Chapter 1: A strange new World

Have you ever found yourself regretting your life choices? Caught yourself thinking, 'Damn, if only I hadn't been such a dumbass, maybe I wouldn't be in this mess'?

Who am I kidding, of course you have.

If you took that day-to-day feeling of regret—the kind you get after something mundane like drinking too much—and magnified it a hundredfold, that right there is a good estimate of my current level.

Bit of life advice: When an emergency broadcast arrives to interrupt your evening ritual of eating ice cream and watching The Bachelorette, you listen.

Only an idiot of the highest order would unplug the TV.

…

Consequently, it currently felt as if my brain had gotten pulled through my nose and stuffed into a tumble dryer before getting shoved back into my skull through my ears. The rest of my body wasn't faring much better. Tinnitus, aching joints, and every inch of muscle felt like it had gotten injected with freezing cold acid.

All things considered, I was pretty happy with the situation; I'd practically—

Nevermind. Not important.

What was important was that I survived! Really, it was miraculous I hadn't woken up in a full body cast.

Hold that thought, Johny. Shouldn't you be in the hospital?

I tried sitting up to get a better look around, but was hindered by extreme sluggishness.

Okay, maybe I'm just on some killer pain meds…

I shakily propped myself up by my tiny arms to—something wasn't right about that. I flopped back down and marveled at my shrunken extremities. I tried, and failed, mouthing an obscenity as my tongue rubbed across an unfamiliar, incomplete set of tiny little teeth.

My aching body and brain became but a distant memory as I couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. I'd somehow turned into a baby.

As one may expect, this was not my standard state. Unless having long, drawn out monologues inside your head to a non-existent audience can be considered normal at the adorable age of a… year?

Some indeterminable age at which a baby has most of its teeth anyway.

As it stood, I guesstimated 60/40 odds that this was a bizarre fever dream my mind cooked up as I was suffocating to death. Alternatively, my personality got uploaded into a high-tech virtual reality game after I died as someone's sick idea for a joke.

Because, there was no way in hell I actually reincarnated. Me. That 'I.T. nerd from downstairs'. That guy who gets everyone else's problems dumped on him and is expected to be 'grateful for the opportunity'.

Actually, that makes me exactly the type of person some lazy godlike being would send to solve their problems for them.

Didn't those shitty self-insert stories usually involve something like a cute blue-haired goddess infodumping a bunch about the setting? How about a shapeless, empty void to get stuck in for an indefinite amount of time before accidentally tripping into the cycle of rebirth? Bare minimum, I would have liked to see a popup to inform me I've been granted a second life. Or even better, a [Rising Phoenix against the Martial Immortal Battle God Destroyer] cheat system.

That gives me an idea.

[Open menu!]

…

No?

Figuring out what brought me here was likely an exercise in futility. I'd already forgotten the first few months of my new life. Who could say whether souls, lacking brains entirely, even had the ability to form memories at all? Either way I didn't see any downside to working with the reincarnation theory for the time being. Even if it turned out this all was an illusion, it still felt real to me.

To anyone spectating this VR Truman Show situation, you're total sickos!

Mind made up, I peered past the bars of my wooden crib. I was greeted by many other cribs of similar make, each holding another infant just like me. Well, not like me exactly. These other kids all busied themselves with variations of sleeping, babbling and crying. A single caretaker was rushing from place to place, trying their best to calm everyone down. Her frizzy black curls were pulled into a messy bun and the bags under her eyes were so dark they could have been mistaken for eyeshadow.

Nobody in their right mind would work themselves so hard without a paycheck. This place must have been an orphanage.

What the heck happened to generate so many orphans? What country am I even in?

Listening to our caretaker attempting to soothe my fussy roommates, I could barely make out what sounded like Japanese. I'd seen enough anime to recognize some of the cadence, and yet 'Japan' felt far from the truth.

Something about the environment in its entirety felt off. Amplified. The air tasted crisper. Colors were more saturated. The walls, ceiling, and especially the moonlight streaming in from the window enraptured the senses. Like stepping into a painting.

