Age Five Years

I watch the girl in the mirror closely, shoulder length brown hair, hazel eyes, and skin that should be more tan than it is for how much time I spend outside. For all my determination on my first day here, there wasn't a lot I could do that young. Mostly I'd spent my first several years meditating. Largely because I couldn't do anything else. Well, that's not really true. By six months I could have been walking and talking but that seemed a little quick to me. The only reason I didn't give myself away was that my parents had bought quite a few 'How to be a Parent' books. Those fortunately gave a pretty good timeline for when the average kid hit what developmental milestones, allowing me to pretty much coast under the radar.

Of course, even when I could start doing things, I remembered that too much hard exercise at too early an age would ruin me. I couldn't just do nothing though, so my solution? I became the scrappiest, most tireless tomboy ever. If I'm not sleeping, reading, or eating, I'm running around like a maniac and climbing everything in sight. When I get tired, I rest. Then as soon as I can I'm going again. So really, I should be way more tan than I am.

But no matter what my parents might have believed, my currently bouncing knee had nothing to do with my seemingly unending energy. No, my current restlessness is because I'm finally going to take my first concrete step towards goal one.

Get powerful.

During those first few years of meditation I was trying as hard as I could to get a feel for the world around me. Not in the typical baby exploring way, though I did that too. I'm in California, an entire ocean away from the plot, so no clue what the local supernatural scene is like. Also, no idea where I am temporally in relation to said plot. Really though, I was trying to feel the natural energy of the world. I knew senjutsu was a thing, and I was pretty sure you didn't have to be a Japanese cat thing to do it either. I also knew that there were ley lines, though I have no clue where those were aside from 'under Tokyo'. So I spent my first year of life doing nothing but meditating, looking for either of those sources of power.

The results? Aside from getting really good at meditation?

Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing.

I don't know if I was just doing it wrong, looking in the wrong place, or as a mundane human, I just can't sense either of them. But I couldn't find anything. So after a solid year of effort I stopped looking.

At that point I started trying to come up with anything that might be a system of magic that wouldn't require me to provide power. Since clearly, I don't have any.

In the end I came up with two. First, ritual magic. I know spell circles are a thing. And evidently an important thing that let magic happen. Devils, from what I recall, just imagine what they want their magic to do, and the spell circles seemed almost a by-product of their magic, making it happen. But still, it was proof that some form of organized symbology has a tangible effect on magic. And while I can't detect the ambient energy of the world, I know it's there and, hopefully, I won't have to handle it myself to make it do things.

Besides, I think I remember that shit driving you mad with the planet's collective hatred for humanity.

Or that was the Fate/Stay series?

Whatever.

The second idea I had was alchemy. This I have far less basis for, but I thought it might be easier anyway. There are plenty of things running around with inherent magic. Not to mention that even mundane things have a lot of esoteric meaning attached to them. With the amount of power that is supposedly just floating around out there, I don't think it would be too far fetched to think they might actually have some magical effect in line with what everybody thought they meant.

I mean, how the hell would people come to the conclusion that a daisy means purity unless there's actual evidence of it at some point? That's what I'm hoping for anyway.

Which brings me back to the present. Sitting in my room, watching myself fidget in my mirror, waiting for my mother to leave for her hair appointment. I'm excited because today would be my first foray into alchemy.

Downstairs, I hear a door open and close, along with a vague shouted goodbye. I hold my breath. The garage door opens, the motor for the automatic door somehow fills the quiet house, no matter how quiet the things are supposed to be. Then the door closes and I leap to my feet, dashing to the window and peeking through the curtains. Down below, my mom's sedan pulls out of the driveway and vanishes down the street.

A squeal escapes me as I bounce on my toes and pump my fist. Sure, mentally I'm thirty plus, but physically I'm a five year old girl. And while I'm getting a second chance, I'm going to enjoy the hell out of it.

I clatter my way downstairs, according to my dad, sounding like a stampede of tiny elephants. Honestly, as soon as I heard that I went out of my way to be as loud as possible. When my parents asked why, I told them I was shooting to someday be a stampede of normal elephants. Really, I just like the way dad smiles when I do. Neither of my parents smile very much.

