Since then, I've been the baby of a happy couple... or so it seems? Because when I was born, instead of smiles or happiness, all I heard was a fierce argument.
"I told you, we can't raise a child!" my mother's voice sounded frustrated.
"Do you think I wanted this?! You were the one who said everything would be fine!" my father retorted sharply.
As a baby, I could only lie there, looking at them with eyes that couldn't focus yet. But my ears, once used to hearing orders to kill, now heard endless arguments.
"OEEKK... OEEKK!!"
My cry came out involuntarily, as if my tiny body was forced to respond to this heated situation. I didn't understand why I cried—was it out of fear, or maybe... disappointment?
"Enough! You damn baby, why did you have to be born?!"
That shout pierced my ears. My mother, who should have had a loving look, instead glared at me with anger. Her face was filled with exhaustion and frustration, while my father only stared at me coldly, as if I were just an extra burden in his life.
I was still a baby, but my mind was not. I understood this situation.
Why did they decide to have a child if they couldn't afford to raise one?
Day after day passed, and the situation didn't improve. They kept fighting, and sometimes my father would disappear for days, leaving my mother more and more stressed. I could feel my tiny body often starving, and sometimes my mother would just look at me with an empty gaze.
Then, one day... I was taken outside.
The night air cut through my fragile skin, and in my mother's arms, I could feel her body trembling. She stopped in front of a simple building—the orphanage.
Without saying much, she placed me in front of the door, wrapping me loosely in a thin cloth. Her gaze was cold.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered softly before turning and walking away.
I could only look at the night sky, with stars that felt so distant. I was once a feared Ninja, a notorious killer... and now, I was just a helpless baby left behind.
And for the first time... I felt how small and insignificant I was in this world. Then I began to fall asleep under the stars.
The cold of the night pierced my fragile skin, but for some reason, my eyelids felt heavy. Maybe because this baby body was exhausted. Maybe because my mind had begun to give in. I stared at the stars in the distant sky...
And slowly, I fell asleep.
The cold of the night pierced my fragile skin, but for some reason, my eyelids felt heavy. Maybe because this baby body was exhausted. Maybe because my mind had begun to give in. I stared at the stars in the distant sky...
When I opened my eyes, the sky was still dark, but a faint orange color began to appear at the horizon. The air was still cold, but not as cold as last night.
I looked ahead, and I saw the orphanage door... open.
A silhouette of someone stood in the doorway, a middle-aged woman with a gentle face, though looking tired. She looked down at me, surprised.
"Oh my God... who left a baby here?" she murmured.
Her hands quickly lifted my small body carefully. The thin blanket wrapped around me had already started to feel damp from the morning dew.
At that moment, I cried—not because I was truly sad, but because this baby body reacted naturally. I, who was once a cold-blooded killer, was now trapped in this helpless little body.
"Hush, hush... calm down, dear."
The woman brought me inside the building, providing the warmth that I hadn't felt last night. I could feel my body being wrapped in thicker cloth, and not long after, I was given warm milk.
The cold that had pierced me earlier slowly faded.
Some of the older children began to wake up, peeking at me with curiosity, talking among themselves.
I could understand them. I understood every word they said. But this little body... couldn't respond. Even moving my hands felt difficult.
I, who once could swing a scythe with one hand, now couldn't even grasp fabric properly.
The woman looked at me thoughtfully, then smiled tiredly.
"From now on, you're part of this small family..." she said softly, her hand gently caressing my head.
"I'll name you Gouhaku."
A new name... a new life...
But, is this really a better life? I couldn't speak, couldn't move like before, but in my still-sharp mind... I wondered.
I began living in the orphanage...
The first few days of my life in this orphanage felt... strange.
This baby body was too weak. I couldn't do anything but cry, sleep, and move my hands stiffly. It frustrated me. I, who once could kill with a single strike, now couldn't even properly grip cloth.
However, there was one thing that comforted me a little.
The children here... didn't hate me.
On the contrary, they seemed curious about me.
"Oooh, a new baby!" shouted a brown-haired boy with a cheerful face. "Granny Tayaki, where did he come from?"