It stung my eyes so badly they teared up. I unwittingly began gulping for air. A gasp sounded in the distance and I barely registered as the caretaker hoisted me up into her embrace. Something alien weighed me down. It saturated the room's atmosphere. Like the harsh, hot, and extremely humid climate of Brazil, only lacking true tangibility. It felt like my soul was getting squeezed from all sides. Crushed. I was suffocating. I was—

Not here. I'm not here. I'm still trapped. This isn't real. This world. My body. It's all just—

"Satoya!"

I flinched up to see glistening gray eyes staring down into my own. Her whole body was shaking. Or was that me? Neither of us moved and I got my breathing back under control.

"Daijobudesuka?" she asked, voice quivering.

I couldn't muster enough energy to do more than blink my eyes and nod in the affirmative. The caretaker clutched me close to her chest as she continued surveying the room. The crushing pressure had not left, but I could again feel my body.

I silently thanked the timespace wizardry that transported my soul for preserving my original mental discipline. It helped me rationalize that it made no difference whether the world was real or not. I just needed to pretend this foreign sensation was another problem to be solved, no different from my previous day-to-day life.

My proximity to the woman helped conclude that the phantom pressure originated from other people. All other people, including the children, contributed to it. I had never been one to believe in the supernatural, but at this point I was so far burrowed in the metaphysical rabbithole nothing could chain down my silly suppositions.

I'd been reborn in a fantasy universe, and the pressure was Mana.

That's a lazy name, isn't it? Meh, I'm sure someone will tell me the real term eventually.

Of course, having concluded there was some magic to be had, the logical next step was to determine whether I had any mana of my own. Something definitely resonated behind my navel that reminded me of the other people's auras. My mana, however, didn't seem to be flowing outward in any way. The energy felt dormant. Like a frozen lake.

That couldn't stop me for long. The mana was connected to me on a deeper level; Waiting for me to reach out and crack that icy surface. All it needed was a little push.

Nothing could have prepared me for the flood that followed. The fervent, searing blaze of pulsing energy carving a network under my skin. I joined the chorus of infants and cried out in anguish.

For the sake of brevity, I'll summarize the following day as absolute agony. I do not doubt that had my concentration wavered during those 24 hours, my new life would have been cut very short. Fortunately, I had an entire past life of pulling all-nighters to draw on, and the pain made me quite incapable of losing focus.

Once I'd reduced the manaflow from an unstoppable tide to a steady stream, I felt satisfied and exhausted enough to finally fall asleep. After another two weeks of building upon this success—at which point I ran out of ideas—I even felt like a halfway healthy human being again.

The mana network now resembled a series of shallow pools that were connected by a steadily dribbling river traveling along a cyclical path, similar to a second cardiovascular system.

Beyond the obvious health benefits, my intense bout of bodily introspection confirmed the mana generated by people differed from what I'd call 'natural atmospheric mana'. I was also happy to note that my body generated more mana than almost anybody else in my vicinity. I could not say whether this was due to almost tearing myself apart, or thanks to winning the genetic lottery. The only person I could possibly consult about it was the old lady in charge of the orphanage.

Her name was Chiyoko, and I had every confidence she either used to be—or still was—a witch. She certainly had a fittingly witchlike combination of pointy nose and poor dental care. Not to mention her aura alone would have probably made me cry out in pain again the first time I met her, had I not already been through way worse.

This raised the question, why didn't any other kids start bawling?

I supposed it must have either been a side effect of my high mana capacity or—more likely—my soul's otherworldly origin. Neither of those two could be altered by me. My only option was to adapt to the environment. I had no illusions that this world would be safe for the average citizen.

Isekai stories always had some nefarious Big Bad Evil Guy™. Even having missed out on a god-given introductory speech, I still could not entirely rule out that I had been sent here for a reason. A demon attack was as good an explanation as any for so many orphans. Perhaps war would soon be upon us. Training myself as early as possible would be for the best.

Which is why I drafted up a baby-safe training plan!

