2.0 — First Sensations
The world was overwhelming.
Every sound, every scent, every movement felt magnified.
The warmth of my mother's chest beneath me, the steady thrum of her heartbeat, the soft rustling of cloth against my skin—everything was new, yet somehow ancient, as if buried deep in my soul.
Even with a newborn's mind, I clung to pieces of my past life.
The pain.
The fear.
And now, within this small fragile body, a faint ember of determination.
I tried to lift my arms, to explore this unfamiliar environment, but every attempt left me exhausted.
Tears welled in my eyes—not from sadness, but frustration at my own limitations.
My mother bent over me, whispering in a gentle, melodic voice:
"Shh… it's alright, Miyuki. You're alright…"
The truth hit me with quiet force:
I was utterly dependent.
I couldn't speak, couldn't eat on my own, could barely move.
My fate rested entirely in the hands of others.
It was frightening…
but strangely comforting as well.
2.1 — Lessons from Fragility
Days passed—or at least, they felt like days.
Time no longer held meaning.
Every sensation was a lesson:
the taste of milk, the difference between warmth and cold, the textures of fabric.
Memories of the hospital resurfaced—
the lonely nights, the suffocating weakness, the helplessness.
Ironically, despite having a second chance to live better…
I was still helpless.
My parents—Haruto and Ayame—cared for me with gentle patience.
They whispered to me, held me close, soothed me, and slowly introduced structure into my new life.
Strength didn't come from being loved…
It came from learning how to survive, even while small and fragile.
My newborn mind understood this only instinctively, but it was enough.
2.2 — The Cry of Defiance
One morning, sunlight filtered through the shoji doors, casting warm patterns across the room.
I tried to roll over.
My tiny limbs trembled violently.
I failed again and again—but I refused to stop.
Pain, frustration, exhaustion—none of it mattered.
My cry rose up, sharper, deeper than an infant's normal wail.
Not merely instinct—
but something raw.
Something carried from my past life:
Fear.
Desire.
Defiance.
Ayame lifted me gently, her voice soothing…
but it could not silence the storm inside me.
That was the first time I realized something important—
Even in a helpless body, I could still express my will.
My cries weren't noise—they were a declaration:
I will not stay weak forever.
I will grow.
I will endure.
2.3 — Discovering the World
Days became weeks.
The world revealed itself piece by piece.
The smooth feel of wooden floors.
The faint smell of freshly cooked rice drifting from the kitchen.
The soft murmur of a stream flowing through the garden.
Every new detail was a mystery to solve, a challenge to understand.
One afternoon, I caught sight of my reflection in a polished bowl.
Snow-white hair shimmered like moonlight.
Deep, strange blue eyes stared back at me—carrying a tiny spark that had survived death itself.
I was here.
I existed.
And I would not waste this life.
Even in infancy, I felt the earliest seeds of what would later define me:
curiosity, caution, wonder—and an unshakable desire to grow stronger.
2.4 — Seeds of Strength
By the time I could sit up on my own, my parents had begun teaching me small lessons.
How to grasp wooden objects.
How to balance with my tiny hands.
How to observe instead of simply reacting.
Progress was painfully slow, but every tiny success filled me with an intoxicating sense of accomplishment.
This was where I began—
small, fragile, powerless.
Yet even then, I could sense the faintest outline of a path leading toward something greater:
mastery, strength, the power to shape my fate… and perhaps even the fate of this new world.
Each night, wrapped in warmth and love, I understood one truth clearly:
My second life had just begun.
And this time, I would not let destiny control me.
I would endure.
Learn.
Fight.