The studio smelled faintly of coffee, metal, and that sterile-clean tang of polished equipment. Wires curled along the floor like snakes basking in dim neon light, and through the wide glass panel, a young woman with a voice like silver honey adjusted the mic stand. Producers shuffled papers, adjusted sliders, and muttered things only they seemed to understand. The world was buzzing with music in the making.
But the most eye-catching thing wasn't the bustle of adults, it was the small boy perched on his babysitter's lap, waving a plastic toy sword like he was reenacting Lord of the Rings.
"HYAAAAH!" the little boy shouted, flailing the sword with all the ferocity of a toddler who thought he could slay dragons.
His babysitter, a girl barely out of high school named Stephanie, played along immediately. She clutched her chest and gasped dramatically. "Argh! You demon child! I am slain!" She rolled her eyes back, flopped her tongue out, and pretended to collapse as if she'd just been fatally struck down in a soap opera.
The boy shrieked with laughter, a bubbling "HAHAHAHAH" that made the whole studio melt on the spot. Heads turned. Harsh-faced sound engineers cracked smiles. A guitarist chuckled. Someone whispered "Awwww" under their breath, like they were watching a puppy fall over its own paws.
That was when the door opened and a woman swept in, elegant, glowing under the sterile white lights like someone who wasn't meant to belong in the mundane world. She was beautiful in a way that made people shut up mid-sentence. Long, straight hair, dangerously close to falling into her son's eyes, and a voice soft enough to soothe and command all at once.
"There you are," she murmured, scooping the child up in her arms with practiced ease. She turned to Stephanie and offered a quick smile. "Sorry, Steff. He must have been a handful."
Stephanie flushed red and shook her head violently. "No, ma'am! It's an honor to take care of Valen! He's sooo cute!"
The woman laughed softly, adjusting her hair out of the boy's face before it could irritate his eyes.
The boy blinked up at her with a strange mixture of innocence and calculation. Then his tiny voice piped up, clear as a bell: "Mummy, when is it going to be over?"
Her lips pursed thoughtfully, as if she were consulting fate itself. "Hmm. I don't know…" she whispered theatrically, tapping her chin. "But I do know one thing. You want ice cream?"
"Yes!" Valen pumped his tiny fist like he'd just beaten the final boss in Dark Souls.
Their little exchange was cut off by a technician shouting, "Ma'am! The equipment's ready!"
The woman gave a sharp nod, then crouched slightly so she was level with her son. "Okay, my little knight. Be a good boy and don't annoy big sister, alright?" She kissed his forehead and gently handed him back into Stephanie's arms.
Valen, sword clutched in one hand, nodded with solemn determination. He watched his mother disappear into the recording booth, her figure haloed by the bluish studio lights, her reflection stretching across the soundproof glass.
For a moment, everything felt perfectly normal. Until it didn't.
Something… clicked.
The boy's eyes widened. The plastic sword slipped from his grip and clattered onto the floor. Stephanie bent to pick it up with a giggle. "Oops! Dropped your sword."
But Valen wasn't listening. His tiny fists clenched and unclenched as if trying to prove they were real, his thoughts suddenly cutting sharper than they should have been for someone barely three years old.
What the hell just happened?
He blinked rapidly, staring at his hands, the pale skin, the chubby knuckles. A realization crept through him like ice water trickling down his spine.
'No way. No freaking way. Damnnnn. I've been reincarnated.'
It was the kind of thought you'd expect scrolling past in a Reddit post at 3 a.m. "Just realized I'm in a baby body lol send help". Except this wasn't funny. This was real.
Stephanie tilted her head curiously, "Uh… is he boxing now?". From her perspective, the boy was just shadow-boxing, pumping his fists like he'd discovered some new game. "Haha. What a silly one," she murmured, ruffling his hair.
But Valen's gaze turned sharp. He scanned the studio with new eyes, piecing memories together like scattered puzzle shards.
His mother, the woman singing now, voice soaring clear as crystal through the mic, was famous. A celebrity. His father? Mysterious, often absent, but dependable in the ways that mattered. He'd pieced that much together, though the rest was foggy.
Through the soundproof glass, Valen's mother adjusted the mic. When she opened her mouth, her voice spilled into the studio, clear, haunting, too beautiful to be real.
He froze. That voice hummed faintly, almost like magic vibrating under his skin. The hair on his tiny arms stood on end.
Valen's eyes narrowed. "Big sister!" he said suddenly.
"Hm?" Steff looked down.
"Gimme your phone."
Stephanie blinked, then chuckled, talking out a primitive smartphone, "Getting bored already, huh?" She handed him her phone, half-curious to see what a three-year-old wanted with it.
Valen immediately flipped on the camera and held it up to his face.
Daaaayuuum, I'm cute as hell, he thought with blunt honesty, staring at the cherubic reflection with round eyes and puffed cheeks. He tilted the phone, catching the studio's lights glinting in his pupils. Kinda unfair.
Thwn he turned the camera toward his mother, capturing her mid-song, hair flowing, voice vibrating even through the thick glass. He snapped a few pictures.
Stephanie pinched his cheek, delighted. "Such a good kid!"
Valen ignored her, still staring at his reflection. Then, unexpectedly, his thoughts shifted.
The buzz of the studio faded. A memory from his past life shoved its way to the front of his mind, his parents, their laughter, their warmth. It hit harder than expected, like a sucker punch to the gut.
His smile faltered. His vision blurred.
He missed them. God, he missed them. His old bedroom. His parents back then. Late-night ramen runs with his dad, his mom's nagging laugh when he left socks on the floor.
Stephanie noticed his sudden shift and panicked. "Eh? Did I pinch too hard?" Maybe the phone screen hurt his eyes? "Valen? Are you okay? Don't cry, sweetie."
But it was too late. His chest convulsed. His throat squeezed tight. The tears came fast, hot, unstoppable.
"WAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
His mother, mid-song, stopped abruptly, her gaze snapping to the window. Within seconds she was out of the booth, kneeling in front of him, gathering him into her arms. Her perfume smelled like lilies and safety.
"Shh, baby, it's okay," she cooed, brushing his hair back.
But Valen wasn't okay. He wasn't crying because of a pinch. He was crying because the parents he had been loved by... he could never see them again, now they were alone, back in that world, wondering why their son had vanished.
The emotions were too big for his small body. His sobs came harder, chest hitching, fists balled tight against her blouse. "I'm sorry. HICC!"
His mother rocked him gently, murmuring comfort. Steff hovered nearby, pale and anxious, whispering apologies.
Finally, exhaustion overtook him. His eyelids drooped, tears still wet on his cheeks. His breathing slowed, hitching into hiccups, and then softened into the heavy rhythm of sleep.
As his breathing steadied, the studio slowly returned to its rhythm. Stephanie looked shaken, her hands twisting nervously.
The producers exchanged glances, whispering about delays. But his mother didn't give a damn about those.
She just hummed softly, rocking her son.
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A/N- Do throw some Infinity stones this side to show support! Also comment down ur thoughts, it's real fun to read them!