Chapter 4: The First Reward
Time passed slowly in the orphanage. Days blurred into weeks, and weeks into months. Haruto Takeda—formerly Ethan Nakamura—had accepted his new reality, but acceptance didn't erase his frustration. Despite the sharp mind and memories from his previous life, his infant body held him back. Every movement, every attempt to coordinate his limbs, was a struggle. But Haruto wasn't one to give up easily.
Determined to overcome his limitations, he pushed himself every day. From the moment he realized where he was, Haruto began to focus intensely on gaining control over his new, unfamiliar body. His routine became simple: wake up, test his movements, fight against his weakness, and repeat. Crawling, sitting up, even gripping the edges of his crib—all of it required constant effort.
His persistence began to pay off, but progress was painfully slow. His hands, still chubby and uncoordinated, would tremble as he tried to grasp objects, and his muscles resisted his commands. Still, he didn't stop. Every day, Haruto fought his body's limitations, willing himself to get better.
It was early morning, and the orphanage was still quiet. The other infants hadn't yet stirred, their soft breathing filling the room. Haruto lay in his crib, staring at the wooden ceiling, already focused on the day ahead. His body had grown slightly stronger, and he was eager to see if he could gain a little more control over his movements.
Then, something changed.
It started as a soft hum, a vibration deep within him. Haruto blinked, momentarily confused by the sensation. It was faint, but as the seconds passed, it grew stronger, spreading through his body like a wave of warmth. His limbs felt lighter, more responsive, and the usual stiffness in his muscles began to fade.
What is this? Haruto thought, sitting up instinctively—and to his surprise, without the usual struggle.
His body moved with ease, his muscles obeying his commands with a smoothness he had never felt before. He lifted his hands, staring at them in disbelief. The trembling that had plagued him for months was gone. His fingers, once weak and uncoordinated, flexed easily, gripping the edge of the crib with a firmness that sent a shock of realization through him.
He tested his movements again—raising his arms, rolling his shoulders, flexing his legs. Everything felt… right. There was no more hesitation, no more struggle. His body was finally responding the way he had been trying to make it respond since he first arrived in this world.
Before he could fully process what was happening, a soft chime echoed in his mind. The sound wasn't external, but internal, as though it resonated from within him. Along with the chime came a message, clear and unmistakable in his thoughts.
[Reward Granted]
Haruto froze.
Reward?
His mind raced, but before he could grasp the meaning behind the message, another wave of understanding washed over him.
[Physical Control Enhancement]
Suddenly, everything made sense. The ease with which his body moved, the newfound strength in his hands, the absence of trembling—it was all part of the reward. Whatever this mysterious system was, it had granted him the ability to control his body with more precision and strength.
Haruto sat in stunned silence, testing his new abilities. He lifted his hands again, flexing his fingers, and marveled at the way they moved so smoothly. Crawling was no longer a clumsy, uncoordinated effort. His legs, once stiff and weak, now bent and pushed him forward with ease. It was as if his entire body had been recalibrated.
But why now? Haruto wondered. The reward—this sudden enhancement—hadn't come randomly. It had to be tied to something, something he had done. He thought back to the past months, all the effort he had poured into controlling his body, the hours he had spent pushing himself to sit up, to crawl, to grasp. Every day had been a battle to gain just a little more control.
Could this reward be linked to that?
It was the only explanation that made sense. The system had granted him a reward based on his persistence, his relentless effort to master his body. The more he thought about it, the clearer it became. This wasn't some random stroke of luck—this was the result of his hard work.
The system is rewarding me for what I've done, Haruto realized. His mind raced with the possibilities. If the system rewarded him for his perseverance, then that meant he had some control over when and how he could trigger these rewards. It wasn't a free pass to power, but it gave him hope. A way to progress in this world that didn't rely on luck or chance, but on effort.
Yet, despite the realization, there was still an element of mystery. Haruto couldn't fully understand how the system worked or what its limits were. There was no guarantee that rewards would come at regular intervals, or that they would always be tied to his efforts. But one thing was certain—the system was real, and it had just given him a significant boost.
Haruto sat back in his crib, flexing his hands again and marveling at the control he now had. The enhanced physical control was exactly what he needed. He could now move with purpose, with intent, and no longer be bound by the limitations of his infant body.
But even as excitement bubbled within him, Haruto knew he had to be careful. He couldn't let anyone see what he could do. The caregivers, the other children—they couldn't know that he was different. If anyone noticed that he was far more advanced than the other infants, it could raise questions he wasn't ready to answer.
And so, he made a choice. He would hide his abilities, keep his movements slow and uncoordinated whenever anyone was around. He would blend in with the other babies, acting just as helpless and clumsy as they were. It wasn't difficult—he had watched them closely, noting how they fumbled and squirmed. He could imitate them easily enough.
Yet, something still nagged at him. The other infants seemed more advanced than those he had known in his previous life. They crawled earlier, moved with more strength. It wasn't anything extraordinary, but it was noticeable. Haruto had a theory—a theory that chakra, the very life energy that existed in this world, had something to do with it. Chakra flowed through every living being, and perhaps it was subtly influencing the development of even the youngest children.
Still, even with that edge, none of them had what Haruto now possessed. None of them had the system.
As the day wore on and the orphanage came to life, Haruto practiced in secret. He would wait until no one was watching, then test his movements—lifting himself up, gripping the crib's edge, crawling across the floor with newfound ease. And when someone approached, he would revert to his infant persona, stumbling and fumbling like the others.
The system remained silent after the reward. Haruto tried to focus, to reach out and summon it again, but there was no response. Whatever had triggered the reward, it wasn't something he could call upon at will. There was still so much he didn't know, so much he had to figure out.
But for now, Haruto was content with the progress he had made. The system had given him a gift, and while it was still a mystery, he knew one thing for certain: this was just the beginning.
And he was ready for whatever came next.