As a currently still mostly immobile infant, it included some early morning stretches, followed by as much physical exercise—wiggling, crawling and climbing—as my body safely permitted. Once I was too drained to continue, I topped things off by building my mana tolerance. Hopefully, once my sensitivity problems were dealt with, I'd get to eventually learn real magic.

By the time I turned three years old, I could say with absolute confidence: being an ophan sucked.

The aftereffects of my magical mishap had never fully receded, and my daily life was intermittently plagued by bouts of lethargy, feverish illness, and unexplainable body aches. They crippled me to the point that I was bedridden most days, let alone fit enough to go outside and play or train in the hilly fields surrounding the small agricultural village I called home. In fact, I was explicitly forbidden from doing any sports at all after Chiyoko caught me attempting push-ups one time.

That old crone constantly stayed back to watch over me while the other kids had fun outside. I couldn't for the life of me understand why she volunteered. She clearly hated doing it, and hated me even more. I wasn't just saying that because she was strict.

Though I was unable to confirm that she used to be a witch, and was honestly too scared to ask, I knew for sure that Chiyoko was a capital B, Bitch. Giving me the side-eye whenever I spoke. Chewing me out for every little annoyance. Calling me 'little devil' under her breath.

Thanks Devil is a Part Timer for teaching me that one.

Not all blame landed squarely on her. By any measure, I was an unnatural existence. Without much social interaction that challenged my brain in a meaningful way, I pestered her at every opportunity, acting like a bratty little shit that was obviously too smart for his age. Especially when I was sick.

I was trapped in a ghoulish body, stuck in a mutually antagonistic cycle with a hateful hag.

Even without those obviously problematic aspects of my transdimensional home away from home, living here wouldn't have been a fun proposition.

Twenty toddlers—all of which needed to be clothed, bathed, fed, entertained, and educated—were compressed in a living space that I estimated was meant to house half as many. To call it chaotic would be an understatement.

At least we had Kaori, our sweet angel. She'd been the one caring for everyone when I first became aware, and went above and beyond what could realistically be expected of her. Heck, she used to make special meals for me every day due to my difficulty keeping down food. I may look ghoulish now, but without her I'd have wound up a literal skeleton.

It pained me to watch her slowly waste away under the workload, which I hinted at on multiple occasions. It seemed like she took my concerns to heart, promoting the older kids to secondary caretakers so she wouldn't totally collapse under the stress.

It was a stopgap measure at best, as said older kids weren't exactly educated in how to deal with other children. My self-proclaimed 'big sister' Rin for example kept yanking me around in a futile attempt at integrating me with her friend group. Not to say I didn't appreciate her efforts—the nonstop babbling taught me Japanese at a record pace—but her social circle's enthusiasm both figuratively and literally pained me to be around at times.

I swear they literally glow in exuberance sometimes.

Most of my early life was spent on self-imposed reading and writing study. To my disappointment, we lacked any real instructional material. Nothing more than a small shelf filled with a random assortment of secondhand children's stories and picture books. I devoured them all like a starving hyena, both for their informational as well as their entertainment value. Curiously, none of the stories involved magic. At least from what I could tell with my limited kanji knowledge.

What I wouldn't give for a good Adventure/Fantasy story.

When I mentioned this to Kaori once so I could learn the correct word, she'd visibly tensed and told me through tight lips to 'not worry about those things until I'm older'. She must have dodged the topic because magical instruction was reserved only for the elite—out of reach for us penniless orphan peasants.

I didn't push my luck. A three year old asking about magical instruction without prompt might wind up abducted by the magic inquisition. Not that I stopped my internal shifting and prodding, but to an outside observer I seemed like a quiet kid spending most of his days napping, drawing and reading.

In fact, I'd recently run out of books to read, at least at my current skill level. Desperate to escape my impending boredom, I resorted to learning kanji by sounding out the hiragana written underneath the corresponding symbols in a dictionary. This action annoyed Chiyoko to no end, eventually leading to her locking the dictionary in her private study.

