Chapter 1: The Price of Living
He took a deep, heavy breath, trying to ignore the pain that shot through his head. A swelling that still felt horrendous. For an ordinary child, this would have been impossible to bear without crying uncontrollably, but in my case, having been reborn, even though it burned intensely, I had lived through worse.
Every muscle ached, every movement a reminder of the fragility of my new body. The bandage was tight, the scar itched as if it were alive, and the trembling of his hands betrayed that, although his mind was strong, his body still wouldn't obey him.
These were possibly symptoms of a beating, a beating from alcoholic parents; otherwise, I can't explain why my body reacts to the voice of that woman over there who smokes. Or to any violent, criminal physical approach.
I have no doubt that the scar was recently inflicted. The bandage was covered in blood, and I could still feel the icy red liquid oozing from my skin… ouch, it still hurts like hell.
I sat up slowly, leaning my back against the wall. The room smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, of neglect and suppressed fear—all harmful to any thinking being.
I looked around with eyes that were just starting to adjust to the dimness: a dirty window, a lamp flickering weakly, a table covered in sticky plates with dried food scraps and hardened grease, and on the floor, empty bottles and crumpled paper that smelled of neglect.
Everything seemed like a silent reminder that there was nowhere safe here, that no one was truly looking out for him.
"I have to get out…" Yuichi murmured to himself, his voice softer than he remembered. The childlike voice of his body didn't reflect the firmness of his thoughts.
Yuko, lighting another cigarette with trembling hands, watched him with tired but alert eyes, filled with guilt and suppressed anxiety.
"Don't go… it's raining and cold outside," she said, trying to sound firm, but her voice betrayed her.
Yuichi stared at her. There was no tenderness in her, only fear and resentment. In his mind, Silver thought: Is this what they call family? What an irony… I asked to live… and this is what I got.
I was once an adult, and this kind of behavior was still strange to me. I didn't fully understand why adults, those who are supposed to protect children, are also the ones who hurt them. I was so innocent.
I got up carefully, dragging my feet on the sticky floor.
Each step was a small victory against the weight of my child's body, against the limits now imposed by my size and strength.
Looking out the window, I saw the Japanese suburb in the rain: deserted streets, passing cars, reflections of lights that blended with puddles, and shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. Everyone seemed oblivious to his suffering, indifferent to the child trapped inside a soul too old for that body. Reincarnation was undoubtedly a mind-blowing experience.
Looking out the window, he saw the Japanese suburb in the rain: deserted streets, passing cars, reflections of lights that blended with puddles, and shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. Everyone seemed oblivious to his suffering, indifferent to the child trapped inside a soul too old for that body. Reincarnation was undoubtedly a mind-blowing experience.
My mind was searching for a thread that would connect this present moment with his past life. He recalled flashes: bright lights, distant voices, the god and his judgment, his absurd desire to live… unconditionally. The feeling of powerlessness mixed with the certainty that he was being watched made him shudder.
"To live… yes, but how?" The question echoed in his head with an almost mocking tone. Silver's voice, firm and analytical, felt trapped in a fragile shell, but the mind remained the same: calculating, strategic, alert.
A sudden knock on the door startled him. His heart leapt.
"Yuichi!" Yuko shouted from the hallway, her voice a mixture of urgency and fear. "Come downstairs! Now!"
Yuichi froze for a moment, assessing the situation. Yuko's voice wasn't just one of concern; there was something more. An ancient, almost primal instinct told him this wasn't a simple accident, that something was about to happen, something that could change his new life before it even began.
With an effort, he ran down the stairs of the small apartment. Each step creaked beneath his feet, each movement a reminder of his fragility.
Outside, the gray afternoon seemed even more oppressive, and the fine rain tapped against the windows with a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm. The puddles reflected shadows that seemed to move of their own accord, figures that shouldn't be there, but that Silver immediately recognized as a latent threat.
The feeling of being watched was intense. Every sound, every movement in the distance, spoke to him of danger. His old mind began to formulate strategies, even though his childlike body couldn't easily execute them. I have to survive… No matter what…
He knew something was going to change in his new life; it wouldn't simply be an existence of passive pain. He had survived before, and somehow, even trapped in a small, weak body, he felt that fate could still twist in his favor. He just had to learn quickly, adapt even faster, and not let fear paralyze him.
The rain was lashing down harder and harder, mixed with a cold wind that seeped through the cracks in the window. He looked up at the leaden gray sky, and for a moment, he felt the weight of the world and all his past lives. If this is what living means… then let it begin.
The boy took a breath, adjusted the bandages covering his head and, for the first time since waking up, felt he could move decisively. Silver's voice, firm and clear in his mind, reminded him: "You will survive. This body doesn't matter. The game has only just begun."
And as the storm raged through the Japanese suburb, Yuichi Hanami took his first step into a world that promised more chaos than solace, more trials than affection.
Days later
[Early morning — Hanami's apartment]
I got up for water.
The clock read 2:37 a.m.
The floor was cold, and the air smelled of dampness, dirt, wine, and cigarettes—an atmosphere of decay.
On the sofa, Yuko slept hunched over, looking uncomfortable in that position. My new mother, Yuko Hanami. She was asleep on the sofa with an empty wine bottle clutched to her like a pillow. It wasn't very mature compared to how my mother slept.
There was a photo on the table: a man with a forced smile, a small child with dark brown hair and green eyes in his arms, and Yuko with the same tired look as now.
The frame was dirty, but the glass had a fresh fingerprint, as if someone had touched it recently.
What is this woman going through to live so miserablely in this oppressive state?
He watched her in silence.
He felt nothing. Not pity, not anger. Just an uncomfortable emptiness, as if he were invading someone else's life. I still haven't fully gotten used to this small body.
Then, something changed.
The reflection on the TV screen wasn't his.
It was Silver's, his old face, staring at him.
