There is no sound.
No shape.
Only the slow, crushing rhythm of pressure and heat.
Then, movement.
The world shifts. I am being pulled, nudged forward like a pawn in the hands of fate. And then—sensation.
Cold air strikes my skin like the first breath after drowning. Light floods my vision, too much, too fast. My body, this fragile thing I now inhabit, squints instinctively. Everything is loud. Too loud. Machines beep. Footsteps scramble. A woman sobs. A man laughs.
Life has begun again.
I open my eyes.
And I see her.
A woman, clutching me to her chest like she's afraid I'll disappear. She's young—early twenties, maybe. Long, black hair clings to her sweaty forehead, and her cheeks are flushed from labor, but it does nothing to dim her beauty. Her eyes are the color of fresh spring leaves, and they glisten with tears as they drink in the sight of me. Her lips tremble with joy, whispering something over and over in a choked voice I can barely register.
The man beside her stands tall and sturdy, like a wall that could hold back the world. His short, dark brown hair is messy, disheveled from what must've been hours of waiting and worrying. His eyes—hazel, warm, wide—are filled with disbelief and raw emotion. He leans forward, placing a hand ever so gently on the woman's shoulder, and lets out a laugh that breaks into a sob.
"That's our son, Naomi," he says softly as he gently rubs her shoulder. "He's perfect."
Son.
I'm their son.
Their words cut deep. Not because of my old parents. But because, somehow, their love feels unearned. Unfair. They don't know who I really am. They see a blank slate, an innocent child, someone who will grow up with scraped knees and bedtime stories—not the reincarnated soul of someone who let go of an entire life.
They're not my real parents. That bond, that history—it belongs to 2 others. But the connection is long gone. The deity and I made sure of that. All emotions to my previous life are gone, as I requested. There's no lingering ache. No guilt. Just… facts. Just a distant awareness that I lived a life once before this.
But this woman holding me? This man standing over me like he would fight the world just to keep me breathing?
They are real.
I am theirs.
So I will be here for them.
It's the least I can do.
I feel my body tremble, my lungs tighten. The instinct is there—to cry, to scream, to announce my arrival like every other baby in the history of existence. And so I do. I draw in a breath, and with as much force as this tiny form can muster, I let out a shrill, cracking wail.
It sounds pathetic to me. But the room lights up.
"There we go," a nurse says warmly. "Healthy lungs."
My mother sobs again, this time into the crook of my father's neck. He holds her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then leans down and kisses mine.
His touch is warm. Steady. Protective. "What should we call him?" he asks softly, still staring at me like I'm a miracle.
Naomi looks up, eyes glowing. "Yuta," she whispers as if she's known the name forever. "Yuta Shinka."
The man nods with a proud, teary grin. "Yeah… Yuta."
Yuta…
Yuta Shinka.
The name slides into my soul like it belongs there. Not foreign. Not stolen. Just… mine. A new identity, not forced, but chosen—for me. By people who don't know the past I buried. Who don't need to.
I am Yuta Shinka.
Their only son.
Their light.
Their future.
Naomi gently kisses my forehead. "You're gonna do great things, Yuta," she says. "I just know it."
I stop crying. My tiny hand wraps around one of my father's fingers. My mother giggles softly. The warmth of their touch feels… like home.
They laugh together, like this moment is the start of everything good.
Maybe it is.
My thoughts slow as exhaustion sets in. My body is so weak, so small. I can barely keep my eyes open. But before sleep takes me, I stare at them—my parents—and commit every detail to memory.
I don't know what quirk I'll have.
I don't know what this life holds.
But I know one thing.
This world isn't a dream. It's not fiction anymore.
It's my second chance.
And I won't waste it.
Not for them.
Not for the deity who gave me this shot.
But for me.
I will grow.
I will train.
I will rise.
Because this time…
The world is going to remember my name.