It has been five years since I woke up in this world, and honestly, the novelty still hasn't worn off. Reincarnation was always the stuff of late-night anime binges or light novels—not something that actually happens to a regular guy. Yet, here I am, living a second life as Daniel Robert Fenton. Danny, for short.
My new life is centered in a cozy, if slightly eccentric, home in New York. My parents, Madeline and Jackson—Maddie and Jack to everyone else—are brilliant, albeit unusual, scientists. They're Midtown High sweethearts who turned their shared passion for the unknown into a career. Their specific field? Ghost hunting. They are convinced that spirits and specters are a tangible, scientific reality. Most people in the city think they're eccentric at best and "clowns" at worst, but I can't exactly judge. I'm a soul from another world inhabiting a five-year-old's body; "crazy" is a relative term.
But it's not just my parents that make this world strange. This reality has its own brand of impossible.
Growing up, I learned that history played out a bit differently here. This world had an actual, documented superhero: Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America. He was a Super Soldier created in 1942 to help win the war. Finding out that a comic-book-style hero was a historical fact blew my mind. I remember dragging my parents to the Smithsonian museum dedicated to him. It wasn't hard to convince them; a little wide-eyed pleading with my blue eyes usually does the trick. It's a shame he died in 1944, right at the end of the war. I would have loved to see a real hero in action, though now he's just a legend etched in stone and old newsreels.
Aside from the world's history, I've been busy navigating my own growth. I seem to have inherited my parents' intellect—or maybe having an adult mind in a developing brain gave me a massive head start. I was walking at one, and by two, I was already speaking in full sentences and reading everything I could get my hands on. My parents often compare me to that billionaire genius, Tony Stark, though I'm happy to just stay under the radar for now.
Currently, I was perched on my desk chair, deeply immersed in a high-level biology textbook. I figured if I was going to be a Fenton, I might as well understand the science they're so obsessed with. The house was quiet, the only sound the turning of pages—until two small hands suddenly clamped over my eyes.
"Guess who?" a soft, mischievous voice whispered in my ear.
I didn't need to guess. I reached up, gently grabbing her wrists before spinning my chair around to pull her into a hug. "I think I can manage that one, Jazz," I said.
Jasmine Fenton, my nine-year-old sister, hugged me back with a giggle. She looked more like Mom every day, with a sharp mind to match. She pulled away, crossing her arms with a mock pout.
"That's no fair, Danny! You're supposed to guess, not just turn around and look," she complained in that high-pitched, "big sister" tone of hers.
I gave her a cheeky grin. "Well, I already knew it was you. Who else in this house is childish enough to play hide-and-seek while I'm trying to study? Not that I'm complaining," I added quickly.
The smile vanished from Jazz's face instantly. If there was one thing Jazz hated, it was being called "childish." She took her role as the mature elder sibling very seriously. Before I could retreat, her hand shot out, pinching my cheek with surprising strength—a move she definitely learned from Mom.
"You brat!" she huffed, though there was a twinkle of affection in her eyes. "Who are you calling childish? You should be grateful you have a big sister to look after you and keep you company".
"Ow! Ow! Okay, okay! I take it back!" I yelped, rubbing my sore cheek as she finally let go. I always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling in my past life, and while the cheek-pinching was a bit much, I wouldn't trade her for anything.
"Much better," she chirped, her sunny disposition returning as if she hadn't just been trying to detach my jaw. She reached over and ruffled my hair, effectively ruining any order I had maintained. "Anyway, Mom sent me to get you. You haven't forgotten what today is, have you?"
I glanced at the clock on my wall and let out a long, heavy sigh. Today was the day. Since I'd hit the five-year mark, my parents decided it was time for me to start elementary school. Mom insisted it was "vital for social development," even if I felt like I was light-years ahead of my peers.
"First day of school," I muttered, closing my biology book with a soft thud. "I guess there's no escaping it."
"Nope!" Jazz said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the door. "Now come on, Mom's waiting downstairs. You don't want to be late for your big debut".
I followed her out of the room, taking one last look at my quiet sanctuary of books. I didn't know what to expect from a New York elementary school, but as we headed downstairs to meet my parents, I just hoped I could blend in. Dealing with ghosts and Super Soldiers was one thing, but surviving a room full of five-year-olds was a whole different kind of challenge