"What... the hell...?" he whispered.
The reflection moved its lips without making a sound.
For a moment, he thought he heard a distant, masculine voice, soft but mocking.
"You didn't ask how you would live... only that you wanted to live."
Yuichi took a step back. The reflection smiled.
"So here you are, breathing." "Happy now?"
The refrigerator's hum stopped.
The entire apartment fell into absolute silence.
Yuko stirred on the couch, muttering something.
"…Yu…chi… no…" she mumbled, half asleep.
The boy swallowed.
"What did you say?"
"Don't leave… again…"
A shiver ran down his spine.
He moved closer to her, but when he touched her shoulder, Yuko woke with a start.
"What are you doing up?" he grumbled, his voice hoarse.
"I was thirsty."
"Then go to sleep. I don't want any trouble."
Yuichi lowered his gaze.
"I didn't say anything."
"Don't answer like that," she replied, getting up awkwardly. "You're just like your father. Always with that face like the world owes you something."
The empty bottle rolled across the floor, hitting the wall. Yuko shrank into herself, trying to light another cigarette.
He watched for another second. Why would she drink so much? It's not the first time I've seen her drinking or smoking; she shouldn't even be doing that around a child.
"Why do you drink so much, Mother?"
She stopped, lighting the cigarette with trembling hands. It seems she wasn't mentally stable because other times I've spoken—she hasn't mentioned how I speak with such advanced vocabulary.
"Because otherwise, I hear things that aren't there."
"What things?" he asked, trembling almost imperceptibly.
Yuko slowly exhaled the smoke.
"Voices. In the mirrors, on the television, in my dreams. They always tell me the same thing: that I should have let him die."
The cigarette fell from her fingers.
She wanted to say something, but her throat burned. No words came out.
She just turned around, walked to her room, and closed the door.
When she left, I moistened my fingers with saliva, just enough to stub out the cigarette my mother had dropped on the floor, but not completely extinguish it.
She shouldn't even smoke near a child. But she does. She always does.
I didn't want a fucking fire. How did this child I'm in now live? He was lucky if they even fed him or cleaned him. It seems the only reason human resources hadn't taken him away was because of the woman's fear...
This woman didn't seem to want to be a mother at all.
The clock read 3:12 a.m.
I lay down without taking off my clothes.
The reflection of the turned-off television was still visible from the bed, and this time, Silver wasn't smiling.
He looked at me with something akin to pity.
"Living has a price, Yuichi. And you haven't paid it yet."
A drop of water fell from the ceiling. Then another.
The child closed his eyes, but the god's voice continued to echo in his mind, mixed with the echo of Yuko's crying and the hum of the world that didn't want him.
The next morning, when the alarm went off, the sky was the same color as his thoughts:
gray, heavy, and shapeless.
Yuko wasn't home.
There was only a note on the table:
"I'm going to work. Don't be late for class."
Yuichi looked at the note, crumpled it between his fingers, and threw it in the trash.
Is this a joke? I'm nine years old?! Besides, she didn't even leave breakfast or money for me to buy lunch?
And what school do I even go to?!
Minutes later, on the streets of Japan, after wandering around several streets and asking for directions to the school using my ID, I followed the directions a person gave me.
What I found out was quite curious. My new full name is Yuichi Hanami.
I am a boy of approximately 9 or 10 years old.
I only have one mother, a negligent and seemingly abusive one. Why does this body react with fear and hatred, things I shouldn't feel?
Second
The god is that I reincarnate not as a baby, animal, or girl.
I reincarnate as a 9-year-old boy who died at the hands of his mother.
How do I know that? All Yuko kept repeating was that she was afraid that if I didn't wake up, the authorities would take her to jail.
My reincarnation is anything but that; I could even call it transmigration, although I could compare my case to that of Rudeus Greyrat from the controversial Mushoku Tensei. In my case, it was never about being in the body of a stillborn child. I am directly replacing the deceased Yuichi Hanami.
That woman killed her son… I'm not sure if it was an accident, a fit of rage, or if it was due to alcohol.
Third
The god was compassionate and yet not.
My brain understands Japanese despite it being a different language, very different from Spanish and English. My body translates it automatically. I'm a man, and although somewhat weak, I have a guaranteed education, so from what I understand, she said I'd go back to school when I get better. Because I feel like without a doctor's note, the homework is going to come crashing down like an avalanche… seriously… this has barely started and they're already bombarding me with assignments…
Now… The bad stuff
Besides being in a poor, rotten, and, let's not forget, neglected environment, and not yet knowing the cause of it, I don't remember what world I'm in… What world has this god put me in…
The Omnitrix isn't nearby, it's not in the house. And I don't think it's outside either; there's no sign of the green comet that brought it here once.
What I feared was that I wouldn't find that watch anytime soon, which would leave me exposed for a long time before the action begins… although… I'm also walking blindly… what fictional world am I in?
Destiny isn't smiling on me at all… although I'm used to the usual shitty treatment.
Knowing I'll be going back to school, to be honest, made me uncomfortable, but the biggest advantage I have is that I still possess the memories and experiences from my past life, so it will be harder to screw up. Well, I hope so…
School… another place to pretend everything is alright. I guess it doesn't matter how many times you're reborn, there are always uniforms, rules, and judgmental stares, not to mention that I'm in Japan, so this is tripled.
I wish I knew more about which school I'm in… I haven't heard the name Kami anywhere.
Except for the good guy, Kami from Dragon Ball is the only Kami I know.
Kami Academy feels normal; I don't see anything particularly bizarre or mystical in the school environment.
I wonder if the students are more Namekian than any existing human.
Kami just seems like an ordinary school, and unfortunately, I don't recognize anyone here, and I don't see anyone who looks like the protagonist of this world. There aren't any extravagant hairstyles or characters that are an eyesore.
I was in class and I'm still seeing kids who could be in the cast... I don't know what world I'm in.
