Warmth faded.
Light vanished.
And suddenly Tod was pulled into something cold—something tight and small and real. A heavy weight pressed against his chest, and he felt his lungs seize before he remembered how to breathe.
Air rushed in, shaky and sharp.
His eyes shot open.
For a moment, he expected to see that bright, holy light… God's silhouette… that comforting warmth.
Instead, he saw a cracked ceiling with peeling paint.
A water stain shaped vaguely like a cloud hovered overhead, yellowed with age. The smell hit him next—dust, old wood, and the faint scent of laundry soap that had tried and failed to hide the room's decay.
Tod blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Everything felt wrong.
His hands were small.
His arms were thin.
His clothes—simple, rough fabric—hung awkwardly on him. The bed beneath him was narrow, springy, and creaked loudly with any shift in weight.
He sat up too fast and nearly toppled over.
His balance felt different, as if the center of gravity he once knew had vanished.
This wasn't his body.
His heart thudded, faster and faster until it echoed in his ears.
He pressed his palm to his chest—
Small.
Narrow.
Childlike.
And then the room around him finally registered.
Six other beds sat in the cramped space, most empty. A few held sleeping children curled under thin blankets. The walls were faded, the corners dusty, and a single small window let in a slice of morning light that revealed floating particles drifting through the air.
On a nearby dresser, mismatched toys and books sat in a messy pile, like they had been donated by dozens of strangers over the years.
A wooden sign above the door read:
"St. Lia's Orphan Home"
Tod's breath caught in his throat.
Orphan home?
A new body?
A different world?
He remembered God's warm hand on his shoulder, His gentle smile, His words:
"You will go to a world of My choosing and live again."
Tod swallowed hard.
His voice came out small—higher, softer than he expected.
"…Huh?"
He lifted his hands again, staring at them, turning them over in disbelief. His fingers were too short. His skin too smooth. His wrists too thin. Years of work, the calluses made though hard work gone in a intant.
He was a child again.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway. A soft, tired voice followed.
"Is someone awake already? Breakfast isn't for another hour…"
The doorknob rattled.
Tod flinched instinctively.
The door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman with a worn apron and kind, exhausted eyes. When she saw Tod sitting upright, alert and panicked, she froze for a moment in surprise.
"Oh! You're finally up."
She smiled gently.
"You had us worried, little one."
Little one?
Little one?!!
The words hit him harder than the truck did.
Tod's thoughts spiraled.
I'm really here, This is real, God… actually sent me to another world.
His breathing grew unsteady. He wasn't panicking—he was trying not to. Everything felt too unfamiliar, too fragile.
The woman stepped into the room slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal.
"It's alright," she whispered. "You're safe here."
Tod looked up at her.
But safe wasn't what he felt.
He felt reborn, confused, terrified... yet for some reason he felt excited as if
this was how it was supposed to be.
Tod looked at the older lady and tried his best to seem as if he has still a child as he was supposed to be."I'm okay, miss. Just had a nightmare." I tried to smile, but my face did mucles didn't feel like i could move it and i could feel a bit of drool drip ou...weird
The lady flinched—'kinda rude but ok'—then forced herself back into that soft, motherly smile. "It's alright, dear. And please call me Mrs. Jhones. Try to get some more sleep, okay? Breakfast will be ready in a few hours, love."
The second she opened her mouth, I knew I was in Texas again. The accent did all the work. And her outfit? Yeah, she looked like she was wearing a cape. A stiff one. Who the hell wears a crunchy cape at night? Still, it's colorful, and she's taking care of me, so who am I to judge? Rock that cape, I guess.
I crawled back into bed and tried to lie down, but my brain was doing cartwheels. Everything was happening too damn fast. This is insane… okay, screw it, I'm checking what I look like.
As soon as Mrs. Jhones left the room, I snuck out of bed like a tiny four-year-old ninja. Remembering stuff is weird—it's not hard, it's just… there. Like when someone reminds you that you own a blender. Turns out I'm four. Great. Fantastic.
Then I looked in the mirror.
And holy shit.
