A GENIUS IS BORN AGAIN

“Moanna, he’s got your eyes! I swear, those eyes are all you! But the hair—ha! That’s definitely mine!”

Ei’sen’s hearty laugh echoed through the small hut, his clumsy hands shaking a bit as he cradled the tiny bundle wrapped in rough cloth. His face was flushed, a mix of exhaustion and disbelief that such a delicate life could come from him.

“Come on, little guy—say ‘Daddy!’” Ei’sen teased, leaning in a bit too close, as if the newborn could respond with anything more than a wail.

“Ei’sen… he just got here, you silly man. Let him catch his breath before you start demanding his love,” Moanna said softly, her voice a blend of tenderness and firmness. She brushed the sweat from her forehead, leaning against the bedding, her eyes sparkling with a warmth that could melt stone.

Shu’en blinked. …Huh?

The cries of the newborn rang in his ears, but something felt off. Too familiar. Too sharp, too real. He wasn’t just witnessing it—he was remembering it.

This… I’ve seen this before. This is…

His breath hitched. His hand shook as he glanced around at the flickering firelight, the shadows of his mother and father hovering over him, smiling, whole, alive.

The moment I was born.

But how? His thoughts spiraled. He had just seen Ei’sen’s head ripped from his shoulders.

He had just felt the searing air of his village crumbling to ash. He had just screamed until his throat bled as his home was reduced to nothing.

And yet here he was. Back again. Watching a scene that had already unfolded, like a memory he was never meant to revisit.

Am I dead? he wondered. Or… am I losing my mind?

The newborn cried louder, and for the first time, Shu’en realized he wasn’t just an observer.

Shu’en’s chest heaved up and down, sharp and frantic. His tiny lungs cried out just like any baby’s would, but inside his mind, thoughts swirled that belonged to someone much older, someone who had seen too much.

Wait… this doesn’t add up.

His head throbbed, the memory of that last moment clawing at him. The battle. The flames. Yalemul’s sneering grin. The horrifying sight of his father’s head being severed from his body. And then—

The rush of power. The sense of order. His own blade slicing through the air and stone, tearing the very ground apart. The ringing in his ears. The pressure building in his skull until—

Boom.

His stomach twisted. He recalled the heat. The blinding, white-hot pain. The sickening crack as his skull shattered, and then… nothing.

I died.

That thought rang clear in his mind, even as his body wailed like a newborn cradled in his father’s arms.

I was dead. My head exploded. So why… why am I here?

He gazed at his father’s smile, at the way Ei’sen’s rough hands shook as if Shu’en were the most delicate treasure in existence.

He looked at Moanna’s weary yet radiant face, her eyes brimming with love. It felt too real to be a dream. Too warm to be a mere illusion.

But that only deepened the confusion.

Why am I alive again?

Shu’en’s tiny chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. His newborn body trembled, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

This isn’t just rebirth. It’s something deeper.
I died. I remember dying. I remember… the blade, the power, the explosion.
I remember—

The words slipped out before he could catch them, soft yet unmistakable:

“…my past lives…”

His own voice surprised him. It wasn’t the typical wail of a newborn; it was shaky and strained, like two voices overlapping. The moment he spoke, a sharp pain shot through his skull.

The headache. Again.

No… not now—

His vision blurred, the warm light of the hut twisting into streaks of red and white. The pressure in his head felt like it might tear him apart all over again. His body betrayed him, tiny lungs forcing out a piercing, helpless cry.

“Shu’en?” Moanna gasped, her arms reaching for him instinctively. She pulled him close to her chest, rocking him in a gentle panic. “Ei’sen, something’s wrong—he’s burning up!”

Ei’sen hurried to her side, his rough hand hovering near the baby’s forehead. His expression hardened, though he tried to keep his voice calm. “It’s alright, Moanna. It’s just the air… or maybe he’s hungry. Babies cry. That’s what they do.”

