Call me Akuma

When Akuma woke up, he found himself confined in some kind of glass cage, with wires attached all over his body. Groggily, he looked around, but his vision was still underdeveloped. The only thing he could make out was the faint silhouette of what looked like humanoid figures—there were more than five of them. 

"Maybe it's because my eyes haven't fully developed yet," he thought to himself. While his sight was better than before, anything far away remained a blurry haze. Objects close to his face, however, were now somewhat clear. 

One of the humanoid figures seemed to notice that Akuma was awake. It spoke in a language he couldn't understand before quickly running off. The remaining figures began moving around the room frantically, almost like headless chickens. Akuma, unfazed by their chaotic behavior, turned his attention to his surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was. 

The wires attached to him and the sterile environment reminded him of something. "This looks like a NICU," he thought—a special unit in a hospital where intensive care is provided for newborns. Even though his vision was blurry, he could piece together enough of his surroundings to reassure himself. "At least I'm safe here. My life isn't in immediate danger," he concluded. 

With his mind somewhat at ease, Akuma remembered his system. He called out to it in his thoughts. 

[System is booting...] 

[Estimated time until system is operable: 1 month] 

"What? I was in a coma for whole month?" Akuma thought, frustration simmering within him. "It must've been because of the cold—it must have caused tremendous stress on my infant body. It couldn't have been because I was premature; the reason is simple—my mother was already about to go into labor. Then who the hell ripped my mother's stomach open like a C-section and pulled me out?" 

Before he could finish his train of thought, the sound of hurried, heavy footsteps echoed through the room. His attention snapped toward the source, and as the figure emerged, his underdeveloped gaze widened in shock. The being was enormous—so towering that the other humanoid figures in the room barely reached its hips. 

Akuma's awe didn't end there. Another figure followed closely behind, one so gargantuan that even the first giant seemed small in comparison. This second figure was nearly twice the size of the first, an overwhelming presence that made Akuma instinctively feel like he was staring at a being far beyond mortal comprehension. 

The smaller giant approached the glass, leaning close to get a better look at Akuma. Her movements were gentle, her touch on the surface careful, as though she was afraid of startling him. She spoke softly, her voice soothing and undeniably feminine. Though Akuma couldn't understand her words, the nurturing warmth in her tone struck a familiar chord, reminding him of his own mother. 

For a moment, an ache filled Akuma's heart—a wave of sadness washed over him as memories of his mother surfaced. But before he could dwell on it, another thought crept into his mind: Could this be my mother in this world? 

As her face moved closer to the glass, Akuma squinted his eye to make out her features. What struck him the most was the perfectly round shape of her head—a sight that left him stunned. She had no ears, no hair, and not even a nose. Even with his blurry vision, he could at least discern that much. The unnatural symmetry solidified his suspicion: she wasn't human. No human could have a head that flawlessly circular. 

For a brief moment, dread gripped Akuma's thoughts. If she's my mother in this world, does that mean my head will look like that too? The mere thought sent a shiver down his tiny spine. He didn't want to end up resembling Saitama with such a comically round head. 

But then, he remembered the blessing he had received from the old man—the one that ensured his appearance would resemble Akuma from Street Fighter. That memory reassured him, calming his nerves and putting his worries to rest, at least for now. 

His attention was drawn away when the larger giant approached, leaning in to scrutinize him as well. This one was massive—so much so that Akuma feared the glass might shatter if he so much as touched it. The giant spoke, his deep, masculine voice resonating through the room. It was clear to Akuma that this one was male. Unlike the smaller giant, this one looked far more human, with ears, a nose, hair, and other familiar features. 

Maybe this one is my father in this world, Akuma thought. The larger giant seemed to comfort the smaller one, his presence radiating strength and reassurance. 

Exhausted from the torrent of thoughts, Akuma finally succumbed to his fatigue and fell asleep. 

--- 

[System is booting...] 

[Estimated time until system is operable: 2 days] 

Akuma glanced at his system, his frustration growing. "Finally, just two more days left until my system operates... but damn, being a baby suck. I literally can't control anything. Everything happens to me, not because of me," he thought bitterly. 

 Almost a month had passed since his awakening from the coma, and he was now in a wooden log house—massive in size, yet with only three bedrooms. Then, the familiar figure appeared: a robot. It was the same figure with the perfectly round head, and after his vision cleared, Akuma realized it was a female robot. 

The strange thing was that this robot acted as if it were his mother. She changed his diaper, fed him, and took care of him in every way. At times, Akuma even wondered if there was someone inside that robot suit, because the way she spoke, and her mannerisms were so motherly. 

Yet, there was one thing that still troubled him: What had happened to his biological mother? Was she in the hospital, recovering from her womb being ripped open? Or was she... dead? The figure who had ripped open his mother's womb was, in his best guess, likely his father. 

Akuma couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Though he had been living in this new world for a month now, he still couldn't make sense of it. He noticed that this world was far more advanced than anything he had known. The presence of talking robots, for one, was a clear indicator that technology here surpassed his old world's capabilities. 

As much as he tried to understand where he was, it became increasingly apparent that he couldn't be on Earth. His growing realization pointed to the possibility that he was in some sort of fantasy world—though his infant mind struggled to piece it all together. He wanted to explore, to understand this new reality, but his body, still too weak and incapable of basic control, wouldn't let him. 

For now, he had no choice but to wait. One thing, however, was certain: His family wasn't poor. The house he lived in wasn't grand, but it wasn't lacking either. From the way things were, Akuma deduced that his family must belong to the middle class. It was the only conclusion he could draw for now, given the limited information he had. 

Akuma focused all his energy, trying desperately to summon his two World Items. He even attempted to speak, hoping that words might trigger their appearance, but all that came out of his mouth were incoherent noises. Frustrated and finding no solution to his problem, he gave up on trying to summon the items for now, deciding to leave it for a future version of himself. 

The robot mother, noticing Akuma's deeply concentrated state, clapped her hands cheerfully to draw his attention. Her metallic yet graceful movements exuded an unmistakable warmth. Once his gaze shifted to her, she gently lifted him from his crib with surprising tenderness and offered him a milk bottle. 

Akuma, now keenly aware of the gnawing hunger that had settled in during his contemplations, accepted the bottle without hesitation. He began drinking from it, the warm liquid soothing both his body and mind. 

As he fed, the robot mother started to hum a soft lullaby, her synthetic voice weaving a melody designed to comfort and calm. She gently swayed him from side to side, her motions smooth and deliberate. The harmonious tune melded with the rhythmic hum of her internal mechanisms, creating an oddly soothing and serene atmosphere. 

The combination of the milk's comforting warmth, the gentle swaying, and the robot mother's calming presence gradually quieted Akuma's thoughts. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment until, finally, he surrendered to sleep, cradled securely in her arms—a small figure resting peacefully in the embrace of his mechanical mother. 

---

Robot mother Image:

Also, Beggar King has left a few pop culture references and memes. If you find them, comment, and Beggar King will give you a like. 

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