Reborn in Equestria Girls: The Gacha System (Multiverse)

Chapter 2: New me? - Chapter 2



(New me? - Chapter 2)

(5 years later) (school: Middle school, First year)

I am now 11 years old and attending middle school—Canterlot Middle School, to be exact. A simple name, but a question you might ask is, Why go to Canterlot middle school and not crystal prep middle?

Well, my parents wanted me to grow up in an environment that would help me develop better communication skills since I spent most of my childhood alone. Crystal Prep Middle School, on the other hand, was known for its intense competition, something my dad could personally attest to. Both schools are both same and different from their high school versions—smaller, yes, but still the same in spirit. 

I've always wondered why the Cutie Mark Crusaders were in Canterlot High in the original series. The only way to really explain it is that maybe, instead of being middle schoolers, they were freshman high schoolers in this world. It's kinda like how Twilight is a young adult in Equestria but turns into a teenager when she enters the human world—probably due to a difference in maturity. It could also be that ponies might not live as long as humans, so when they come here, their ages adjust because of that. Honestly I have no idea how it works, and even thinking about it gives me a major headache.

Anyway, my first week of middle school went as expected. I talked to some new people—three, to be specific. Of course, Wallflower was in most of my classes, so we stuck together as usual.

The first person I met was Derpy. She was incredibly nice, and on top of that, she shared a muffin from home. And wow—was it good.

The second person was Bulk Biceps. Despite his insane muscles, he was surprisingly smart. I'll admit, I had assumed otherwise at first, which was kinda mean in hindsight. Sorry, dude.

And finally, the third person who talked to me? One of the Main Six—Applejack.

(Flashback)

I was grabbing some books from my locker when I noticed a girl with a cowboy hat approaching me. She had a confident stride and a friendly look in her green eyes.

"Excuse me," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Are you Berry Specter?"

I blinked, shutting my locker. "Uh, yeah, that's me."

Applejack smiled warmly. "Ah thought so. Ah just wanted to ask—yer mom, Berry Jam, is she yer ma?"

I nodded. "Yeah, she is. Why?"

Applejack's expression softened. "Ah just wanted to say thank ya. Yer mom was a real good friend to my ma back in the day. She was there for her a lot, and Ah really appreciate that. Ah don't remember much about my ma, but Granny told me plenty 'bout how much she valued their friendship."

I felt a small lump in my throat. "Oh… I didn't know that. That's… really nice to hear. I'll make sure to tell her."

Applejack gave a firm nod. "You do that. And if ya ever need anything, just let me know, alright?"

I offered a small smile. "Yeah… thanks, Applejack."

"Anytime, sugarcube." She tipped her hat before walking off, leaving me standing there with a newfound respect for the girl who would one day be one of the most honest people in the series. 

(Flashback ends)

half of the rest of the main six weren't in my classes, except for Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy. But those two were practically glued together, even at this age. There is also rarity but we won't talk about her for now…

I'm not entirely sure if the whole main six knew each other or were friends at this point. From what I remember, they were, but something happened that caused them to drift apart—at least in the series. It's been years since I last watched it, so some details are a little fuzzy… especially now that I've been reborn.

Love you, Mom and dad…

Anyway, right now, I'm in art class with Lyra and a few others I don't really recognize—except for Vinyl. She's hard to miss with those big ass headphones. And—oh, there they go. Confiscated by our lovely excuse for a teacher.

Our teacher is Mister White. Yeah, I'm not kidding. I almost laughed when I first heard his name, but another kid did, and he got slapped with lunch detention. Sooo… definitely an asshole. I forgot how bad public schools could be sometimes.

We were paired up and assigned to create a single art piece—basically, a glorified doodle. I got paired with Lyra. She wanted to draw a horse and I wanted to draw some of my cartoons. We fought for a bit but she won. I mean I am a 17 year old inside a small kid's body. It is kind of pathetic for me to fight with a little kid…

I am sitting at my desk, idly tapping my pencil against the paper while waiting for the teacher to give us the next set of instructions. Across from me, Lyra Heartstrings was furiously sketching, her tongue slightly sticking out in concentration.

"You know," she said suddenly, not looking up from her paper, "horses are, like, the best animals ever."

I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Did you know they can sleep standing up? And they recognize their friends, kinda like we do. Isn't that cool?"