Normally this wasn't something to get overly worked up about. I still had my fallback option of improving my artwork. Surely this could keep me busy for a little while. If I told Kaori about the incident I'd probably even get the dictionary back soon enough.

However, having that awful banshee control every aspect of my life to the point of taking away my study material was one step too far. It was perfectly reasonable that I—a once perfectly lawful and mild-mannered individual—decided to sneak into the old lady's room and steal back my dictionary.

All I needed to do was to fake illness when the others left to play, and then wait until she went outside to take a smoke. A quick climb upstairs and I was in.

The room itself wasn't very exciting. It had the same creaky wooden floor, shoddy insulation, and flaking paint job as the rest of the building. The furniture though… oh boy.

My eyes trailed along the soft, purple carpet covering the ground up to an opulent wooden desk, behind which stood a comfortable looking plush chair. The remaining pieces were a lot more modest—a small bookshelf, window, lamp, some pictures adorning the wall—but those first pieces clashed so starkly with the rest of the room they gave me sensory whiplash.

She's old. I already figured the orphanage is just a side gig.

Keeping my short timeframe in mind, I headed straight for the bookshelf. I could scarcely understand most titles I saw, though a few stood out to me. Especially one called, 'チャクラ and its uses'.

Those first symbols aren't Kanji, and not Hiragana either… Katakana? Are those a thing here? I really need a geography book.

I pulled it out and flipped it open, skipping to the first mention of the word.

"チャクラ is 活気 that all individuals produce. Those who run out of チャクラ 死ぬ. Produced within and manipulated by 内臓 such as the 心臓, 活気 回す throughout the body in a network called the チャクラ 代謝経路"

I felt excitement building in my chest. This might be an instructional book on magic! It would surely be worth investigating in the future, once I polished up my reading skills. For now, I put it back and checked Chiyoko's desk instead.

On top of it lay an unfurled scroll structured like some sort of schedule or budgetary report. Hardly interesting and I couldn't read it anyway. I peered out of the open window to confirm the old lady was still outside and commenced rummaging through the drawers.

There you are.

A smile painted my lips as I tugged the worn, yellowed thing of beauty from its hiding spot. My poor dictionary had been jammed in there so tightly I had to pull the entire drawer out of its enclosure. Strangely enough, there wasn't anything stored underneath it.

I'd checked the other drawers too—they had distinctly more storage space. One might say I should respect other people's privacy, but Chiyoko had lost my respect long ago. I didn't feel an ounce of shame as I tipped the drawer upside down and shook the false bottom out. The wood loudly clattered to the floor and a big lump of cash followed it. My eyes widened as my thoughts jumped back to the budgetary report on the table. Hidden money and fancy furniture…

Chiyoko would no doubt come to investigate the ruckus soon. I quickly put the money, false bottom, and book back in their place before sliding the drawer back into the desk. Sadly, I couldn't keep the dictionary without arousing suspicion. My mana sense told me there was not enough time to make it down the stairs, so I chose the only logical option left and climbed out the window onto the nearby tree.

And if I sprained my ankle following a poorly placed foot? Nobody needed to know.

What would you do after discovering the owner of your living space was embezzling funds? The answer, obviously, was to keep it to yourself because you're just a brat who doesn't know anything.

At least according to outside observers.

If I wanted to convince anyone of these misdeeds, I needed proof. Proof that sadly was not easily found. That hag had been paranoid enough to put the money somewhere else after hearing me in her room, so I had to get creative.

I'd mentally planned my 'heist' while my sprained ankle healed up, and today the stars perfectly aligned. Both Chiyoko and Kaori were here, the other kids were in bed, and Chiyoko had forgotten to lock her office.

I slowly, carefully, and quietly snuck past the kitchen and up the stairs. Once in her room, I dragged her fancy plush chair in front of the shelf, this time not bothering to be quiet. I took my time climbing up, as the dictionary wasn't truly my goal. Knowing Chiyoko, she'd arrive very soon.

"Satoya Ibui, get down this instant!" the old hag ordered in a stage whisper.

Bingo.

"{Back off, lady! I'm trying to grab a book!}" I petulantly whined.

