Amaris' POV
The first week of my reincarnation was, without exaggeration, the hardest.
Being reborn as a baby wasn't as magical as the stories made it seem. My vision was blurry, my limbs refused to cooperate, and I spent most of the time either sleeping or crying—well, not willingly. The worst part? Milk.
"Baby, why are you not drinking?" I heard my mother's distressed voice echo faintly in the background. Indeed, that was the greatest struggle—learning how to drink.
My stomach twisted and growled, and I could no longer bear it. I opened my mouth and began suckling from my mother's breast. A relieved sigh escaped her lips. "Thank God," she whispered.
In my mind, I apologized. 'I am terribly sorry, Mother.' Oh, and yes, I could understand her now. She was speaking Japanese. I suppose I must be of Japanese descent. My father? I hadn't seen—rather, heard—him yet. He always arrived after I had already fallen asleep, so I hadn't encountered his voice.
As I continued feeding, sleep slowly tugged at me once again. My consciousness faded peacefully.
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The second week brought a change of scenery, we finally returned home.
Truthfully, nothing major changed. I still struggled with coordination, but I had finally managed to nurse with a bit more grace and composure. While lost in thought, I heard the door click open. I ignored it. The servants entered frequently, and I had become accustomed to their presence.
Well, one of my wishes had already been granted: I was rich. That much was obvious.
Then I heard it—a voice, deep and warm.
"Oh? She's awake?" the man said.
"Yes," my mother replied.
"Do you want to hold her?" she asked.
"Yes, I'd love to," the man answered. I felt myself being passed from one pair of arms to another. His touch was gentle, cautious, as though I were a fragile glass sculpture.
"Hi," he said softly. "I'm your father."
I couldn't help myself—I smiled. His reaction was immediate.
"Honey, honey, she smiled at me!" he exclaimed. My mother laughed, a melodic sound that warmed my heart.
A family. How truly wonderful it is.
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A month passed. My father visited often, despite his busy schedule. He was a handsome man with a sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and a reserved aura. Yet, contrary to his outward appearance, he was gentle and affectionate.
My mother was nothing short of stunning. Long, silky black hair, a tall nose bridge, lips shaped like perfection, and a calm, elegant presence. She was the embodiment of grace.
Surely, with parents like these, I must at least be somewhat good-looking, right? Everyone kept calling me cute, but I refused to believe it until I could see for myself.
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By the time I reached a year old, I finally got to see my reflection. The verdict?
I was, undeniably, a very cute baby.
I had also mastered crawling—perhaps a bit too well. Nothing else had changed much, but it was progress nonetheless.
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At five years old, my family's company thrived more than ever. I had begun my studies. Home-schooled, of course, but still formal.
The most noticeable change was my mind. It was... sharper. I could absorb information like a sponge, remember anything I read, and process complex topics faster than expected. I could even come up with unorthodox solutions.
Singing and Dancing? I could do both—well enough that someone had tried to recruit me.
Instruments? I could play the piano, guitar, violin, kalimba, and more.
Etiquette? That might as well have been imprinted in my soul from day one. That said, one quirk had remained constant since my rebirth—everything I said came out... polite. No matter how casual I meant to be, the words transformed on the way out, like some strange autocorrect.
At first, it frustrated me to no end. But after a few years, I learned to live with it.
"Miss, the etiquette instructor is here," said a male servant, bowing.
I set down my book and replied, "Understood." (Okay.)
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At six, I began learning business fundamentals. I caught on quickly, of course, but I was still a child, so I couldn't apply much of it yet.
My lessons expanded to include mathematics, English, economics, literature, and oddly enough, martial arts.
My father explained it was a tradition for members of the Shin family.
I nodded with respect. In truth, I wasn't new to martial arts. In my previous life as Mark, I had dedicated myself fully to Taekwondo.
"Miss, your martial arts instructor has arrived," a female servant informed me.
I gave a polite smile and nodded. "Understood."
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Now, I am eight years old. I've fully adapted to this new life—as a girl, as a member of the Shin family, and as a person of high status. I have found a strange fondness for peace and quiet, a stark contrast to my previous life's love for noise and chaos.
I was enjoying my afternoon tea in the garden, savoring the stillness, when my mother approached and suddenly embraced me.
I flinched slightly, still unaccustomed to such gestures, but quickly relaxed and smiled.
"I'm back, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
I welcomed her back with all the grace I could muster. Her affection still made me awkward, but I received it warmly.
She sat across from me, and a servant poured her tea. We chatted quietly about our days.
Then my father arrived.
He kissed my mother, then gently kissed me on the forehead.
"I have a surprise for you, my dear," he announced.
I looked up at him with curiosity and asked, "May I know what it is, Father?"
He laughed heartily. "If I told you, it would no longer be a surprise, now would it?"
I chuckled softly and took his hand. "Please, Father, may we proceed together?"
My mother laughed behind us. "Do be careful, dear. Slow down."
He led me to a closed training hall door and placed his hands over my eyes. I heard the door creak open, and then he removed his hands.
A massive silhouette rested in the shadows. And then–
The lights came on.
I gasped softly.
There, curled around itself in sleep like a slumbering titan.
It was colossal, the size of a three-story building, yet elegantly built, with heavy armored plating running down its back like overlapping obsidian scales edged in violet crystal inlays.
Its body resembled a powerful Ankylosaurus: low to the ground, broad, and solid, with legs like reinforced columns wrapped in kinetic absorption coils.
The head was distinct—sleek, and angular. It had glowing lavender optics and reinforced jaw plating.
Across its spine, silver runes pulsed faintly with time-energy—slow and steady, like a heartbeat.
The tail was its most formidable feature: a massive mace-like club fused with a time-reactive core, shaped like a prismatic star. It glowed faintly with shifting hues—sapphire, amethyst, and ghost-white. When it swung, I could tell the air would ripple around it like water, distorting time itself.
Small vents along its sides exhaled steam softly, keeping its temporal reactor cool.
It was without a doubt, a Zord.
'I knew it!' I cheered silently. When I first heard the name Anton Mercer, I thought it was a coincidence. But now? There was no doubt—I had been reincarnated into Power Rangers Dino Thunder.
I took a slow step forward, breath caught in my throat. "She's… beautiful."
Father smiled quietly, his arms crossed behind his back. "Yes. And she's been waiting for you."
I looked up at my father in disbelief.
He laughed and gently guided me forward. "This will be yours," he said. Then he lifted a silver suitcase, clicked it open, and revealed a violet gem resting within.
I gasped softly. 'A Dino Gem...'
He began explaining its origin, though I already knew it well. He mentioned that a friend of his found this gem and chose to hide it.
'Weren't there supposed to be only red, blue, yellow, black, and white gems?' I thought.
He knelt to my level.
"This gem was given to me by a friend. It did not bond with me. I intended to return it, but he insisted I keep it, to wait for someone worthy."
I bowed my head slightly and asked, "If I may ask, Father, since you are entrusting me with the mechanical dinosaur, must I then also form a bond with the gem?"
He nodded. "Precisely."
I inhaled deeply, my heart racing. I was not afraid, I wanted this. If it didn't bond with me, I would be crushed, but I had to try.
I stepped forward and reached out.
The moment my fingers touched the gem, it glowed with a radiant violet light.
I turned to my parents. They were smiling with unmistakable pride.
My father grinned. "There. You've bonded with it."
I returned his smile and asked, "If I may inquire, what should be my next course of action?"
He chuckled. "For now, just wait, dear."
I nodded, joy welling in my chest.
At long last, something of great intrigue is beginning to unfold.