Chapter 2:

A Manual for Surviving Childhood

I Reincarnated Because I’m an Idiot!

When I was six I learned three fundamental truths:

One: running is still more important than thinking. Two: the system forgets absolutely nothing. Three: Iris had become dangerously good with a sword.

Life hadn't been exactly calm since that glorious battle against the goblins and my baby sonic attack. Time had passed. A lot of time. Enough for my legs to stop being a decorative concept and my hands to stop being blunt weapons by accident.

[SYSTEM]

Player Status: Lyran Tom

Age: 6 Level: 7 Provisional

Class: Multitask Apprentice (no official merit)

Dignity: 9/100

System Comment: "You've improved. Not enough to feel proud."

I had learned things. Some useful, others… debatable.

I could read —which in a medieval village automatically made me a "weird kid"—. I had started basic magic: no explosions, no divine lightning. Bare control of mana, small sparks of light, heating water, and an unfortunate affinity for distraction spells.

Fencing… well, that was optimistic. More like I knew how not to cut myself.

Iris trained with me almost every day. She was eleven now: taller, stronger, and with a coordination that made the village adults look at her with a mix of pride and nervousness. I was her training partner… or her excuse to practice light hits.

"Concentrate, Lyran," she said, spinning the wooden sword easily. "If you drop your guard like that they'd split you in two."

"I'm six," I panted. "Being split in two is statistically probable even if I do nothing."

She rolled her eyes and slapped my leg with the flat of the weapon.

"That's an excuse."

"It's an anatomical certainty."

[SYSTEM]

Active Skill: Basic Fencing (Level 1)

Progress: Slow.

Reason: "The user prefers to spy."

We were in the clearing behind the house. The sun was high, the air smelled of wood and sweat, and Iris's mother watched from a distance with her arms crossed… which reminded me of an important fact the system never let go.

[SYSTEM]

Warning: Pervert-meter — 86/100

Note: "Your childhood has been... creative."

I sighed.

It wasn't my fault the system had such a broad concept of "suspicious behavior." Stealing a piece of laundry once (for scientific purposes). Staying "too long" in someone's arms when I was smaller. Taking any opportunity to provoke exaggerated reactions from an overly patient adult.

Pranks. Imagination. Advantage.

"Why are you sighing like that?" Iris asked, tilting her head. "Does something hurt?"

"My record," I replied. "And probably my future."

She didn't understand, as always. Better that way.

We kept training. I blocked as best I could. She attacked with precision. Every one of her blows was an uncomfortable reminder that the world wasn't going to wait for me forever.

That's when Liam showed up.

Liam was fourteen, had a real sword (with an actual edge), and the annoying confidence of someone who knew he was good. He was an apprentice of the local guard and one of the few who didn't treat me like "the weird kid" but as "the troublesome kid."

"Hey, Iris," he said, resting his sword on his shoulder. "Training with him again?"

"Do you have a problem with that?" she replied without looking at him.

"No," he smiled. "I just wonder how much longer you're going to protect him."

Silence.

I didn't like that tone.

Iris clenched her teeth.

"I'm not protecting him. I'm training with him."

"Right," Liam looked at me. "Then I hope he's ready when real stuff happens."

[SYSTEM]

Emotional notification detected: Irritation.

Useless advice: "Maybe crying would solve this."

I didn't answer. I didn't cry. I didn't make any witty remark. For the first time in a long time, I simply watched.