food, Ao inferred his father had prepared breakfast. But the concern in his father's tone and the way he touched her arm revealed: he had likely tried to convince her to rest longer and her laughter was her rebuttal.
Shiro finally relented, shaking his head and stepping away with a chuckle. Approaching a nearby unlit candle, he raised one hand, snapping his fingers. A word rolled off his tongue that caught Ao's attention: "Exerdium."
A small, white flame danced to life at his fingertips. He leaned forward, lighting the candle before letting the flame fade.
The instant the magic flared, a sharp pain lanced through Ao's skull, making his tiny body stiffen against his mother's back. His chest warmed, much like when the spell had been cast after his birth. The sensation was both familiar and alien, as if something deep within him was reacting to the display.
It happens every time… Ao thought. Every time someone uses magic in front of me. My chest feels like it's on fire and my head starts to throb.. so many questions, None of this makes sense. Why am I… conscious like this? Why do I feel like I've lived this all before? Why do I know what I shouldn't, like I'm a spectator in my own life?
He let his small body go limp against his mother's back, comforted by her movements.
It doesn't matter, he inwardly sighed. One answer at a time. And if there's one benefit to being a baby, it's that no one expects me to have any of the answers. They'll come in time.
The meal Shiro prepared was simple, with two plates filled with vegetables that Ao didn't recognize. They were oddly shaped, their colors vibrant. Yet, inexplicably, some part of him knew exactly what they would taste like.
How do I know this? Ao thought as he peered curiously at the plates from his position on his mother's back. I've never seen these before… so why do I feel like I've tasted them? The thought lingered, gnawing at him. It was yet another puzzle in the growing list of anomalies he had been grappling with since his birth.
Koi and Shiro sat at the table, eating in companionable silence. The quiet gave Ao space to think, his small head resting against the cloth that held him secure. There's so much I don't understand. Like… how do I even know I'm a baby? Or that I can think like this at all? The words in my head—they're not theirs, are they? He recalled the babbles that spilled from his tiny mouth whenever he tried to mimic his parents' speech. Maybe it's just… my mind's way of filling in the gaps. But it's not their language… So what is it?
He shook his head. No point in dwelling on it for now. He just began to look at his surroundings. The house was small and sparse, hinting at a modest life. From what Ao could gather, he had no siblings—just him and his parents. That, at least, meant he wouldn't have to fight for attention or food.
But the poverty was clear. They don't have much… Ao thought, his eyes tracing the worn wood of the table and the patched cloth that draped over it. Which means I need to figure out how to contribute, or at least how to survive in this world. A faint sense of déjà vu prickled at the edges of his mind, as if he already had an idea of where he was or what kind of world this was. But the thought slipped away before he could grasp it fully.
---
Later that evening, Koi stood at the washbasin, scrubbing the day's dishes, while Shiro was outside. Ao assumed his father was enjoying the evening breeze, or doing some kind of outdoor work.
This moment of inattention gave Ao the opportunity to act. He wriggled his way into a side room he'd discovered earlier. The room was dusty, old and worn down, it housed a single bookshelf, its uneven shelves cradling a collection of about twenty books. Jackpot!
Ao's tiny fingers traced the spine of a thick tome before he pulled it down, its weight almost too much for his small hands. Laying on his belly, he spread the book open in front of him, its massive pages almost bigger than him. The book was about magic—a topic that had quickly become a point of fascination for him. His mother often read to him about it at night, and though he didn't understand everything, he had managed to retain enough to piece together a rudimentary understanding.
As he read, many of what he could piece together made his head spin. This world runs on something called spiritual energy… The concept was intriguing to Ao. According to the book, spiritual energy was everywhere, saturating the air, the earth, even the living beings that walked upon it. It was as essential as oxygen, and every creature naturally absorbed it simply by existing.