A girl with short, light pink hair that mainly frames the left side of her face and dark pink eyes. Beautiful in the eyes of any man here.
Calmly perfect. Too good to be true.
Too perfect. And in my experience, perfection always hides something rotten.
That one has hair that screams at you.
I still haven't gotten used to it. It's a little strange to see colored hair. It's very distinctive.
The class is a basic math lesson.
The teacher was talking about addition and subtraction as if she were revealing the secrets of the universe. Poor kids, they don't know what's coming for them. That's when they're really going to suffer.
I was doodling in my notebook, pretending to be interested. If you only knew how many times I had to calculate real interest tax accounts… A real pain, but it was routine…
This subject isn't my strong suit, but the math here was easier compared to all the formulas you have to do later on. These were a walk in the park.
There are subjects I could slack off on, but there are others, too many things I know nothing about, so I was forced to learn.
And don't get me wrong. It's not that I hate school, it just brings back bad memories.
A typical day before going to work.
The desks were covered in scribbles and broken hearts, the fan whired like it hated its existence, and the smell of old marker mingled with cheap perfume.
Wow, Yuichi was popular… In reverse.
I quickly solved the problems in my notebook. In my past life, this would have been incredibly tedious, but with my knowledge and experience, it was a piece of cake.
I played dumb for a while, observing most of my class, and I didn't see anyone else with a weird hairstyle, not even the main character who's usually by the window… well, I'm lying, there is one, but… he doesn't look like one… he's a small boy with glasses and black bowl haircut.
Although I used to wear glasses in my past life… those glasses… they're awful… I'm not saying that to be a jerk, it's just not my style.
Come on, dude, choose something less outdated. I've already identified who will probably be the class punching bag.
It's kind of boring, to be honest. Let's see if I can make some friends at recess, but first, let's observe how these kids behave.
"Kids, who can answer this subtraction problem?"
Our teacher, Mika Adachi, is a slender young woman of average height with straight, dark hair parted in the middle. Her teacher's outfit consists of a crew-neck shirt with a teacher's lanyard hanging from her neck and yoga pants.
"Kids, who can answer this subtraction problem?" "I know, Ms. Mika!"
A boy with medium-length brown hair, parted in the middle and falling to the sides of his face, wearing his school's gakuran uniform, raised his hand enthusiastically.
"I know, Ms. Mika!"
"Good, Hase. What is it?"
"16 - 4 = 10."
Mika threw the eraser at his head.
"BAD, Hase! YOU SHOULD STUDY!"
Laughter broke the tension in the classroom; some mocked him, others glared cruelly.
Several kids were making fun of those who got the teacher's question wrong. That's normal. Although what happened to Hase made me feel bad.
Girls were calling a chubby guy with glasses "stinky." Poor kid, some girls are so cruel.
"Silence, class." Teacher Mika slammed her ruler on the board.
"Now let's see who has to solve this math problem."
"Yuichi Hanami, that kid will serve as an example, just doodling and not paying attention to me."
"Yuichi Hanami, since you only like to draw, why don't you come and solve this problem?"
"Me?!"
I didn't expect that. What's with teachers' obsession with picking on someone for being distracted or bored? 😒
What's wrong with me being boring?
Now everyone's looking at me like crap.
"Nooo, there's another Yuichi in the classroom!" 🗣️
"Of course it's you, kid!"
"I'm kidding!" —Okay, I'm going.
What I least wanted happened. Damn it… well, solving this is easy.
Without saying anything, I just grabbed the marker and
16-4=12
—There, teacher, happy now?
—But… What the heck?
No, this can't be true! Lazy Yuichi, that annoying Yuichi?!
How come when I knew how to do this, the last time I graded him, he got a 0?!
I turned around and crossed my arms, like Yuichi was useless before; ahem, I'm still here, teacher.
That brat cheats, no doubt about it.
Nobody improves overnight.
—Yuichi, now that you feel more confident, solve these five problems:
5+12
22-3
34-10
5+28
8x2
Yuichi, go ahead and do them; the teacher gave me a sly look, it was imperceptible to the others.
So you want to play like that? Fine, I'll teach you a lesson.
5+12=17
22-3=19
34-10=24
5+28=33
…🫠Uh… But… No, calm down, Mika. It's impossible for you to solve the last problem. I haven't taught it yet.
8x2=16
…
—Look at that useless Yuichi. He thinks he's a genius when the previous one… a brat spoke mockingly.
—That loser can't do that— a girl spoke boastfully.
Nooooooooo, this can't be possible! I haven't taught that yet!!! 🥶
The teacher looked pale. I certainly didn't expect me to be able to do them, but as I said before, they're a piece of cake compared to more complex formulas.
—All… So… They're correct.
What?!!!! 🥶 ☠️ 🤯🫠😡🤨
The classroom erupted in chaos!
"But that's Yuichi!"
"Does he always sleep?!"
"With how lazy he is... how..."
"How could that idiot do better than me?" Hase flailed his hands in frustration, yelling at the other NPCs.
"Yuichi, how did you do that?" the teacher asked, her eyes wide.
"Well, I just...
I honestly don't know."
The teacher approached Yuichi and grabbed his shoulders. "THIS HAS TO BE A JOKE! WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THAT LAZY BRAT?!"
"Teacher Mika, what's gotten into you?"
"But this can't be possible! How could someone who gets straight A's or A's jump like that?! I didn't even teach them multiplication! IMPOSSIBLE!"
Mika thought for a moment: Before, this kid would make faces when he made a mistake, now he just looks at me like he's calculating how much time I have left.
DAMN IT... I'VE SCREWED UP... I SHOULD HAVE SHUT HER UP, NOT HAVE HER CALL A PRIEST. I should have answered this wrong, but I couldn't let some random adult mess with me.
Now I look like a genius in front of the other boys and girls in the class.
