John slowly drifted back into consciousness.
A comfortable warmth covered his entire being.
Then pain spread across his entire body in waves; something… something was crushing him!
He tried to grit his teeth… only to not feel any.
Before he could panic, a bright white light invaded his vision; a chill spread across his body as the crushing pain faded.
He blinked multiple times as he stared at the light.
A figure stepped into his line of sight.
He squinted.
It was a hospital worker.
Excitement grew in his chest. '…Did it work?'
He took a deep breath.
'Wow… It's a lot easier to breathe… I guess the surgery was a success…'
The hospital worker… handed him off?
And the person holding him…
'WHAT THE HELL A GIANT!?'
A woman towered over him. Her arms were massive. Her face filled his entire field of view like a planet. Panic shot through him as he tried to wiggle out of her grasp, but all he managed to do was flail his limbs helplessly, and produce noises.
Baby noises.
His eyes widened.
'Was that… was that me??'
He tried again, forcing his body to push away from the woman, but something was wrong. His arms, his hands.
They were tiny.
'WHAT THE HELL, WHY ARE THEY SO SMALL!?'
He laughed in nervousness as he looked at his hands, 'I…I must be going crazy… yeah, the anesthetic from the surgery is clearly making me hallucinate.'
The giant woman holding him stared down at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, yet on her face was a smile.
"You're beautiful."
Another woman standing nearby, a wet nurse, leaned closer and spoke softly,
"What's his name?"
Their voices boomed like a speaker echoing in a stadium.
John froze as he heard a language that he had never heard before.
A thought crossed his mind, one he wished was just a thought.
'Am I… a baby?'
He stopped squirming, tears welling up in his eyes.
The reality of his situation sank in fully.
Then the woman holding him looked down with soft, glowing affection, eyes full of warmth
She spoke gently, in the same foragin language.
"His name is Hyoudou, Haruya."
*****
(1 year later, 1982 april 5th)
Haru sat at a tiny wooden table, one clearly meant for toddlers, scribbling with a fat crayon across a sheet of paper. His small legs dangled off the chair, not even close to reaching the floor.
On the paper was a crude doodle of a figure in red and blue, covered in messy black zig-zags meant to be webbing. The proportions were terrible, the colors weren't even inside the lines, and the head looked like a lopsided balloon…
But it was unmistakable.
It was Spider-Man.
Haru stared at it with pride.
Not bad for someone whose motor skills were still leveling up… or at least he thought so.
It was just another morning of killing time.
There wasn't much else a one-year-old could do.
Well…
Except being traumatized
He shuddered at the memory.
Being breastfed… By his new mother.
Haru suppressed the urge to physically recoil.
That part of being reborn would haunt him until the day he died again.
Reincarnation itself wasn't new as a concept; he had read more fanfics than was probably healthy. But living it? Waking up in a baby body? Being cradled, cooed at, fed, bathed, and fussed over?
Yeah. That was different, well kinda.
Still… he had to be fair.
He'd had loving parents in his old life. Ones he could never replace.
He wouldn't even try.
But these new parents… they weren't bad.
They were gentle and caring.
And he was stuck with them.
And they were stuck with him, so there was no point crying about it—well, more than he already had, that is.
So he decided he wouldn't replace his old parents.
But he would give these new ones a chance.
Haru finished his latest masterpiece, or as close to a masterpiece as a one-year-old with developing motor skills could manage. With a tiny grunt, he slid off the chair, wobbling slightly as he made his way across the room on unsteady legs. He reached the low shelf, stretched his arms up, and carefully tugged down a small black box.
He popped the lid open.
Inside were drawings. Dozens of them. Some barely decipherable… but each one better than the last.
He sifted through them carefully, trying not to ruin them.
Then he paused.
At the very bottom was that drawing, his first drawing.
A figure in blue and red, chest marked with a bright red "S" that was more of a squiggle than a symbol. The man in the drawing was smiling , standing behind a painfully lopsided sun.
'One day… ' he thought, gripping the page gently with pudgy fingers.
He smiled.
