Book One; Will of Fire (On Hiatus)

The Beginning

A baby's vision took approximately six to eight months to develop, whereas the other senses - auditory, olfactory, and somatosensory - barring taste, were developed long before birth inside the womb, and as such, were hypersensitive and useless until one's vision was developed enough to help comprehend the things that the other senses were taking in.

Fortunately, whatever that foreign, burning energy had been, it had receded pretty quickly; tucked into some safe corner, beyond my immediate reach or notice. After that, I put it to the back of my mind and resolved to not think about it.

I knew, somewhere at the back of my mind, that whatever it had been would likely be centripetal to nearly all the events that happen in my life - that I would not be able to ignore it forever, and that it would be making a reappearance in my life, whether I wanted it to or not.

But I ignored it in favor of attempting to gather more information about my situation, now that I could see again. So far, I've learned quite a few things.

One: the language spoken here was most definitely Japanese; I recognized some of the words in the conversations used as I knew the fundamentals of the language, though since I'll be the first to admit that I had never been fluent in it, it was difficult to make a lot of sense out of the conversations carried out above me.

Two: my current residence was more than likely an orphanage; I was in a room occupied by multiple wooden cribs, infants, and the occasional matron - though it wasn't always the same one. (I guess that means I'm an orphan now.)

Three: while that awful energy was gone for the moment, in its place was an faint (constant, intrusive) itching sensation that was foreign and strange, but eventually died down enough so that it wasn't like that anymore. In any case, it was fun to experiment with, even if it was strange and an unknown. It was hard to control, and rather volatile, but that was just another reason for me to practice and experiment in my opinion.

Four: either this was some messed up version of the afterlife, or I had been reincarnated.

The last sentence may be completely outré, but there were really not that many reasonable explanations to explain why someone who had patently died - getting hit by a semi-truck no less. How laughably cliché.

When I first put two and two together about that, I had promptly burst into tears. Perhaps it would seem strange that I, an adult in all but body, would respond in such a way. But the fact was, I was tired, scared, confused, and partially ruled by the impulses of my infantile body. I had no way to vocalize my distress, as my vocal apparatus was not coordinated enough to allow for anything beyond gibberish baby babble - and that's not even considering the language barrier that was still in place.

So, crying - the ultimate source of emotional relief; be it frustration, sadness, or grief - it was.

And I did. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore; until I finally passed from being completely exhausted - both emotionally and physically.

When I woke up, I had a splitting headache but remarkably, I felt better by leaps and bounds.