Especially around each other.

Downstairs, I start my preparations. Step one: retrieve my ingredients. I have them hidden under the outside steps in a paper bag, drying out. I hope that dried, they will be less potent. This is just a proof of concept after all.

Next, I get my protective gear. An old button up shirt of my dad's put on backwards will fill in for my lab coat. I pop the collar to protect my neck, and with some contortions I manage to button a couple of buttons to keep it on. I have a painter's mask to at least mitigate any fumes that might be created, and a pair of safety goggles looted from dad's tool cabinet to protect my eyes from splashes. They don't really fit but with enough pulling on the elastic I get them to stay on. Not perfect, but it's the best I can do.

Then I get a foot stool and plant it in front of the stove. Finding a pot, and trying not to pull everything else in the cupboard out with it, I fill it with water from the sink and then wobble my way back to the stove trying not to spill. I'm at least marginally successful.

Note to self, five year old girls have no upper body strength. Like none. Next time, put the pot on the stove and fill it with a glass or something. Sure it will take longer but I think it might be slightly safer.

Or easier.

I'll take either.

A long handled spoon for stirring and I'm ready to go.

I set the water to heating and start unloading my ingredients from my bag. I have them bundled by like symbolism. A bundle of everything I could get my hands on that represented health, another for protection, and so on. I've made very sure that nothing in any of them are inherently poisonous. Sure, plenty of them probably aren't good for me, but there's no belladonna, nightshade, or hemlock. I'm not planning on drinking any of it any way. Today's plan is simply to pile on as many similarly symbolic things together as I can and just see if I can get a reaction.

Which reminds me!

I hop down from the stool, run to get the cordless phone, and scamper back to my incipient potion. I carefully punch in 9-1-1 so I'd only need to push the dial button if something goes catastrophically wrong.

I put the handset in easy reach, and checking the pot which had reached a roiling boil, I'm ready to get started. I select my protection bundle under the theory that even if something does go horribly, it still probably won't hurt me as that's pretty much it's antithesis.

Carefully I shred my plants into the pot. A fern frond, birch bark, bamboo shoot, fresh, and half a dozen other things are reduced to tiny pieces and added to the brew. I'm not really expecting anything spectacular, but as I drop things into the pot and keep stirring the liquid begins to thicken...

And then I'm on the other side of the kitchen looking up at the ceiling and a high pitched whine is the only thing I can hear. My goggles are askew and, under my painter's mask, there's a giant grin that I just can't get to go away. I'm so glad that little kids are made out of rubber.

I actually take this as a resounding success. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, in that pot that should have exploded. Nothing that should have been capable of exploding. So the extra energy to toss me four feet across the kitchen has to have come from somewhere. Where?

Magic.

I dramatically point towards the ceiling, "I must do more science!" I cry and bounce back to my feet to see what the damage is.

Honestly, I was expecting worse. The pot is fine and hasn't moved at all. Neither has anything else for that matter. Even the phone handset, sitting upright on the counter next to the pot, is right where I'd left it. In fact, the only things that seem to have been affected by the explosion are myself and the brew. Which has become a sort of brownish sludge, and has ended up splattered everywhere.

I consider cleaning it up... but honestly it's quite likely that it isn't the only stuff that will end up all over the place. So I don't really see the point of cleaning up the kitchen only to have to do it again in fifteen minutes. I'll clean up when I'm done. This time I think I'll try the healing bundle...

In any case, this is definitely going to work!

###

This is definitely not working. Not in the slightest. At this point I'm out of bundles, I'd tried twenty of them, and none of them are useful.

I'd varied the amount of ingredients, temperature of the water, and everything else I could think of to get different results. No luck. I get the same thickening and explosion everytime. No matter what.

Healing bundle? Explosion.

Purifying bundle? Explosion.

Good luck bundle? Explosion.

At the end, I'd even started mixing and matching ingredients from different bundles to try and get anything else to happen. No luck. Thicken, explosion, that's it. It even turns into the same brown sludge every time.