With a feigned innocent face, I dropped a bombshell. "Good luck, I guess. I didn't see that coming either." I just had faith.
"Who are you?" The teacher pointed a finger at Yuichi.
"Alright, teacher, is age finally catching up with you?"
!!!
Upon hearing this, the teacher instantly screamed euphorically as comical swirls appeared on her face and she dramatically collapsed. "AH… NO, I'M NOT OLD YET! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?! I ONLY HAVE ONE WRINKLE, BUT I'M STILL SWEET CAKE!"
"I didn't say that…?"
"Oh my god, Yuichi, you beat the teacher!"
"Yuichi destroyed the teacher without even touching her. He's better than Hase." A classmate near Hase
"He hit a weak spot. That's normal." A girl spoke
"Hase is useless and cowardly; he's not even good for that." A blonde girl responded in the most conceited tone possible.
The chubby boy approached me and said, "Yuichi, you humiliated the teacher! Teach me!"
"Damn it... Yuichi... you made me look bad..." Hase shrugged to avoid seeing his classmates' jeers.
Now that's what I call being part of the snowflake generation, no joke. He fell for it with a "maybe it's his age," but
I think this will be a lesson in humility for him. What's wrong with you, you old cheater? Using something you didn't teach to humiliate a child? Another boy would simply be the laughingstock of the class. He deserved it.
The class erupted in chaos. The teacher was overwhelmed by Yuichi's surprising improvement.
Meanwhile, the pink-haired girl watched Yuichi with a certain suspicion.
Uh...
The class continued, even with the weakened Mika-sensei, who had already stood up, still feeling down, while others looked at each other, trying to laugh without the teacher giving them a death stare.
And I just watched the chaos caused by solving a basic math problem.
I hadn't expected my memories to play such a trick on me.
But I wasn't going to let myself be walked all over either. It annoys me when adults try to act all high and mighty when they're doing the most normal thing possible, but criticize you as if you'd spat in their food.
I've dealt with adults my whole life—in this one and the last. They always think they're right just because they're older.
Inside, I wanted to laugh. Not because I'd humiliated her, but because it was the first time in days that I was in control.
"You cheated, I have no doubt about it, Hanami!"
"Cheat? But I did that with just the whiteboard marker. Does she think I can read minds?"
"Did you take your memory pills, Sensei? I think they fail at a certain age… or so I heard."
Okay… that was going too far. But I was already fed up with her tone.
"AHHHHHHHHHH"
Mika-sensei looked like she'd been struck by an arrow with my last comment and collapsed to the ground again. She fell with her arms outstretched and her eyes swirling.
"No… not yet… my mind is sound. It's true I forgot that, but it's stress. I'm not old!!!"
"That jerk Yuichi did it again! He's beating Sensei Mika!"
"Uh… I wouldn't say it was like that. It was unintentional."
It's involuntary.
"I feel a little sorry for the teacher," said the girl with light pink hair… Aira, I think that's what the teacher had called her.
Aira smiled with a magnetic sweetness, but she had the same expression as someone who sees a fight in the street and doesn't want to miss a thing. "Nope, she acted like that, I was just defending myself."
"I felt sorry for the teacher." That was… awful. Yuichi, a short-haired, black-haired girl with a ribbon and her school uniform, stood next to me. Her voice trembled slightly at the end, as if she were unsure whether to speak. She adjusted her bangs, a nervous gesture, before murmuring:
"Y-you should be nicer…"
"Girl, the teacher was just being a bit harsh."
"Girl… but I'm Kouki. Does everyone forget about her?"
"Ah… sorry, Kouki, I didn't sleep well."
The boy with glasses—Takakura, the one who always read alien manga hidden behind his history book—looked at him as if Yuichi had gone into paranoid mode. "D-did he apologize…?" Ken stammered, pushing his glasses up with his finger, as if he needed to reboot his brain.
"A-ah, you apologized?" Kouki opened his mouth and turned around in surprise. He hadn't expected an apology, especially not from Yuichi.
"Okay…"
Class continued, or so it seemed.
Mika stood up, trying to recover the dignity she had let fall to the floor. Her face wore the expression: "They're just kids, what they say doesn't matter."
The classroom, however, was more alive than ever. No one wanted to admit it, but everyone had the same question stuck in their heads:
What the hell happened with Yuichi Hanami?
Days later
The teacher tried to continue explaining, but her voice no longer carried authority: it was filled with doubt and nervousness. Her hands trembled, and her pupils still swirled.
While I was writing in my notebook—more to distract myself than out of interest—I noticed something strange.
Silence.
But not a natural silence, no.
It was that uncomfortable silence where you know you're being watched. That silence where if you move a finger, someone jumps.
I glanced to the right.
Three boys turned around at the same time, pretending to look at the board.
To the left.
Two more did the same. One even dropped his pencil in fright.
"What the hell…?"
At recess—the schoolyard outside.
Recess began, and the yard was full of children running, shouting, and playing, but I perceived it differently. There was something in the air that didn't add up. It wasn't the usual recess noise: it was the feeling of being watched… and feared.
At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but no.
There was something different… a strange tension, like they'd replaced the air conditioning with the roar of a beat-up old car engine.
I've been trying to make friends, but… it hasn't worked out… many would think it's because I'm bad at socializing. A little, but… you'd think it would be a piece of cake, especially knowing they're kids. But every time I approach them, something weird happens.
It wasn't just a coincidence in the classroom.
People were outright avoiding me. I trembled when they saw me; some even looked at me with hatred…
But what the hell… did you do, Yuichi, to make people hate you? Are you the weakling of the group? Some teacher's favorite?
The otaku?
…
No… I doubt it. From what I noticed, his body had Star Wars stuff on it, which, by the way, is one of my favorites. But why are there so many insults and scratches on his desk? Kids can be cruel.
What did the previous owner of this body do to make them hate him or make fun of him? Could he have been a victim of bullying?
