The Start of a New Life

One second, I was standing at the station.

The next—

Light.

Blinding. Overwhelming. Consuming.

Then—

Nothing.

I don't know how long I've been here.

Floating.

Weightless.

No sound. No body. No air. No senses.

Just… thoughts.

It's quiet. Empty.

A black void stretching infinitely.

So.

So, this is death, huh?

Not gonna lie—kind of disappointing.

At least give me a dramatic afterlife. A trial? A cosmic judgment? Something?

But no. Just this.

Just me, floating in a vacuum.

I should be panicking. Should be afraid.

But I'm not.

I feel… detached.

Why?

Did I always have this much control over my emotions?

Or is something keeping me calm?

Lucian.

X.

Where the hell are they?

We were together when the light hit. If I'm here, shouldn't they be too?

Or did—

No.

No, I'm not going to think like that.

They're somewhere. They have to be.

But… where?

And why am I alone?

A slow, creeping thought slithers into my mind.

What if they made it, but I didn't?

What if I'm the only one who's dead?

That idea sits heavy in my nonexistent gut.

I don't like it.

Not at all.

I can still think, though.

That's something.

And if I can think, I might as well reflect, right?

Looking back… my life wasn't bad.

But it wasn't great, either.

Just normal.

If I'm being honest, I always wished for more.

"Reincarnation System Activated."

I freeze.

What?

"Analyzing Soul Composition… Processing."

A voice.

Not a person—something mechanical, neutral, precise.

It's talking like I'm in a damn RPG character creation screen.

Before I can process it, I feel something dissecting me.

Not physically—mentally. Like it's unraveling my entire existence, picking apart everything that made me… well, me.

It's not painful. Just… intrusive.

Then—

"Retrieving Core Desires… Processing."

…Excuse me?

That doesn't sound good.

And just like that—memories start surfacing.

All the little things I wanted but never had.

The nights staring at the sky, wishing I could understand the universe.The quiet desire to be stronger, to have control over my own fate.The frustration of feeling powerless.The bitter thought of, "If I ever got a second chance, I'd never be weak again."

And then—

"Core Desires Confirmed. Granting Requested Traits."

Wait.

Hold on.

What?

I wasn't asking for anything.

"Confirmed: Unique Skill – [Gravity Sovereign]…successfully acquired."

I blink.

"Elemental Affinity Determined: Gravity."

Huh.

That's… not what I expected.

Not fire? Not lightning?

Just gravity?

Weird. But… I won't complain.

"Confirmed: Unique Skill – [Celestial Foresight]…successfully acquired."

Huh.

Gravity and foresight?

I suppose there are worse combinations.

"Enhancing Perception and Intelligence to accommodate curiosity."

At least the system recognizes I like knowing things.

I process it all carefully.

This isn't random.

The system is assigning abilities based on my past thoughts.

That means…

I can test it.

Alright, mysterious voice. What if I ask for something stupid?

I wish I had infinite magic.

"Confirmed. Infinite mana reserves… Cannot execute. More information required. Substituting with Skill Enhanced Mana Learning…Successfully acquired."

Tch. Worth a shot.

Fine. What about immortality?

"Request failed. Life cycle must be preserved."

Yeah, okay. Probably should've seen that coming.

What about—I don't want to die easily.

"Confirmed. Enhanced Durability…successfully acquired"

Alright, last one—I don't want to feel pain.

"Confirmed. Pain Resistance…successfully acquired."

…Alright.

So there are limits.

And someone programmed this thing to sound like a self-improvement seminar.

"Finalizing Reincarnation Parameters…"

Hold on.

If this thing is granting my "core desires"…

Then where are Lucian and X?

I force my thoughts onto it.

Where are they? Did they make it? Are they safe?

The system doesn't answer.

"Finalizing Reincarnation Parameters…"

No.

No, you don't get to ignore that.

Tell me if they're safe.

Tell me where they are.

"… Error detected. Corrections in progress."

Wait. What?

Error?

What's wrong? What's happening?

"Correction incomplete. Proceeding with reincarnation."

