Chapter 2: Happy Birthday to Me & The First Victim

Happy Birthday to Me

&

The First Victim

The moment I was born, I screamed, "I've messed up!"

I don't remember what I messed up, but I do remember that I'd forgotten something very important, and that I'd made a huge mistake in my future life.

Naturally, my vocal cords were underdeveloped as a newborn, so I couldn't speak properly and could only let out a "mwaaa!", but I'll just accept that it softened the mood around me.

Happy birthday to me, yey!!

By the way, I use the passive voice "I was born" because I was born, but if I were born by ripping open my mother's womb, would it be okay to call myself "birth"?

If there is an afterlife, it might be interesting to become a disemboweling creature.

Shortly after being born, I thought about the most ridiculous thing, and then, with those thoughts, I pondered why I was reborn.

If almost everyone has lived multiple lives and doesn't hide it, this phenomenon would probably be rare.

Of course, it's possible that everyone in this world is from their second life onwards, but I can't think that far ahead.

Wouldn't it be better to think that I'm somehow special, that I've been given a miracle?

People always yearn for the one and only special, after all.

As evidence that disproves the theory that everyone is in their second life, I can point out that they didn't react strangely to seeing a baby praying into the void immediately after birth.

It was a horrific scene, like when my childhood friend from my previous life reflexively hit me, who had just recovered from an illness.

If they saw a baby like that, in a world where reincarnation is the norm, they'd probably shout, "My child is abnormal!" and abandon me.

Abnormal people, once they regain their mobility, are unpredictable, so they should be crushed while they can.

At the very least, that's what I would do.

The fact that they didn't do that either means reincarnation is commonplace, or my parents are incredibly kindhearted. And there's no way such kindhearted people could survive long enough to have children.

Therefore, reincarnation is not common in this world, that's Q.E.D.

Anyway, it's a good thing I didn't get any "Happy Birthday!" or "Congratulations, today's the anniversary of your death!"

I couldn't help but pray to the void, but I don't need any revelation right now. I don't know if I got it while I was unconscious or for some other reason, but I already had it when I was born.

Yes, this brings us back to the point where I messed up.

The moment something valuable is lost, I, who had striven every day for it to be the ultimate beauty, suddenly realized that everything I had up until then was close to worthless.

What a shock.

The moment I was born, a revelation descended upon me.

Something truly valuable is something that cannot be recovered or replaced.

It's not something someone like me can make on my own, nor is it something you can buy with money. It's not something you can create by trying to make it, but something that is completed through natural accumulation.

It's inevitable that human's will will intervene, but once lost, it can't be restored or recreated; these are the very things that are truly valuable.

In other words, people, the human heart, are more valuable than anything else.

Something extraordinarily pure and beautiful.

Something refined to the utmost for a single purpose, and that was the valuable thing I was looking for.

What a roundabout way to go.

So, then, the question becomes how to create something of great value. It has to be pure and refined. Noble, honorable, and beautiful. It has to be a true princess.

Well, it doesn't have to be a princess, after all.

That's what I want to create, but sadly, such wonderful people aren't all around us. Each person is unique, but many are replaceable in terms of talent. If only there were someone truly different in this world, the world would surely run better. After all, the world is made up of people who think like that. 

Even if it's just one thing, if it's something that can be replaced, it's not that valuable.

Something that can't be replaced, and once lost, it would be a loss to the world.

A talent that advanced the history of science by 100 years.

It doesn't have to be limited to the history of science, it doesn't have to be 100 years. But a star in some field. That's what I want. A single, sparkling talent, a number one, honed and polished through friendly competition.

I want to destroy that kind of thing. I have to belittle it. That's what I mean by my birth into this world.

But there was one big problem.

That such a wonderful person wouldn't be mine so easily. Of course. It's only natural that I wouldn't be able to capture the number one star. There's no way an ordinary person like me could do something so bold.

Suddenly, I was hit with such logic, and I felt sad and sobbed. My mentality is like that of firm tofu, so I'm very sensitive.

My parents, concerned about me, suddenly burst into tears, toddled and comforted me. I was truly depressed until they started playing peek-a-boo and soothing me with a rattle. I wondered if I had a baby's brain, but I was wrong. My brain is now smooth.

Crying gave me another wrinkle, and brought me one step closer to wisdom.

This led me to come up with the strategy of "birds of a feather flock together."

Simply put, the proverb states that polarized things attract each other due to the power of negentropy, but this time I'm not trying to attract people like me, but brilliant talents.

In other words, if I act like I have such wonderful talents, surely I'll be drawn to them naturally?

Of course, an ordinary person like me doesn't have the kind of talent I can brag about to others like that. I don't have any talent, but I do have knowledge. Even with this, I'm ahead of the curve by a full cycle, so I should be able to pretend to be a genius at 15.

Of course, I'll be back to being an ordinary person once I hit 20, but this is enough.

Even Cinderella was able to leave her mark by midnight, so surely I can too.

Spit on young talent and then crush it at the peak of its power.

If I can't even do that, how can I call myself a reincarnated person?

I came to this conclusion while living a life of eating, sleeping, and excreting repeatedly.

I was able to think without relying on divine revelation. Well, babies can't do anything, after all. Reincarnated people have so much free time.

