By the seventh day of my new life, I had learned that babies were unreasonable creatures.
This was unfortunate, because I was one.
My days followed a strict routine. Wake up, realize I was hungry, attempt to remain calm, fail immediately, cry, eat, get warm, fall asleep before I could reflect on my failure with proper seriousness. Then I would wake again and repeat the entire cycle as if I had learned nothing.
The body was the problem.
My mind remembered gutters, barracks, blood, mud, marching, scouting, and dying under a blue sky. My body remembered nothing because it had only existed for a week and considered hunger a personal catastrophe. Every small discomfort became urgent. Every sound was too loud. Every light was too bright. Every yawn arrived like a command from a superior officer.
I had obeyed many bad orders in my first life, but none as absolute as sleep.
My sisters were not much better.
Hinaki cried as if someone had insulted her honor. Nichika slept with a faintly smug expression, which was impressive for a person who had no teeth. Kuina kicked whenever disturbed, and I respected that on principle. Kanata was quiet most of the time, until the room finally settled. Then she would begin.
I watched Kanata carefully.
Anyone who waited until peace had been restored before attacking it understood strategy.
The house was still strange to me. I did not know the names of most things yet. The doors slid instead of swinging. The bedding was low and neat. The clothes had layers and folds I did not understand. People bowed often, and every bow seemed to mean something slightly different. Some were respectful. Some were affectionate. Some were nervous.
The room smelled of clean cloth, wood, incense, milk, and occasionally the less noble realities of five newborns.
No one mentioned that last part aloud. This household had manners.
My mother, Amane, recovered slowly. She was pale and tired, but her hands were always gentle. When she held me, her fingers often brushed my hair, and every time it happened, part of me went quiet. I did not know what to do with that yet, so I did what babies did best.
I stared.
My father, Kagaya, visited whenever he could. I learned he was fifteen because attendants whispered when they thought we were sleeping. He was young, too young for how everyone lowered their heads when he entered. His skin was clear and unmarked, his face calm, his voice soft. Still, people watched him with a care that told me he carried something heavy.
I did not know what.
I knew very little about this world. I knew I had been born into a wealthy house. I knew my parents were important. I knew my name was Ubuyashiki Haruya. I knew my sisters’ names. I knew the servants treated us with more care than most noble children in my first life received, which was saying something.
Beyond that, I had guesses, and guesses were dangerous when mistaken for knowledge.
The system appeared on the fourth night.
I was awake while the room slept. One attendant sat near the wall, head dipping every few breaths before she caught herself. My sisters were wrapped nearby. Hinaki made small noises in her sleep, probably practicing for later.
I stared at the ceiling and thought of the golden screen from the reincarnation office.
Status.
Nothing happened.
System.
Still nothing.
Open.
Nothing.
I grew irritated. This was a mistake. My body sensed irritation and began preparing to cry. I stopped at once. Losing an argument to my own mouth once was embarrassing. Repeating it would be careless.
Maybe words were not enough.
I remembered the screen, the way it had answered intent more than sound. I pictured my hand against the confirmation panel. I pictured the desire to know what I had stolen from that collapsing room.
A window unfolded in my sight.
It did not glow into the room. It simply appeared, clear and quiet, like words written on glass only I could see.
Status
Name: Ubuyashiki Haruya
Title: None
Race: Human
Age: 4 Days
Level: 1
HP: 3/3
I stared at the word Title for a long moment.
None.
That was fair. I had been alive for four days. My greatest accomplishment so far was surviving milk without choking.
Still, the empty space interested me. A title meant recognition. Achievement. Something earned and recorded. The system had left a place for it, which meant the place could one day be filled.
Below the first window, another section waited.
Stats
Strength: 0.2
Agility: 0.1
Endurance: 0.3
Intelligence: 18
Wisdom: 12
Charisma: 4
Luck: 20
I considered the numbers.
Strength: 0.2 felt insulting until I tried to lift my arm. It twitched under the cloth and achieved nothing. The system, unfortunately, had evidence.
Agility: 0.1 was worse. I had seen insects with better coordination.
Endurance: 0.3 explained why staying awake felt like surviving a forced march. Charisma at 4 was confusing until I remembered that adults kept smiling whenever I blinked at them. Apparently, being small and helpless counted for something.
