The transition wasn't a gentle awakening, but a violent collision of sensations. Alexandre's consciousness, now Kael, was hurled from the conceptual vastness of the Goddess's Workshop into the claustrophobic prison of infant flesh. The first shock was sound: a dull, rhythmic thumping, a powerful and constant thump-thump that seemed to vibrate through every fiber of his new being. It was an intimate and overwhelming sound, the first structure his mind could identify. His mother's heart.
The second shock was helplessness. His mind, the mind of an architect and a leader, was fully functional, teeming with memories of physics, schedules, and the loyalty of his men. Yet, the body that contained it was a mass of uncoordinated reflexes. He tried to move an arm, and the limb flailed spasmodically. He tried to focus his eyes, and the world was a blur of light and shadow, a kaleidoscope of indistinct shapes. The sound that escaped his mouth wasn't a word, but a sharp, frustrated cry, an animal sound that filled him with impotent rage.
This was true hell, he realized. Not death, not the void, but being a prisoner within oneself, a mind capable of designing skyscrapers trapped in a body that could barely hold up its head. The days blurred into a monotonous and humiliating cycle of eating, sleeping, and soiling himself. He was lifted by hands that felt gigantic, swaddled in soft fabrics, and fed with a warmth that both comforted and infuriated him in equal measure.
It was only around what he estimated to be his third month of life that focus began to solidify. Lying in his crib, he initiated his first conscious analysis. He looked at the wooden bars, and information flowed into his mind, not as video game text, but as an innate understanding, a sudden architect's clarity. Black Ash Wood, tightly fitted joints, high-quality craftsmanship, low-level magical resonance. It was an analysis, not a reading.
His mother, Kiri, entered the room. Her movements were silent, fluid. He focused his Vision on her. Name: Kiri Gesshoku. Class: Shinobi. Power Level: High. Status: Calm, Affection, Vigilant. Physical Analysis: Efficient muscle density, perfectly controlled low center of gravity. The information was a stream of raw data that his mind instantly translated.
The months turned into a year, then two. Kael's frustration lessened as his motor control increased. He learned to crawl, then to walk. Each new milestone was a completed project. His adult mind made him an unusual child. He didn't throw tantrums. He observed. He analyzed. He learned.
One day, Kiri held him in her arms, smiling. "Ma-ma," she repeated, the word spoken slowly and clearly. "Can you say it, my little one? Ma-ma."
The ghost of Alexandre felt the weight of that request. It was a complex emotional structure, built on a foundation of unconditional love. Responding would be simple. And dangerous. His strategist's mind took over, processing the data his Vision provided about the world around him and the memories he had accumulated.
Datum 1: My development is being closely monitored. A deviation from the norm will be noted.Datum 2: Analysis of overheard conversations indicates that 'prodigies' are rare and attract significant attention.Datum 3: Standard human speech development begins with monosyllabic babbling around 9 months, evolving to simple disyllabic words between 12 and 18 months. I am approximately 13 months old.Conclusion: Speaking the word 'Mama' clearly now would be an anomaly. A structural flaw in my disguise. The risk of compromising long-term security is unacceptable.Plan: Simulate the next phase of standard development. Produce a directed monosyllabic sound. This will satisfy the emotional objective of my 'target' (Mother), reinforcing the bond, without raising suspicion.
He looked into Kiri's eyes, focusing all his concentration on the complex engineering of his facial muscles and vocal cords. He needed to produce a sound that was believable. Imperfect. Childlike. He opened his mouth, mimicking the shape hers made, and forced air from his small lungs.
"M-mo..."
The sound that emerged was slightly choked, incomplete. It wasn't the word "mother." It was the sound of "ma." Exactly the kind of babbling a loving mother would expect from her child of just over a year.
The joy that exploded on Kiri's face was a force of nature. "That's it, my love! Ma! You almost got it!" she hugged him tightly, laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet room.
Kael remained passive in her arms. Outwardly, a baby who had pleased his mother. Inwardly, a strategist confirmed the success of his maneuver. He had manipulated the most basic emotional structure, maternal love, to strengthen his own security.
That night, lying in his crib and looking at the Gesshoku Clan emblem on the wall – a dark moon partially obscuring a full one – Kael reached a new conclusion.
His first ninja technique in this world wasn't a strike or a silent step. It was a lie. And it worked perfectly. The work was only just beginning.