So now I'm laying on the floor after using up the last of my painstakingly collected ingredients. The room is covered in an uneven collection of whatever my efforts at potion making have actually resulted in. My front is fairly well covered too.

Really, in the end, it was almost a total waste of time. The only reason it isn't a complete disaster is that the whole experience reaffirmed my belief that there is actually magic out there in the world for me to find. And this method clearly got in touch with it somehow.

It will take a lot more experimentation to make the process do something useful, though. Fortunately I have nothing but time, so I can proceed carefully...

The house is filled with the sound of an inexplicably all consuming electric motor.

I take it back! I have no time!

I scramble to my feet as quickly as I can and start frantically looking around for the towels I'd set out for cleaning... that I'd meant to set out for cleaning.

"Oh my god!" I flinch at the sound of my mothers shocked voice, "Ericka Samantha Rhostana!" Ah shit, she three named me, "What exactly have you been doing in here?"

Cringing, I turn towards where my mother stands in the doorway to the kitchen, "I can explain?" My mother's only response is to cross her arms and raise an eyebrow at me. I have a moment of clarity, seeing exactly what this must look like to her. Her five year old daughter, dressed in her fathers shirt, on backwards. One sleeve partially rolled up, the other flopping well past her hand. Oversized safety goggles sitting haphazardly on her face, the giant painter's mask being the only thing holding them up. Hair in complete disarray, and covered in the same brown crud that covers the rest of the room. At least I'm probably cute, "Okay, I really can't explain. I'm grounded, aren't I?"

"Like you wouldn't believe, young lady," Mom says severely.

"Would it help me at all if I told you your haircut looks great?" It did. She has it in a nice and simple shoulder length cut with some minimal bangs framing her face.

Mom tries, but she can't totally hide the smile that tries to show up at my compliment, "Go to your room, now. You will stay there until your father and I have decided what to do with you, understand?" I nod. "Say it."

"I understand," I slump.

"And leave your... safety gear here." I acknowledge the order by pulling the shirt off over my head, along with my head gear, and leave it in a pile in front of me. Mom leans forward to inspect me with narrowed eyes. Having gone over me from head to toe several times, and making me turn around so she can see all of me, she's satisfied. "Actually, go take a bath before you go to your room. You've got that... stuff all over you." I nod and scamper off before I can find some way to make this worse. I'm brought up short after only a few steps as she calls after me, "What exactly were you trying to do here anyway?"

Fortunately, I have a foolproof answer for that one, "Magic potions!" I chirp, bounding on my toes again.

"Magic potions," Mom deadpans, looking at me over her shoulder.

"Uh huh!" I nod rapidly. Mom just groans pinching the bridge of her nose and waves me off.

Without another word I make good my escape.

I strip down with no small amount of relief in my bathroom. The clothes are more than slightly disgusting. Chucking them into the hamper I examine myself. God, I'm skinny, I'm not sure if it's possible for a five year old to have muscle definition, but I certainly don't have any. I'm just satisfied that there's really no fat on my frame either.

When I'd first discovered that I'm a girl in this new life, I'd nearly had a panic attack. Not because I'm female. Honestly, my gender has never been too integral to my self identity. My sexuality is far more of a concern. So as long as I still find girls attractive when I hit fifteen, I really couldn't care less about the plumbing.

No, the reason I'd freaked out is actually a person. Somebody I'm sure I won't be able to avoid completely. Issei Hyoudou, the nominal lead character and hero for this universe. And isn't that a depressing thought. Issei, as near as I can tell, is basically a puppy. Stupid, eager to please, and completely incapable of not humping your leg. And for some reason, nearly every female that comes into contact with him finds this behaviour attractive in the extreme.

I know that it's at least partially because he's a harem protagonist, but that's also the problem. I am now one of his preferred targets. If his... 'charisma' affects me, I'm going to kill him immediately, or myself, just to avoid the brainwashing.

I've always been more of a cat person anyway.

###

It takes another hour and a half for my dad to get home. Which is good because it takes two-thirds of that time for me to get the gunk out of my hair. I also spend a certain amount of time poking the places on my body where the sludge had landed and dried to see if it has conferred some effect that isn't immediately obvious.

