Horaced Johnston burst awake. Bloody hell is that a bad name. But the boy knew there were some things you just had to live with: you were born into a set of circumstances and you couldn't change them yada yada...however! Horaced also knew there were things you could change. The eight year old regarded that as one of his key insights.

Another key insight. Unlike many of his better-named peers such as 'Jill' or 'Bob,' Horaced did not believe assurances such as "you are special," "my parents know the answers to everything," or that "we live in the best of all possible worlds." Tthis ideological stance, which some might consider cynical or crushing in the hands of a child, had been beaten into Horaced by his past life.

Memories of the regret, embarrassment, stupidity and patheticity he'd wreaked on himself (and others!) haunted him, but after reincarnation the memories had been transformed from dragging weights into fuel that lit a bonfire in his soul. Now I know why choices matter. He really didn't want to be a NEET again.

Every day he woke up and went jogging, despite his age. His parents had been hesitant, but after seeing him do pushups and crunches every day for two years, they'd relented. "Isn't that kind of exercise unhealthy at his age?" His mom had wondered. Screw off mom, you're totally uninformed, Horaced had thought, dismissing her doubt. So he went jogging: he wanted endurance and health and a good body, and starting out young would compound the effects later.

He also met a fair number of people while out, which was excellent because working on social skills was something he definitely wanted to do. Horaced never felt the need others seemed to have to be with other people, and he thought that may have contributed to his past-life isolation. This time, he'd build an intimate relationship with his neighborhood to practice social skills and give him a comforting environment. One family isn't enough. The neighborhood project would also help him understand socializing. He could talk to people, sure, but he hadn't grasped how to talk to people if you know what I mean. Experience went a long way with socializing.

The breeze of movement ruffled his hair and streamed past his eyes. Isn't there a way to change my name legally? The thought occurred to Horaced, who would at the very least like to be Horace, but unfortunately he'd actually been reincarnated into a world without name changes. The person who gave Horaced a second life also felt that Horaced needed to prioritize and just suck that up.

He slowed to a jog and fell to the grass in a park, doing his daily push-ups and crunches. There was no fancy equipment for a kid to use after all, just bodyweight...he'd never learned how to use gym equipment in his past life anyhow. For the record, Horaced l did not enjoy exercise but he enjoyed being fat and weak and acne-ridden even less. So he exercised, although the acne was still a ways down the road.

It sucked, but the day-by-day progression was progressively rewarding. Just wait until I'm a teenager. Horaced grinned at the thought, not for the first time.

When Horaced returned streaming with sweat and gasping out of air, he ran to the shower–he was determined to have good hygiene this time around...–and then ran to breakfast.

Next order of business! It was a weekend, so Horaced had some free time: chess! Every day he practiced chess to increase his attention span and focus. This and the exercise was the limit of his every day stuff though–only so much time you can pigeonhole, only so many things you want to constantly repeat. But today he also did some other stuff.

To work on literacy and speaking, he read part of a book aloud to himself like an actor. It would be better when he worked his way back up to Shakespeare and the Greeks (he had to relearn reading and stuff–what he remembered on reincarnation was very haphazard from a logical standpoint, but very believable from a plot standpoint). He was British this time around though, so working on speaking was probably unnecessary.

To improve abstract thinking he worked on mathematics and tried to visualize with his eyes closed.

To improve god knows what, maybe he drew a little bit too.

For some reason Horaced Johnston had grown irritated and wanted to roll his eyes. Can I stop being your mouthpiece now? He asked, finally giving an indication of what his qualm was. The person who gave Horaced a second life expected he was angry because he hadn't gotten his own webnovel.