Darkness. Not the darkness of sleep or the familiar shadows of my apartment with the blackout curtains drawn. This was... different. Absolute. Enveloping.
Was I dead? Was this what came after getting hit by a truck? Some void where consciousness floated forever?
My thoughts came slow, like wading through digital lag. I couldn't feel my body properly. Everything felt... wrong. Compressed. Like being wrapped too tightly in a warm, wet blanket.
Where am I?
I tried to move my arms, but they wouldn't respond right. My limbs felt tiny, weak, and uncoordinated. I attempted to open my eyes, but wasn't sure if they were already open in this perfect darkness or if I even had eyes anymore.
Am I dreaming? Is this a coma?
The pressure increased around me. Something squeezed from all sides, gentle but insistent. I was being pushed. The sensation was alien and terrifying. My mind couldn't process what was happening.
Let me out!
Panic surged through whatever remained of me. I tried to scream but no sound came. I tried to thrash but could barely wiggle. My heart—if I still had one—raced wildly. Fight or flight instincts kicked in, but I could do neither.
The pressure intensified. I was being forced somewhere. Moving without moving. Being pushed through a space too small, too tight.
This can't be real. This can't be happening.
My scattered thoughts tried to make sense of it. Was this some weird digital afterlife? Had my consciousness been uploaded somewhere? The gamer in me wondered if I'd respawned in some glitched tutorial level.
Then—light. A pinprick at first, growing larger as the pressure continued pushing me toward it. The brightness hurt after the complete darkness. I was moving toward it, or it was coming toward me. Distance had no meaning here.
The light expanded, blinding, overwhelming. The pressure peaked, became almost unbearable, and then—
I was through.
Cold. So cold after the warmth. My skin—I had skin again—prickled with the shock of it. Sounds crashed over me like a tsunami after the silence. Voices speaking words I couldn't understand. A rhythmic chanting somewhere distant. Footsteps echoing on stone.
Everything was too loud, too bright, too much. My senses, dulled in that dark place, now overloaded with input. Blurry shapes moved around me. Giant shadows. Hands—enormous hands—held me.
Something slapped my back.
The shock jolted through my tiny form. My lungs burned. My throat opened. And I—
I cried.
The wail that erupted from me wasn't voluntary. It wasn't even conscious. It was pure instinct, primal and raw. My lungs expanded for what felt like the first time, drawing in cold air and expelling it as a piercing cry that echoed off unseen walls.
I couldn't stop. Couldn't think. Could only feel and react. The crying continued, my small body trembling with the effort of it.
This wasn't a dream. Dreams didn't feel this real. The cold air on my wet skin. The hands supporting my head. The burning in my lungs. The absolute helplessness.
Somewhere in my fractured consciousness, a terrible realization began to form.
I hadn't died.
I'd been born again.
The giant red-skinned woman above me came into focus as my newborn eyes struggled to adjust. Her face was angular, fierce—almost predatory with sharp canines visible beneath her lips.
Orange flame-like tattoos danced across her crimson skin, seeming to pulse with an inner light of their own. Wild hair cascaded around her face like a dark waterfall, framing features that should have terrified me.
But they didn't.
As her glowing amber eyes met mine, her stern expression softened. The transformation was instant—like watching an intimidating boss character suddenly reveal their secret good side. The smile that spread across her face radiated warmth that cut through the cold air around us.
My crying faltered, hiccupping to a stop as I stared up at her in wonder. What was she? Who was she? Her massive hands cradled my tiny form with surprising gentleness, as if I were made of the most fragile glass.
"Doshta kel'na vos, little flame," the red woman rumbled, her voice deep and resonant.
Wait.
I understood that. Not completely—the first words remained foreign—but "little flame" came through perfectly clear. How could I understand anything? I was a newborn. Newborns didn't understand language.
Unless...
The red woman turned, and I felt myself being passed to another set of hands. These were cooler to the touch, and I found myself looking up at another impossible face. This one had smooth blue skin, like the surface of a calm ocean. Dark blue tattoos, intricate as frost patterns on a winter window, traced across her forehead and cheeks. Where the red woman had been all fierce energy, this one radiated tranquility.
"Welcome to the world, little Yuna," the blue oni said, her voice melodic and clear as a mountain stream.
My infant brain struggled to process what was happening. They knew my name. They spoke a language I partially understood. And they were... oni? Like from Japanese folklore?
The blue woman's long finger gently stroked my cheek. She began humming a melody I'd never heard before, yet somehow felt ancient and familiar. My eyelids grew heavy, fighting to stay open as questions swirled through my mind.
Why can I understand them? Where am I? What happened to me?
As if triggered by these questions, memories flashed through my consciousness. The convenience store. My arms loaded with potato chips and ramune. Checking my phone for game updates. The screech of tires. The truck. The impact.
Then other memories—hundreds of anime episodes, light novels, and games. All those isekai stories where the protagonist dies and...
Oh.
I've been reincarnated.
The realization should have shocked me. Should have sent me into a panic. But instead, a strange calm washed over me. Wasn't this exactly what happened in all those stories I'd binged? The truck. The death. The rebirth in another world.
I'd spent so many hours imagining what I'd do in an isekai situation that now, faced with the real thing, it felt almost... expected. Like I'd been preparing for this moment my entire previous life without knowing it.
The blue oni continued her gentle humming as my infant body surrendered to exhaustion. My last thought before sleep claimed me wasn't fear or confusion.
It was curiosity.
The blue oni—Ayame—held me close to her chest, her heartbeat steady beneath my ear. The rhythm was different than a human's, somehow deeper, more resonant. It should have been alien, but instead felt strangely comforting.
"She has your eyes, Kaoru," Ayame murmured, her voice vibrating through her chest against my tiny form.
The red oni—Kaoru—leaned closer, her wild black hair falling around us like a curtain. Her large finger gently traced the curve of my cheek. "And your stubborn chin." A low chuckle rumbled from her. "The elders will say she favors neither clan too strongly. A true bridge between red and blue."
"Let the elders talk," Ayame replied, a hint of steel beneath her melodic voice. "She is perfect as she is."
My crying had stopped completely now. Their voices washed over me, soothing despite the strangeness of my situation. I blinked up past their faces to the vaulted ceiling high above.
Intricate carvings covered the stone surface, illuminated by what looked like floating orbs of blue and orange light. Shadows danced across ancient symbols I couldn't begin to understand.
So... I'm a baby oni now? Half red, half blue? The thought bubbled up through my exhaustion, bringing with it an unexpected sense of amusement rather than panic. After all those isekai light novels, I'd somehow become the ultimate self-insert character. No cheat skills that I knew of, though. Just... tiny oni limbs and apparently two mothers from opposing clans.
Kaoru's warm hand enveloped my entire body as she adjusted the soft cloth I was wrapped in. "The ceremony is complete. We should take her home before she catches cold."
"Yes," Ayame agreed, her cool fingers brushing across my forehead. "
Ayame began humming again, a melody that seemed to twist and turn like a mountain path, never quite where you expected it to go. Kaoru joined with a deeper harmony that made the air vibrate around us.
The warmth of their bodies, the gentle rocking motion as they walked, the soft cloth against my skin—it all conspired against my consciousness. I fought to stay awake, to observe more of this strange new world, but it was a losing battle.
As sleep claimed me, one final thought drifted through my mind: Guess I'll see what this new life has to offer...