But his hand trembled as it brushed over his son’s damp hair. Shu’en’s screams filled the room, raw and desperate, as if something far more significant than hunger or air was pressing against his tiny body.

Inside, Shu’en fought through the storm, his older mind trapped in a fragile frame.

Not again… not again… please…

The headache throbbed harder, and the baby wailed louder, unaware that his cries carried the weight of lifetimes.

The sun hung low in the courtyard, casting long shadows over the weathered stone and scattered leaves. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, bringing with it the faint aroma of wood smoke from a nearby hearth.

In the midst of it all, five-year-old Shu’en stood ready, wooden sword in hand, his eyes narrowed in intense focus. Though his small frame appeared calm, the energy around him buzzed with anticipation, each movement showcasing a surprising level of precision for his age.

Ei’sen leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. Just two months ago, his son had struggled to lift a simple practice sword without wobbling. Now…

Shu’en lunged forward with a swift, fluid strike parry, pivot, counterattack each motion executed flawlessly, almost as if it were second nature.

Ei’sen’s eyebrows shot up. “By the gods…” he murmured under his breath. “He’s… he’s learned everything?”

Shu’en’s blade sliced through the air again, taking down an imaginary opponent with the speed and precision of a seasoned warrior. There was no hesitation, no wasted effort. His stance was steady, his grip firm, and his eyes locked onto his target like a hawk.

“Shu’en,” Ei’sen called out cautiously, stepping closer. “How… how are you moving like that? You’ve only been training for a few years—how—”

Without missing a beat, Shu’en launched into another series of strikes, flowing into a perfect thrust and pivot, leaving Ei’sen in awe.

Inside Shu’en’s mind, everything was calculated: timing, angles, rhythm. Each motion was memorized, every feint anticipated.

I know this… every strike, every stance… it feels so familiar. Not from this life… but from another.

Ei’sen’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Show me again. Just once… slow, so I can see—”

Shu’en paused for a moment, then flashed a faint grin. Slowly and deliberately, he moved through the same sequence, as if performing a war dance. Each movement was precise, measured, and perfect.

Ei’sen stood there, mouth agape. “In all my years… I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Shu’en’s eyes sparkled not out of pride, but with a quiet confidence that suggested he already believed he could outshine anyone. He had trained, sure but not just in this lifetime.

The courtyard seemed to hold its breath as father and son faced each other, the young boy transformed from mere childhood into something far more extraordinary than anyone could have ever envisioned.

Ei’sen’s eyes softened as he gazed at Shu’en, his heart swelling with pride. Slowly, almost with reverence, he crouched down and scooped his son into his arms.

“By the gods… Moanna, just look at him!” Ei’sen’s voice quivered, a blend of joy and disbelief. “He’s… he’s perfect! Every strike, every stance… he’s—he’s a genius! I brought a genius into this world!”

He twirled Shu’en around gently, his face lighting up, tears shimmering in his eyes as if the entire universe had converged into this one moment of pride. “A little warrior… my little… my—”

Just then, Moanna appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw clenched, her usual calm demeanor replaced by pure fury.

“Ei’sen,” she said flatly, her voice laced with warning, “I hope you have a good reason for fawning over him like a lovesick fool.”

Ei’sen froze mid-sentence, the words “my little—” still hanging in the air. He swallowed hard, his eyes widening. “Uh… I—”

Moanna’s glare intensified. “I don’t think so, husband. You dare treat him like he’s some trophy? You’re lucky he hasn’t kicked your shin yet.”

Ei’sen’s knees buckled. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His arms instinctively curled in, trying to shield Shu’en, but the sheer force of Moanna’s glare sent him crashing face-first onto the floor.

Shu’en blinked up at them, completely unimpressed. “Dad… are you okay?”

Ei’sen, sprawled on the ground, scrambled to sit up, holding Shu’en like a shield. “I… I’m fine! She’s… she’s just… intense.”

Moanna raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Intense? I’m perfectly calm. You, on the other hand, are a complete wreck. Honestly, every time you start talking, I think about filing for… I don’t know… husband therapy.”

