The Majin 1 Chapter 1 The Birth Of

I open my eyes and I only see darkness. I hear nothing. Where am I? Last thing I remember...

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'Huh?' I pondered. 'There is something vibrating in here.'

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'A heartbeat?' I try to feel around my body only to notice–I can't move? There is something around me that fills the s.p.a.ce–something cold. What is this? It's filling me like it's giving me strength...

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I'm not sure how much time has pa.s.sed but the beating gets stronger by the day… err, weeks? Months? It's hard to keep track. During this time I've figured out two things: One, I don't remember my name, but I do remember some bits of my past. Two, I think I'm a baby. Whatever this coldness is, I find myself being overwhelmed with energy. Am I coming out of here soon?

As time elapses, I become more mobile, having finally developed a body. That's probably why I couldn't move around earlier.

One day I was stirring around trying to test my newfound mobility when–POP–my hand went through something. Did I just break my bubble?

I hear something finally. Kind of like grunting...pus.h.i.+ng? Eh, I see a light? AM I GETTING BIRTHED? Suddenly I feel incredibly uncomfortable being out of my bubble.

"WAH WAH!"

I'm too distracted by the unpleasant feeling to look at my surroundings. Why can't I stop crying? It's just, it's just–

"WAH WAH!"

I'm placed into someone's arms and am immediately so overcome by exhaustion that I neglect to really look at my 'mother'. Instead, I fall asleep.

"My son, your life will be filled with anguish. Don't give in to your emotions."

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I wake up from my stressed induced coma. I realize that I'm inside some wooden basket filled with bundles of luxurious furs. What is this high-cla.s.s stuff? Was I reborn into some rich family?

I hear footsteps approaching and a man appears above me. He has tan skin, a skinny frame, and seems to be the strict type. Straight black hair cascades down the side of his head and his blue eyes gleam as he stares down at me. He wears a tunic. A tunic? Who wears such an old thing? What is this, the 9th century?

"&e9 ** E** f*fe*f* a*f"

Wow, I can't understand anything he just said. The man bends over and gently picks me up. I take this opportunity to look around the room, and all I see are wooden floors, walls, and doors.

There are swords around the room, a hay mattress, pillow, and windows without gla.s.s screens.

The bed has hay sticking out of it and is roughly sewn up. Oh, so it's not that my family is rich in the modern age and using fancy furs as a decor choice but 9th century rich and using furs because it's the norm.

The man hands me over to this woman behind him. Is that my mother? She isn't particularly outstanding, being neither ugly nor attractive.

"**dsown**odn**"

My father looks at the woman, points his finger, and says something I couldn't understand again.

"**rfa*d*,"

The woman replies, apologetically lowering her head. So maybe she isn't his wife? Or do people just order their wives around? What did she do wrong?

She reaches for me and puts me in her embrace.

'WHOA HOLD ON!' I think as my eyes grow wide. The woman removes her dress top and shows her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to me, pressing them to my face. I may be a baby but my mind is too grown to do it like this! My little brother isn't awake! However, as a gentleman, I can't say no… Hmph, it is simply food. Nothing more.

Every now and then the woman would come back *cough* feed me and be about her way. It's kind of boring being here all the time. Is the woman not my mother?

It's been a few months now. I hear whispers outside the door. They probably believe me to be asleep. I also hear a new voice– raspy and seemingly of someone who smokes too many cigarettes. Disgusting. Such a terrible thing.

"**efj*eond*,"

The voice utters as they open the door. It's a middle-aged woman donning tattoos and strange, black clothing. Isn't this your stereotypical witch? What's going on?

My father and 'mother' follow her to my bedside, where she crouches to her knees and begins drawing a circle. Upon finis.h.i.+ng, she takes out a bag containing marked rocks and throws them randomly into the circle. My 'parents' seem concerned about the whole ordeal and watch as the woman finishes her ritual and turns to them.

"**rg*r g*r*** Omen*8e* **a w*" the woman says.

"*find***eind*kebc***lve**".

Oh! I caught a word this time. Omen? That sounds kind of bad. What's an omen? What's going to happen to me? I suddenly become so overwhelmed by a rush of emotions that I start crying– the first crying I've done since my birth now that I think about it.

The people in the room quickly turned to me and my 'father' rushes to pick me up. "**hlsOmen**," he says tearfully. Great, so we're both crying now. Wait, why is he crying? Is it because of what she said?

"WAHHH!"

My screams get louder upon realizing what could be the cause of this man's tears. I slowly find myself being pushed into a coma.

When I wake, the strange woman is gone. And life pa.s.ses on like normal again.