But there was a catch. It doesn't just… happen if you want to manifest the spiritual energy you take in. You have to consciously draw it in. Cypher it from the air, separate it from the oxygen you breathe. Then manifest it. Ao's tiny brow furrowed as he considered the implications. It's like breathing, but with an extra step. And just like breathing, you need spiritual energy to produce more of it. A cycle… but one I can't start until I figure out how to take that first breath.
He tilted his head, the thought was frustrating but also motivating. So the first thing I need to learn is how to cipher it. Only then can I figure out how to produce it on my own.
He turned the page as he continued to read. From what Ao could gather from the massive book, the concept of harnessing spiritual energy wasn't inherently complicated. The key lay in tapping into a sixth sense—seeing the energy not with his eyes, but with something else.
The book explained that spiritual energy suffused the world, but to use it, one had to perceive it as a tangible force, a glowing presence that pulsed and shimmered in the air. Once seen—or rather, sensed—the next step was to guide it inward. By synchronizing the act of breathing with focused intent, the energy could be drawn toward the chest, where it would collect and settle. With practice, it was possible to gather more and more, storing it in a concentrated form within the body.
In hindsight, the process sounded almost laughably simple: see, breathe, gather. But Ao quickly realized that theory and practice were two entirely different beasts.
Simple my ass, he thought, his tiny hands pressed down on the book to keep the pages still as he squinted at the description for the hundredth time. I don't even know what a sixth sense feels like. How am I supposed to see something without actually seeing it?
Frustration grew as he stared at the words, but his understanding didn't change in the slightest. The book made it sound like the process should be as natural as breathing, but as he closed his eyes and tried to "see" the energy around him, he was met with nothing but the dark void of his own mind.
Focus… he told himself, attempting to clear his thoughts. He inhaled slowly, imagining the air around him not as empty but this time, a massive living organism with a beating pulse. Maybe it's my thought process, if spiritual energy itself is like a heartbeat when in something.. then itself is life a heartbeat as well. He pictured small dots pulsing around him, like balls of light that floated through everything. And yet… nothing.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as he tried again and again, his breaths growing deeper and more aggravating. Finally, just as his patience began to wane, a flicker of something appeared at the edge of his awareness. It wasn't a sight, exactly—more like a faint hum, a warmth, a pulse, like a heartbeat.
His heart leaped in triumph, but the moment he acknowledged the sensation, it vanished just as fast. Damn it.
Ao let out a tiny huff, his head falling against the pages. It's simple, but doing it is such a pain in the ass, he thought. I just need to keep trying. If I can't even do this, there's no way I'll figure out how to make a flame or even find out the answers to my condition.
He flipped to the next page, skimming for any additional tips or insights. The book offered none—it seemed this was a skill he would have to develop on his own over time. Fine, he inwardly sighed. One breath at a time.
As the evening wenton, Ao continued his efforts, the dim light of the single candle casting a light for him in the room.
After hours of focus, Ao finally started to make progress. Tiny specks of light blue began to flicker into view, scattered like fireflies in the air around him. These were the spiritual energy particles the book described, and they were everywhere.
The particles moved sluggishly, each one taking its time to float toward him. The closest took about five minutes to reach him, while the more distant ones could take as long as twenty. As they gathered, they clumped together in small, glowing thunder clouds, drawn into the center of his chest with each breath.
It was exhausting work. The concentration needed to keep the particles moving and clumping was immense, like trying to balance two cards standing straight up on top of each other on the tip of your finger, and not messing up for a single second to make sure the cards dowsnt fall. His small body trembled slightly from the strain, but he was too focused to notice.
For the first time, Ao felt excited from the progress. I'm doing it… It's slow, but I'm doing it!
And then, just as the energy began to settle into a stable cluster, the door creaked open. He barely had time to register the sound before he felt himself being scooped up from the floor.
Koi's arms enveloped him, pulling him close to her chest as she smiled down at him, saying something before smiling. Her face radiated with love.
No! No, no, no, NOOOOO!
His concentration shattered instantly, the particles scattering like leaves in a gale. The clumps he had painstakingly gathered dissolved into nothing, vanishing into the air as though they'd never existed.