Intelligence and Wisdom were higher because I had my memories. I was not sure I deserved Wisdom at 12, considering my last major decision had involved breaking into a forbidden reincarnation room during an attack. Then again, it had worked.
Luck at 20 needed no explanation.
I focused on the next tab.
Skills
Gamer Body: MAX
Description: A granted system ability that converts the user’s physical state into structured values such as HP, condition, damage, fatigue, recovery, illness, and growth. The body remains biological and subject to age, development, pain, hunger, sleep, and injury. The system may assist recovery and measurement, but it does not remove natural limitations.
So I still had to be a baby.
Disappointing, but clear.
Gamer Mind: MAX
Description: A granted system ability that supports mental clarity, memory stability, and resistance against panic, mental interference, memory erosion, and trauma shock. This ability does not suppress emotion, attachment, fear, grief, embarrassment, hunger, affection, guilt, or poor judgment.
I read the last part twice.
Poor judgment.
The system knew too much.
Memory Retention: MAX
Description: A granted soul ability that preserves memories from the user’s previous life and the reincarnation process. Memories remain accessible despite reincarnation, infancy, growth, and natural mental development. Emotional responses to those memories are not removed.
That was useful.
Also inconvenient.
Remembering everything sounded powerful until one remembered everything.
Language Comprehension: MAX
Description: A granted comprehension ability that allows the user to understand spoken language and gradually interpret written language through exposure and attention. This does not grant instant cultural knowledge, social understanding, literacy habits, or familiarity with unknown customs.
That explained why I understood words but not the room.
I knew what people said. I did not know why they bowed that way, why certain titles carried more weight, or why one attendant nearly panicked when another folded a cloth wrong before my father entered.
Language was not the same as understanding.
I focused on the menu itself.
System Menu
Status
Skills
Inventory
Quests
World Travel
Inventory was available.
I opened it immediately.
Inventory: MAX
Description: A granted system function that provides infinite storage space for non-living objects. Items placed inside inventory are preserved in their stored state until removed. Current limitation: the user must be able to physically hold, grip, or maintain direct contact with the target object long enough to store it. Living beings cannot be stored. Objects too large, too distant, or not sufficiently controlled by the user cannot be stored.
Infinite storage.
I looked at my hand.
My fingers were curled around nothing, trapped inside cloth.
So I had infinite storage and the carrying capacity of a sleepy dumpling.
This was, in a way, impressive.
I tried to store the cloth wrapped around me.
A small notice appeared.
Inventory storage failed. User does not possess sufficient grip or control over selected item.
Fair.
I tried to store the air.
Inventory storage failed. Invalid target.
Also fair.
I decided not to test whether I could store milk. Some questions were better left unanswered.
The Quest tab opened next.
Quest System
Description: A system function that identifies meaningful objectives based on intent, effort, risk, growth, and personal significance. Quests may be generated by the system or accepted from self issued objectives. Trivial, dishonest, impossible, incompatible, or meaningless objectives will be rejected. Rewards may include experience, skill creation, skill growth, stat progress, titles, items, or other system effects.
This interested me most.
In my first life, effort had often vanished. Work did not guarantee food. Training did not guarantee survival. Warnings did not guarantee officers listened. Here, perhaps, effort could leave a mark.
I tested it.
I will become the strongest person in this house before morning.
Self Issued Quest Rejected: Impossible under current conditions.
Reasonable.
I will stop crying forever.
Self Issued Quest Rejected: Biologically incompatible with current development.
Less reasonable, but expected.
I will move my hand on purpose.
The system paused.
Self Issued Quest Accepted: First Command
Objective: Intentionally open and close one hand three times while awake.
Reward: Body Control skill awakening progress.
I became very focused.
My right hand was somewhere under the cloth. I could feel it, which did not mean I could command it. I pictured gripping a knife. Nothing happened. I pictured holding a spoon. Nothing. I pictured a purse string between my fingers, the old twist and pull from the market.
My index finger moved.
Progress: 1/3
A victory.
A tiny, ridiculous victory, but mine.
