Experiment Malfunction

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! © Amano Akira

Chapter 2

Summary: Reincarnation was a question that every scientist question of being possible. So when one scientist dies for his cause, he is reborn in a world that makes him question everything in his life and experiences his new life as a female and follows his fellow lackey into the world of the mafia. [SI!OC]

Rate: T

May contain: Cursing.

Author's Note:Woo! Here is another chapter and now we get to see who my OC is! Please enjoy and leave your thoughts

AN #2: First typing it was okay, but it felt like something was missing and it felt rushed, so I edited a whole ton of it. Hope you enjoy this better version. The third chapter is half-way done!

[ii]

Everything was the same, but it wasn't at the same time.

He was a child, no longer in a male body, but in a female body. He was no longer a forty-five-year-old man, a world renowned doctor and scientist.

He still remembered the agonizing pain as the bullets pierced his body. Feeling of warmth slowly leaving him and the hot liquid of blood pooling around him. His senses fighting to make some sort of sense, but all he did was laugh hysterical.

Matthew Williams was dying a pathetic death. After running and hiding from government officials, they had finally cornered him. Away from his projects, away from his experiment, away from everything that was his life.

He knew that eventually, he would be caught and he would pay for the consequences, however… he didn't finish with life yet. He still had so many things to do, to many questions left to be unanswered, too many experiments not finished, still he hasn't finished showing the world the changes in medicine.

He still had him.

He still had him and he was not finish teaching him everything he knew. Everything that science is and what medicine could become.

But he was lying in a dirty alley, his blood pooling around him and pain thrumming his senses and his vision slowly becoming darker and darker.

It was such a nice June this year in America.

The sky was a beautiful blue and the clouds floating about and the sun was brighter… too bright and hot.

But it was a beautiful day for a pathetic death, an ugly death.

When darkness reached him and the last thing he heard was the city continuing to live and the shouting of orders over his dying corpse.

That was that.

Death was just darkness surrounded by silence.

There was no light, no deceased family member greeting you for the afterlife.

There was no heaven (he knew that heaven wouldn't be where he would go in the first place) or hell.

But if this was hell, then hell was just a void of emptiness; filled with nothing but with your thoughts and the sounds of your heart pounding hard against your ears, the dull achiness of the wounds that brought your death and the feeling of nothing.

Just floating in darkness and waiting. Waiting in a void that stretched endlessly, driving yourself crazy with only your thoughts and that empty silence that drove you to the edge of your nerves. Unable to move, restrained with an invisible rope tied tightly around the body.

When drowsiness hit him hard. It slammed right into his face without a single thought.

Then there was warmth.

Rays of light hitting his face and the uncomfortable feeling of itchiness all over his body. His vision so unfocused and blurry, he couldn't make out the figures around him.

And his only instinct was to scream.

From his second birth till he was the age of three, everything was a big blur for him. Vaguely able to remember who he was or what he was doing, alive and breathing.

He didn't wish to remember the breastfeeding, uncoordinated limbs and the embarrassing moments where his bladder wasn't in his control and had to rely on someone to clean him.

He couldn't remember anything of that, but it all started with vivid nightmares, the echoes of screams, thundering explosives from an afar distant and that gut feeling of panic that churn your stomach, suffocating you with mixed dread and anguish. Pulling you down as you try dragging yourself up from the avalanche of emotions.

It kept waking his mind up, but in front of him – he kept seeing blood soaking up the ground, kept seeing bodies scattered on the floor. Feeling the phantom pain in his right shoulder.

The familiarity of the dead bodies tugged something in his mind, something that made him feel at failure and the dread of the thought… 'That could be me," Chanting in the back of his mind.

The whispers of orders, being told to march on. That this war they were fighting was retaliation for Pearl Harbor.

He could no longer sleep without the nightmares. Waking up screaming, crying out for something to hold him, to bring him out of the phantom pain, to stop seeing the dead bodies of scattered soldiers and the ringing of shots being fired.