Damn it! I was so close! His tiny ears twitched in frustration. All that work, gone! Just like that!
Koi cradled him, she kissed his forehead, rocking him slightly.
Ao slumped in defeat, his small head leaning against her shoulder. Of course, she doesn't know… but still… damn it.
Despite his anger, her warmth was soothing, and he found it hard to stay mad for long. Still, the loss of his progress stung deeply. Back to square one, he thought bitterly. For now, though, he let himself relax.
The rest of the day unfolded with little variation. Koi kept Ao close, her constant presence making it impossible for him to focus on gathering spiritual energy again. Resigned to his limitations, Ao shifted his attention elsewhere, mentally cataloging the words he knew and attempting to piece together the ones his parents said.
It was a slow process, but he clung to it as his only form of progress. He listened carefully, absorbing the tones, inflections, and repetitions of their speech. Though he couldn't replicate the language yet, he felt certain he was starting to understanding it.
Koi spent most of the afternoon seated in a simple wooden chair by the window, with Ao resting in her lap. Her hands worked, holding two thin needles that clicked softly as she knit something from a spool of rough-looking thread.
For Ao, there wasn't much else to do but observe. His gaze drifted past his mother and out the window, where Shiro was in the middle of what looked like a training session.
The sight immediately captured Ao's attention. Shiro held a long blade, its elegant design catching the sunlight. It resembled a saber. He moved with a grace that seemed impossible for someone of his size, each swing of the blade accompanied by fluid footwork that carried him effortlessly across the grass yard.
Ao's eyes widened as he watched. Shiro's movements were a mesmerizing combination of power of an ox and fluidity of water With each strike, it looked as though he might lose balance and fall, only to recover in the same motion, turning potential missteps into calculated swing. His slashes were unpredictable, almost chaotic.
What is that? Ao thought, his body leaning forward, chest pressing against the wooden sill of the window. It's like he's floating on air. How is that even possible?!?
He stared intently, the patterns of Shiro's movement, there was an inexplicable familiarity to it. The way Shiro's feet shifted, the way his blade moved with purpose but without rigidity, felt almost instinctual to Ao.
It's beautiful… but also… He tilted his head, squinting as Shiro transitioned into another series of strikes. It's practical. Every step, every swing—there's no wasted motion. It's not just for show.
Fascinated, Ao found himself lost in the spectacle, his mind trying to gather every detail to try and replicate. I want to learn that, he thought, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the windowsill. Not just because it's amazing… but it will be really useful, especially if I have to fight.
For the rest of the afternoon, Ao's attention remained fixed on Shiro, his mind turning over possibilities and questions as he watched his father wield the blade with the precision of a master.
The swordsmanship was new to Ao, something unlike anything he had seen—or remembered seeing—in his short yet peculiar life. As much as it intrigued him, he filed it away in his mind. I'll learn it later, he thought. When I can speak and ask questions.
Sitting quietly on his mother's lap, he decided to try gathering spiritual energy again. The room was peaceful, with only the faint clicking of Koi's needles breaking the silence.
Closing his eyes, Ao steadied his breathing and concentrated. Bit by bit, he reached out with his mind, searching for the blue particles he had seen earlier. They came slowly, floating lazily toward him like before. It took everything he had to draw them in, clumping them together near his chest.
The effort was taxing, far more than he realized. Hours slipped by when he started. his young body growing weaker with each passing moment. Before he knew it, his small frame slumped against his mother's chest, exhaustion overtaking him entirely.
Koi noticed immediately, her hands pausing mid-stitch as she looked down at her sleeping child. A soft smile spread across her face as she set her work aside.
"He's an odd one," she murmured, brushing a hand gently over his head, her fingers running through his soft hair. "But he's my son, without a doubt."
She chuckled quietly to herself when his tiny coyote ears twitched in his sleep. Holding him close, she leaned back in the chair, letting him sleep as she worked.