The morning light filtered in, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Dust motes floated lazily, illuminated like tiny stars suspended in the air.
At a small wooden table by the window, Akira sat with her fingers tracing the rim of a cup. Her breakfast was simple: two slices of freshly toasted bread, a pair of soft-boiled eggs with steam rising gently from their cracked shells, and a glass of milk that gleamed under the sun's caress.
As the chair creaked softly beneath her, Akira's gaze drifted from her plate to the open window. The curtains swayed lightly with the morning breeze. Birds sang somewhere in the distance, blissfully unaware of the quiet turmoil that accompanied her mind.
Amidst the quiet of the room, Aira picked up a piece of bread, tearing it absentmindedly, scattering crumbs across the plate. For a moment, she didn't eat, instead contemplating her reflection in the milk — tired eyes, a faint frown, and hair tousled from sleep.
The sound of her chewing filled the room, a deliberate distraction from the chaos in her head.
"Sigh… seriously, what am I supposed to do?" she muttered, stabbing a piece of bread with more force than necessary. The taste was irrelevant; what lingered was not the flavour but the reminder of how pathetic her new life was.
If that wasn't bad enough, the traumatic memory of this little girl haunted her mind.
She had once thought that this haunting memory would be the sole burden upon her new life. Yet, if only she had known how naive that thought was.
"I honestly thought waking up in a new world would be… well, magical. But reality just had to smack me in the face," her voice tinged with frustration.
This so-called 'new life' was far from the fantasy she had imagined. From the moment she woke up from that sleepless night, it was a relentless trial of endurance and adaptation.
Fetching water from the well, helping with breakfast in the kitchen, sweeping the floor, and cleaning up after everyone. These tasks were not unexpected, but she had hoped for something more fulfilling.
Still, what happened before all this was the part that really stung; the moment she thought about it, her mind went straight back to the morning, when it was barely dawn.
The morning began with the gentle intrusion of dawn's light through her window, a contrast to the tumultuous night she had endured.
The sun's first light painted her surroundings in warm hues, but Akira felt anything but comforted. Her restless night, plagued by nightmares, left her drained.
Despite her exhaustion, a singular, urgent thought pierced through her mind.
"I need to find a bathroom right now," she mumbled, pulling herself up. As she spoke, a realisation dawned on her, "Wait… I can talk again," she whispered, her voice trembling in the still air.
But then she froze; that wasn't her voice. It was soft and high-pitched, like that of a child.
The sound sent a strange feeling. But still, regaining back her voice, though rough, was a small victory she hadn't anticipated.
This minor triumph nearly distracted her from her pressing need, but reality quickly pulled her back.
"Right, I gotta find a place to, uh, relieve some tension," she resolved, swinging her legs off the bed.
When she did, she realised the room was empty.
Every bed around her was already vacant, the sheets neatly folded as though her new siblings had vanished hours ago. Considering she hadn't slept at all, she should've heard them leave, the quiet creak of the floorboards or the sound of footsteps—but there had been nothing.
Ignoring the mystery for now, she went off to look for the bathroom. She searched every room the house had to offer—from the spare bedroom to the storage room and everything in between—but there wasn't a single sign of a bathroom. Desperation simmered beneath her skin.
That's when she noticed Elsie emerging from the storage room, a toothbrush in hand.
"Thank god, At least they have toothbrushes in this world!"
"Wait a second… why would she be coming out of the storage room with that?"
"Isn't a toothbrush supposed to be in the bathroom?"
That's when it hit her, "Wait. Don't tell me—"
Without wasting a second, she bolted toward the storage room and began frantically checking every corner. And then, there it was another door.
Her heart leapt as she yanked it open and stepped through, eyes widening in delight.
"Finally! A proper washroom! Sure, it was a bit old-fashioned, with a wooden tub, a stool, and some rough-looking wooden toothbrushes, but it had everything one might expect from a decent washroom." Well, almost everything.
She scanned the room again.
"…Wait. Where's the toilet?"
Massaging her temples, "No sign of the damn toilet anywhere. Don't tell me I actually have to do it outside…"
Then, out of nowhere, she recalled a memory from her old life, where she had been researching the Victorian era for one of her stories. She had learned that people back then often built their toilets outside the main house for sanitary reasons. Maybe this world wasn't too different after all.
So without overthinking it, she yanked open the door and bolted outside, stomach twisting, groaning as she hurried into the cool morning air.
The morning breeze grazed her skin as she scanned the yard. Her eyes caught a small wooden shed behind the house—her only hope. As she got closer, a rancid odour hit her.