She just huffed out in annoyance as she swept me off the chair I had been standing on. The grumpy caretaker had long given up trying to understand my 'made up language'.

"I know you understand me, brat," she admonished, creases between her eyebrows growing even deeper. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Seems she wasn't in the mood to put up with my nonsense tonight, which only served to delight me. The old crone deserved all the trouble I gave her, especially now that I knew her misdeeds went beyond just a crappy personality.

"{Mein Japanisch ist nicht das Gelbe vom Ei,}" I answered, giving her a cheeky smile.

Her body trembled as her eyes gleamed with malice. "Didn't you learn your lesson last time? You ought to show some respect to your betters!" Chiyoko hissed through her crooked teeth.

I responded by jutting out my chin and crossing my arms. "I already respect my betters," I told her, angling my face toward her in preparation for what was to come.

My head snapped to the side and my cheek stung. For an old lady she was pretty strong. That slap undoubtedly left a mark.

"Oh, Chiyoko-sama. Now you've really done it," I said with a victorious smirk, rubbing against my swelling cheek. "KAORI!" I cried out, crocodile tears spilling freely down my face. I probably woke up the whole building.

Chiyoko was already reaching down to clamp her hands over my mouth and shush me, but I deftly dodged out of the way. Surprisingly difficult, considering her age. Thankfully I heard Kaori rushing up the stairs like a mad bull and didn't have to keep it up for too long.

I caught Chiyoko's hands and pulled them down around my own throat. Before the old lady could retract them, Kaori arrived in the doorway and got front row seats to what looked like attempted child murder.

All according to keikaku.

"What's going on here!?" the new arrival shrieked in outrage, which I took as my signal to let go of my assailant's hands.

Chiyoko was in full-blown panic as she stammeringly attempted to explain her actions. Meanwhile, I was dramatically gasping for air and clearly of far higher importance to Kaori than listening to her alleged superior.

"What happened?" the kindly woman asked as she wiped at my tears before wrapping me up in a hug.

"I was trying to find Chiyoko's hiding spot," I rasped between sniffles.

"What hiding spot?" she asked in a soothing voice, shooting a judgemental glare at the woman in question.

"Her secret money," I explained, eyes again growing wet, "I'm sorry Chiyoko-san. I thought that if I had some money I could go buy ice cream like Rin-ane and the older kids brought a few days ago."

"It's okay, Satoya," Kaori assured, stroking my hair for comfort, before turning to her colleague. "Why did that deserve such a response!?"

She didn't pay enough attention.

"That's not at all what happened," Chiyoko barks out, having finally found her voice. "He was-"

"I'm sorry for trying to steal, Chiyoko-san," I quickly interrupted with a whimper. "You must have been scared I'd take your rightful share of the funds."

Come on, Kaori. Get the hint!

Chiyoko went white as a sheet, which Kaori quickly picked up on. I could practically taste the young woman's outrage in the air. My work here was done. However, before I could skulk out of the room, Chiyoko grabbed my shirt's neckline. "Where do you think you're going, you little brat?"

I tried slapping her arm away, but for an old lady she really was deceptively fit. Then again, a three-year-old may just be demonstrably weak.

"Weren't you taught not to lie?" she asked in a sickly sweet tone, wrenching me back. Standing this close I could easily feel the way her mana roiled dangerously underneath her skin.

Kaori interspaced herself between the enraged woman and myself detangling the offending limb from my shirt. "What's this about the funds? Why would you attack Satoya?" she questioned, trying to stay calm. "Chiyoko-san, explain yourself!"

Chiyoko didn't bother. "This brat is manipulating you. He came here for that damned dictionary of his!" she yammered, spit flying from her mouth.

I couldn't help my smirk at her poor deflection. Chiyoko's glare intensified.

"Look at him!" she snapped, "You can't seriously be considering letting him go!? He's guilty! You can see it in his smug little face. Guilty, I say! Guilty!"