Ei’sen whimpered, mumbling, “I gave birth to a genius…”

In just two strides, Moanna crossed the room, crouched down, and shot him a single, piercing look.

“I did, Ei’sen. I did all the hard work,” she said, her voice low but laced with danger. “You… just stand there looking like a blithering fool.”

Ei’sen immediately crumpled like a house of cards. His arms dropped, his head hung low, and he didn’t even try to defend himself. “Yes… yes… I am a blithering fool… thank you, Moanna… for… reminding me.”

Shu’en couldn’t help but smirk, relishing this rare moment of his dad being completely human… or, more accurately, utterly defeated.

“Dad,” he said, barely suppressing a laugh, “maybe next time, try not to cry in front of Mom while announcing you birthed a genius.”

Ei’sen groaned, burying his face in his hands, muttering, “Next time… next time I will… maybe… no… never…”

Moanna straightened up, arms crossed, and gave Shu’en a quick, approving nod. “At least someone here knows how to act like a competent human.”

Shu’en rolled his eyes and muttered, “This family is ridiculous…”

And somewhere in the background, Ei’sen whimpered again, “I’m still the genius parent… right?”

Ei’sen was still sprawled out on the floor, groaning and whimpering softly, when Shu’en, sitting on the edge of a small stool, tilted his head and asked with genuine curiosity:

“Hey… Dad?”

Ei’sen managed to lift one bleary, red eye and croaked, “H-huh? Yes… yes, Shu’en… what’s up?”

Shu’en’s tiny fingers tapped thoughtfully against his knee. “Can you… teach me how to use Zinken?”

Ei’sen froze mid-whimper. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “Zinken…?” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “You… you mean… that thing? That power… that—”

Shu’en’s gray eyes flickered around, half-focused on his father, half lost in thought. It was him… that Yalemul… the way the power tore through the village, revived those monsters, took lives… I felt it… I saw it… I survived it because of it. I need to understand it.

His small voice continued softly, more to himself than to his father:

It’s not just a power. It’s what he used… the energy that defied life and death. That’s why Ei’sen, everyone… everyone else—they couldn’t stop him. And that’s why I need to learn it. Not for pride… not for power… but to make sure I’m ready for what’s coming. If I can’t control it, I won’t survive again.

Ei’sen blinked, confusion clouding his face. “Why… why do you want to learn it, Shu’en? Zinken isn’t something to mess around with—it’s dangerous, unforgiving, and definitely not a toy for kids.”

Shu’en’s expression softened into something eerily calm for his age. “Because… if I don’t know it, someone else will hurt people. I want to be able to protect them. No one should have to die."

Ei’sen stared at him for a long, tense moment. His brow furrowed. There was something about Shu’en’s answer that felt… unusual. Mature. Serious. But he didn’t catch the faint, underlying knowledge—the glimpses of Zinken that Shu’en had already seen through Yalemul.

Ei’sen sighed, leaning back with a groan. “Hmm…protecting others, huh? That’s… actually… pretty reasonable.” He rubbed his face, still whimpering softly. “I guess I could teach you… but you have to promise me one thing, Shu’en.”

Shu’en tilted his head, intrigued.

“Promise me you’ll never—ever—use it carelessly. Zinken isn’t just a flashy tool. It’s a serious responsibility… one that could be deadly if you’re not cautious.”

Shu’en nodded seriously, though memories of Yalemul’s attack and the raw power he had felt flickered in his mind: I get it… I already know. But I’ll master it fully, properly… this time on my own terms.

Ei’sen smiled, though it was a tired smile, still whimpering a bit. “Alright then… we’ll take it slow. One step at a time. And maybe… next time, don’t bring up the deadliest power in existence right after I almost gave myself a heart attack from pride, okay?”

Shu’en smirked slightly. “Sure thing… Dad.”

And so, the first lesson in Zinken began—small and careful, yet tinged with the promise of something extraordinary.