I smirked slightly, resting my chin on my hand. "Sounds exhausting, sleeping standing up."

Lyra giggled. "You always sound like an old man stuck in a kid's body."

I shrugged. Not exactly wrong. "I just think lying down sounds more comfortable."

"Well, yeah, but horses don't have to deal with boring stuff like school," she argued, adding a dramatic swirl to her horse's tail. "They just run around all day, looking majestic and free."

I tapped my pencil against the desk. "No books, no internet, no Candie"

Lyra gasped, clutching her chest. "No candie? That is tragic. But still, I'd rather be a horse than deal with Mister Snow."

As if on cue, our excuse of a teacher cleared his throat from across the room. "Less talking, more drawing."

Lyra muttered under her breath, "Horses wouldn't have to deal with this nonsense."

I smirked. "You'd still get in trouble for running in the hallways, even as a horse."

She grinned mischievously. "Then I'd just gallop away before they could catch me."

I shook my head with a quiet chuckle and went back to sketching. Lyra kept chattering about her future horse ranch, completely lost in her dream. I didn't say it, but something about her excitement made me… almost nostalgic. I kept drawing, letting her energy fill the silence between us.

The rest of art class went about as expected—most of the drawings were a disaster. Well, except for two kids who drew Sonic, but let's be real, Sonic is pretty easy to draw. Lyra and I, on the other hand? We crushed it. Our horse looked incredibly realistic, and we ended up getting top marks. Not that I had to do much—Lyra was insanely good at drawing horses. Seriously, like damn.

Next up was Gym, which also happened to be the class that Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were in with me this year. Today was going to be interesting because we were playing dodgeball today.

Anyone who's grown up in the U.S. knows that dodgeball isn't just a game—it's war, especially when the teacher joins in. And today? Today was a full-blown massacre.

Funny enough, our Gym teacher was actually Bulk Biceps Father. And, well… like father, like son. The guy was huge, built like a wall of pure muscle, and his name? Bulky Biceps. Yeah. Someone just slapped a "Y" onto Bulk Biceps' name and called it a day. I hate this world.

I know I come off as broody, but honestly, who wouldn't be if they were stuck here, ripped away from their family and their old life? I've gotten better over the years—learned to cope, adjust—but that hollow feeling never fully goes away.

Anyway, we gave it our all today, and somehow, we were actually winning against the other team. Which was pretty hilarious, considering they had Rainbow Dash and we had… Fluttershy.

Not that Fluttershy was much help—she got eliminated almost immediately. Not by Rainbow Dash, though. The other students took her out fast, probably sensing the easiest target. Still, we managed to hold our ground, knocking out most of their team, even Rainbow Dash herself.

And then… It happened.

Their team was down to its last few players, struggling to hang on, when the teacher decided to step in. And just like that—look how they massacred my boy.

It wasn't even a fair fight. We got obliterated. It was like D-Day, but instead of storming the beaches, we were just a bunch of kids getting annihilated by a grown man with the throwing power of a professional pitcher. I held my own for a while, but in the end, I was the third-to-last to go down.

Rest in peace, team.

Last period was chemistry, and the teacher decided we'd be doing a small experiment that required partners. Lucky me—I got paired with Derpy.

Yeah… this was probably not going to end well.

Derpy clapped her hands together, her 'unique' golden eyes shining with excitement. "This is gonna be so cool! Big foamy explosion of science!"

I glanced at her warily as I double-checked the instructions. "Yeah… as long as we follow the steps and don't go overboard."

Derpy nodded rapidly. "Oh yeah, totally! Steps. Important."

I wasn't exactly convinced.

We had all the materials laid out: hydrogen peroxide, dish soap, food coloring, yeast, and warm water. I carefully measured the hydrogen peroxide into the flask while Derpy dumped in an absurd amount of blue food coloring.

"Uh… you only need a few drops," I said, watching as the liquid practically turned into ink.

Derpy blinked at the bottle, then shrugged. "More color, more fun!"

I sighed but let it slide. "Alright, now for the soap." I poured a controlled amount into the mix, making sure it didn't bubble too much. "Now we just mix the yeast with warm water, let it activate, and then pour it in."

Derpy grabbed the yeast packet eagerly. "I got this one!"

I hesitated. "…Okay, just be careful."

