The rain was heavy that night.
Streetlights blurred into long streaks of white and yellow as Ryuko Dezeri stepped off the curb, his shoes splashing against the soaked pavement. His phone buzzed in his pocket—another ignored message, another reminder that no one was really waiting for him anywhere.
*Figures.*
The horn sounded a fraction of a second later.
Too loud. Too close.
Ryuko turned his head just in time to see headlights filling his entire world.
Then—impact.
The sensation was strangely distant. No pain. No fear. Just the overwhelming feeling of being *cut off*, like a sentence ending mid-word.
*So this is how it ends,* he thought calmly.
*No last words. No one watching.*
Darkness swallowed everything.
---
### A Cry That Wasn't His
Warmth.
That was the first thing Ryuko felt.
Not the dull, empty cold he expected from death—but warmth that pressed in from all sides. His thoughts drifted slowly, heavy and unfocused, yet oddly intact.
*Am I… alive?*
Then came sound.
A deep, rhythmic thumping. A heartbeat—not his own. Soft voices followed, muffled as if heard through water.
"He's breathing."
"He's so small…"
A sharp, uncomfortable pressure filled his chest, forcing air out of his lungs. Before he could think, his body reacted.
He cried.
The sound startled him. It wasn't the voice he remembered. It was higher, weaker—fragile.
Light flooded his vision.
Blurry shapes sharpened slowly into faces.
A man with short brown hair and tired eyes stared down at him in disbelief. Beside him was a woman with dark hair spread across a pillow, her expression pale but peaceful.
"He's crying loudly," the man said, laughing shakily. "That's a good sign, right?"
The woman smiled, her gaze never leaving him. "Yes. He's strong."
Ryuko tried to speak. To ask where he was. To ask why he could feel arms holding him.
But all that came out was another cry.
"This child…" the woman whispered. "Let's name him Rougen."
"Rougen Leo," the man said firmly. "Our son."
Something clicked into place.
*Reincarnation,* Ryuko realized.
*So that's how it is.*
---
### Year 0 — Rougen Leo
Rougen Leo was born into a world ruled by magic.
He learned this slowly, through observation. His mind, shaped by memories of a previous life, processed things far beyond what his infant body could express.
The ceiling above him was etched with glowing runes that dimmed at night. Lamps lit themselves without flame. Even the air felt… different. Dense. Alive.
Mana.
He didn't know the word yet, but he felt it brushing against his skin like a gentle tide.
Albert Leo—his new father—was a man of steady presence. His voice was calm, grounding, the kind that made rooms feel safer simply by existing within them. Akira Satoru—his mother—was softer, her expressions subtle, but her eyes always seemed to notice everything.
Rougen watched them closely.
In his past life, Ryuko had learned not to trust kindness. Adults were distant. Help always came with conditions. Affection was temporary, fragile, and easily withdrawn.
So when Akira held him close every night, Rougen waited for it to stop.
It didn't.
When Albert carefully supported his head, whispering awkward lullabies, Rougen braced himself for indifference.
It never came.
Confusion turned into something heavier.
*Why are they kind to me?*
---
### Years 1–2 — The Fear of Losing Warmth
As Rougen grew, his body learned faster than his heart allowed.
He learned to sit. To crawl. To walk.
But emotionally, he was cautious.
Whenever Akira left the room, Rougen's chest tightened. His tiny hands clenched the blanket, panic bubbling beneath the surface.
*She's not coming back.*
That fear was irrational—but deeply ingrained.
Then Akira would return.
"Sorry, Rougen," she'd say gently, scooping him up. "Mama's here."
Each time, the fear weakened slightly.
Albert often came home with small enchanted toys—wooden animals that walked on their own, glowing spheres that floated just out of reach. Rougen enjoyed them, but more than that, he enjoyed watching Albert's expression.
His father looked *happy* to give him things.
That realization hurt more than loneliness ever had.
*This is dangerous,* Rougen thought.
*If I get used to this… it'll hurt when it's gone.*
So he tried not to cry. Tried not to cling.
Akira noticed anyway.
One night, she held him closer than usual. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she whispered.
Rougen didn't understand how she knew.
---
### Years 3–4 — Learning What Family Means
The village they lived in was small, nestled between rolling hills and mana-rich forests. Rougen often watched other children play outside—laughing freely, calling for their parents without hesitation.
He envied them.
Yet, when he joined them, something felt off.
The other children played rough. They pushed. They laughed when someone fell.
Rougen fell once.
He scraped his knee badly, the pain sharp enough to make his vision blur. Old instincts took over.
*Don't cry.*
But tears came anyway.
Before anyone else reacted, Akira was there, kneeling beside him. Gentle green light flowed from her hands, easing the pain instantly.
"There," she said softly. "All better."
The other children stared in silence.
Rougen stared too.
Not at the magic—but at the concern in her eyes.
That night, as Albert carried him home on his shoulders, Rougen rested his chin on his father's head.
*This isn't fake,* he thought slowly.
*They care even when it's inconvenient.*
Something fragile inside him finally broke—not into pain, but into warmth.
For the first time in either life, Rougen felt something close to love.
---
### Years 5–6 — The Awakening of Power
Mana responded to emotion.
Rougen discovered this the hard way.
One afternoon, he overheard older children mocking him for "hiding behind his parents." The words stung deeply, igniting a familiar anger—the kind he remembered from his past life.
His fists clenched.
The air trembled.
A wooden cup slid across the table, crashing to the floor.
Silence followed.
Albert's expression turned serious—not angry, but focused. "Rougen… did you do that?"
Rougen nodded, heart pounding.
Training began that day—not harsh, not rushed. Albert taught him breathing techniques, how to feel mana flow instead of forcing it outward. Akira explained affinities and balance, emphasizing control over strength.
Rougen learned quickly.
Too quickly.
Fire mana resonated strongly with him, responding eagerly to his will. Small flames danced above his palms, flickering like curious creatures.
Yet every time he practiced, he remembered Akira's words.
*Power is meant to protect.*
And Albert's.
*Strength without control destroys what it loves.*
Rougen took those lessons to heart.
---
### Years 7–8 — A Child Who Had Already Died Once
By eight years old, Rougen Leo was different from other children.
Not just because of his talent—but because of his eyes.
They carried weight.
At night, memories of Ryuko Dezeri resurfaced: empty apartments, indifferent faces, a world that never noticed when he struggled.
But now, when those memories came, they were answered.
By Akira's quiet humming.
By Albert checking the locks before bed.
By the gentle hum of mana throughout the house.
On his eighth birthday, as they celebrated with a small enchanted cake, Rougen felt something tighten in his chest.
Albert laughed loudly. Akira smiled warmly.
"We're proud of you," she said.
Rougen bowed his head, hiding the tears in his eyes.
*In my last life,* he thought, *I died unnoticed.*
*In this life… I will live.*
He clenched his small hands, feeling mana respond calmly—not wildly.
*I will protect this family.*
*No matter what this world throws at me.*
Somewhere deep within the world's mana veins, something stirred—recognizing the resolve of a soul that had already faced death and chosen love instead.