I was screaming. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Most babies cry because their lungs are filling with air for the first time.
They cry because the world is loud and cold. I was not crying for those reasons. I was screaming because I had just experienced the most traumatic event of my two lives. Being born with a fully functioning adult brain is a nightmare.
It is a physical and psychological assault that I would not wish on my worst enemy. It was the worst thing I had ever experienced.
The pressure had been enough to crack a man's skull.
The light was blinding. The transition from a dark, warm void to a bright, noisy room was too much. I could not stop. Every time I tried to calm down, the memory of being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste came back.
I felt like my brain was rattling around inside a head that was far too small for it.
Eventually, the screaming stopped because I simply ran out of energy. My new body was weak. It was pathetic.
Someone wrapped me in a thick, rough cloth. It was not soft like the towels back in Tokyo. It felt like burlap. I was being moved again.
My vision was a blurry mess. I could only see shapes and colors. Everything was out of focus. It was like looking through a lens covered in grease.
"Look at him," a soft voice said. "He is finally quiet."
I was placed into a pair of arms. They were warm and steady. As my eyes tried to adjust, a face came into view. It was a woman. She looked exhausted.
Her skin was pale and covered in sweat. She had warm brown hair that was messy and stuck to her forehead. She was beautiful in a natural, simple way.
This was my new mother. Her name was Elara. ( I know that because the woman holding me addressed her that way.)
She looked at me with a level of love that I did not know existed. It was pure. It was unconditional. In my previous life, I had spent most of my time looking at women through a computer screen.
I had very specific tastes. My first instinct was to appreciate her appearance. I thought she was quite a catch. Then, the realization hit me.
This is my mother. I just had a perverted thought about the woman who gave birth to me five minutes ago.
I felt a wave of genuine horror. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die again. I was a monster.
I was a degenerate of the highest order. I tried to shake the thought away, but my neck was too weak. My head just flopped to the side.
I looked away from her, feeling a deep, burning guilt. I hoped she could not read my mind. If she knew what kind of person was currently inhabiting her son, she would probably throw me out the window.
"He has your eyes, Gareth," Elara whispered.
Another shape moved into my field of vision. A man leaned over us. He was large and muscular. He had scruffy brown hair and a beard that looked like it had seen better days.
His skin was tanned and weathered. He looked like someone who worked outside all day. This was Gareth, my new father. He reached out with a hand that was covered in calluses. He gently poked my cheek, and I noticed his pinky was missing a small part.
He looked at me with immense pride. His eyes crinkled when he smiled. For a second, I felt something stir in my chest. I had not felt a connection like this in years. In my old life, my parents were distant. We talked once a year on the phone. Here, these strangers were looking at me like I was the center of their universe.
It made me feel vulnerable. I did not like it. I tried to push the feeling down. I needed to maintain my cynical edge.
He is probably just happy he has a son to do the farm work, I thought. I am just a free laborer to him. He is probably calculating how many potatoes I can dig up in ten years.
The cynical commentary did not work. I could see the sincerity in his gaze. It was annoying. I was a 32 year old man. I was not supposed to be moved by a fatherly look. I was supposed to be planning my future harem and figuring out how to get rich.
Instead, I felt like I was on the verge of crying again for a completely different reason.
I decided to focus on my surroundings. I needed to take stock of the situation. I was naked under this cloth. I was cold. I had zero control over my limbs.
If I wanted to move my hand, it took a massive amount of effort, and even then, I usually just ended up punching myself in the face.
This was my personal hell. I was trapped in a meat suit that did not listen to me. I was going to be stuck like this for years. I would have to learn how to walk again. I would have to learn how to use a toilet again. Assuming they even had toilets in this world.
A middle aged woman moved toward me. She wore a simple apron and had her hair tied back tightly. She was the midwife. She picked me up with professional efficiency.
She turned me over and poked at my stomach. She checked my breathing. She looked into my mouth.
"He is a bit small, but he is healthy," the midwife declared.
I felt a surge of indignation. Small? I was perfectly average in my previous life. I took great pride in being exactly in the middle of the bell curve.
I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell her that I was just compact. Then, I realized she was talking about my overall baby size. She was not making a comment about my future manhood.
Wait, I thought. Is she? No. She is a professional. Don't be a weirdo, Kazuma.
I tried to speak. I wanted to clear the air. I wanted to explain that I was actually an adult with a premium hentai subscription and a college degree.
I opened my mouth and pushed air from my lungs. I visualized the words. I wanted to say something cool and mysterious.
"Guh. Aguuu. Wahhh," I said.
The midwife laughed. She handed me back to Elara. I felt like a complete idiot. The indignity was staggering. I was a grown man gurgling like a fountain. I began to question the nature of reincarnation.
The divine voice had called this a reward. It called this compensation. Right now, it felt like a very elaborate form of torture. I was being punished for my lifestyle choices. The gods were laughing at me from their white void.
"He must be hungry," the midwife said.
Elara nodded.
She began to shift her clothing. I realized what was about to happen. My brain started to short out. The psychological horror reached a new peak. This was the line. I was an adult male. I had standards. I had a sense of propriety.
No. Nope. No way. This is not happening, I thought. I am a man. I am thirty two years old. I have paid taxes. I have voted in local elections. I am not doing this. This is wrong on every possible level.
I tried to turn my head away. I tried to fight. My body had other ideas. My stomach let out a sharp, painful cramp. The hunger was intense. It was a primal, screaming need that ignored my logic.
My survival instinct was much stronger than my sense of shame. My tiny, newborn body took over. It did not care about my past life or my dignity. It only cared about milk.
I felt my consciousness retreat to a small corner of my mind. I put up a mental wall. I pretended I was somewhere else. I was back in Tokyo. I was playing a game. I was watching a movie. Anything was better than reality.
I'm just a passenger, I told myself. I am not responsible for the actions of this baby body. This is a biological necessity. It doesn't count.
After a while, the hunger faded. I felt warm and heavy. The exhaustion of being born finally caught up with me. My eyes started to close. I could hear my parents whispering nearby. They sounded happy. They were talking about the future. They were talking about a boy named Cid Arnett. That was me. I was Cid now.
Wait a second… why can I understand their language? That doesn't make any sense. Maybe it's part of the standard reincarnation package.
I resigned myself to my fate. I was a baby. I was a helpless, drooling, tiny human. I had wanted a second chance at life. I had wanted to escape the grind of the office. Well, I had escaped it. I just had to survive a decade of childhood first.
At least I can't possibly be any more humiliated than this, I thought. I have reached the bottom. It is only up from here.
As I drifted off to sleep, I felt a damp sensation between my legs. I realized I had no control over my bladder either. The midwife was already reaching for a fresh cloth.
I was wrong. I could definitely be more humiliated. This was going to be a very long decade.