Chiyoko was practically frothing at the mouth now, clasping the nearby chair so tightly that her arms shook. Her mana churned most unpleasantly and I again tried to back away. Kaori didn't notice just how much danger we were in as she attempted to calmingly pat Chiyoko's shoulder.

A split-second later my protector was launched against—no—through the distant wooden desk. I hardly had enough time to process what I'd just seen before a kick to my ribs sent me sprawling to the floor.

"You think you're better than me?! You're nothing!" she hissed.

I couldn't manage to muster a snarky reply. Scratch that, I couldn't even stand up after that kick. Kaori wasn't faring any better, probably knocked out—or dead—from getting launched across the room. I feebly crawled towards my guardian's prone form before Chiyoko lifted me up by the scruff of my shirt and wrapped her free hand around my throat. My pathetic skinny arms could do little more than wiggle uselessly as my lungs seized up.

"Think it was funny to frame me?" she asked with a manic grin, before suddenly relaxing into a cold emotionless stare. "I always knew there was something wrong with you. Too smart. Too inquisitive. You may have fooled that dimwit, Kaori, but I see through your charades. You're a demon masquerading as a child! If I didn't know any better, I'd suspect you were the Ky—" she caught her breath.

No… she choked on her words and dropped me to the floor. My eyes were swimming and I could barely make out a man with gray hair standing behind her. The last thing I noticed between labored breaths was a drop of liquid splashing on the floor.

I eventually fluttered back into consciousness and found myself lying on some squishy material. Everything felt loopy, and bodily sensations were muted. I think there was someone asking me a question.

I wanted to reply. I really did. To my disappointment my tongue was replaced with lead. Also I was sinking into the floor. Why was I sinking? There wasn't any water. Man, was I thirsty. Too bad the water is anchoring me to the bed. Or maybe it was the pain meds? Ohhh right. That makes sense. My eyelids closed.

The next time I was teased back to wakefulness by a ray of sunshine. Now more than aware enough to realize what I was lying on must be a bed. Cracking my eyes open revealed a hospital room. My village didn't have a hospital. Had everything somehow just been a dream after all?

Probably not. I was still in a child's body. And the hospital didn't look right. Somewhat like what I remembered from my last world, but not quite. An unholy combination of my village's stylized aesthetic and 21st century earth's interior design.

"Satoya-kun?" intoned a voice to my left, making me jump up in surprise.

"Yes, I'm Satoya-kun," I answered. I must have been loopier than I thought.

The nurse looked relieved to hear it, and assured me a doctor would come see me soon. I was reminded, then, that I had almost died. Again. Killed by an old lady of all things. It was high time for me to face the facts.

I done goofed.

Maybe going full Sherlock hadn't been the best idea. Maybe it would have been smarter to go to Kaori right away. Maybe maybe maybe…

I flicked myself in the forehead.

Stop throwing a pity party.

I'd gotten too caught up in my own self-importance and I paid the price. Well… Kaori did. The doctor didn't tell me what happened to her when I asked, but I had an inkling. Neither was I told what happened to Chiyoko. I was merely assured that I had no permanent injuries, and would be brought to some new accommodations.

And who better to escort me than a police officer who looked like he could be part of a J-Pop boy band. Wait what?

I couldn't help but gape. He was the first truly authentically Japanese-looking person I had seen throughout my new life. A very handsome one at that. Shoulder length, silky black hair, sharp features and dark eyes. I was so stunned by my observation that I didn't even pay enough attention to hear the man's name, doing nothing but awkwardly nodding my head when he asked me if I could answer some questions.

I gave a quick recounting of events, leaving out most details beyond having wanted my book back and nearly getting murdered by an old lady. It wasn't a comfortable conversation, and thankfully didn't last long. The officer escorted me from my room shortly after handing his written report off to some administrative worker.

Weird system.

Walking down the hospital's halls made me reevaluate my opinion. The mystery policeman might not even be above average. Almost everyone we passed was good-looking. I'd long gotten used to the enhanced colors and intense sensations of my new world, but this was the first time I saw so many young adults. It was like walking onto a Hollywood set.

