Time flew quickly. A year had already passed since she had woken up in a different body. It had taken her six months just to accept the truth—that she had been reborn. Even now, the world still felt foreign. The voices around her spoke in a language she couldn't understand, each word like a locked door.
She sat in a stroller most days, staring at the vast estate that stretched endlessly. The family she was born into was undeniably wealthy; the house itself radiated luxury with its wide halls, polished floors, and sprawling gardens. A kind of wealth she never even dreamed of in her past life, where she and her brother had been orphans scraping by.
So how could she possibly know what the warmth of a family felt like, when she had never been given the chance to feel it?
In the year that had passed, she had learned at least one thing: the name they called her, again and again, was Raiquèn. Strange and unfamiliar. But it belonged to her now. She guessed her mother was Hispanic, judging from the lilting way she spoke Spanish. Yet Raiquèn still had no idea where in the world she truly was. All she could do was listen, and watch.
And she had also learned something else—she wasn't alone. In this new life, too, she had a brother. An older brother, no more than five, with strands of fiery red hair and bright, piercing blue eyes. He would talk to her sometimes, as though she could understand him. At first, Raiquèn had been wary, even distrustful. But slowly, the boy's gentle persistence wore down her walls.
This day was no different. Her mother entered the room, smiling softly as she leaned over the stroller.
"¡Mira qué linda está, Ryo!" her mother exclaimed, her voice rich with warmth.
"Nuestra pequeña Raiquèn cada día se parece más a un angelito."
Her brother Ryo leaned closer, his bright eyes sparkling as he tapped her tiny hand. "¡Sí, mamá! Es la bebé más bonita del mundo. Mira, ¡me está mirando!"
"Claro que sí," her mother laughed, brushing a stray red lock from his forehead before kissing the top of Raiquèn's head.
"Ella sabe que tiene un hermano que la quiere mucho."
Ryo laughed proudly. "¡La voy a cuidar siempre!"
Their words washed over Raiquèn like a language of warmth she couldn't understand. But she didn't need to know the meaning to recognize the tone. Affection. Love. Things she had never once been given in her past life.
Then the door opened, and her father stepped in. His presence was calm but firm, the kind of man whose footsteps seemed to echo with authority yet softened the moment his gaze landed on the small stroller. His features leaned Japanese—sharp eyes, dark hair neatly tied back but his eyes were golden yellow due to his condition—but unlike her mother, his Spanish was halting and awkward. Instead, he chose English, and her mother and Ryo easily followed along to match him.
"There's my little princess," her father said warmly as he approached, crouching beside the stroller. His large hand gently cupped Raiquèn's tiny fingers, marveling at how fragile she looked. "She's even cuter today than yesterday."
Ryo grinned wide and leaned closer to his sister. "Papa, isn't she the prettiest baby in the world? Look, she even grabbed your finger!"
Her mother chuckled, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder. "She knows who her father is already. Mira cómo lo mira—look how she looks at you. With those big eyes full of wonder."
Her father's expression softened, his voice dropping lower, almost tender. "She'll grow up to be beautiful, just like her mother."
Ryo puffed his cheeks in mock protest. "And like me too, right? Because she's my sister!"
That earned him a laugh from both parents. Her mother ruffled his red hair fondly. "Of course, cariño. She has your spirit already—you can see it in the way she watches everything."
Her father leaned in closer, brushing the tip of his nose against Raiquèn's tiny forehead.
"You're perfect, little one. You've given us so much joy already."
The words, though she couldn't yet fully understand them, wrapped around Raiquèn like a blanket.