The world was darkness.
Takumi had no sense of time, no sense of space. He was floating in a void, weightless, unaware of how long he had been there or why. It felt like an eternity, but it also felt like mere moments. The silence was suffocating. The stillness, maddening.
And then—
Light.
A brilliant light, blinding and warm, flooded his mind. It wasn't an image; it was a sensation. The light filled him, poured into him, as though it were part of his very essence. It didn't make sense, but it didn't need to. There was no need to understand it. He simply… was.
The light gradually dimmed. His senses returned, slowly. He could feel something soft beneath him—no, above him. He was surrounded by warmth. He tried to focus, tried to make sense of the sensation, but his thoughts felt clouded, distant.
Suddenly, a new force gripped him. He felt his chest heaving, and then… sound. A loud cry, an overwhelming shriek, erupted from his mouth. He gasped for air as his body struggled to adjust to its new form. His skin was soft, tender, and his muscles were weak—too weak. His vision was blurry, a confusing mix of shapes and colors.
"…A healthy boy," a voice murmured, distant yet clear.
Takumi wanted to say something. To speak, to ask what was happening. But his new body wouldn't listen. His mouth opened in frustration, but only more cries escaped. He could hear the faint sound of a woman's voice, soothing, gentle. "It's alright, little one. You're safe."
What is this? Takumi thought, but the question was lost in the blur of his mind. He had no answers, no understanding. Only a strange, sudden sense of belonging—but it was fleeting, like a dream slipping away from memory.
His mind was a haze, but as the days passed, a clarity began to form. The fog that clouded his thoughts slowly lifted, piece by piece.
He wasn't just reborn. He was… someone else.
Six months had passed since his rebirth. Takumi, now in the body of a baby, had begun to adapt to his new life. He was no longer just a blank slate; he had thoughts, memories, and an identity he couldn't fully comprehend. The memories of his previous life—his name, his death, his loneliness—felt distant, as though they were someone else's.
But there were also memories that didn't belong to him, moments that were not his own.
The feeling of soft hands cradling him, the scent of warm food, the gentle hum of a lullaby. A woman, a mother? She smiled down at him, her face filled with affection. He didn't know her, but her presence felt… familiar.
In these six months, Takumi had begun to make sense of his new life. His name—his true name—was Yuto. He had been reborn as a child in a small, quiet village far from the bustling city he once knew. He had no idea how or why, but the memories of his previous life had merged with this new one, creating a strange blend of confusion and understanding.
Yuto—he wasn't sure if the name felt right, but it was the one that came to him the most. He would try to be Yuto, he supposed. At least for now.
One evening, as he lay in his crib staring at the wooden ceiling above, his small hands reaching up for something he couldn't quite grasp, he began to think back on his previous life. The mundane existence of corporate work, the never-ending cycle of routine. It felt so… empty now. As a baby, his mind had a clarity that his adult self never had. The question echoed in his thoughts: Why had I lived like that? Why did I let it all pass me by?
And yet, the answer remained elusive, like a half-remembered dream.
The woman, his mother, was humming a soft tune. He could hear the gentle rise and fall of her breath as she sat beside him. He could feel the heat of the room around him. He was safe, and for the first time in a long while, he felt… content.
But there was something stirring deep inside him.
A restless feeling.
A question.
Who was he really now?