Guess I'm a Girl now

*****

Whoever brought me here is laughing their asses off right now.

Seriously! A girl! Not that I hate women or anything, don't get me wrong, just that–

I've spent twenty-five years of my life as a man! It'll take so much time adjusting to the thought that somewhere in the future I would bleed and suffer through cramps and HORMONES. Sorry, but that eminent future does not sound appealing at ALL, so what motherfu—

Why can't I have my little bro's body instead.

'Ack. That sounded wrong on so many levels that I'm not uttering that again.'

Speaking of little bro, this one is well behaved and loves giggling cutely. A great plus star for me after living in a house were my little sisters lord over me. It's not that I'm a pushover or anything, I just don't like arguing in general.

(Nope, not a pushover at all. And that's not denial talking, just extremely passive for my own good.)

Arguing gets you worked up, drains you emotionally, leaves you mentally tired and most importantly, you'll need a lot of effort when arguing with an unreasonable person.

And my two little sisters are equal parts unreasonable and stubborn. My lazyass can't be bothered to think up a retort when I'm arguing with two metaphorical walls that only echo back their one counter argument. Fighting them is like challenging a wall to a screaming contest, you just end up looking like a crazy maniac.

(I wonder how they're doing? As much as I'm annoyed by them, they're still my sisters, you know? I wonder how they took my death.)

So far, this arrangement isn't too bad, aside from the gender thing. Not that it's THAT bad, just you know, worried for future me.

(The menstruation, the cramps and the hormonal phase, I saw what those did to my Mama and sisters. Those are just unlucky biological shit women have to suffer through yet still act like it's nothing, and that's why women are awesome. And terrifying.)

But let's not get carried away for now. I still need to assess the situation I'm in no matter how hard it is with shitty vision and wonky sleep schedule. After all, I could have been reborn in a different world like one of those isekai animes, better be prepared if it's an apocalyptic one.

So far from what I can get through my moments of awakeness, everyone speaks English. I don't know if there are other spoken tongues, but the people here speak in English with the posh accent you'd see in Victorian Period movies.

A good thing since I can speak it like it was my own first language.

The second information that I got, is that lil bro and I are not fatherless as I thought.

The man had been manding the bakery on his own with a couple of hired help to cover for his wife's absence. It took me a while to discover his existence because my waking hours and his return to our quaint home don't coincide.

And what a great way to meet him.

Our first meeting consists of me suddenly waking up from the dream of my death to his face being way too close to mine.

I was so startled that I cried while I embarrassingly shit myself.

What the fuck infant body?! You have failed me!

Now I'm gonna look back on that moment whenever I try to fall asleep at night and my traitorous brain would come up with that image. So embarrassing!

Ahem– anyways, continuing with the situational assessment. I learned what my new name is.

In my last lifetime, my name was Carroll Carbonell Jr., an inherited name from my Papa who didn't know what to name me yet when I came out of Ma, so he just slapped his name on the papers and added Jr at the end to make it snappy or so he said.

In this life, my name is Eliana Glaze. It's not a bad name, it rolls off the tongue easily and it sounds like some spoiled rich girl's name. Well, at least I won't get bullied by my name. In my last life, I was mercilessly teased by my other fellow brats for having such a girly name.

Eliana Glaze.

With this new name, it solidifies that Carroll Carbonell Jr. is gone in the fact that he died and Eliana Glaze is my present self. I should move on and adapt, that would be the best choice, clinging to my old name would just make it more painful and difficult to adjust to my new reality.

And besides, it's unhealthy. I don't want to do that to myself.

All I can do to honor that life lived is to remember and cherish the memories spent as Carroll Carbonell Jr and allow myself to grieve to what I can never get back.

Hiccuping at the sudden flood of emotions, my infant body cannot take it all and started wailing, letting it out all my grievances until I get tired of it. My twin in no time decided to follow my lead and started crying, probably upset over being awakened by my loud cries.

I should be embarrassed. I'm an adult yet I'm wailing like the baby that I am. But the shame of showing all these vulnerable emotions is something I cannot grasp at the moment. All I can feel is me, and the yawning realization that things would never be the same.

Maybe once I get it out of my system I would feel that embarrassment, but for now, I'll give my time to breathe out my emotions.

(Besides, it's all unhealthy to keep it all in. I've read and watched those isekai anime/novels, but most of them don't explore the turmoil of being plucked from one life to another, guess I'm experiencing that existential drama now hahahaha.)

I vaguely heard shuffling and hurried steps, someone tripping and whispering a curse before I was suddenly enveloped in warmth by two arms that pressed me close to a warm body that smells of chocolate and ink.

A rumbling deep voice made of silken coffee hummed and murmured sweet nothings to me, trying to get me to calm down. If I wasn't too busy crying, I would have cried tears of jealousy of this man that I now call Father, I bet his voice is what got him our Mother of this world.

"Dada's got you, Eliana dear. Are you hungry? Or did something scare you? Don't worry, Dada's here."

Now that I think about it, the timbre of his voice is similar to my Pa, only pitched lower and smoother with that posh accent he's got going.

The reminder of what I lost got me wailing harder, this reaction led to panicking for my newly christened Father.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry if Dada did, please stop crying. Riri? Did I do something wrong?" The despair in the man's voice can only be described as pitiful akin to a crying puppy.

To that, Riri, or I could guess, my Mother, chuckled and snorted.

Man, I want to stop crying now and laugh in a deprecating way but my impulse won't let me. I guess that is what I get for putting stress on a newborn body.

"Here Eli, come hold Riel for me."

A bit of maneuvering was done and I was transferred to a slimmer set of arms, the familiar scent of lavender and honey that I've come to associate with my new Mother greeting my nose.

Immediately, she started singing a lullaby that is made up of las and ahs with no particular melody, swaying her body slowly to its made-up tune. All I know is that it was soothing and warm all the same. It was reassuring… comforting. I have a vague recollection of Mama doing the same for my sisters and I, and I remembered feeling the same warmth that encompassed me as she sung me to sleep to a made-up tune.

Without my consent, my eyelids started drooping, the emotional exhaustion catching up to me as my wails tapered down to whimpers and sobs.

Riri swayed me still, murmuring reassurances and promises in a hush lilting melody that put me to sleep. The last sensation that I felt was soft warm skin pressing to the crown of my head as a melodious voice continued to humm in the background as another rumbled to adoring chuckles.