I. Early Infancy & Toddlerhood (Age 0-3): The Mind vs. The Body, and Nascent Perception
The first sensation was the profound, infuriating lack of control. As Renji Kazama, my body had been an extension of my will, every muscle honed by disciplined training. Now, as Akira Ramou, these limbs were rebellious, flailing like disconnected puppets. I tried to push myself up, to roll over, to even just sit upright, and inevitably, gravity won. A tiny, frustrated grunt would escape me, a far cry from the curses my adult mind wanted to utter. Falling wasn't often painful, but the sheer indignity of it, this childish helplessness, was a constant, irritating buzz beneath my conscious thought.
My mental maturity was the only thing preventing constant infantile wails. I rarely cried for simple discomfort or boredom; my adult logic saw no point in it. Only true pain, a sharp jab from a toy or a particularly hard bump, would involuntarily force out a high-pitched cry – a sound that still mortified my inner 24-year-old. Even then, it wasn't a tantrum; it was a pure, unadulterated call for aid from beings I now depended on entirely.
"Mama," the word formed in my mind, though only gurgles left my lips. I understood, with a strange mix of intellectual amusement and deep-seated awkwardness, that my new existence revolved around these colossal figures. And a significant portion of that revolved around my mother, Kiyo.
"Milk." The demand was primal; this body was screaming for sustenance. As Kiyo drew me close, her form became the immediate, undeniable focus. My gaze, drawn by instinct, would linger on the curves of her breasts, the warmth, and a small, unconscious, almost goofy smile would begin to form on my infant lips. It was a purely visual, immediate, and utterly involuntary response from the 24-year-old mind trapped within.
My mental filter slammed down instantly, aggressively, pushing back against the inappropriate thoughts. "No. Absolutely not. This is my mother. This is care." This became my silent, internal mantra. The second I felt her gaze, or perceived the slightest shift in her attention towards me, the smile would vanish as if it had never been, and I would force my gaze to dart away to the ceiling. It was a constant battle, a silent war waged within the confines of my own skull. Every time, I forced myself to re-focus, to analyze, to intellectualize the bizarre act of nourishment. Kiyo's warmth, her gentle touch, the soft murmur of her voice as she held me close… these were pure acts of maternal affection. It was vital sustenance for this helpless form. My internal resolve, honed by Renji's past failures and my new purpose, was in constant overdrive, actively suppressing any hint of lust or perversion.
And what a new reality it was. From the moment my senses began to clear, I became an unparalleled observer. Every day was a lesson. I meticulously took in every detail of the Ramou home, cataloging every scent, every sound. The sunlight filtered differently through the windows; there was a subtle hum of unfamiliar technology, the strange textures of blankets and clothes. I was a child, yes, but a child with the insatiable curiosity and analytical mind of an adult, learning the very basics of a new existence, one small, bewildering sensation at a time.
II. Childhood Discovery (Age 4-10): Prodigy, Books & Society's Colors
As my infant body matured and granted me more control, my intellect voraciously sought knowledge. The small library in the Ramou home became my sanctuary. It wasn't vast, but it was surprisingly well-stocked, a testament to Masato's scholarly leanings. Here, among the neatly organized shelves, I devoured every book I could get my tiny hands on, often propping myself up awkwardly with cushions, my brow furrowed in concentration that would astound any typical parent.
For me, attending my early classes was less "learning" and more "enduring." I was, quite literally, a 24-year-old man in a room full of kindergartners and first-graders. The lessons on basic arithmetic, phonics, and elementary history felt agonizingly slow, like watching paint dry in slow motion. I grasped concepts before the teacher finished speaking, completed assignments in a fraction of the time, and found myself silently correcting grammar in the textbooks. To my peers, and especially to my teachers, I was nothing short of a marvel. I wasn't just smart; I was unnervingly smart, able to articulate complex thoughts with surprising clarity and solve problems far beyond my age group.