He started sleeping less and less.

When his mind slowly began to start making some sort of semblance of order and able to focus more on his racing thoughts. He began to understand that the nightmares weren't nightmares. They were his memories.

Memories filled with the terrors fighting a war. Barely alive, barely coping with the many death he seen. The stench of death reeked, causing nausea, losing his appetite.

Struggling to gain some sort of sense, he logically knew, he had died. Death by the law trying to escape in hopes of seeing him again, to say his last words. Apparently, it didn't go as plan and now he was… alive.

He understood a couple of things in his new life.

The culture was different. His whole entire life was different from his first life. The probability of him being reborn in the future was becoming higher and higher every single time he observed his new surroundings whenever he was taken out of his room.

The first time he was able to see his new physical looks, it shocked him to his core.

Staring at the dark complexion and the honey curls falling down his face.

Round puffy cheeks, a small nose and thin lips.

Yet, they stared back at him.

Those stern steel gray eyes, those eyes he had and he still has. Those eyes that lived a life long ago and died with that body, are alive in this small child's body.

It was a joke.

A big fat joke.

That' when reality kicked him in the ass and made him feel the pit of his stomach drop a ton, felt the uneasiness creeping in. Grabbing his mind as he tries to process his new looks. Thoughts rapidly hit his mind… his mind in this child's body.

It took a moment, but it hit hard. He SHOULD be dead, dead as in no longer breathing and slowly rotting away in an unmarked grave. Where the whole world hates his guts for human experimentation. For using science and medicine for his own sick curiosity.

Laughter escaped his lips, slow uneasy laughter.

This is wrong. So wrong.

Because he was dead and yet so alive.

A child. I'm a child!

A small creature that has barely even began living.

Alive… alive…

A whole entire race, a different life, a different timeline.

Ikari Seiko a quiet and very curious child. Born on June 17, 1980, to Ikari Misaki and Ikari Fumio, a doctor for a mother and a professor for a father.

Matthew Williams is dead… dead, a rotting corpse.

Matthew Williams, a criminal, a world-renowned scientist, and doctor. Born on December 18, 1920, to Daniel Williams and Patricia Williams, a doctor for a father and a nurse for a mother.

Born in Namimori, Japan.

Born in New York, Untied States of America.

Matthew was a man.

Seiko is a girl.

His chest hurt. A mixture of saltiness and iron filled his mouth as he gasped for air. Cold crispy air.

The pain was there.

It hurt.

It hurts… it hurts… This is no illusion.

No illusion, just insanity. Madness.

Alive. Breathing. Heart pumping through his veins. Alive. Alive. ALIVE.

No longer Matthew… just Seiko… No longer Matthew… just Seiko…

Fingers digging through the scale, pulling hair tightly, screaming. Crying. Laughing hysterical.

Alive, alive, alive.

Pain shooting everywhere. It hurt.

No longer forty-five.

No longer a man.

No longer dead.

Now three-year-old.

Now a girl.

Now alive.

His fellow scientist asked the question, is reincarnation true or just a fable?

The religious group strongly believe, if you give yourself to God, if you accepted him and atone for your sins, you would be accepted to heaven and reborn into another life.

He didn't believe in God.

He didn't have a religion to practice.

He never atones for his sins.

Yet, he was being cradled in warm arms, with soft mummers of a lullaby in the cold silence and a hand running through his messed up hair and another rubbing his back.

He could smell the faint cologne of his… her father. The faint smell of disinfectant and soap on his mother clothes.

Everything was real.

And he was alive. Breathing. Pumping blood.

And he was a female.

It took a lot of self-control and the keen eye of her newly acquired parents and her nanny to keep herself from harming herself trying to bring some sort of pain in remembering, that this was and is real. That it wasn't some horrid nightmare that her imagination created for the lack of sleep.

That every breath she took, every movement she made with her clumsy limbs, every thought she process was actually happening.