Probably not a good idea…

She nodded determinedly and poured the yeast into the water. For a second, everything seemed fine. Then she picked up the beaker and—before I could stop her—dumped all of it into the flask in one go.

Oh no.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—

FOOSH!

The reaction exploded out of the flask like a tidal wave, thick blue foam surging over the table, cascading onto the floor like a bubbling volcano.

Derpy gasped. "Whoa! It's so fluffy!"

I shot out of my seat as the foam swallowed up our table. "Derpy!"

She held her hands up, grinning sheepishly. "Oops?"

The rest of the class turned to stare. The teacher, who had been assisting another group, spun around just in time to see our table disappearing under a mountain of toothpaste foam.

"…What in the world—"

"SCIENCE!" Derpy cheered, throwing her hands up like she had just discovered the meaning of life.

The teacher pinched the bridge of their nose. "I specifically said small amounts of yeast."

I sighed, wiping some of the foam off my sleeve. "Yeah, tell that to her."

My mistake was thinking she was a bit more normal…

Derpy giggled, dipping her finger into the foam. "At least it smells nice!"

I just shook my head, watching as the teacher hurried over with a mop and an exasperated sigh. 

At the end of school I decided to walk home. Yea walked, the city is so safe that kids can walk home and have no fear of being kidnapped it is that peaceful…

Meanwhile I walked home and I began to hum softly. A tune from a world long gone. My voice followed naturally, filling the quiet space around me.

"And at last, I see the light...

And it's like the fog has lifted..."

I barely noticed I was singing at first, but as the words left my mouth, a strange sense of calm washed over me. The song—I See the Light from Tangled—was about realizing something new, about appreciating something right in front of you. It felt… fitting.

"And at last, I see the light...

And it's like the sky is new..."

I closed my eyes, letting the melody take me for a moment. Maybe… just maybe, this life wasn't so bad. Maybe I was still stuck in the past, too afraid to look forward. I wasn't ready to fully move on, not yet even after many years. But maybe, just maybe, I could learn to accept this new world a little more.

A small voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "That was beautiful."

I looked up to see Wallflower walking nearby, her hands clasped in front of her. Her cheeks were a bit pink, but her expression was soft.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Ah, thanks. Just something from… back home."

Wallflower smiled a little. "You should sing more. I think people would like it."

I let out a small chuckle. "Maybe. We'll see."

For now, I tucked that thought away. The day wasn't over yet, and I still had more to figure out about my life here.

After sharing that moment with Wallflower, we decided to grab some candies and desserts from a nearby bakery called Sugarcube Corner. Yes from the series.

 The place was small but charming, the air filled with the warm scent of fresh pastries and melted chocolate.The shop was surprisingly spacious for what it was, and it had a distinct look unlike the one in the movie. Maybe that's due to the internet era where the movie took place? where everything has to appear polished and corporate. It reminds me of how McDonald's used to have GameCubes, playgrounds, and bold colors—now everything seems a bit bland in comparison.

The glass display case was packed with colorful sweets, each one more tempting than the last. Wallflower's eyes lit up as she pointed to a tray of chocolate truffles, each one dusted with cocoa powder and nestled in tiny gold wrappers. "These look really good," she murmured.

I nodded, my gaze shifting to a beautifully layered slice of strawberry shortcake. The sponge cake was impossibly soft, with layers of whipped cream and fresh strawberries between each tier. The top was dusted with powdered sugar, a single whole strawberry resting elegantly on a dollop of cream.

Nearby, a row of lemon tarts gleamed under the bakery lights, their golden crusts perfectly flaky, the lemon curd within shimmering like liquid sunlight. I could almost taste the tangy sweetness just by looking at them. Next to them were delicate macarons, pastel-colored and neatly arranged in rows, their crisp outer shells promising a soft, chewy interior filled with silky ganache.

"I'll take the shortcake," I said, stepping up to the counter. "And a few of those truffles for Wallflower."

She glanced at me, slightly surprised. "You didn't have to—"

"Consider it a thank-you," I cut in with a small grin. "For sticking around."

Her cheeks turned pink, but she didn't argue.

After paying with my pocket money, we sat outside on a nearby bench, enjoying our treats as the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over Canterlot. The first bite of my shortcake was pure heaven—the sponge was airy and light, the cream perfectly balanced between sweet and rich, and the strawberries added a refreshing tartness.

