The Sky Was Great
The sky was great. Insanely great.
That's why I became a light aircraft instructor for work, and every weekend off, I'd blow through my bank balance on skydiving and paragliding. I felt more at ease floating in the air than with my feet planted on the ground.
"Was I really a bird in my past life?"
This time, I'd scraped together every last vacation day—hell, my soul too—and jetted off to a famous overseas skydiving mecca. Leaping from thousands of meters up, the exhilarating wind battering my whole body. Yeah, this is the stuff. Felt like I owned the world.
Time to pop the parachute, maybe?
Thud.Thud.
Eh? It's not deploying.
The main chute's busted.
'Stay calm. I've got the reserve.'
I yanked the backup handle in a hurry.
Snap—!
A sinister snapping sound, and the reserve straps just flapped limply.
The vast green meadow below started filling my vision, growing huge.
This has to be a joke, right?
Amid the ear-splitting roar of the wind, I just stared blankly, thinking.
Loving the sky so much that my end comes vertically plummeting from heaven to earth like a spike. 'Ah, in my next life, please let me fly on my own power.'
That was my last words as a human.
......
...
How much time passed?
The first thing I sensed was the thick, earthy scent and fresh grass tickling my nostrils. Then the warm sunlight pouring down, and a gentle breeze softly caressing my skin... no, my whole body.
'Huh? I'm not dead?'
Did I miraculously snag on a tree or something and survive? But I'd freefallen thousands of meters without brakes—no broken bones, no ruptured organs, no pain at all. No hospital disinfectant smell either.
If anything, my body felt ridiculously light.
'Well, not dead is good enough. I'm alive, right?'
I fired up my infinite positivity loop and cautiously opened my mouth.
My body felt as light as a feather—mood wasn't half bad.
Right as I let out a deep sigh of relief—
"Caw?"
The sound from my mouth was utterly alien. Not a mouth—a beak?
I blinked my eyes wide.
My vision was weird. Better peripheral sight than straight ahead—a miraculous panorama view.
I looked down in a panic, and glossy jet-black feathers covered my body.
Tried clenching and opening my hand. What twitched instead were long, sharp-clawed bird feet.
"Caaaaw—!"
(What's this—!)
I tried cursing up a storm, but all that came out was a clear crow caw.
For real? I turned into a real crow?
Skydiving, chute fails, headers into the dirt—and I wake up as a bird. I prayed to fly on my own in the next life, but I didn't mean as a damn crow!
I looked around in shock.
Thick trees. Dense forest. No clue if this was some neighborhood hill or a fantasy beast-infested woods.
First, deep breaths. In... out. Suuuuh, haaah.
Quick situation rundown: Died in parachute accident. Reborn as crow. Life—er, bird life—ruined.
'Wait, hold up. Is it really ruined?'
I glanced at what was folded neatly on my back—or sides, really.
Two sleek, pitch-black wings.
In my past life, I was sky-obsessed. Planes, paragliding, skydiving. Relying on heavy, clunky human gear just to barely touch the heavens.
But now?
'Built-in wings?!'
My chest started swelling with grandeur.
Equipment checks? Nah. Parachutes? My body's the plane and the chute. Zero maintenance fees!
Once my thoughts hit that point, the despair of crowhood melted away like snow.
My beak-tip even twitched upward.
"Caw! Caw-caw-caw!"
(Alright! Let's do this!)
I steadied myself on the branch. Spread my wings wide on instinct.
They were broader and sturdier than expected. Wind whispering through the feathers—vivid as hell. Airflow itself, something human skin could never feel.
Flap flap—!
Powerful wingbeats kicked off the branch. Defying gravity, body floating light. Purely my power, my wings tearing through the sky.
"Caaaaaaaaw—!"
(This is the best—!)
No parachute needed—perfect, free flight.
The thrill of slicing wind. No engine noise, just my flaps and rushing air in my ears.