The experience soured a bit when the combined sensory assault of color and chaotic mana signatures eventually overwhelmed my puny brain. It was bad enough that I almost tipped over and face planted onto the ground after taking a few steps outside.

My escort thankfully caught me without breaking stride, and graciously refrained from commenting on my blunder. His cold aura grounded my senses and I spent the rest of the walk quietly stuck to his side with my face buried in his robes. All throughout our walk, I replayed the previous night's events.

Kaori was dead because of me. These people weren't just NPCs I could mess around with. I couldn't just see this as some game to play. I'd caused the death of a human being. Even if this world was all just a hallucination, it was real to me.

My choices had consequences and it was my responsibility to think things through before taking thoughtless action. Even Chiyoko's extreme response could be blamed on my thoughtlessness. Had I acted my age and actually tried to make friends with other kids, I would not have seemed so much like a closet psychopath.

At least I know that death isn't the end… Silver linings and all that.

"This will be your new home," the policeman suddenly spoke up in a dry monotone, making me flinch back to awareness. We'd arrived in front of a modern-looking structure built into the side of a mountain.

"Thank you," I mumbled as he guided me through the front door.

We were greeted by a petite middle-aged woman with crows' feet beside her eyes, short cropped brown hair and a dazzling smile. After introducing herself as Shizuka, she led me to a big dining hall where I came face to face with a large group of strangers.

"Why don't you say hello to your new friends?" she suggested, softly nudging me onward from behind.

I felt butterflies in my stomach as my eyes wildly scanned the expectant crowd. I couldn't afford to mess this up. I had to blend in better than last time and actually make friends. The only thing going through my mind was, "I wish Kaori were here."

Johny, you idiot, why did you say that aloud!?

Shizuka immediately wrapped her arms around me and murmured some soothing words. None of them reached me. I felt something tickle my cheeks. A hidden part of my toddler-psyche rearing its ugly head. I must have gotten more attached to my first home than I thought. In the end, I couldn't muster enough will to reign in my emotions and wound up skipping dinner to just lie in bed.

I slept for quite some time before being woken up by someone crying. It was the kind of crying that children should never be doing. Where you didn't want to be noticed, because you'd learnt at far too young an age that nobody would show up to comfort you.

In the corner I saw them. I felt them. Their oppressive loneliness. How could I not? The child emanated an aura as splendid as the sun itself. It must have been the highest concentration of mana I'd ever felt. The attached emotions practically overwhelmed my own. It was worse than any amount of skin-searing magical sensitivity.

What kind of (ex-)adult would I be if I didn't try and cheer them up after feeling that? Sure there may have been a bit of a secondary objective to it, but who doesn't want powerful allies?

"Hey, you okay?" I asked them, walking over to their side of the room.

The child immediately stilled, possibly having assumed there was nobody else here. I'd left the lights off and I must have been their first roommate.

"M'fine," he—pretty sure they were a he—mumbled with a warbly voice.

"You don't sound fine," I said as I got closer and took a seat next to him on the bed. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

He slunk away from me and curled into a ball. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?" he accused. "Nobody wants to talk to me."

This wasn't going anywhere. I needed to switch my approach. "Oh? I didn't realize I was called Nobody. I thought my name was Satoya."

Though he tried to hide it, I felt the amused wobbles of his mana. "Satoya wants to talk to me?" he asked, sounding depressingly hopeful to my ears.

"Of course!" I replied with enthusiasm, "If you let me, I'll even be your friend! What's your name?"

His emotions were an open book. I felt how his skepticism turned to hope, and then happiness without even seeing his face. I couldn't help but mirror those emotions as the boy rose up and the blanket slid back.

He had gorgeous, golden-blonde hair, breathtaking blue eyes and adorably chubby cheeks. My eyes then fell onto the dark whisker marks spread across them and my jubilation turned to horror.

"Naruto Uzumaki," answered the Child of Prophecy.

Quick author's note: Satoya isn't a year old when he wakes up. Kids can already crawl around at that age, but he's not a biologist so I figured him assuming wrong would be more in character.