My parents, Kiyo and Masato, were, of course, immensely proud. Their pride was not the quiet, understated kind; it was a warm, booming delight they happily shared with anyone who would listen. "You should see what he did in class today!" Kiyo would gush to neighbors and relatives, her Gray eyes sparkling. "He solved a puzzle that stumped his teacher!" Masato, ever the shrewd businessman, would nod with a beaming smile. "Truly exceptional. Look at what he could do at such a young age." They didn't push me, but they openly boasted, displaying my achievements like treasured trophies. I'd offer a small, polite smile, internally cringing at the effusive praise while simultaneously feeling a strange, unfamiliar warmth at their genuine adoration. I'd learned quickly to feign a moment of thought before answering a question, or deliberately make a minor, easily correctable mistake, just to appear human and avoid alarming anyone with outright perfection. I wanted to be a prodigy, yes, but not an anomaly that would draw the wrong kind of attention.
It was within the pages of the Ramou library that the true structure of this world began to reveal itself. I learned about Spectra, not as a vague sense of energy, but as the fundamental life force of this reality, flowing through all living beings, shaping society. I devoured every detail on the Spectra Ranks, their abilities, and their inherent drawbacks:
Gray Spectra (Level Range: 1-50): The most common. These were the foundational Spectra users, their abilities often subtle – enhancing stamina, improving sensory input slightly, small bursts of speed or strength. They formed the backbone of manual labor, basic services, and community roles. Their drawback was their limited range and power, making them easily overwhelmed by higher ranks.Green Spectra (Level Range: 51-100): More versatile and potent than Gray. Green users could achieve noticeable boosts in physical attributes, perform minor energy projections, or enhance focus. They were common in skilled trades, mid-level management, and basic security forces. Their drawback was a tendency towards exhaustion if overused, and their power still paled in comparison to higher tiers.Blue Spectra (Level Range: 101-150): The pinnacle of intellectual Spectra. Blue users excelled in strategy, analysis, and could create complex energy constructs or mental projections. They were the leaders, tacticians, scholars, and high-level administrators. Their drawback often lay in a reduced physical aptitude compared to Reds or even Greens, or a mental strain from prolonged high-level use.Violet Spectra (Level Range: 151-200): Powerful and versatile, often combining physical and energy manipulation. These were the elite soldiers, specialized enforcers, and top-tier professionals. Their drawback was the demanding nature of their abilities, requiring immense discipline and often causing significant physical drain.Red Spectra: Pure destruction. The texts emphasized that its power was immeasurable, beyond any known level ranges or calculations.Gold Spectra: Pure creation. Similarly, its power was described as unquantifiable, transcending all known limits and tiers.
I learned of the common jobs associated with each rank, how society was stratified by these inherent abilities, and the typical career paths people followed based on the color of their eyes.
But it was the ancient tomes, often tucked away in dusty corners, that truly captured my attention. These weren't textbooks; they were collections of legends and myths, whispers of powers thought lost to time. Among them, the most compelling was the Legend of Kael and Aurelian.
I read of Kael, the first recorded Red user, whose eyes blazed with destructive fury after witnessing his village's demise. Kael, the tyrant who decimated armies and forged an empire through fear and raw power, his very presence a living testament to chaos. The Red Spectra, as described in these myths, was synonymous with pure evil, an uncontrollable force that ravaged everything in its path, leaving only ruin. All accounts ended with the universal belief that Red users were long extinct, a terrifying, unholy power that hopefully would never return.
Then, there was Aurelian, the first known Gold user. Born within Kael's tyrannical domain, he was a child who, at sixteen, rose to challenge the Red Emperor. The legends painted Aurelian as a beacon of hope, a hero who, in the climactic battle against the destructive Kael, found his own eyes glowing with the impossible hue of Gold. Gold Spectra, as the myths told it, was the ultimate benevolent force, a power of creation and ultimate victory against overwhelming odds, its might beyond any conventional measurement. Like Red, it was considered long extinct, a whispered ideal from a bygone era.
