The void. It was an absence, a complete and utter lack of everything. No light, no sound, no sensation beyond a persistent, nagging… nothingness. For a being like me, accustomed to constant observation and analysis, this was excruciating. Boredom, a foreign concept in my previous life where every moment was a potential data point, began to gnaw at me.
It started subtly. A twitch of a phantom limb. A fleeting impression of a scent. Then, the irritation grew. This was inefficient. This was unacceptable.
"Hello?" I projected, my voice, or what felt like my voice, echoing into the infinite silence. "Is anyone there? This is an utterly unproductive use of my… current state."
No reply. Just the void, stretching endlessly.
My irritation morphed into a simmering anger. Who was responsible for this? Who dared to confine me in such a meaningless existence? I had just died, yes, but even death, I assumed, would offer something more. A final destination, perhaps. A profound understanding. Not this bland, infuriating emptiness.
"I demand an explanation!" I tried again, my mental voice growing sharper, more insistent. "This is highly inefficient. I have… a desire for information. For stimulation. For anything that isn't this pointless blackness!"
Still nothing. The silence pressed in, a suffocating blanket.
My anger escalated. The beast, usually dormant but stirred by the recent bloodbath, clawed at the edges of my consciousness.
This was worse than being a background character; this was being a non-entity. I, Kenji, who had mastered the art of blending in, now faced the ultimate insignificance.
"You want to play games?" I snarled, a low, guttural growl that resonated only within my own non-existent ears. "Fine. But know this: I am not one to be ignored. You will regret this… void."
The emptiness remained stubbornly unresponsive. It was infuriating. I had faced down Yakuza enforcers, yet this nothingness was proving to be my most frustrating opponent. My patience, always a thin veneer over a core of ruthless efficiency, was rapidly disintegrating.
Just as my non-existent hands began to clench in frustration, a pinprick of light appeared in the distance. It was small, almost imperceptible at first, but it grew rapidly, expanding with an alarming speed. The blackness began to recede, replaced by an intense, blinding white.
The light swelled, engulfing everything. It wasn't gentle; it was a powerful, irresistible force, pulling me in with an almost violent suction. It felt like being stretched, compressed, and then flung through a cosmic tunnel. Disorientation, a sensation I rarely experienced, overwhelmed me. My senses, which had been dormant in the void, were now assaulted by an overwhelming rush of light, sound, and a strange, profound pressure.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
A rush of air. A feeling of weight, of solid form. A strange, unfamiliar warmth.
I opened my eyes. Or rather, my new eyes.
The world was blurry at first, a kaleidoscope of soft, indistinct colors. But as my vision sharpened, a face materialized above me. A woman's face. Her hair was a cascade of black, framing features that were undeniably, strikingly beautiful. Her eyes, a warm, comforting brown, gazed down at me with an expression of overwhelming adoration.
A quiet, almost primal instinct told me this was my mother. A warmth spread through me, unfamiliar and almost startling in its intensity. She was holding me, cradling me gently in her arms. The sensation was…odd. Small.
Vulnerweak.
Where am I? The thought formed, clear and concise, despite the general bewilderment.
And why do I feel… like this?
My body felt impossibly tiny, incredibly soft. I tried to move, to exert control, but my limbs responded with clumsy, uncoordinated jerks. A strange, gurgling sound escaped my lips.
"Oh, my little one," the woman cooed, her voice soft and melodious, like the tinkling of wind chimes. "You're finally awake."
Her smile widened, and a wave of something akin to contentment washed over me. This was…pleasant. Deeply, profoundly pleasant. A sensation I hadn't realized I was capable of experiencing.
Then, another figure entered my blurry field of vision. A man. He was tall, with a strong, athletic build, even through the elaborate, almost regal-looking clothes he wore. His hair was a rich brown, and his eyes, a piercing green, held a gentle, amused glint as he looked down at me. This must be my father.
He approached, and beside him, clutching his leg, was a small girl. She couldn't have been more than three or four years old, her black hair falling in soft curls around a cherubic face. Her eyes, startlingly similar to the man's, were a vivid green, full of bright curiosity as she peered at me. My sister, perhaps?
"He's awake, Jane," the man said, his voice a low rumble that resonated with authority and warmth.
"Indeed, Karl," my new mother replied, her gaze never leaving me. "And just as beautiful as you promised."
Jane? Karl? The names filtered through my consciousness. This was getting increasingly bizarre. I was a baby. A human baby. In what appeared to be… a fantasy setting?
My internal monologue, usually so cold and analytical, momentarily short-circuited. This is… this is like those ridiculous light novels and manga. The ones with the overpowered protagonists getting reincarnated into another world. The ones I found so utterly cringe-worthy.
A wave of intellectual disgust washed over me. The tropes, the clichés, the contrived plotlines – I had always scoffed at them. The idea of someone being arbitrarily gifted immense power or thrust into a fantastical realm always struck me as lazy storytelling. And now, I was the cliché.
Why? Why me? I mentally screamed. After all the effort I put into being unremarkable, into being a background character, I'm dragged into this… What cosmic joke is this?
My internal complaints were abruptly cut short. A strange pressure built in my lower abdomen. An unfamiliar warmth spread. And then, without warning, a warm, wet sensation engulfed my nether regions.
I had shat myself.
The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. Me. Kenji. The cold, calculating sociopath. The brutal, efficient killer. The one who reveled in the smell of blood. I had just, uncontrollably, soiled myself.
A wave of mortification, an emotion I rarely, if ever, experienced, washed over me. It was utterly humiliating. All thoughts of fantastical worlds and cringe-worthy tropes vanished, replaced by the immediate, overwhelming reality of my current predicament.
Jane, my new mother, chuckled softly. "Oh, it seems our little one is quite enthusiastic! Mary, darling, could you fetch the changing cloth for your brother?"
Mary, the little girl, giggled and scampered off.
As Jane began to expertly unwrap my soiled swaddling, a profound, undeniable truth settled over me. This was my new life. This was my second chance. And if I was going to be a cliché, I was going to be a cliché on my own terms.
The thought of my previous existence, of the blood, the violence, the cold detachment, suddenly felt… distant. Like a nightmare. The humiliation of my current state, paradoxically, offered a perverse kind of clarity.
No. I vowed, the promise forming with startling intensity in my infant mind. No more of that. No more psychopath behavior. No more bloodlust. I've had enough of that messy, complicated existence.
I wanted peace. I wanted quiet. I wanted… normal.
This time, I would strive for a normal life. A peaceful life. Perhaps, even, a life where I could understand and experience those strange, complex emotions that had always eluded me. I would be Kenji, reborn. And this Kenji would be… different.
The smell of warm milk began to fill the air, a gentle, comforting aroma. My new mother's soft touch was surprisingly soothing. Yes. A normal life. That was the goal.
Even if I had just soiled myself for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.