That would explain some of the dirty looks I get too.
If that's the case, God really went too far with this… Besides, I doubt it's the god my mother used to talk about so much… It'll probably be someone else, like in those anime I used to watch. An unknown one, like Aqua. the useless godness
From one end, Aira looked at me with her head slightly tilted, resting one arm on the railing. Her expression was sweet, almost angelic, but there was something in her eyes that didn't lie: curiosity and suspicion in equal measure. Every little movement of mine seemed to catch his attention, and the way he frowned slightly told me that he was assessing, measuring… waiting for something. A little more and our eyes would have locked.
I feel like telling her, "What are you looking at, dude?" But this isn't Mexico or Latin America; people here can't take anything. If that's how that teacher fell, I can't imagine how the pink one will react.
Besides, I don't think my image is doing so well if people feel this way. I'd better not give them any more reasons to see me as a zoo animal.
Recess was in full swing: laughter, shouts, running… all that typical school break chaos. But as I walked through the door into the playground, I felt the atmosphere suddenly change. It was as if they'd turned down the volume of the world just to isolate me.
I didn't need to hear anything to know.
They'd noticed I'd come out.
First, it was a group of kids by the swings. They were laughing, pushing each other, until one of them turned around… saw me… and his smile faded.
Then he subtly pushed his friends out of my way.
One of them, a chubby kid with bowl hair, muttered, "…Here she comes."
They immediately looked down.
Another girl, the one with pink pigtails who was always yelling, grabbed her backpack like it was a shield and walked the other way without even looking at me.
It was like that. All over the playground.
As if I were a source of social infection, as if I had lice on a massive scale.
As I walked on, trying hard to look normal, I felt more eyes on my back. The air grew heavy, thick. I could almost hear the mental "oh no" of every kid who walked by.
What did you do, Yuichi? Did you hit someone? Steal something? Bark at a dog? What kind of record does this guy have?
And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse…
"Tsk… here he is," I heard from my right.
I turned around.
There was Hase, with his eternally arrogant face, arms crossed like he was the king of the playground.
"He always ruins the atmosphere when he shows up," he said, without even lowering his voice.
And next to him, Kyomi, with that cold stare of a girl who thinks she's grown up.
"If he doesn't want to be treated badly, he should stop being so weird. He's just asking for it."
Brutal. A pair of professional critics of the deadbeat kid that I was.
I stood still for a second, swallowing my frustration. I couldn't answer them back like I did in Mexico. If I said a swear word, they'd faint, and I'd end up in the principal's office… again.
I can't believe a simple insult got me a scolding. I need to get used to this atmosphere, to all of this…
What the hell did that kid Yuichi do to make them hate him so much?
The playground was noisier than ever, but I could still feel that emptiness around me:
the kids playing… except within a two-meter radius where no one went near.
I walked between benches, courts, and shadows, but it was like everyone had a
I took one step.
They took two steps back.
Great. I'm the outcast of the class. I thought that was a thing of the past. Well, at least this is bearable.
But the looks weren't of surprise… they were of memory.
I didn't remember anything this body did.
They did.
Then I saw him:
Kinta, a classmate, sitting on his bench in the courtyard, eating chocolate chip bread.
Chubby, clumsy… he wore glasses.
And, unlike the others, he didn't run away when I approached.
"Oh… hi."
Kinta blinked. A moment of hesitation… then, he took a deep breath.
"…Hi, Yuichi," he replied, but his voice held the tension of someone expecting a punch, an insult… or a cruel joke.
I froze.
It wasn't pure fear.
It was habit.
I sat down next to him, and he tensed up like a spring.
"Is something wrong?"
Kinta looked down at his bread.
"Why... are you talking to me normally today?"
I swallowed. "Didn't you talk to me normally before?"
He let out a nervous, sad chuckle.
"Not much..."
"Well, not to me.
You never did anything to the girls.
You gave me nicknames... you made fun of me... you know."
I was stunned.
There it was.
Confirmation that the original Yuichi had been a bastard.
SHIT. I knew it. Something smelled off about everyone running away and the scratches on his chair. They weren't bullying scratches; they were revenge scratches.
"...Sorry," I blurted out without thinking.
Kinta looked up, surprised.
Kids don't apologize.
Bullies even less.
"What?" he whispered.
"Nothing. I'm... trying to be better."
Kinta watched him for a few long seconds, assessing me with the seriousness of an adult.
"Are you sick?"
"...maybe," I laughed nervously.
A silence.
Heavy, but not hostile.
And then, without warning, a sharp pain in the back of my neck.
That feeling...
Someone was watching me.
Not the curious kind.
Not the fearful kind.
It was something more precise, sharper.
A gaze that measures, analyzes, judges every movement.
"Hey, Yuichi..."
But I wasn't listening anymore.
My eyes scanned the courtyard.
Aira was playing with two girls, completely oblivious to me. Kyomi and Hase were looking at me from afar with obvious disgust.
Several boys were murmuring.
And then I saw Kouki.
Sitting alone on a metal ladder, eating slowly, not speaking to anyone.
Quiet.
And not making a sound like in class.
But no…
it wasn't her looking at me.
It was someone else behind her, out of focus, incomplete among the crowd.
A pair of eyes.
A flash.
And then… nothing.
When I blinked again, she was gone.
Kinta noticed I was looking for something.
"Are you seeing ghosts or something?"
"…I wish that were it."
I leaned back, uneasy.
That kind of gaze wasn't from just any kid.
It was too precise.
But right now, I had no proof.
Only a feeling of being watched by someone who hadn't yet revealed themselves.
"Hey, Yuichi," Kinta said, his voice softer.
"What's wrong?"
"If... if you want... you can sit with me during recess."
He said it without looking at me, biting into his bread.
That simple act—that small, shy kindness—hit me harder than any of the other people's teasing.
