Awakening to the surprising sight of two large mounds in close proximity, I briefly wondered if I was dreaming. However, the reality of my reincarnation quickly set in—I was indeed a baby, nestled against my mother's bosom.

  The oddity of my situation didn't seem to faze me. My pressing concern was this intense hunger, and it was as if I hadn't eaten in ages. Technically, I had never eaten, given my recent entry into this life.

  "Goo goo ga ga!" I called out, the incoherent sounds my only means of communication. My gaze traveled upward, searching for my mother's face. To my surprise, I found her eyes closed, her gentle breathing indicating a peaceful slumber.

  My plaintive cries must have reached my mother's subconscious, for she stirred, instinctively understanding my needs. With a mixture of wonder and anticipation, I watched as she gracefully maneuvered one of her generous breasts towards me. The tender nipple, now within arm's reach, proved impossible to resist. Guided by primal instinct, I latched on, reveling in the nourishment that flowed forth.

  'This is a welcome change.' I mused, savoring the sensations as I nursed. The comforting warmth of her embrace and the satiation of my hunger lulled me into a state of drowsiness. All too soon, my brief spell of wakefulness drew to a close, my consciousness fading after a mere five minutes.

  This was to be expected, after all, I was just a baby.

  Several days elapsed before I crossed paths with my father again. Alas, our reunion did little to improve my perception of him. Engaged in a heated dispute with my mother, their impassioned gestures implied that I was the subject of contention.

  Although their language remained a mystery, their body language spoke volumes. My father's heated gestures in my direction suggested assertions like, 'He's a freak of nature!' or 'We must rid ourselves of him!'

  As a newborn in this world, my understanding of its customs was limited. However, I surmised that a floating baby would raise concern in any society.

  Unwavering in her defense though, my mother stood as an immovable force against my father's agitated state. Her fierce protectiveness, fueled by the unwavering bond between a mother and child, refused to yield. The argument reached a crescendo, culminating in a dramatic climax as my mother, with a resolute expression, struck my father's cheek.

  Stunned, he faltered, his anger momentarily extinguished by shock. Without another word, he spun on his heels and stormed out, leaving a trail of palpable tension in his wake. The reverberating echo of the door slamming shut punctuated his exit, an exclamation mark that sealed the bitter exchange.

  Silence, heavy and thick with residual emotion, blanketed the room. My mother's chest heaved with labored breaths, her eyes fixed on the door. Slowly, as if emerging from a trance, she turned toward me, her features softening as our eyes met. With a tenderness that seemed to melt away the lingering echoes of conflict, she gently lifted me from my cradle. Nestling me in her warm embrace, she offered the soothing solace of her breast.

  As I nursed, the intensity of the moment faded, replaced by a serene quietude. In these fleeting moments of wakefulness, my thoughts turned to the future. I knew that first understanding the local language was paramount, and I didn't even need to be fluent. This argument that I had witnessed just now proved it to me with certainty.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Books, elusive thus far, held the key to unraveling the mysteries of this new world. Yet, I remained optimistic. Our sprawling home, with its unexplored chambers and hidden corners, might conceal a treasure trove of knowledge in the form of a library.

  The house appeared curiously desolate, seemingly occupied solely by me and my mother. I made this assumption simply because I hadn't encountered other occupants as she carried me through the rooms. My tense relationship with my new father remained a concern though. His sparse appearances since my birth had been marred by expressions of horror, mirroring the looks of tormentors from my past life.

  'I refuse to let history to repeat itself.' I resolved, recalling the relentless harassment inflicted by Kenji in my past life. 'If that man dares to disrespect my mother again, he'll face the consequences.'

  My mother gazed upon me with a tender expression, her loving treatment a testament to her affection. She whispered reassuring words that I couldn't comprehend, but the gentleness of her tone resonated deeply. Standing a few feet away, I witnessed tears forming in her eyes. Unable to bear her sorrow, I yearned to embrace her.

  In an inexplicable moment, I discovered myself floating once more, cradling her head in my tiny hands.

  'How am I able to do this?' I marveled, my previous attempts to activate my powers in secret had proved futile. My mother, equally astonished, quickly pulled me into her arms, chastising me with urgent gestures. Her fearful eyes pleaded with me to refrain from using my abilities.

  However, I was now pondering how to activate these strange powers of mine. Each time I had floated, a strong desire preceded the act—preventing a disastrous fall, offering comfort to my mother. Perhaps intense emotion was the key to controlling this ability. I resolved to investigate this further whenever opportunities arose.

  My mother carefully placed me back in my cradle, emphatically gesturing and uttering words I couldn't yet comprehend. Though I lacked fluency in her language, the context spoke volumes—she wanted me to remain still. Despite my limited understanding, I was gradually grasping certain words and phrases. 'Eat,' 'stop,' and a few curse words gleaned from my parents' argument enriched my growing vocabulary.

  A spontaneous laugh escaped me, emerging as a giggle, elicited a smile from my mother. She planted a tender kiss on my forehead and stood, proceeding to gather a basket of laundry from the corner.

  As she bundled the garments into a sizable ball, a brilliant green light enveloped them. Astonishment swept over me as she raised her other hand, summoning more luminescent energy that coalesced in her palm.

  Water droplets manifested in the air, drawn to her hand like iron filings to a magnet. Within moments, the coalescing liquid formed a substantial sphere. My mother submerged the bundled clothes within the watery orb. Despite its apparent solidity, the sphere absorbed the garments with a plop before seamlessly sealing.

  'Is this magic?!' I wondered, astounded by the remarkable display.

  My mother channeled more green light, setting the submerged clothes into a violent churn within the watery sphere. The process continued for several minutes before a flash of green light heralded a change.

  A torrent of hot steam erupted from her hands, rapidly evaporating the watery prison. The room filled with swirling mist, the temperature climbing several degrees. Once the steam dissipated, the clothes in her hands were remarkably dry. Pondering the intricacies of my mother's inexplicable power, I observed her preparing a second batch of laundry.

  'What a complex process.' I mused with a hint of amusement.

  Although impressed by her finesse, I couldn't help but compare her abilities to my own. My powers seemed incapable of such precision, but perhaps I merely needed further development. The absence of green light during my floating episodes further highlighted the apparent differences in our abilities. Was it possible that our magic stemmed from different sources? Lacking answers, I watched as my mother completed her mystical laundry ritual.

  Lulled by the rhythmic whirl of fabric and magic, I soon found myself surrendering to the gentle embrace of sleep.