My lips? Gone. Disappeared. Evaporated. My cheeks? Also gone—ripped off the map. I could see all my teeth grinning back at me like some discount Halloween decoration. And my teeth? Sharp as hell, like I'm one bad day away from biting someone's ankles off. And these eyes look wired as hell, and why are they yellow, are they contacts or something? I treid to touch them and it hurt, so yep they are real. I feel like the only normal thing about me now was my brown hair.
[ think of 'Juzo Honenuki', but sharper teeth and
What kind of freak accident did I get thrown into to come out looking like this? Jesus.
I shouldn't say that i'm sorry.
The apology slipped out before I could stop it. Habit, I guess. When you wake up looking like a gremlin with dental weaponry, maybe saying God's name in vain feels like holding a match over a gas tank.
I leaned closer to the mirror.
My reflection leaned closer too, and that alone made my stomach flip.
Yep. Definitely me. Definitely horrifying.
My eyes were way too bright, glowing faintly like they'd stolen light from somewhere else. The yellow wasn't natural either, it wasn't jaundiced or sickly. It was… predatory. Sharp. Like a wolf's eyes caught in headlights.
"Okay," I whispered to myself, gripping the sides of the mirror frame. "So I'm four. I'm weird. And I look like I bite."
Behind me, a floorboard creaked.
I spun so fast the mirror nearly cracked from my elbow. Tiny bodies shuffled in the dim early light—two kids sitting up in their beds, rubbing sleep from their eyes.
A girl with messy braids blinked at me, then at my face, then froze like someone had unplugged her brain.
A younger boy stared like he was witnessing a cryptid crawl out of his sock drawer.
Great.
Fantastic.
Exactly what I needed.
The girl opened her mouth—and I swear I felt time slow down.
If she screamed, Mrs. Jhones would come running. She'd see me standing here looking like a Halloween prop that learned taxes. Then the questions would start. Then the panic. Then… probably a priest. Or a vet.
She sucked in a breath.
I panicked.
"Hi," I squeaked.
The girl didn't scream.
She just stared at me with this narrowed, suspicious look—like I was the one who'd woken her up.
"…Your face is weird," she said flatly.
Wow. Thanks. Truly, an artist of words.
The smaller boy tilted his head. "your like Mrs. jhones right?"
'What does that even mean?
"What!" I hissed, hands waving. "I'm, I'm normal! I'm a kid! I just— look like this. It's a… birth thing. Probably."
Birth thing? Really? Out of all possible excuses, I went with "birth thing"?
The girl leaned forward a little, squinting. "You look like you'd eat bugs."
"I don't eat bugs."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"…Probably.
Before anything else could go wrong, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway. Heavy ones. Adult ones.
Oh no.--Mrs. Jhones.
She must've heard voices.
I shot back toward the bed, practically tripping over my own tiny legs, and dove under the blanket like a guilty dachshund. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my breathing into something vaguely childlike and innocent.
The door opened.
"Kids? Why's it so noisy in here?" Mrs. Jhones' voice carried that tired warmth again.
The girl didn't hesitate. "He was up and looking at himself again."
TRAITOR.
Mrs. Jhones' footsteps approached my bed. I felt a shadow fall over me.
"…Tod?" she whispered softly. "Sweetheart? You alright?"
I swallowed hard and poked my head out of the blanket. Her face softened instantly.
Something in her gaze said she wasn't seeing a monster.
Just a scared kid.
Which—honestly—made something in my chest ache.
"I'm okay," I said quietly. "Just… another nightmare."
Her hand brushed my hair back gently. "You've had a rough few days, especially with your quirk awakening haven't you? But you're safe here. Truly."
… What's a quirk
not being aware of my current thoughts Mrs jhones continued with a small sigh.
"Come downstairs once you're ready, honey. I'll start breakfast early."
As she left, closing the door behind her, the girl across the room leaned forward again, whispering:
"…You really don't eat bugs?"
I sighed.
Me "I don't eat bugs."
Girl"Not even sometimes?"
Me"NO!". weird little kids
but life seems ok, We can work with this.