"I don't know, someone left him in front of the orphanage last night," replied the middle-aged woman, whom I later came to know as Granny Tayaki.
"I want to see!"
"Me too!"
They crowded around. I was still too small to respond, but I could see their wide, excited eyes.
Some of the girls approached first. One of them was a little girl with shoulder-length black hair.
"What's his name, Granny?" she asked.
"Gouhaku," Granny Tayaki replied with a gentle smile.
The children immediately began chattering.
"Gouhaku? What a cool name!"
"Hey, Gouhaku! Can you hear me?"
Of course, I could hear them, but I couldn't answer. I just stared at them with empty eyes.
"Heeeh, he's spacing out!"
The children laughed, some even trying to tickle my cheek. I wanted to avoid it, but this small body couldn't react as quickly as before.
I could only accept my fate as the baby 'surrounded' by the orphanage children.
And it turned out... that continued for years.
After one year in this orphanage...
My days were filled with crying, the laughter of children, and their small hands always trying to touch me.
Whenever I cried—whether from hunger or something else—the children would rush over to me.
"Gouhaku is crying again!"
"Quick, give him something!"
They would swarm around me, trying to calm me in various ways. Sometimes they'd shake toys in front of me, sometimes gently tap my head, or mimic strange sounds to make me laugh.
I had never experienced this before. In my past life, people only looked at me with fear... or hatred.
But here... I was noticed.
Maybe because I was still a baby, or maybe because they truly cared.
I wasn't sure.
When I was two years old, my body started to grow stronger. I could move my hands more freely. More importantly, I could try to stand.
But it wasn't easy.
One day, the children gathered around me in the orphanage's backyard.
"Hey, Gouhaku, try standing!"
I tried.
But my legs were still weak. I immediately fell, landing on my bottom.
"Hahahaha! He fell!" shouted a boy named Toma.
I looked at him flatly. You little brat. If this were my old life, I might have kicked your head off. But now... I could only sigh. (Of course, in my heart.)
But I didn't give up.
I tried again. More carefully. My tiny legs trembled, but I managed to stand for a few seconds before falling again.
And when I finally managed to stand longer than before...
"WOAH! GOUHAKU DID IT!!"
The children cheered as if I had just conquered the highest mountain.
I could only stare at them in confusion.
I just stood. That's it.
But they seemed so happy.
For the first time, I felt what was called family warmth.
At three years old, I started speaking more fluently.
I purposely held back my ability so as not to seem suspicious. But over time, I began to feel like I didn't need to pretend too much.
One day, a girl named Mei tried to teach me how to write.
I wrote very easily.
When I first held the charcoal and began writing on the wooden board, I immediately realized—the language used in this world was exactly the same as my old language.
The children surrounding me stared with wide eyes.
Toma, who usually liked to tease, opened his mouth wide.
"...Are you serious?"
"Is that... a letter?"
"Wait, can you read too?!"
I stared at them. "Yes?"
"GOUHAKU CAN READ AND WRITE!!"
Their voices echoed throughout the orphanage. Even Mira—the teenage orphanage keeper who usually seemed lazy—came over with an unbelieving expression.
"So... you can write now?" she said, tilting her head. "Are you a baby or what?"
I just smiled faintly.
But the surprises didn't stop there.
Some of the older children began talking about something unfamiliar to me—mana.
"Mana is like... energy in our bodies," said Lutz, an eight-year-old boy who was smart and liked reading old books in the orphanage's storage. "We all have it, just different ways of using it."
I listened attentively.
"They say, if you can feel it, you can strengthen your body. Even lift heavy things or heal wounds."
Lutz then raised his hand, showing a bit of blue light flowing gently from the palm of his hand.
The light wasn't hot. It wasn't dazzling. But for some reason... it felt alive.
"You can learn too, Gouhaku," he said with a proud smile. "I can teach you how to flow it into your body."
I stared at the light with wide eyes.
If I could master this...
Maybe I could become stronger than my old self—a ninja who only relied on technique and physical strength.
"Ahh... like a comic..." I muttered.
But this time, I knew... it was real.
And this world was much more complicated than I thought.