My first weeks of life passed in a blur of sleep, milk, and the strange sensation of existing in this tiny, helpless body. I couldn't control when I slept or cried—my infant form had its own agenda, completely disconnected from my adult mind. It was frustrating and fascinating all at once.
One morning, I woke with an uncomfortable pressure in my gums and a burning sensation across my skin. The discomfort built until I couldn't contain it anymore. My wails echoed through the wooden beams of our home, loud enough to rattle the ornate paper screens dividing the rooms.
"That's my girl! Those lungs could intimidate a mountain ogre!" Kaoru's booming laugh filled the nursery as Ayame lifted me from my crib.
"Must you encourage her?" Ayame sighed, but her eyes crinkled with affection. She cradled me against her cool blue skin, her movements fluid and practiced. "There, little one. Is it your horns again?"
I blinked up at her through tears, suddenly aware of the sharp pain at my temples. Two small bumps had been growing there for days. The right one had developed a tiny crack—apparently a red oni trait, according to the whispers I'd overheard.
Ayame carried me to a cushioned bench beneath a window. Sunlight streamed in, catching the faint blue tribal markings that had recently appeared on my cheeks. They glowed softly whenever I cried or felt strong emotions—another reminder of my strange new existence.
"Her markings are getting brighter," Ayame observed, running a gentle finger along my cheek. "And those eyes... pure crimson fire."
She began to sing, her voice weaving through the air like silk. The melody carried something more than sound—a cool energy that seeped into my skin, easing the burning sensation. My cries softened to hiccups.
"There we are," Ayame murmured. "Better now?"
I gurgled in response, my infant vocal cords incapable of expressing the gratitude I felt. Her magic was subtle but effective—nothing flashy, just quiet power channeled with precision.
"She's going to be unusually powerful," Ayame said to herself, studying my face. "I can feel it already. The elders were right to be concerned about our union, Kaoru. Though not for the reasons they thought."
The floor vibrated with heavy footsteps moments before the door slid open with a bang.
"Where's my tiny ember?" Kaoru burst into the room, grinning wildly. "I heard her all the way from the training yard!"
Without warning, she wrapped her muscular arms around both Ayame and me, nearly crushing us in her enthusiasm. Ayame let out a small "oof" but didn't protest.
"Look at those horns coming in!" Kaoru's finger gently touched the cracked bump on my head. "Strong like her warrior mom! And those markings—clever like her mage mother!" She planted a noisy kiss on my forehead. "My strong little bean sprout is growing already!"
"Bean sprout?" Ayame raised an eyebrow. "Yesterday she was your 'tiny ember.'"
"She can be both! My fierce, smart, beautiful little sprout-ember!" Kaoru declared, completely unembárrassed by her nonsensical pet names.
Despite my discomfort, I found myself gurgling with something like laughter. Their love was overwhelming—Ayame's quiet devotion and Kaoru's boisterous affection creating a cocoon of safety around me.
The peaceful moment was shattered by the sound of thundering footsteps in the hallway. I'd learned to recognize everyone's footfalls by now—Kaoru's were heavy and confident, Ayame's nearly silent, and these belonged to—
"Where's my favorite little sister?" Rika burst through the door, her scarlet tattoos pulsing with excitement. "I heard her all the way from the village square!"
Behind her, Renji slipped in quietly, adjusting his glasses with one finger. "You don't need to announce your arrival to the entire compound, Rika."
"Oh, shut it, bookworm." Rika stuck out her tongue at him before turning her attention back to me. "There she is! Look at those little horns coming in!"
Before I could process what was happening, I was plucked from Ayame's arms and hoisted into the air by my enthusiastic older sister. My stomach lurched at the sudden movement.
"Who's gonna be the fiercest little warrior in the clan? You are! Yes, you are!" Rika cooed in a ridiculous high-pitched voice that didn't match her warrior physique at all. She bounced me in her arms, making faces that I supposed were meant to be entertaining.
"Careful with her, Rika," Ayame cautioned. "Her horns are just coming in."
"Pfft, she's tougher than she looks. Aren't you, squirt?" Rika spun me around, making my head swim. "Look at those markings! You're gonna be breaking hearts before you can even walk!"
"My turn," Renji said quietly, holding out his arms.
Rika rolled her eyes but handed me over. The transition was jarring—from Rika's enthusiastic jostling to Renji's perfectly still embrace. His blue skin was cooler than Rika's, and he held me with careful precision, like I was made of glass.