Wait.

No.

Fix it first.

Fix the damn error—

"Releasing Soul into Pangaia."

Once I regain consciousness, something closes around me.

Warm. Tight.

I can't move.

Muffled sounds.

I try to speak—

But my mouth won't form words.

Wait.

Wait.

My body feels—wrong.

Small. Weak.

Something inside me clicks into place.

…Oh.

No.

No way.

I wasn't just moved into a new body.

I was born into one.

This is infuriating.

I have all my thoughts. All my intelligence.

And I'm stuck in a newborn body.

This is going to be a problem.

Before I can process the nightmare, exhaustion slams into me.

The midwife, exhausted but relieved, turned to the woman on the bed.

"It's a girl."

Lelyah Tomaszewski, breathless from labor, blinked in surprise.

"A girl?"

Her husband, Satoshi, chuckled. "Expecting a boy?"

Lelyah shook her head, still catching her breath. "No, it's just… a feeling I had."

But the moment the midwife placed the newborn in her arms, all surprise melted away.

The baby was quiet now, no longer crying.

Not asleep, just… still.

Too still.

Newborns usually flailed, overwhelmed by their first moments in the world.

But this child—she wasn't reacting like a newborn should.

Then, her eyes opened.

Lelyah inhaled sharply.

A color like icy silver-blue, just like her father. But more than that—pupils shaped like stars.

For a moment, Lelyah just stared.

Then, warmth spread in her chest, and she smiled. "She's beautiful."

Satoshi leaned over to look at his daughter for the first time—and immediately stiffened.

Because for a brief moment, when their eyes met, he could have sworn—

She looked at him like she already knew him.

Like she was studying him.

Then, just as quickly, the baby closed her eyes and ignored them.

A chill ran down his spine.

"Lelyah." His voice was quiet. "Her eyes…"

His wife hummed. "I know. They're… different."

There was an unspoken agreement between them:

This child was not normal.

Lelyah gently cradled her newborn, brushing soft wisps of pale hair away from her face.

Satoshi exhaled. "Chiori Tomaszewski."

Lelyah's gaze flickered toward him.

"Not Hoshino?"

Her tone was light, but curious.

A subtle question, without accusation.

Satoshi was silent for a moment.

Then, he sighed.

"No." He looked down at his daughter, his voice quieter. "This name will mean something more."

Lelyah studied his face carefully.

There was weight behind those words.

A history he hadn't yet shared.

A decision not made lightly.

But she didn't push.

Instead, she followed his gaze back to their daughter, brushing her fingertips gently across the baby's soft cheek.

"Chiori Tomaszewski."

She smiled.

"It suits her."

Satoshi let out a small breath.

"It does."

With that, the name was set.

And the beginning of something neither of them could understand yet.

The night was quiet when Satoshi Tomaszewski stepped outside.

Cool air drifted through the streets, lanterns flickering in their glass casings, casting long shadows against stone paths.

It was late, but he wasn't tired.

Even if he wanted to sleep, his mind wouldn't allow it.

His daughter—Chiori Tomaszewski—had been born mere hours ago.

And now, he had to tell his closest friend.

He pulled his cloak tighter and started walking.

The Saegusa Estate wasn't far, but its presence always felt distant—like a world separate from the one he lived in.

Tonight, he would cross into it once again.

The Saegusa estate was silent.

Not the quiet of a home at rest—but the quiet of watchful eyes.

Even now, he could feel them.

They were always watching.

The Saegusa Clan had no weaknesses—that was the rule.

No hesitation, no mercy, no openings.

Anyone who crossed the estate's borders without permission was eliminated before they could become a problem.

But Satoshi was not an outsider.

The guards at the entrance acknowledged him with a nod before stepping aside.

No words were spoken.

He walked through the heavy gates without breaking stride.

Inside, the halls were dimly lit, the polished wood reflecting candlelight in dull, golden glows.

Despite the warmth, the estate always carried a weight—a presence.

The kind of place where people measured every step they took, every breath they exhaled.

But Satoshi had walked these halls before.