While living a life where I could only think, my eyes, which had somehow regained their sight, looked in the mirror and saw a young angel reflected there. An angel with sparkling eyes, a smooth brain, and soft, supple skin. I can't believe that this angel goal is to trample on such wonderful talent.

My reincarnation gacha is an SSR.

Glory to lookism.

"Oh, is there anything good that happened? Mama is happy when you smile."

Yay, I'm so cute!

I was squealing with delight when suddenly someone came over, peering at me and smiling. Of course, as she referred to herself in the first person, it was my mom.

Unless I'd been kidnapped by a psychopath who thought she was my mom, this person was Mama.

Now, this Mama, this is sudden, but she's incredibly beautiful.

She has a pretty face that would make any guy want to protect her, and a voice that calms you just by listening to it. I'm not sure, but I think it's 1/f or something. I don't know the details, but that's what I think.

She doesn't hit me, she's clearly smitten with me, she's kind, she smells nice, she's such a cute mom.

My parent gachas are the rarest. My older dad isn't as handsome as my Mama, but he's good-looking, and I'm sure I'll become an angel.

Victory guaranteed from birth. I'm not afraid of anything anymore.

Born with such wonderful parents and good looks, I grew up healthily.

There was a time when I thought it would be okay if I remained unable to move on my own, since Mama would do everything for me, but I disciplined myself with an iron will.

...Well, I couldn't let Mama do anything evil.

Either way, if I needed a body that could move, it's better to build one early on.

I would crawl around on the floor with my plump legs and soft hands, expending the energy that surged through my body and then falling into a deep sleep.

Once I got a grasp on my own sleep schedule and energy, I stopped crying at night.

It was painful for me to see Mama suffering from lack of sleep.

I would wake up, cry, see Mama looking miserable, and cry again, and the cycle of sadness would begin.

I was a baby, so when Mama looked sad, I would feel sad too. Myaaaa.

I kept crawling like this to combat the night crying, and before I knew it, my legs and hips had gotten stronger. They went from being chubby to being plump.

On the surface, nothing has changed, but it's a big change for me. After all, I can now crawl.

Crawling is something that parents raising a baby experience both great excitement and fear.

Before, you could just roll them around and feel safe, but once they can move on their own, you never know when they might die somewhere nearby if you take your eyes off them even for a moment.

Well, I've never been a parent, so I only know this from hearsay. And even now, as an adult, I don't want to do anything to worry my Mama. I find it more fun to spin around at her feet than to explore the area.

"My child doesn't cry at night, doesn't do anything to worry me, eats well, sleeps well, and moves around a lot... maybe she's a genius!?"

"Come to think of it, I hear other people's babies haven't started crawling yet!" Mama said, picking me up and spinning me around.

You're so cute, Mama.

Mama is smiling, which makes me smile, which makes Mama even happier.

Oh no, we've completed a perpetual motion machine!

Let's call it the First Perpetual Motion Machine of Smiles.

It's perfect, because if we left it alone it would wear out and die.

To stop such a tragedy, I suddenly regain my serious expression, confusing Mama, and then go back to circling around. Once I'm just tired enough, I'll have some milk from Mama and it'll be perfect.

"You're really doing well. Healthy, energetic, and worry-free. If you continue to grow like this, I'll be happy. As long as you grow up to be a fine person, I'll... Oh? A guest?"

Mama was looking at me, muttering to herself, with no one in sight.

Of course, even if no one else hears, I hear it, but I'm a baby, so it doesn't matter. I'm a baby, after all.

Just as Mama-sama was about to say something touching, the intercom rang. It was a bit of a shock, but it was probably better than someone reading the mood inside the house from the outside, so I didn't pay it much attention.

Unreasonable anger is never a good thing, after all.

"Sorry for the sudden–... It's about–... I'm counting on you..."

Leaving me behind as I continued crawling, Mama-sama went to deal with a guest.

Pieceing together the voices I could hear and the bits I could understand, I figured it was a new neighbor. I could hear other cries besides mine, so they must have a baby with them.

In that case, I had no choice but to go and see them. Not showing my face to a family I might be spending a long time with was not an option. I didn't really have any hopes that other mothers would praise me if I crawled at this size.

Living a life where I was praised simply for being alive and moving, my need for approval was getting out of control.

Crawling along, I finally made it to the front door. I'd heard that going outside is healthy, and I'd spent several days sunbathing in the park, so even as a baby, I knew where the front door to my house was.

There was a woman about my mother's age. She looked very young. She was carrying a baby. He was crying and bawling, but he looked healthy. I wonder if he was nervous about being brought to an unfamiliar place? I know, I know. I'm the same, nyaaa.

"Ahh, you've come all the way over here," said my Mama, and she picked me up and said hello to our neighbor. I giggled as she held out my short hands, and our neighbor greeted me with a smile.

"Hello. If you have time, please get along with my child."

"I don't think you'll understand though," the neighbor says, showing me her child.

The baby is just as plump as mine. So cute.

Was it because I'm an angel that he suddenly smiled after crying a moment ago?

The baby squeals with delight, reaching out toward me. I reach out my hand back, and our hands touch, forming a bridge of drool.

What an interesting kid, giving his spit to me. He's got a good eye.