"Oh, absolutely not—" instinctively stepping back. But her stomach had other plans, and there was no time for hesitation.
The shed was as rudimentary as she had feared: a stone floor and a crude pit. Pride wrestled with necessity. "Nope, not here either," she muttered, though deep down she already knew the truth. This was the toilet that she had been looking for.
Swallowing hard, she steeled herself, took a deep breath, and stepped inside, bracing for what awaited.
After finishing her business, she straightened up and instinctively reached for toilet paper, only to grasp at empty air. Her hand hovered uselessly for a moment before she blinked, confusion turning to dread. Her eyes darted around the tiny, dim space. The walls were bare, the corners shadowed. No paper. No nothing.
Then she saw it—a small wooden bucket tucked into the corner. Her hope flickered… and then died the moment she peered inside. It was filled with dry, brittle corn husks. Her stomach dropped. "Oh, no. Please don't tell me."
...
"Ah, Reincarnation… Isn't it a fascinating concept?"
"It has captivated minds across countless cultures for centuries. It proposes that when a person dies, their soul doesn't just move to an afterlife destination like heaven or hell. Instead, it is reborn into another being..."
"In many narratives, especially those known as 'isekai' stories, reincarnation adds an exciting twist. Here, a person is reborn into a completely different world, carrying their soul into an unfamiliar realm. These stories often explore the idea that the soul retains fragments of past life memories, emotions, or instincts."
"If someone had warned me, I'd wake up in another world someday, I'd have laughed at their faces and told them to get their head checked."
"Yet here I am — once just an ordinary citizen of Japan, living an unremarkable life. But fate, apparently, had other ideas. Now I've been reborn into another world, in the body of a young girl named Aira — a farmer's daughter in what feels like a medieval countryside."
(Now back to the present)
Her new family was seated at the table, eating breakfast, when Lester, the eldest son, mentioned something that caught Akira off guard.
He spoke about taking Aira to get a job in a factory. For Akira, who is already struggling with her new identity and surroundings, this is a startling situation.
Although she anticipated laborious work, factory labour was not something she had envisioned.
Her confusion grows as her father, Decan, sends her sibling, Elsie, to play outside with her, leaving the adults to discuss matters in private.
Elsie stood up from the table and excused herself. Then, with unexpected strength hidden beneath her delicate frame, she took Akira by the wrist and led her outside.
They circled to the back of the house, stopping at a small fenced pen where the family kept their animals. The gate let out a low creak as Elsie pulled it shut behind them.
As Elsie closed the gate, her eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, settled on Akira.
"I am so sorry, Aira," she murmured. Her voice was laced with regret as she revealed her guilt.
"It's all my fault. If I'd just run with you back then, we could've escaped. But I… I was too afraid to leave. And now, you're the one paying the price for my cowardness."
Akira, clearly puzzled by this unexpected confession, found herself in a quandary. She had no recollection of any plan to escape.
So, Akira's mind started piecing together fragments of information she had gathered up until now to speculate over Aira's past.
"Was Aira planning to escape with Elsie? Maybe that was why Elsie had looked at me with such sorrow the day we met.But who or what were they supposed to escape from?"
Her mind swirled with so many questions, but she couldn't voice them without risking suspicion. She was not Aira, and the real Aira would have known the answers.
Lost in her thoughts, Akira didn't notice it at first—the faint rustling behind them, the soft patter of tiny feet brushing against the dirt. Among the two girls, a third presence had emerged… and it wasn't alone.
When she finally looked down, a group of peculiar creatures that had been slowly surrounding them.
They had yellowish-brown feathers, four clawed legs reminiscent of a bird, a pair of wings, the face of a bird, complete with a beak, but also ears that resembled a dog.
"Bristlehen?" Elsie spoke the word aloud, breaking the momentary silence.
Thinking to herself, "Is that what they call a chicken here?" The creature looked as if it were a hybrid of a chicken and a dog.
"How could I have not seen them coming!" she wondered, realising each one was roughly the size of an average dog.
But at that moment, she couldn't help but speculate about their weight, imagining they could easily tear her apart if they desired.
Her musings were abruptly interrupted when one of the Bristlehens leapt onto her head.
"What the—?!" she gasped, stumbling as feathers flared and a pair of claws briefly tangled in her hair. The weight was dizzying; they must have been at least 20 kg! Fortunately, the Bristlehen soon departed, leaving Akira slightly dazed but unharmed.
Akira dropped to the floor, and a quiet, guilty giggle escaped Elsie's lips. It was a fleeting thing, for a brief moment before she quickly composed herself.