"Yes... I'd like that."
And for the first time, the two-meter circle around me felt a little less cold.
But the feeling at the back of my neck was still there.
Someone was watching him.
And that someone knew who Yuichi Hanami had been...
And wanted to confirm it.
I sat down to eat next to Kinta. I also ordered a sweet roll. In my previous life, when I was a child, I didn't approach others because of simple prejudices. I was a silly kid like the rest. Maybe not out of cruelty, just shame. It was easy for them, but with what I'd been through, it was difficult, and it still is.
When I grew up, I abandoned that stupid way of thinking because someone's appearance or taste defined them completely. That's FALSE. It doesn't define them. Maybe now I seem like a loser, but Kinta might surprise everyone when he grows up. Everyone changes at some point; the bully stops being one. The bullied one shines, overshadowing everyone else.
There's a saying that says it all: The person you knew yesterday isn't the same one tomorrow.
That's what it seems like, Kinta, because I don't know why anyone would approach me with that old bully image. Maybe my change has made them doubt it.
I rubbed my face, exasperated but also… surprisingly comfortable.
The real Yuichi would have reacted violently.
I responded with a sigh.
"I don't know what it is, but… it gives me a bad feeling."
Kinta finished his bread and, without saying a word, took another one out of his backpack.
He broke it in half and offered me a piece.
I froze at the gesture.
"What?" he said, uncomfortably. "If we're already friends… I guess we share food too, right?"
…
…
That hit me harder than I expected.
I took the bread.
"Thanks."
A friendly silence settled between us.
Kinta fidgeted with his feet, like a child with pent-up excitement.
And then he blurted out:
"Hey… if someone's bothering you, let me know."
…
"Huh?"
"What?"
""" "Well, yeah," he said, crossing his arms with feigned confidence. "I may not be strong or fast. But I'm tough… and I think I have a pretty good shot."
He paused for a moment.
"I think."
I laughed for the first time all day. That laugh that just comes out.
"I don't need a bodyguard, Kinta."
"I didn't say I'd be your bodyguard," he retorted, offended. "I said I can help you. It's… different."
Every word Kinta uttered was like a bombshell. What the hell was the original Yuichi doing to make my transformation so obvious? That brat wasn't a good person, from what I could see. Several people were afraid of him or resented him.
Kinta got really scared when I moved my hands and covered himself. Did he think I was going to hit him? I knew Japan was different, but it seems some things don't change even on the other side.
Yuichi Hanami, a bully in every body type? Seriously, it had to be with a jerk with a history of being a bad guy. What is this, an otome novel? I reincarnated as the game's villain. In my case, I reincarnated as a bully.
That god had such a sense of humor... I don't even know what story I'm in. Why... I don't remember anything about this world.
None of my wishes have been granted... what's more, there were only two?
Damn, my mind seems to have blocked out part of the conversation with that entity... I'm not sure if I can even call it a deity... because it didn't feel like one at all... I still have doubts about that.
"Thank you," I said sincerely.
"You're welcome… I guess," he replied, scratching his cheek.
I wanted to say more, but the sensation of eyes on the back of my neck returned.
More intense.
As if the air were sucking in.
Kinta noticed.
"Again?"
"Yes…"
"Well, there's no one around," he said, looking around. "Maybe… it's just your imagination."
"No. Someone was there."
Kinta frowned, serious.
"Then… don't leave my side when we leave. Okay?"
I stared at him.
He was clumsy.
He was nervous.
But he had a genuine loyalty that was evident even in his trembling voice.
"Okay," I said without thinking.
And for the first time, the presence on the back of my neck weakened a little, as if my decision made it recede.
Kinta smiled weakly.
"Cool… we're like a dynamic duo now, aren't we?"
"You and me?"
"Yeah."
"What would I be? Batman?"
"No, you're Robin," he said with complete seriousness.
"WHAT?! Why me?!"
"Because I'm smarter," he replied, puffing out his chest. "I once got an 8.3 in advanced math."
"Not in your wildest dreams am I Batman."
Kinta chuckled softly, proudly.
"So am I."
Kinta stared at Yuichi with his arms crossed, as if analyzing every word he said. He wasn't hostile… he just had that look of someone who lives thinking about giant robots and 100-meter-tall monsters.
Yuichi scratched the back of his neck, a little uncomfortable, but decided to break the ice:
"Hey, by the way… what you said earlier in 'urban defense protocols' class sounded like something out of Mazinger Z."
Kinta blinked.
A genuine reaction.
As if no one expected Yuichi to know that classic.
"You know Mazinger?" Kinta asked, a genuine sparkle in his eyes.
"Yeah. And Godzilla, obviously," Yuichi replied. "My dad watched the old movies when he was a kid. I think it was one of the few things that stuck with me."
Kinta placed his hands on the table, leaning towards him, suddenly more animated.
"But the Showa era ones? Or the Heisei? Because the Destroyah vs. Destroyah fight is a gem, no matter what anyone says. Gamera also destroys it in aerial combat."
"Gamera?" "That giant turtle that spins like a turbo top?" Yuichi chuckled. "I never knew if it was scary or cute."
"It's legendary, not cute!" Kinta retorted with exaggerated indignation… then lowered his voice. "I mean, well… yeah… it is cute, but in a badass way."
Yuichi bit his tongue to keep from laughing anymore.
And then Kinta finished:
"Although… if we're talking about truly epic heroes… Ultraman blows them out of the water."
"I'll stick with Mazinger, honestly," Yuichi said without thinking.
That sentence ignited something in Kinta.
"Which version did you watch?! Tell me you didn't just watch the 2015 one! Please!" His voice came out too loud… so loud he realized it himself. "Oh… sorry. I got carried away."
Yuichi raised both hands, smiling:
"Relax. Original from '79. And also Iron-Blooded Orphans."
Kinta let out a snort, half surprised, half incredulous.