And they would not intimidate him now.

Satoshi found him exactly where he expected.

Hinata Saegusa sat in the center of the main hall, dressed in a loose black robe, his dark hair pulled back, his sword resting beside him.

To anyone else, he was a shadow given form—dangerous even in stillness.

But to Satoshi, he was an old friend.

One who had changed, but not beyond recognition.

Hinata glanced up, his sharp eyes catching Satoshi's with practiced ease.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then—

"Took you long enough."

Satoshi scoffed, stepping closer.

"Had a child. Kind of a big deal."

Hinata's mouth twitched—the closest thing to a smile he ever showed.

"And here I thought nothing could slow you down. Congratulations."

Satoshi exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"Chiori. That's her name."

Hinata nodded once. "A strong name."

Then, as if it was an afterthought—

"I had a kid, too."

Satoshi blinked.

"You? A father?" He let out a small laugh. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Hinata rolled his eyes. "I was bound to continue the bloodline at some point."

Satoshi smirked. "You say that like you were forced into it."

Hinata didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he reached for the small ceramic cup in front of him, taking a slow sip of the steaming tea.

"It's not about me."

Satoshi frowned.

"Then what's the problem?"

Hinata set the cup down.

"I can't name him."

Satoshi's smirk faded. "What do you mean?"

Hinata's fingers drummed against the table.

"He is a Saegusa." His voice was even, but there was a weight behind his words.

"Naming him is not something I can take lightly."

Satoshi understood immediately.

The Saegusa name carried power.

And power came with expectations.

A Saegusa wasn't just a person.

They were a legacy.

A warrior before they could walk.

A leader before they could think for themselves.

A name wasn't just an identity.

It was a path.

"The wrong name can ruin a legacy before it even begins," Hinata muttered.

His grip tightened slightly.

"And what do you want him to be?" Satoshi asked.

Hinata's gaze darkened.

"I don't know."

Silence stretched between them.

Then, Satoshi leaned back.

"That's the difference between you and me."

Hinata's eyes flickered.

"You had a choice," Satoshi continued.

"You could've walked away from your name. Started over. But you didn't."

Hinata's jaw tightened.

"And you?"

Satoshi let out a slow breath.

"I did walk away."

Hinata studied him carefully.

"You never told me why."

Satoshi tilted his head. "And you never asked."

The conversation hovered on a dangerous edge.

The Tomaszewski name was not his by birth.

He had taken it.

For reasons he never spoke of.

But Hinata was right—Satoshi had a choice.

Hinata never did.

Hinata's voice was quiet.

"A name has power."

"I know," Satoshi said. "But a name isn't a prophecy. It's just the first thing they carry."

"For you, maybe," Hinata muttered.

"For a Saegusa, it's a sentence."

Satoshi looked at his friend, really looked at him.

Hinata Saegusa.

The heir who had never failed.

The warrior who had never lost.

The leader who had never hesitated.

Except now.

For the first time, he hesitated.

Satoshi's voice softened.

"Then don't name him a warrior."

Hinata was silent.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

"You're annoying when you're right."

Satoshi smirked. "One of my best qualities."

For the first time that night, Hinata let out a quiet chuckle.

A rare thing.

A human thing.

And for now—

That was enough.

Satoshi rose from his seat, adjusting his cloak.

"You'll figure it out."

Hinata gave him a skeptical look. "You sound confident."

Satoshi shrugged. "You always do."

A pause.

Hinata's expression shifted slightly.

"Must be nice."

Satoshi frowned. "What?"

Hinata leaned back, eyes sharp, but there was something else in them—something unreadable.

"To believe you've really left the past behind."

The words settled between them like a quiet echo.

Satoshi's fingers twitched, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

He didn't answer.

Hinata exhaled, picking up his cup again.

"Go home, Satoshi."

Satoshi held his gaze for a long moment before finally turning.

As he stepped toward the door, Hinata spoke one last time.

"And when your daughter is old enough, tell her the truth."

Satoshi didn't stop walking.

He didn't have to.

Because they both knew—

He had no intention of doing that.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.