I even pulled off a barrel roll mid-air, reveling in sky freedom.
"Caw! Caw-caw-caw!"
(This is why birds do it!)
Perfect flight I'd never felt despite dumping millions in my past life.
After soaring under clouds for a good while—
Gurgle—
Bird stomach demanding food. Plus, new muscles aching in my wingpits.
'Time to land.'
I looked down. Lush forest like a green carpet.
Over there—that thick oak branch looks perfect for a rest.
I dove, lowering altitude.
Whiiiish—!
Target zooming in fast.
......Wait.
'Uh, how do I land?'
Feathers bristled down my spine.
Light planes: throttle down, brakes. Para or skydiving: steer chute to slow, roll on impact if needed.
But crow? Where's the brake pedal? Chute strings?
Smash into the branch at this speed, and I'd end my second life with a concussion in episode 1.
'Calm down! Veteran instructor here!'
Air dynamics same even in feathered beast body. Reduce speed, kill lift. Skydiving landing tech: flare maneuver!
10 meters to branch. 5 meters. Speed terrifying, but eyes wide.
'Now!'
Wings spread wide like opening a chute. Body pitched vertical for max drag.
Whump!
Wings braked hard, full of air. Legs extended forward—landing gear down!
Thud!
Claws dug into rough oak bark. Momentum nearly pitched me forward, but tailfeathers fanned out like a rudder for perfect balance.
"......"
Silence.
I stood firm on two feet, replaying what I'd just pulled off.
"C... caw!"
(Ha... hahaha!)
My flight sense transcended species limits? Past skydiving skills fused with crow instinct for perfect vertical takeoff and landing!
Overcome with excitement, I hopped around the branch, stepping in place.
"Caw-caw! Caw!"
(I'm a genius! Ruler of the skies!)
While lost in self-delight on the branch—
Groooowl—
Unbelievably loud rumble from my bird gut.
Oh right. Been hungry since earlier.
Adrenaline faded, fierce hunger hit—stomach glued to backfeathers.
'What do crows even eat?'
Racking shallow past knowledge: food scraps? Grain? Dead rats? Wriggling worms? Feathers bristled.
'Urk, no way. Even if the body's a bird, human dignity lives inside. Can't chew wriggling bugs!'
Maybe hunt fruit? Beak-clicking in thought—then a faint scent rode the wind, insanely stimulating instinct.
Fishy yet savory... meat?
"Caw?"
Body reacted before mind. Launched off branch, dove like a bullet toward the source.
In a forest corner, rock crevice: huge beast carcass slumped.
Wild boar? Horned deer? No idea. Hunted or natural death, but fresh-looking.
'......'
Perched on nearby branch, gulped.
Brain's 'human me' in horror: You nuts? Eat that raw? Parasites! Can't even cook!
But deep instinct screamed: Dive in! Succulent protein feast!
Groooowl!
Yeah, even the greatest mountains come after meals, flight after food. Can't gamble third life on starvation.
"C-c-caaaw..."
(Screw it...)
Eyes squeezed shut, hopped onto carcass. Beak stabbed softest-looking spot.
Squelch.
Raw meat slid down smooth, no chewing.
'......Huh?'
Vision lit up.
Fishy? Nope. Gross? Zero. Mouth full of umami—what is this?
Like top-grade hanwoo tartare in special sauce from a pro shop. Crow taste buds optimized for meat, clearly.
Rip. Tear. Chomp.
Lost reason, devouring in a trance. Flavor exploding—insanely good.
Belly full, anxiety vanished, weird peace settled in.
Wiped blood off beak on a leaf, thinking: No gear checks, no dicey chutes. Fly free, meals cost nothing. Mountains full of premium tartare (carcasses).
Belly full, body light. One issue left: bed.
Scanning forest—distant sheer rock face amid trees. Cozy hollow near top.
'That'll dodge rain, hide from foes.'
Wings spread light.
'This...'
Crow life. Way sweeter than expected?