"I didn't think you knew so much… I thought you were more into modern anime, not 'old robot' stuff."
Yuichi shrugged.
"Well, you didn't seem like the type to get that excited either. I thought you'd be more… serious. You know, like, 'the future is bleak, there's no hope.'"
"Because the future is bleak if we don't build a functional mecha in time!" Kinta exclaimed with the seriousness of someone who meant business.
And then he added, barely audible, "Imagine a kaiju invasion and us being unprepared… it would be a disaster."
Yuichi let out a soft laugh.
The first genuine one in that conversation.
Kinta heard it, and for a second, his guard let down.
Very little, but enough for it to slip out:
"...It would be cool to pilot one with you, you know. You wouldn't panic."
I froze for a moment.
As if I'd just realized I'd said too much. Damn, I got carried away. I hope no one knows how I live. Because now I sound like I've replaced the original Yuichi.
"I mean... in a hypothetical scenario! A mental exercise! I'm not saying that... that I want to! It's just... calculations!" he stammered, red-faced.
Yuichi looked at him, surprised... and couldn't help but smile a little more.
"Relax, Kinta. If kaiju ever appear, I've got your back."
Kinta looked away, trying to regain his composure... Failing miserably.
"Hmph... you'd better."
But his voice was no longer cold or defensive.
It was... friendly.
The seed of a bond had been planted.
After a few days, although the atmosphere wasn't the warmest, things had changed a bit. I decided to raise my grades and give it my all, even if it made people a little suspicious. I always knew that if I had a second chance, I would try to do better, to shine a little brighter. To the surprise of many, my progress has surprised everyone, especially Ms. Mika, who will surely faint when she learns that the former delinquent is now doing so well.
Some think I'm lying or that it's just pure luck.
If they knew the truth, their heads would explode.
On the other hand, Kinta and I are becoming friends. I honestly didn't expect this, knowing Yuichi's horrible history. Kinta and I have a lot in common. We started hanging out during recess; we're just two geeks talking about what we like. It's very different from my previous life, where I was even beaten and insulted for liking anime, and that's even though I'm in Japan. I suppose it's natural if I'm in another world.
Although it hasn't been long, my situation is slowly improving. Maybe not at home or with my family, but I see many opportunities. There's a music competition, and although music isn't my thing, I must admit that this time I really want to try what I couldn't in my first life. I remember I even had a piano when I was a child, but I gave up trying.
This time, I'm determined to learn a little music if possible. I'm going to ask the teachers if I can borrow their instruments so we can talk about them. And yes, I'm looking to compete. I've read that there are few students from my class; there were about four others, but only two familiar names from my class:
Aira Shiratori
Kouki Yukishiro
Those two girls will be my opponents in the competition.
I can't wait to shine on stage. What does it matter if my new mother isn't interested in knowing about me? It's enough that she feeds me. That woman isn't my mother; I already had one, and I'll stick to those principles.
Music Room – After School
The school, without students, was a different place.
The hallways ceased to be noisy and became long, almost hollow. Every footstep echoed loudly, as if the entire building were listening. I walked carefully, following the signs until I found the right door.
Music Room.
I pushed gently.
The smell was the first thing that hit me: old wood, fine dust, metal. Instruments that had been played by generations of students with more talent, more discipline… or more support than me.
There were several music stands stacked against the wall. A couple of guitars in worn cases. A drum covered with a cloth.
And in the back, slightly set back, the piano.
It wasn't a grand piano. It was a vertical piano, black, with keys slightly yellowed with age. It had marks. Scratches. As if it, too, had lived through things.
I closed the door behind me.
Silence.
I approached the piano with a certain caution, as if it might be offended if I touched it without permission. I ran my fingers over the lid. Dust. Lots of dust.
"Well…" I murmured to myself. "It doesn't bite."
If I still remember that scare I got in my previous life with a piano in the ghost world of Mario 64, this piano was thankfully completely normal. There was no sign of it moving or sprouting a tongue and teeth.
I sat down.
I opened the keyboard lid.
The keys stared back at me, neat, black and white, like perfect teeth that knew exactly when they were going to bite.
I took a deep breath.
It wasn't good.
It never was.
But it wasn't the first time either.
I rested my fingers… and pressed a key.
The sound was clumsy, a little louder than expected. It echoed in the empty room like a poorly crafted confession.
"Great," I whispered. "We're off to a good start."
I tried another. Then another.
A couple of meaningless notes. An attempt at a scale that died halfway through. My fingers moved slowly, uncertainly, as if they didn't trust me… and rightly so.
I remembered fragments.
Nothing complete.
Nothing fluid.
Just the feeling.
I played something resembling a melody. Something that wanted to be one, at least. I faltered on the third measure. I stopped.
Silence again.
I sighed, slumping slightly on the bench.
"It doesn't matter…" I told myself. "No one can hear."
I was wrong.
I didn't know it at first.
I kept practicing, making mistakes, repeating. Sometimes I pressed too hard. Sometimes so softly that the sound was barely audible. My eyebrows furrowed. My jaw tightened.
I wasn't playing to impress.
I was playing to understand.
And then I felt it.
That feeling is faint, almost imperceptible.
Not a direct gaze.
Presence.
I didn't turn around immediately.
I didn't want to break it.
I kept playing, even though my fingers trembled a little more.
A wrong note.
Another.
I stopped.
This time I did turn around.
Near the wall, almost hidden between a shelf of sheet music and a folded music stand, Kouki Yukishiro stood.
He wasn't looking directly at me.
He was looking at the piano.
His backpack hung from one shoulder. His hands were clasped together, gripping the strap. His posture was rigid, as if he didn't know whether to stay or run.
There was no reproach in his expression.
No judgment.
Just… attention.
"Ah…" I said, breaking the silence unintentionally. "Sorry. Did I… bother you?"
Kouki looked up, startled.
