He opened his eyes.
The ceiling was too low.
That was the first problem.
The second was his hands. They were small. Too small. Soft, clumsy, with fingers that still had the wrong proportions. He stared at them for a long second, flexing them slowly, like the delay might fix something.
It didn't.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "That figures."
He tried to sit up and nearly fell over. His body felt light. Not weak. Like it hadn't finished loading yet. When he steadied himself, he realized he was lying on a bed. A real one. Soft mattress. Thin blanket. Faint smell of detergent and something sweet.
A child's room.
Colorful walls. Low shelves. A desk pushed into the corner with rounded edges so no one cracked their head open. Sunlight slipped through half-open curtains and painted warm lines across the floor.
He exhaled slowly.
"So," he said, voice higher than it should be. "Reincarnation it is."
No pain. No alarms. No god standing at the foot of the bed. Just silence and the sound of distant traffic outside.
He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. His feet barely touched the floor.
Great.
He stood up, wobbling once, then walked toward a mirror fixed to the closet door. Each step felt slightly off, like wearing shoes that weren't broken in yet.
The reflection confirmed it.
A kid. Maybe four or five. Dark hair, messy from sleep. Wide eyes that didn't match the calm expression he was trying to hold. Definitely not his old face.
He stared at it for a while.
"…Okay," he said. "I can work with this."
Then he noticed his left hand.
There was a mark.
It ran from the base of his thumb across the back of his hand, thin and sharp, like a clean line carved into his skin. Not a scar. It didn't look damaged. The skin around it was smooth, but the line itself glowed faintly, like light trapped under glass.
He raised his hand closer to his face.
The glow pulsed.
Then it split.
The line on his skin peeled open like a seam, light spilling out in a thin ribbon. The air popped. Something pushed through.
"W̸̗̄A̷̬̎Ḫ̴̍H̷̟͠Ḫ̴̽—"
A shape burst free with dramatic force.
He didn't scream. He blinked.
The thing hovered in front of his face, arms spread wide like it expected terror. Fog-white fur. Long ears that drooped at the tips. Gold rings dangling and clinking softly. One eye blue. One eye amber. A small red sigil sat neatly on its forehead.
It struck a pose.
"İ̷̩ ̴̜͝Ḁ̸͛M̵̟͘ ̸̲͊A̴̦̚B̸̞͗R̷̮̀Ȃ̵̞X̵̮͝Ä̸̙́Ș̴̛," it boomed, voice layered and echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"G̷̞̐Ö̴̞́D̸̩̀ ̷̤͘A̴̙͗B̸̩͋O̵̮͝V̷̪̽Ė̵̠ ̸̯̓A̷̬͛L̵̩̈́L̷̞̑ ̷̯̄G̴̙͐O̵̞͘D̸̬̅S̷̪͗."
The room vibrated. The light dimmed. The air felt heavy, like the world itself leaned in to listen.
"Embodiment of light and darkness. Good and evil. Beginning and end. I am the unity of—"
"…You're tiny," he said.
Silence.
The creature froze mid-monologue.
"…What?"
He leaned closer, squinting. "Huh. You're like… palm-sized. And fluffy."
The god's ears twitched.
"I̷͔͝ ̴̗̎Á̴̲M̴̦̍ ̵̼̔Ṉ̸̀Ö̴͚́T̸̲̓—"
He poked it.
Soft.
Very soft.
"Yeah," he said. "Definitely fluffy."
The being recoiled, floating back a few inches, offense radiating in waves.
"I rule a domain beyond causality," Abraxas snapped. "I am worshipped across realities. I represent the totality of the self—"
"You came out of my hand like a party trick," he replied. "I think that disqualifies you from scary."
Abraxas stared at him.
"…You were supposed to scream."
"Yeah, well. Bad day for expectations."
The god crossed its tiny arms. The jewelry on its wrists chimed.
"This vessel is imperfect," Abraxas said stiffly. "My true form would unravel your mind."
"Sure," he said. "But right now you look like something a shrine sells as a keychain."
Another pause.
"…This form is efficient," Abraxas said. "It balances approachability with divinity."
"Cute," he corrected.
The word hit harder than any insult.
Abraxas's ears drooped by a fraction.
"I am not—"
"Relax," he said, sitting back on the bed. "You said you wanted to experience being human, right?"
"Yes," Abraxas said cautiously.
"Congrats. Step one achieved. You just got called cute by a five-year-old."
The god glared.
"…I will remember this."
"Get in line," he said.
He looked around the room again, slower this time. The walls. The window. The quiet hum of the outside world. Everything felt real in a boring way. Too solid to be a dream.
"So," he said, resting his hands on the mattress. "Where are we?"
Abraxas floated higher, turning in place. Its mismatched eyes narrowed as if it were finally paying attention.
"A developed world," it said. "Stable. Dense population. Low ambient threat."
"That's not an answer."
"It is sufficient."
He sighed. "Is this modern?"
"Yes."
"Earth?"
"…Close enough."
He rubbed his face with both hands. They still felt wrong. Too small. "You don't actually know, do you."
Abraxas bristled. "I know plenty."
"You didn't even finish scanning the room."
"I did not need to."
"That pause says otherwise."
Abraxas hesitated.
Then shrugged.
"I placed you on the nearest compatible world I found," it said. "You were already crossing over."
He lowered his hands and stared at it. "Nearest."
"Yes."
"That's never a good sign."
"I ensured acceptable conditions," Abraxas added quickly. "Functional society. No ongoing extinction events. No divine warfare."
"Comforting."
"I also selected your circumstances," it said, chest puffing out.
"Oh no."
"You are the child of an average household," Abraxas said proudly. "Moderate income. Stable family unit."
"…Where."
Abraxas smiled. A very smug, very fluffy smile.
"Japan."
The word settled heavier than it should have.
Traffic outside. A distant train horn. Voices drifting through open windows somewhere down the street.
Modern Japan.
"And the setting?" he asked carefully. "Normal world? Or one of those."
Abraxas tilted its head. "Clarify."
"Superpowers. Costumed nonsense. Heroes."
Abraxas thought about it.
Too long.
"…This world expresses anomalies through biological traits," it said at last. "They are categorized socially."
??
"Categorized how."
Before Abraxas could answer, sound drifted in from the other room.
A television.
Cheerful music. Loud. Triumphant.
"—once again, the Symbol of Peace arrived just in time—"
He froze.
The announcer's voice continued, bright and confident.
"—All Might reassures citizens after today's incident—"
Silence filled the bedroom.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the open door.
"Wow"
(￣m￣）