Rebirth

Tenzin used his past life knowledge as a yoga instructor to make the birth as painless for his mother as possible. When the contractions started, his father rode hastily to fetch the midwife, so for half an hour, the mother was alone, expecting that it would still be a few hours before the baby came. So it was a great surprise to her, when the baby wiggled out in a matter of minutes, while causing her minimal discomfort.

Tenzin opened his eyes and took in the room. It was a large, simple, but tastefully decorated bedroom with exposed wooden walls and carpeted floors. The bed-sheets smelled of lavender, and there was a faint scent of incense wafting from a small shrine in the corner. The windows were mostly clear in the middle, with the corners inlaid with multicolored stained glass. Several crystals were suspended along the window’s tops, and a few lay on the windowsill, which made the light in the room dance in a panoply of colors.

A fairly large vertical banner with a design resembling a coat of arms hung behind the bed, above a sheathed sword resting on a wooden stand, which made Tenzin suspect that his father was a knight of some sort. The room was clean and tidy, no doubt prepared especially for the delivery. There were two bookshelves filled with bound volumes and stacks of scrolls in the shady parts of the room, likely placed there to avoid damage to the paper from direct sunlight.

After a cursory examination of his surroundings, Tenzin felt his mother’s hands lift him up and cradle him in her arms. He looked in her eyes, she looked scarcely older than Tenzin was when his previous life was suddenly cut short. She had a wide smile as she examined her newborn, her dark long hair cascading over her shoulders, with little freckles speckling her beaming face like tiny sunspots.

“Why hello there, little one,” she cooed in the language Tenzin had been secretly learning over the course of the pregnancy.

Tenzin mumbled for a second to clear his throat before finally being able to enunciate “Hello, mama.”

A look of confused surprised washed over her face. After an awkward pause Tenzin tried again.

“Hello, mother. Nice to meet you.”

In hindsight, it was strange how quickly she came to accept the remarkable. Were talking newborns common in this world, Tenzin wondered.

“Well, aren’t you a smart cookie,” she laughed melodiously. “My name is Maya.”

“Tenzin,” the infant replied, clumsily touching his little hand to his chest.

“Tenzen,” she repeated, with an accent that seemed inherent to her language. Tenzin didn’t bother to correct her. If anything, this was the smallest change he experienced in this new life. “That’s a lovely name. I’ll make sure you get to keep it.”

Tenzen tried to bow his head in a polite gesture of thanks, but realized it was still too large relative to the rest of his body, which cracked him up, and made him issue a cute little approving giggle.

“But we should probably keep this our secret for now,” Maya went on, taking the words from Tenzen’s mouth, “I know your father will love you either way, but he has many worries circling his head right now.”

“Secret,” Tenzen repeated in agreement.

Outside the house, they could hear the clopping of horse hooves coming out of the forest. Tenzen’s father was returning with the midwife.

“He’s almost here. Maybe you should cry a little so he knows you’re ok.” Tenzen reflected on the irony that infants are expected to cry when they’re born. While it made sense that it would be the easiest way to make sure that the newborn was able to breathe properly, only those who were able to remember earlier lives knew that the crying came from past life trauma. Anyone would cry after being torn away from everything they loved, only to suddenly be thrown into an unfamiliar, yet somehow the same world, and forced to repeat everything from level one. That’s why babies cry constantly for months, stubbornly resisting their new situation, until they finally come to accept the inevitability of their current circumstances. As the door opened, Tenzen began to fake cry.

His father rushed through the door, the wooden floor creaking under his riding boots. He looked older than Tenzen’s mother, maybe in his mid-thirties, but perhaps he was just weathered by a difficult life that had aged him prematurely. He had rough, red hair, and a short beard, which looked more like the result of forgetting to shave than of being grown intentionally. His face was marked by several small scars, but not any that took away from his tough charisma. He wore light studded-leather armor, mixed with bits of chainmail covering his vitals, though without any insignia.

When he saw Tenzen, his eyes narrowed with joy, and small tears glistened on the crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“It’s a boy,” Maya told him proudly.

The father leaned over to kiss her on the forehead and picked up Tenzen, his calloused hands far gentler than they appeared, and lifted his son up into the air.

“And what a boy!” he exclaimed.

“Sir, that’s the umbilical chord,” the voice of the midwife came from behind him, as she grabbed the infant from him, giving a stern rebuking look for not washing his hands before handling a newborn, and proceeded to cut and tie the chord and examining the child.

The father stepped back, scratching is head and grinning with a bit of embarrassment while the midwife plied her craft.

Tenzen studied him discretely. Judging by his posture and the manner in which he carried himself, his father was definitely a warrior, but there was none of the crudeness of a common soldier about him. He exerted a kind of confidence befitting an officer or a noble, someone who was used more to giving orders than receiving them. Yet, at the same time, it seemed like that aura was something he was not proud of and tried to hide, even as it showed through, being too deeply engrained from years of habit. There was something simple and almost apologetically foolish about him, but not actually stupid, more like he had gotten used to and accepted deferring to Tenzen’s mother’s opinion on all matters, and after a life of decision making and responsibility, now enjoyed giving up control.

“Thank you, Yoko,” Maya said to the midwife, once she had finished cleaning and wrapping Tenzen in swaddling clothes. The father gave her a couple of coins, and the midwife excused herself.

“Take of your boots, Kenji, and come sit next to us,” Maya addressed the father, as Tenzen made a mental note of his name. “Isn’t he beautiful? I think he has your hair,” she remarked, referring to the faintest tuft of red on the infant’s head. “Any problems on the road?”

“I didn’t see anyone, but I’m sure they’re still looking for us,” Kenji replied. So they must be hiding from someone, Tenzen thought to himself. What’s their relationship status anyway? They didn’t have any wedding rings, but maybe that wasn’t a custom in this world. Am I a bastard?!? That would explain why the birth is being kept secret. Judging by how nicely the house was decorated, they had been here for a while.

“Don’t take any risks, we have everything we need here. Things in the capital will settle eventually,” Maya instructed, as Kenji nodded silently. He kicked of his boots and lay down on the bed next to Maya, as they held Tenzen together, in a lingering moment of parental bliss. Before he knew it, Tenzen had dozed off to sleep.