Wallflower hummed in delight as she bit into a truffle. "This is amazing."

"Told you," I said between bites.

We sat in comfortable silence, letting the flavors melt on our tongues. Moments like these, small and peaceful, made me forget about the bigger, more complicated things. Just for a little while.

After talking and playing eventually, the sun dipped lower, and we both knew it was time to part ways.

"Thanks for today," Wallflower said softly, stuffing the last bit of chocolate into her mouth. "It was fun."

"Yeah," I agreed. "We should do this again."

She gave me a small, genuine smile before heading off down the street. I watched her go for a moment before turning toward my own path.

My house loomed in the distance—a massive, elegant building that was just shy of being called a mansion. The grand front entrance had towering columns, and large windows reflected the dimming sky. The driveway was long and lined with trimmed hedges, leading up to a set of double doors that could easily belong to a fancy estate.

I sighed as I stepped through the doors, greeted by the familiar stillness of an empty home. It was grand, elegant, yet eerily hollow. Over the years, my parents' business had expanded massively, turning them into major players in their industries.

Despite the size of the estate, the only company I had most days were the butlers and maids tending to the house. They rarely interacted with me unless I needed something, maintaining a quiet, professional presence.

With all the resources at my disposal, I made the most of my time by honing various skills. Being wealthy meant that if I wanted piano lessons, a teacher would arrive at my doorstep within the hour.

I dedicated myself to programming, enough to create small indie games and small personal projects if I wanted. My love for art remained strong, allowing me to fill sketchbooks with countless drawings, a hobby I had from my past life. Now, I have turned my focus toward music—specifically singing and playing instruments. There was something about it that brought me a deep sense of peace…a sense of harmony.

I decided to start creating my own music. Learning the process took time, buying the right equipment was expensive, and figuring everything out was honestly a massive headache. But after a lot of trial and error, I finally set up my own little studio—well, more like a studio room. It wasn't anything professional, but it had everything I needed to compose, record, and experiment with music.

In a way, this was one of the few real advantages of my new life. Having access to money made things easier, sure, but emotionally? That was a different story.

I know my parents love me… or at least, I think they do. They never really show it. When I was younger, they missed a few of my birthdays, always busy with work. Now that their business has grown even bigger, it feels like they've forgotten they even have a kid.

I don't know if they still care, or if I've just become another distant part of their lives. Maybe they still love me… maybe they just don't remember to show it…

Shaking off those thoughts, I decided to focus on my music for a while. Even as a beginner, I had enough knowledge to put together a simple melody. I sat down in my small studio, adjusting my microphone and opening up my music software.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard before instinctively pressing down on the first few notes. Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars. The song was etched into my memory, a familiar tune that always hit a little too close to home and reminded me of a certain princess.

I played through the chords slowly at first, making sure everything was set right. Then, I started recording, layering each instrument one by one—soft piano, gentle strings, a faint echo of percussion in the background. The instrumental began to take shape, and soon enough, I found myself singing along, my voice barely above a whisper at first.

"At night when the stars light up my room… I sit by myself… talking to the moon…"

The words felt heavier than usual, and I wasn't sure if it was because of my past life or because, deep down, I knew that no matter how much I tried to fit into this new world, there would always be something missing.

I recorded multiple takes, adjusting the pitch, tweaking the volume, making sure everything sounded just right. Hours passed in what felt like minutes as I became lost in the process. When I finally listened back to the full track, a strange mix of pride and emptiness filled me. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine.

Leaning back in my chair, I let out a deep sigh. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from my monitor casting long shadows against the walls. Exhaustion settled in, but there was a sense of quiet satisfaction.

I saved my work, shut off my equipment, and stretched, my body aching from sitting too long. The house was silent as I made my way to my bedroom, slipping under the covers. As I stared at the ceiling, the last echoes of the song still played in my mind.

Maybe, just maybe, someone out there was listening.

With that final thought, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

______________________________________________________________________________

Writer here

Decided to add more music into the story, yes I am trying to add more music to convey emotion I know the golden rule is show not tell but still..

By the way, canon is a bit different as you can since I do not know the series in and out sorry.

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Quote of the chapter:

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step - Lao Tzu


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