"N-no!" she replied quickly, looking down. "I… just… overheard."
I nodded.
"You can stay," I added, gesturing to the piano. "It's not… private."
I didn't know why I said it.
Maybe because I didn't want her to leave.
Kouki hesitated.
A second.
Two.
Finally, she stepped inside.
She didn't sit down. She didn't get too close. She just leaned against the wall, keeping her distance, as if that invisible line were important. It's normal for her to feel intimidated by my presence.
"I didn't know you… played," she said softly.
"I don't play. I try."
That seemed to relax her a little. Just barely.
I turned back to the piano.
"If it's too loud… tell me," I added. "I can stop."
"No…" she replied. "It's fine."
She didn't say "I like it."
She didn't say "it sounds good."
Just "it's fine."
And, strangely enough, that was enough.
I played again.
Slower this time.
Fewer notes. More carefully.
I messed up again. I grimaced. Kouki noticed.
"No…" she murmured. "That wasn't so bad."
I stopped.
I glanced at her.
"Wasn't it?"
She nodded slightly.
"It was…" she searched for the word. "Different."
"Different how?"
Kouki hesitated. She tucked her bangs behind her ear.
"Like… you weren't playing to make it sound nice."
That caught me off guard.
"So… why am I playing?"
Kouki was silent for a few seconds.
"To…" He swallowed. "Not to forget."
I didn't know what to say.
Because he was right.
Not because of the piano.
Because of everything.
We didn't speak again.
Silence settled between us once more, but it wasn't awkward anymore. It was… shared.
I kept playing.
Kouki kept listening.
He didn't move.
He didn't take out his phone.
He didn't look at his watch.
He was simply there.
And when, finally, my fingers got tired and I dropped my hands onto the keyboard, Kouki spoke again.
"If…" he said, almost in a whisper. "If you practice here… sometimes… I can hear you."
It wasn't a question.
Nor a promise.
It was a possibility.
"Okay," I replied. "I… will be coming around."
Kouki nodded.
And without another word, he grabbed his backpack and left the room.
The door closed gently.
I was alone again.
But the silence didn't weigh as heavily anymore. Company is nice.
The hallway was almost empty when the recess bell rang.
Most of the kids rushed out, laughing, pushing each other, as if the air outside was different. I walked more slowly. Not because I was tired, but because I still hadn't gotten used to the feeling of not being invisible… or feared.
"Hey, Yuichi."
The voice was so low I thought I imagined it.
I stopped.
Kouki Yukishiro was a few steps behind me, her hands gripping the strap of her bag like it was a life preserver. Her bangs partially obscured her eyes, but I still noticed she avoided looking directly at me.
"Yes?" I replied, turning around carefully.
Silence.
Too long.
Kouki opened her mouth… closed it… took a deep breath.
"Ms. Mika said… that your grades went up a lot," she finally said, quickly, as if afraid of changing her mind. "Math… history… even literature."
"Oh… yeah," I scratched the back of my neck. "I guess… I tried harder."
Another awkward pause.
She nodded slowly, as if taking notes on something invisible in her mind.
"You didn't before," she said.
It didn't sound accusatory.
It sounded… analytical.
"No," I admitted. "Not before."
Kouki tightened the leash a little more.
"And you didn't usually talk like that," she added.
"Like what?"
She barely raised her gaze. Her eyes were calm, but attentive. Too attentive.
"Calmly," she replied. "The Yuichi Hanami I knew... always seemed angry."
I didn't know what to say right away.
"Maybe... he was tired," I finally said.
She frowned slightly. I'm not convinced. Not upset. Just... hesitant.
"Maybe," she murmured. "But still... it's strange."
Silence fell between us again.
Kouki seemed to be debating with herself, as if she wanted to say something more but didn't know if she had the right.
"It's not bad," she added suddenly, almost hurriedly. "Just... different."
"I understand," I replied.
And for a second, our eyes truly met.
It was brief.
But I felt that same twinge in the back of my neck.
Kouki was the first to look away.
"That was it," she said. "Sorry for bothering you."
"You're not bothering me," I replied. "Thanks for saying so."
She nodded, gave a small, awkward bow, and walked quickly down the hallway, as if she'd done something dangerous.
I watched her go.
She doesn't know anything, I thought.
But she's starting to notice the cracks.
"Yuichi!"
I turned my head.
Kinta was sitting on a bench in the courtyard, waving his hand with exaggerated energy. He had a bag of bread in the other.
"Come on! I'm arguing that Mazinger Z beats Evangelion and I'm losing support!" he shouted.
I couldn't help but smile.
I walked over and plopped down on the bench next to him.
"That's because you're comparing robots to traumas," I said.
Kinta looked at me, surprised… then his eyes lit up.
"EXACTLY! THAT'S WHAT I SAY!" he said, pointing with the bread. "Mazinger is pure power! Evangelion is depression with a budget!"
"Although," I added, "Gamera does beat a lot of kaiju through sheer stubbornness."
Kinta's mouth fell open, impressed.
"…Okay, officially I like you more every day."
We laughed a little.
Nothing big.
Nothing epic.
But it was… normal.
"Hey," he said suddenly, lowering his voice. "Seriously… I'm glad you're here with me. Before… I wouldn't have imagined this."
"Me neither," I admitted.
The bell rang again.
"Well," Kinta said, getting up. "See you later, Yuichi."
—Yes.
I entered the classroom.
I sat in my seat.
I opened my backpack to take out my notebook for the next class.
And then I saw it.
A piece of paper.
It wasn't there before.
It was carefully folded, placed right on top of my notebooks.
I picked it up.
I opened it.
A single line.
Clear handwriting. Firm.
No signature.
No explanation.
"YOU ARE NOT HIM."
The noise in the classroom died away.
I felt cold.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Someone wasn't just watching me.
Someone had already decided that I didn't belong here.
End of chapter.