The sun peeked through the wooden shutters of the cottage, casting warm rays across the wooden floor as the village of Hearthspire stirred to life. Birds chirped lazily from the thatched rooftops, and the smell of saltwater drifted in from the sea, carried by the breeze.
Ren, just two years old, sat in the center of the cozy living room, surrounded by an assortment of handmade toys—wooden animals, carved boats, and plush creatures sewn by his mother. He turned a small wooden horse over in his chubby hands, not really paying attention to it.
"Ugh… being a baby is so boring," Ren thought with a sigh only he could understand. "At least I can walk now, and I've finally figured out how to speak the language. Took me months to make sense of it."
He tossed the horse aside with a grunt and looked around. The house was quiet except for the gentle clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen.
POV change.
My name is Sunny Smith. My dad is the head guard of our village, and my mom is a housewife. I was reincarnated into the world of Fairy Tail. Yeah, that Fairy Tail. You might wonder how I figured that out, but it was pretty obvious when I saw my dad use requip magic. If you've seen the anime, you know who else uses that magic style.
Of course, Dad's nowhere near her level—he takes forever to swap weapons, and his Armor isn't flashy. Still, it was enough for me to piece things together. This world is real. Magic is real. Guilds are real. And right now, they're fighting all over the kingdom. Lucky for us, Hearthspire is tucked away on the coast, far from the madness.
Still… I wish I had been born in Fiore. In Magnolia. With Fairy Tail. I'd trade this peaceful life for a chance to meet Natsu or Lucy—or even just walk past the guild hall. But I guess I should be grateful. No dark guilds have attacked, and my family is kind. It's not so bad… (for now)
POV change.
"Ren!" called a gentle voice. His mother, a kind woman with chestnut hair and soft eyes, walked into the room with a warm smile. "You're awake early today, huh?"
Ren giggled and held up his arms. His mother lifted him effortlessly and placed him on her hip. The smell of warm bread clung to her apron.
"Let's go see the sea today," she said cheerfully. "The tide is low, and the beach is lovely this time of morning."
After breakfast—warm bread with honey and a cup of milk—his mother dressed him in a soft tunic and tiny boots. They stepped outside, the morning sun washing the village in gold. Hearthspire was small but vibrant, with cobbled streets, whitewashed houses, and a gentle slope leading down to the sea.
Ren clutched his mother's finger as they walked, wobbling slightly but managing to keep pace.
"Look, Ren!" his mother said, pointing. "Do you see the fishers bringing in the catch?"
Ren's eyes lit up. Boats dotted the harbor, and villagers shouted cheerfully as nets full of silver fish glinted in the sun. Seagulls wheeled above them, crying out for scraps. Everything was so alive.
They reached the shore, where the sand was soft and cool beneath their feet. Ren squealed with joy as his mother pulled off his boots and let him toddle into the shallow water. Waves lapped at his toes, and the distant horizon shimmered.
For a while, they simply played. Ren threw pebbles, splashed in tide pools, and chased tiny crabs that scurried under rocks. His mother laughed softly, occasionally pointing out shells or seaweed. Villagers greeted them as they passed—a peaceful, familiar rhythm that Ren, despite his complaints, had grown to love.
As the sun climbed higher, they headed back home. Ren dozed off in his mother's arms, lulled by the warmth and the soft rocking motion of her steps. She hummed a lullaby as they entered the cottage again, placing him on a small cushioned mat by the hearth.
When he woke, the sun was already dipping low, casting long shadows across the floor.
"Ren, can you help me?" his mother asked, handing him a small wooden spoon. Of course, the task was symbolic—he mostly just stirred imaginary soup in an empty pot—but she always included him in whatever she did. It made him feel important.
Then, just as the sky turned to fire and the village lamps flickered to life, the door creaked open.
"I'm home," a deep voice called out.
Ren's eyes lit up. "Papa!"
His father stepped into the room, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a faded leather tunic. His hair was wind-tossed, and a long sword hung at his side. He looked tired, but he smiled when he saw Ren rushing toward him.
"Hey, my little knight," he said, kneeling and catching him in a hug. "Did you protect Mom while I was gone?"
Ren nodded solemnly, puffing out his tiny chest. "Uh-huh. No monsters came!"
His father chuckled. "Good job."
Dinner was simple but comforting—stew with potatoes and herbs, and warm bread with butter. They sat together at the wooden table, bathed in the glow of a lantern. Ren sat on a high stool between his parents, babbling in baby talk that barely concealed his mature inner thoughts. He watched them closely—his father's rough hands, his mother's soft laughter—and felt something like peace settle in his chest.
After the dishes were washed and the fire burned low, his mother carried him to bed.
The stars were just beginning to dot the sky when they tucked him in.
"Tomorrow, maybe we can visit the market," his mother whispered, brushing hair from his forehead.
"Or the forest path," his father added, placing a toy sword by Ren's pillow.
They kissed his forehead and turned off the lantern.
As Ren lay there in the soft darkness, he stared at the ceiling and sighed.
"Okay, maybe this isn't Fairy Tail level of excitement… but it's still a good life."
With the sound of waves in the distance and the warmth of his family close by, Ren closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.