The second movement took longer. The third made my vision blur with effort. By the time my fingers closed again, I was so tired that my body wanted to sleep immediately, which was rude because I had just achieved something important.
The window changed.
Quest Complete: First Command
Skill Awakened: Body Control Lv. 1
Description: A physical control skill that improves the user’s ability to intentionally command muscles, posture, balance, and movement. Current effectiveness is severely limited by infancy, natural development, strength, endurance, and coordination. Continued practice may improve precision and reduce wasted effort.
I stared at the description with deep satisfaction.
My fingers still looked useless.
But now they were officially improving useless fingers.
The last major tab was World Travel.
I opened it with care.
World Travel: MAX, Locked
Description: A granted soul and system ability that allows the user to travel beyond the current world into other worlds. Initial travel destination is randomized and cannot be selected. The user’s home world is frozen during travel, while the user continues to age normally outside it. Return to the home world is guaranteed after completion of a travel cycle or emergency recall. Previously visited worlds may become reachable again through anchors, bonds, completed quests, or system growth.
The next section was longer.
Unlock Requirements
Requirement 1: Stable Body. The user must possess sufficient physical development to survive transfer stress.
Requirement 2: Independent Movement. The user must be able to move without being constantly carried or supported.
Requirement 3: Basic Speech. The user must be able to communicate basic needs and intent through spoken language.
Requirement 4: First Anchor. The user must establish a strong personal anchor in the home world through identity, attachment, belonging, duty, or chosen purpose.
Requirement 5: System Stability. The user must complete enough early development quests to stabilize core system functions.
Current Status: Locked. Estimated unlock window unavailable.
I read it slowly.
World travel was real, but far away.
That was probably good. If the system had allowed me to vanish into another world at one week old, I would have been the most prepared corpse in existence.
The fourth requirement held my attention.
Anchor.
Identity, attachment, belonging, duty, or chosen purpose.
I looked toward Amane sleeping nearby, pale and exhausted. I looked at Kagaya’s empty cushion from his earlier visit. I looked at my sisters, bundled in a row like very loud offerings.
I did not know if this house was my anchor yet.
It was too early for certainty.
But when Kanata made a small sound in her sleep and Kuina answered with an offended wiggle, I felt something warm and inconvenient in my chest.
Maybe anchors began like that.
The next skill came on the sixth day.
I earned it by doing the one thing I could still do well: watching.
I watched attendants move through the room. One favored her left leg. One hummed when nervous. One checked the door before speaking quietly, which meant she carried either news or gossip. I watched Amane hold each of us differently. I watched Kagaya smile with his mouth while his eyes remained busy.
The system opened without warning.
Skill Awakened: Observe Lv. 1
Description: An information gathering skill that allows the user to obtain basic details about people, objects, conditions, and surroundings through focused attention. Accuracy, depth, and usefulness depend on the user’s knowledge, perception, context, skill level, and target complexity. Current level provides only surface level information.
I focused on the attendant nearest the water basin.
Human. Female. Healthy. Mild fatigue.
That was less impressive than I had hoped.
I focused on the wooden cup beside her.
Wooden cup. Empty. Clean.
Again, not a revelation.
Still, I understood the value. A dull knife could become sharp. A weak skill could become useful. In my first life, I had learned to read mud, smoke, footsteps, lies, and hunger. If Observe grew, it might one day read things I could not.
For now, it confirmed that the cup was empty.
Every great journey had humble beginnings.
By the end of the week, I had learned my first lessons.
I was not in control of my body, but I could improve that. I did not understand this world, but I could watch it. I did not know what titles meant, but I had an empty place waiting. I could store infinite things, provided I first learned how to hold one thing properly.
Most importantly, the system did not make effort unnecessary.
It made effort visible.
That was enough.
Amane held me near the window that evening while the room quieted around us. Pale light rested across the cloth wrapped around me. My sisters slept, though I did not trust that peace for long. Somewhere outside, a bird called once and then went silent.
I opened my hand beneath the cloth.
Slowly.
On purpose.
Then I closed it again.
Body Control Lv. 1 progress increased.
I was still weak. Hungry often. Sleepy always. My strength was 0.2, and my inventory was too grand for hands that could barely hold air.
But I had begun.