Being reborn as a young child was a… unique experience, to say the least, especially considering that memories of my past life are still here with me.
I looked around, taking in the environment. Everything seemed so giant - From the cot keeping me enclosed, to the glass windows. It was insane - the reverse of visiting a past school, only to think huh, it can't have been this small.
My motor functions aren't fully torn away from me; I could still see, and move, albeit with little power.
Alright, let's try talking. I sort of specialise in communicating so this'll be a cakewalk -
"Furgl"
Alright. Not what I wanted to say. I guess I've gotta work on this all over agai-
Movement cut off my thoughts, and I came to realize that I wasn't alone in the room. Bed sheets adjacent to myself shifted, and a woman made a noise drawing my attention.
She emerged from her covers, shifting over towards me, and swivelled her legs off the bed. Her face was a few feet away, and a light smile emerged, despite her energy-deprived awakening. She laid her arms upon the cot, her head resting on it, also. I guess I woke her up.
If she was talking, I couldn't really hear it… My head tilted to the right, as to mimic my past-self's body language when misinterpreting a question. Instead, I fell to the right on the soft pillow, unused to balancing my unproportionate body.
The woman's eyes were initially filled with concern, but seconds later her mouth opened, and a gentle rhythm escaped her. Is she… cooing at me?
She picked me up softly, orienting myself upright and held my cheeks affectionately.
A warm feeling escaped me, tugging at my heart. It wasn't simply affection - but boundless love only expressed between a mother and her child.
But she's not my mother.
That past life is over, but with these memories - can I truly forget? Does it even matter?
The woman shifted to twirling my hair, and I realized that… None of it matters. I'm here for better or for worse. It's a second chance - and I'm not alone anymore.
She's not my mother but I'll try my best to be her child. And then we'll see about changing things up. I won't make the same mistakes. I won't be a cog in the machine nor a tool for others to use. Whatever world I'm in, it can't be worse than Earth…
It must've seemed strange - watching a child like myself grow up.
From the age of three, I was described sullen - not at all like the other kids.
It made sense, I guess. The knowledge I had previously, had often led to a cynical outlook on life, and I daydreamed often, even if it was a different world, and a fresh start for myself; I was an adult, trapped in the body of a child.
I'd often reminisced about the old days; where I didn't have to worry about anything as a child. Well, it turns out that my memory isn't too great. Being a child was kind of boring.
I had plenty of spare time - too much, even. My activities ranged from eating to playing - and it's a wonder how I didn't die from monotony.
Despite plenty of downtime, it was a fascinating world - I came to realize this as my mother took me outside, which she occasionally did.
I remember my first time being taken outside. It was maybe, a week after I awoke as a toddler, and it was on that same day when I met my father. He was nice enough, but I only saw him occasionally, which was strange. Even stranger was that he'd carried a weapon, with a scabbard holding colourful vials, and a longsword, perhaps. Not my first choice for self-defence, I thought.
I attempted to ask my mother on that day about him, as I was curious where he oft went, and why I only saw him periodically.
"What does daddy do"? I said, in a low mumble.
The message was lost upon her for a moment, a failure on my part, as I was still unused to speaking, but my pointing at the burly man seemed to convey a message.
"He's a huntsman", She said slowly, "He protects us from the big, and bad Grimm"
That was the fourth time she said that strange word. She'd often use the term to entice me to "finish your food or the big bad Grimm will get you!".
Either the boogeyman existed in this world, or my father was a strange cosplayer, infatuated with medieval reenactments. Both were… Equally possible at the time. But I could only deduct so much within the limited confines of our relatively small house.
On that day, we went outside. I remember it pretty clearly. There weren't any towering skyscrapers that inspired awe, but it was nonetheless breathtaking. Clean stone roads blended with dirt paths; with the groundwork contrasting the dark wooden foundations of marbled buildings. Pale blue windows embedded the immaculate buildings, which accentuated the dark wood undertones even more. And the people here were just as unique - with some individuals sporting cat-like ears or a dog-like tail.
Beneath the structures, laid strange automobiles, parked to the side of the roads which also piqued my interest. I would soon come to understand that their floating capabilities were due to a resource called 'dust'. I may have been a drone in my past life, and maybe I still am, but basic logical deductions weren't lost upon me. It wasn't unobvious, though. I saw the different coloured dust everywhere clued me into it's usage - from my father's scabbard to kitchen appliances in the restaurant where my parents took me.
Initially, I thought this world to be boring - but I'd soon come to appreciate it. It is so different to Earth. Thank the gods.
But life can't always be this positive
Signs beneath the restaurant door marked "NO FAUNUS ALLOWED" in loud, bright letters. People in the room were of all colours, so it couldn't discrimination on the basis of skin color - but there was a distinct feature missing from the multitude of groups.
There were no animal features on any of them.
There wasn't anger, really. In my old life racism was an everyday occurrence - if not represented through blatant offensive words, then by the hiring of an individual who represented the majority group.
So, like everyone else, I was content and ate away. It didn't affect me, and so why should I care? Like any day, the grips of apathy felt so comfortable on my shoulders.