And she began crying.

She cried out of control, the emotions of a small child and the stress along with the lack of sleep had started to build and the damn just overflowed.

It was hard trying to accept it, but it was just reality and she had to accept or she was going to drive herself to the wall, suffocate herself in pointless questions and walking around to the answer that was there on her face.

She was alive and Matthew Williams was dead.

She needed to accept that and move on, but it was harder.

And it kept getting harder as the time slowly ticked away because she barely had anything to help her ease her racing thoughts and her restless fingers.

She couldn't tinker with chemicals or dead bodies.

She could only observe, try learning about her new life – but that was limited as well, and relearn how to speak, especially the new language and tried to learn how to read the new language.

Reliving again was agitating.

Limitation sucked.

With nothing to do but wait, leaving herself to thinking the same thought repeatedly.

Feeling like a dream, a hallucination.

Because he died and now she is alive.

Like a broken jukebox, repeating that annoying yet catchy song.

But she waited.

Because she was no longer in America.

She lives in a small town called Namimori. Where everyone knows each other, greeted each other and helped each other out.

Yet, she noticed the small difference as they treated her family.

Her nanny, Rin-san a very stern woman but caring Japanese woman, treats her with respect and like her own child. She treats her parents with respect and like any other employee.

Her neighbors greeted them friendly, but she could tell the ugliness hidden behind the mask. Disgusted that a mixed-racial family as their neighbors.

Racism.

She didn't escape it, but she observed and ignored because she was used to this. She lived in the time where blacks were still segregated from the whites. They were limited on what they could do and very easily blamed for something they didn't do.

It made her laugh bitterly.

If she wasn't who she was, it would have hurt and it would have annoyed her. Because her skin color was different. Her hair was different.

She wasn't the typical Japanese girl, with a pale complexion, black hair, and brown eyes.

She was dark skin, honey-colored hair, and steel gray eyes.

And she wasn't going to let racial slurs mess with her head, she already had a messed up mind, and she didn't need to add thoughts about people looking at her like dirt. Neither was she going to let it stop her from her new goal.

With a lot of thinking, she had allowed herself to make a new goal. To stop the unwanted thoughts that caused her to become anxious and panicked why she was breathing, why she felt the pain of being pierced repeatedly.

To become a world renowned doctor, maybe as well a scientist. And maybe, this time, she can try experimenting without getting caught because whether she liked it or not, it was her arrogance that caused her downfall.

She was going to Namimori Elementary.

With crying, loud and very dirty children her age.

She knew that it wasn't their fault, she was, after all, a child with a forty-year-old mind. They are just being kids their age. However, it didn't make anything better. Their childish attitude rubbed badly with her quiet demeanor.

School material was something she knew. Math, English, Literature.

She wasn't planning to dumb herself down, she was going to ace everything and hope to be left to her devices.

And the so call play-time, it irked her and bored her all at the same time because she couldn't stand the children and she wasn't going to lower herself to play with snotty, rude and loud children when she can just sit underneath the shade of the tree, observing and thinking about different experiments of social psychology she could try pulling.

"Carnivore."

However, it was a certain child she could relate to of sorts.

Hibari Kyouya, a rather nasty child with a scowl featuring in his childish looks. The steel gray eyes reminded her of her own eyes, however, they didn't hold lies, curiosity, and old-lived life.

They held power, bloodlust and the need to assert authority.

Blinking out of her thoughts, she raised an eyebrow and looked at the other child. Strange way to get someone's attention.

"You're in my spot."

"You're spot? Well, I don't see a name and since this spot is technically the school, it can't be yours. Unless you do own the school, but you don't, do you? So I can sit wherever I want."

The boy frowned.

She continued to stare at him.

"My. Spot."

"Prove it is your spot because it doesn't hold your name and doesn't say it was forbidden to sit here."

"I will bite you to death."

Without a thought she grinned, something burst in her chest at the words.

"Do try, kitty."