His hero.
His promise, to himself, the same one he had made long ago, on his soul.
Even if he never got one of those famous "Golden Fingers" he'd read about in stories, he would still strive for it.
But that day… would not be today.
He put the Spider-Man drawing in the box and closed the shelf. He turned and walked to the door of his room, opening it.
He made his way to the kitchen and looked around.
A devious smile crossed his face. "Cost is clear," he whispered.
He opened their pantry and moved every piece of bread out of the way, taking out a small black box.
He opened it, eyes widening as golden light hit his face.
He put his hand in the light, pulling out something wrapped in gold foil.
He took the foil off, revealing something brown in the shape of a turtle.
He put it in his mouth.
"Sweet, sweet surgery goodness~"
He reached for another—
"Honey I'm Home!"
The color faded from his face.
He took another chocolate out and swiftly closed the box, shoving it into the pantry.
He unwrapped and shoved the chocolate into his mouth, crumbling the foil in his hand.
He made his way to the front door.
His father was sitting at the entrance, taking off his shoes, and His mother was standing behind his father as she rubbed a towel on his wet hair.
Gorou turned. "It was actually pretty light today, just the basic calls and one about a car jak—" his father, Gorou Hyoudou, stopped mid-sentence as soon as Haru entered his vision.
Gorou narrowed his eyes at Haru.
His father brought a hand up and wiped nothing off his own mouth.
Haru, with confusion, copied him, chocolate stuck to his thumb.
"How was your day, sport?" Gouro asked.
His mother, Miki Hyoudou, turned to him, finally realizing he was there.
"It was good!" Haru was caught momentarily off guard, voice cracking.
Haru raised a clenched fist to his mouth. "Ahem, I mean it was… yeah, good."
Miki narrowed her eyes, light reflecting from something gold in her son's hand.
His father chuckled, "I bet."
"Sweety… what's in your hand?" his mother asked, completely calm.
'My hand?' Haru looked at his clenched hand, gold foil from the chocolate still there.
'Crap…' If his mother found out he took her chocolate… he'd be screwed just like his father was when he touched her chocolate.
He still remembers the day his father passed out after his mother made him eat what could only be called a formulation of eldrich origin as penance for ever daring to touch one of her chocolates!
So he did the only thing that made sense.
He swung his hand over his shoulder, "Huh? My hand?"
The foil flew out of his hand onto a corner.
His face was deadly serious, "There's nothing there."
His mother just sighed, "I see."
*****
(4 months later)
Haru could be seen lying on the porch outside, stretched out directly under the sun's warm rays.
"Man… this feels so good," he murmured, eyes half-closed in contentment.
After his first birthday, his parents had started letting him move around the house more freely.
That meant he finally got to step outside, well, at least onto the porch of their backyard. And every time he stood or laid under the sunlight, it felt like his body was being wrapped in the coziest, warmest blanket imaginable.
And over time, it became a daily ritual. A moment to lie under the sun, soaking in warmth, and letting his worries drift away.
For Haru, it was perfect.
Before he could even let his mind drift, someone suddenly grabbed him by the armpits and lifted him up.
Haru blinked up at the source of the disturbance, confused.
It was his mother.
Her eyes locked onto his, and Haru found himself staring back, not daring to squirm or fall.
"What did I tell you about lying down on that porch, young man?" she said, voice firm. "You'll get your clothes dirty."
Haru opened his mouth to protest. "But-"
She cut him off immediately. "BUT nothing, young man! You've had this conversation at least a hundred times in the last two months. Listen to your mother."
Haru just sighed.
Seeing this, Miki gently put him down on the porch, letting him stand on his feet, before starting to walk back inside.
Haru then called out, "If I… can't lay down on the porch… need any help with anything?"
Miki froze mid-step, surprised by the question. She hadn't expected such thoughtfulness from her oddly intelligent one-year-old. A happy smile spread across her face as she looked back at him.
"Well… yeah," she said warmly. "I've got something for you to do."
Haru's face lit up with an eager smile.
'Finally something to do.'