"Hello, Yuna," he said in his normal voice, no baby talk. His navy tattoos glowed softly as he studied my face. "Your magical signature is already quite distinct. Fascinating."
"Gods, Renji, she's a baby, not one of your experiments," Rika groaned.
"I'm simply making an observation. Her aura contains both fire and ice elements, which is unprecedented in our clans' history." He adjusted his hold on me, peering at my face through his glasses. "She's going to be quite the scholar someday."
"Scholar? Please! Look at that fire in her eyes!" Rika leaned in, her face uncomfortably close to mine. "She's gonna be swinging a war club before she can even talk! Right, cutie-pie? Who's gonna crush all the boys in training? You are! Yes, you are!"
Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the constant jostling, or the infantilizing baby talk, or just the overwhelming sensory input of being passed around like a hot potato. Whatever it was, I felt heat surge through my tiny body.
My skin flushed crimson. The markings on my cheeks blazed bright red, and a sound erupted from my throat that didn't seem possible from such a small body—a roar of pure, undiluted rage. The windows rattled. A nearby vase cracked. Renji nearly dropped me in shock.
"By the ancestors!" Rika jumped back, eyes wide.
Kaoru rushed forward, tears actually forming in her fierce red eyes. "That's my girl!" she crowed, snatching me from Renji's stunned arms. "Did you see that? Pure red oni fire! She's got the warrior spirit!"
I continued my tantrum, tiny fists clenched, face contorted with fury. The room's temperature seemed to rise several degrees.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the rage vanished.
My body went slack. The red glow faded, replaced by a cool blue luminescence. I stared up at them all with an unnervingly calm expression, my breathing perfectly regulated, my eyes clear and analytical.
Silence fell over the room.
"Well," Ayame said softly, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "That's interesting."
Kaoru looked down at me, bewildered. "What just happened? Is she okay?"
"More than okay," Ayame approached, placing a gentle hand on my forehead. "That's emotional suppression—a blue oni trait. She's perfectly fine; she just... switched."
Renji leaned in, fascinated. "Remarkable. Complete emotional regulation at her age."
"It's kinda creepy," Rika whispered, peering at my now-serene face. "She went from demon-child to ice statue in a second."
"She's not an ice statue," Ayame chided. "She's simply processing in her own way."
I gazed up at them, inwardly amused at their reactions. The tantrum had been embarrassing—I'd lost control completely—but this calm state felt much better. I could think clearly, observe everything.
Later that evening, after Renji and Rika had been shooed away, my parents sat by the hearth fire in their bedroom, where my crib had been temporarily placed. I lay awake, watching the flames cast dancing shadows on the wooden ceiling.
"I've never seen anything like it," Kaoru said, poking at the fire. "Red rage one moment, blue calm the next. Is that... normal?"
Ayame sipped her tea thoughtfully. "There's no 'normal' for a child like ours, love. No blue and red oni have ever produced offspring before."
"What if she can't control it? What if the fire in her burns too hot?" Worry creased Kaoru's usually confident face. "Our clan values strength, but uncontrolled rage is dangerous."
"And what if the ice grows too cold?" Ayame countered gently. "My clan values intellect, but complete emotional detachment has its own risks." She set down her cup. "I believe she won't be either extreme. She'll be balanced—or perhaps..."
"Perhaps what?"
"Perhaps unpredictable." Ayame smiled. "A new kind of oni altogether."
Kaoru groaned. "That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be." Ayame rose and moved to my crib. "It was meant to be honest."
They both came to stand over me. I cooed up at them, reaching with my tiny hands.
"Come here, little one." Ayame lifted me, then settled onto their sleeping mat. Kaoru joined her, and they placed me between them, a small island in a sea of parental love.
They began to hum together—Ayame's melodic soprano weaving with Kaoru's rich alto. The lullaby was unfamiliar to me, but beautiful, words in a language I was still learning. Something about mountains meeting valleys, fire embracing ice.
I reached one hand toward Kaoru's crimson cheek and the other toward Ayame's blue one. They exchanged surprised glances over my head.
Then I giggled—a sound of pure joy, but with a hint of mischief that made both my mothers laugh.
"I think," Kaoru whispered, "we're in for quite the adventure with this one."
Ayame nodded, her violet eyes twinkling. "Indeed. And I wouldn't have it any other way."