No such luck.

When my dad does get home it only takes another ten minutes for the yelling to begin. I try as hard as I can not to listen in on what's being said. I turn up my stereo to try and drown them out. And when that only partially works I start shadow boxing in front of my mirror in an effort to give myself something else to focus on.

Boxing is coming back to me remarkably quickly. Though whether that's because of memories from the last time I'd learned, or the saying about the sweet science being quick to learn and long to master is just that accurate, I really can't say.

Eventually I'm called down to dinner. I go down the stairs with my usual pachyderm impression, earning a small smile from my father, though he quickly schools his features to look stern again.

"So I hear you spent the afternoon making magic potions?" My father asks, clearly trying not to smile. My parents are a study in contrasts. My mother is a short woman who I would venture to call voluptuous. The woman is all curves, and wide ones to boot. My father, on the other hand, while not tall, is certainly taller than mom, and made out of toothpicks and chewing gum. By which I mean he's never really outgrown his gangly phase. He's all elbows and knees and, when drunk, he moves like a muppet.

In the darkest parts of my own mind that will never see the light of day, I frequently wonder how exactly my father had convinced my mother to marry him.

Or sleep with him.

I suspect alcohol was involved.

The real problem is that I'm beginning to think that my mother doesn't know why she married him either.

I nod my head slowly in response to my fathers question. I know I'm in trouble and while I doubt he'll be willing to level any punishment at my five year old self that would actually bother me... well, I still have a part to play.

From under my lashes I can see my dad's lips twitching, trying not to smile, "How did that work out?"

I grind a toe into the ground, "Um... Not well? I made explosions!" I cheer, looking up at them with a big smile on my face. Which immediately falls as I see my mother's expression. Storm clouds are friendlier, "And a mess."

"Right," my father sighs.

I think he's about to say something more, but mom gets there first, "Clearly, we can't trust you home alone, young lady," Mom says sternly, "Everybody said that you were too young, but I thought you were unusually mature for your age and could handle it. Clearly I was wrong," Ouch, okay that actually hurts. I study my shoes in great detail, trying as hard as I can not to cry. Stupid five year old body, "So from now on you won't be. You'll be with me or your father, or at school," Her expression pinched. I'm pretty sure she's thinking about how I have no friends my own age. I don't like worrying her, but I have shit to do that has nothing to do with dolls. Besides if I'm going to be friends with somebody it will be somebody I can hold a conversation with. Not something the average five year old is capable... Wait.. WHAT? No! I need time unsupervised to pursue arcane power! "I suppose we'll have to find you a babysitter."

"No!" Flies out of my mouth before I know what was happening. My father's still trying not to laugh while my mother purses her lips, "Not a baby," I grumble as an excuse.

My father finally loses his war for composure and starts laughing softly while my mother's expression softens. She sighs deeply, "Ericka, do you understand why we..." She glances at my father and frowns, "Why I am upset?"

"Made a mess?" I offer. Haven't we covered that?

"That's part of it, yes, but a small part. I don't know what you were playing with, but by your own admission you managed to make several explosions. When I came home you were laid out on the floor! You could have hurt yourself and nobody would have been here to help!"

Oh. I suppose that's true, too. Well, shit. I suppose, given that, I really won't be able to do anything to convince them to leave me alone with the stove again any time soon. That being said, I still can't afford to do nothing to move towards my goals. So if goal one is out, move on to goal two. Now how to approach this?

I have an idea, "But it'll be sooo boring!" I whine. Unlike normal, when I try to act as some sort of compromise between my physical and mental ages, I'm going for maximum annoying here, "You'll be doing grown up things and I'll have to sit there and wait, and I'll have to find things to do while you do!" My parents look concerned. As well they should. As mangled as that sentence was, no parent wants to be confronted with the idea of their five year old finding ways to entertain themselves in public while bored.

"Well..." My father says slowly, "Understanding that we still can't leave you unsupervised, what would you want to do?"

A small smile tries to crawl across my lips and I forcefully repress it so as to not give the game away, "Well... one of the kids at school has an older brother who was talking about something called Aikido..."