Akira, absorbing these stories, felt a cold dread settle in my stomach. The "unique warmth" I felt within myself was a profound, indefinable energy. I didn't know what it was, or if it aligned with any known Spectra; I simply thought it was the Spectra flowing through me, as the books described. And in a world where Red Spectra was feared as pure destruction and Gold Spectra was a mythical, almost terrifying ideal of power, the safest place to be was utterly unremarkable. Green, perhaps. Respectable, capable, yet entirely mundane in the grand scheme of legends and terrifying realities.
It wasn't just ancient scrolls that spoke of formidable powers. Sometimes, on quiet evenings, my parents would share stories, more hushed and serious than the bedtime tales of fantastical creatures. One night, my father, Masato, his voice lower than usual, spoke of a terror that, even now, sent shivers down my child's spine – though my adult mind recognized the gravity. He spoke of The Last Red.
"Centuries ago, son," he began, his gaze distant, "there was a darkness unlike any before or since. He was called The Last Red." My mother, Kiyo, would often draw closer, her expression solemn. "A monster, truly. His heart was pure malice, they say. He enjoyed cruelty, finding power in destruction. It was during his mad rampages that his eyes, already burning with hatred, turned the color of blood. He became a Red Spectra user, but not just any. He was the most powerful being anyone had ever seen."
My father continued, recounting how this Red user, with his unimaginable strength and twisted intellect, conquered lands and committed unspeakable acts. "His abilities were so horrifying," Kiyo added, her voice barely a whisper, "that even the scribes refused to detail them. They are simply... unspoken of." The legend then spoke of the Gold users, the universe's inherent balance. "Three times, a Gold user emerged to challenge him," Masato explained, "each a beacon of hope. The first, he utterly destroyed. Two years later, another rose, only to fall. And the third…" My father paused, a profound weariness in his voice. "No one ever saw him or that last Gold user again."
They believed The Last Red was gone, consumed perhaps by his own power, or vanquished in that final, epic clash. "He's presumed dead now, for hundreds of years," Kiyo would reassure me, though her eyes still held a flicker of ancient fear. "No Red users have ever returned since. The world has forgotten the true terror."
I listened, outwardly calm, but inside, a new layer of dread solidified my resolve. A power like that, so potent it could consume three Gold users, so evil it became legendary... and the world had forgotten it. My own hidden energy, this warmth I sensed, felt so alien, so utterly unknown. The idea that such a force could be triggered by an 'event,' by 'deepest intentions,' made me even more cautious. If Red Spectra users emerged from such pure malice, what did my own unique presence mean? It reinforced my paramount goal: to remain unremarkable, to never draw that kind of cosmic attention.
My somewhat solitary nature, however, was subtly breached by a classmate named Kaito. Kaito was three years older than me, a blonde-haired boy with light brown eyes and a build that, even at our young age, was already showing a lean, athletic promise, somewhat similar to my own natural frame. Kaito wasn't a prodigy himself, but he was genuinely friendly, possessing an open, easygoing demeanor that seemed unbothered by my quiet intensity. He harbored a sincere admiration for my startling intellect, often seeking me out to explain a particularly tricky concept or just to listen to my surprisingly mature insights. Our bond was less about shared childish games and more about a quiet, mutual respect, with Kaito's outgoing nature subtly drawing me out of my shell.
Kaito did have an older sister, Emi, who was a year older than him. I would occasionally see her around school or when Kaito mentioned her, but my direct interactions were minimal. Even at this young age, Emi possessed a striking presence. She had short, stylish brunette hair that cascaded just past her chin, reminiscent of a confident, modern cut, and captivating, naturally amber-colored eyes. Her developing features, even in childhood, hinted at the stunning beauty she would grow into, making her undeniably attractive. She was athletic and gracefully built. For me, her primary impression was simply one of remarkable attractiveness, a notable figure on the periphery of my observations.
Despite my internal focus on absorbing knowledge and maintaining my careful facade as a remarkable but not abnormal child, my connection with Kaito deepened profoundly. He was the one person I allowed to see glimpses beyond my cultivated composure. Our unspoken understanding grew with each passing year; we often knew what the other was thinking before a word was uttered, jumping to support each other instinctively, like brothers. While I still kept my ultimate secret hidden, Kaito's presence was a constant, warm anchor, pulling me out of my solitary analytical loops and into a genuine bond that defied my detached nature. My interactions with Emi, however, remained largely polite and peripheral during these years.
I. Pre-Teen and Early Teen Years (Age 11-15): Prodigy, Protector, and Anticipation
A somber note touched my twelfth year when my grandmother, on my mother's side of the family, passed away. This was my first direct experience with death in this new life, a poignant reminder of the fragility of existence even within our secure home.
Despite this personal moment, life's rhythms continued. My academic acceleration continued relentlessly through my pre-teen years. To say I was the smartest in his year would be an understatement; my mind, honed by decades of experience, effortlessly processed information at a pace that left my peers, and often my teachers, bewildered. I didn't just understand the lessons; I saw the underlying principles, the intricate connections that escaped others. While I could charm my way through conversations and "wiggle out of trouble," a skill I often employed, my advanced intellect and internal focus naturally made me a loner. I wasn't overtly shunned, but few could truly relate to my unique perspective.
The significant exception, of course, was Kaito. Our bond deepened, solidifying into the profound connection of brothers. Kaito, with his outgoing nature and unwavering loyalty, instinctively knew when I was retreating into my own thoughts. He'd "rush in" with easy conversation or a shared laugh, pulling me back into the present. Our connection was almost unspoken; we often knew what the other was thinking, a seamless synchronicity that felt like a secret language.
This loyalty wasn't just mental; it was physical. Despite being younger and naturally smaller than many of the older kids, I would consistently jump into action whenever Kaito was in trouble or getting bullied by a group. I'd fight them off without hesitation, often landing myself in scrapes and disciplinary talks. While these incidents might earn me a scolding from school authorities, my parents, Kiyo and Masato, were never truly angry. They understood my fierce protectiveness, recognizing my inherent sense of justice, and trusted my ability to navigate the consequences.
My interactions with Kaito's older sister, Emi, remained polite and peripheral throughout these years. While I observed her growing beauty and athletic grace from a distance, our conversations were minimal, never straying beyond simple greetings or brief exchanges.
A shared passion began to define Kaito's and my aspirations: we both dreamed of joining an Elite force and dedicating our lives to fighting against "bad guys," aspiring to be remembered and known for our contributions. This shared ambition gave our bond a powerful, future-oriented drive, envisioning a life of purpose side-by-side.
Internally, my own hidden energy remained a mystery, feeling distinct from the Spectra I read about, yet I mentally classified it as my "inner green energy." As my sixteenth birthday approached, a significant milestone for Spectra users, my emotions were a complex mix of excitement and anxiety regarding the impending Soul Lens ceremony.
The Soul Lens is a crucial, high-tech device used to determine a person's Spectra Type and Level at age sixteen. The device itself was sleek and futuristic, looking remarkably like the virtual reality headsets I remembered from my past life, though such recreational technology was entirely unknown in this world. One lies down and drifts into a sleep-like state, this sleek device settling over their head. During this period, the user appears profoundly asleep, their mind immersed in an event-like "dream" within the system. At the culmination of this experience, the Soul Lens precisely measures their Spectra, and their unique Spectra eye color flashes open, shining vibrantly for only a few seconds, before their eyes return to their normal hue. The results are instantly linked to the national registry, forming the basis of their official ID. Without a confirmed Spectra Type from the Soul Lens, an individual cannot receive a proper ID or fully integrate into adult society, as Spectra defines one's potential and place in this world.
I felt a thrill at the prospect of finally confirming my abilities, curious about what "it's like" to truly activate and understand my Spectra. Yet, a deep anxiety gnawed at me. My greatest fear was that the Soul Lens might somehow reveal something of my previous life as Renji Kazama – an anomaly too profound, too dangerous to ever be discovered.