At the very least, her laughter broke the tension, and Akira found herself being helped up by the young girl. The tears had vanished, replaced by a neutral face.
More Bristlehens began to gather, prompting the two to leave the area quickly.
Once outside, Akira inhaled deeply, savouring the fresh air.
Elsie, still concerned, asked Akira if she was angry with her. Akira simply shook her head. Elsie's face lit up with happiness as she hugged Akira tightly. "Aira, you are the best little sis in the whole world!" she exclaimed.
At that moment, thinking to herself, "How can I be angry at you… If I don't even know why I'm supposed to be, and even if one day I do learn the truth of what you did to Aira, whether you betrayed her or not, it still wouldn't change anything. I couldn't bring myself to hate you."
"Because the one you wronged… was Aira. And I'm not her."
Still, Akira felt relieved that Elsie was no longer crying. As Elsie's tears subsided, just then, Klite, the youngest son, appeared unexpectedly behind them, taking both by surprise. With a playful grin, he invited his sisters to join him by the big oak tree.
As they walk through the village, Akira is amazed by the cobblestone streets, rustic cottages, and the picturesque scenery reminiscent of a Victorian countryside. The air carries the faint scent of smoke from distant chimneys.
During this walk, Akira makes a remarkable realisation. Despite being in this world for barely a day, she was able to comprehend the language perfectly.
It dawns on her that she has inherited a small portion of Aira's memories from that nightmare, and through it, she can understand the language of this world.
"Thinking about it now, that nightmare kinda came with its own benefits."
Akira, though she may have looked unfazed but was still processing the peculiarities of this world and her role within it, followed Elsie and Klite.
She was determined to uncover the mysteries surrounding Aira's past and the strange new environment she found herself in.
For now, she was content to be part of this makeshift family, hoping that the answers would reveal themselves in time.
Their destination was a massive oak tree, situated on the other side of the village, its branches spreading wide and offering a sanctuary for the village children.
Sunlight filters through the leaves, casting golden shafts on the ground, as Elsie and Klite run ahead to join their friends. Akira, with newfound confidence and a sense of belonging, follows them, her long hair catching in the breeze.
The sun's gentle warmth spilled across the countryside, bathing the fields in a soft, golden light.
The grassy field spread out in a rough, uneven patchwork, its soil marked by the prints of many small feet over the years.
At its heart stood a mighty oak, its gnarled roots breaking through the earth, while its broad branches reached outward like open arms, casting a cool shade where children played beneath its watch.
There were no swings or slides like the playgrounds she remembered, just an open field.
Yet the children didn't seem to mind. They made their own fun, darting through the tall grass, rolling wooden hoops, and tossing a rag-stuffed ball that kicked up little clouds of dust.
Their laughter carried on the breeze, mingling with the faint scent of wildflowers that drifted through the air.
Far from the cluster of joy, beneath the shadow of another smaller tree at the edge of the field, sat Akira with her knees tucked close, her back pressed to the cool bark. The sunlight flickered over her face through the gaps in the leaves.
Her breath came slowly as she tried to calm the throbbing in her head.
"This body has no stamina at all. No wonder Elsie looked so worried when she heard I'd be working at the factory. If just a short run leaves me completely exhausted, I don't even want to imagine what 8 hours of hard labour would do to me," she muttered to herself, wiping the sweat from her temple.
She had learned it the hard way—just a few minutes of running around with Elsie and Klite had nearly killed her. Her lungs had burned like fire, her vision swam, and the world had started to tilt before she stumbled away from the chaos to find refuge under this patch of shade.
Now, as she sat there, the cheerful sounds of play in the distance felt strangely far away, like some distant memory.
She leaned her head back against the tree and sighed. "Yeah… looks like even in this life, I'm definitely not cut out to be the athletic type."
A leaf fell onto her head. When she picked it up, she noticed it had already turned from orange to brown. Looking up, she saw the trees were nearly bare—a clear sign that autumn was coming to an end.
The wind carried the scent of hay and old wood. It was calming, even nostalgic, reminding her of her old life, yet there was something lonely about it too, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
In that moment of reflection, she was distracted by a voice calling to her. "Oh, goodness, is that you, Aira!"
When she looked in the direction of the voice, she saw an old woman in a wheelchair, who appeared to be in her 60s, and a young boy pushing her wheelchair.
He looked much younger than the woman, with black hair that hung over his eyes, hiding most of his expression.
By the way she looked and spoke to her, Akira easily realised that this old woman was an acquaintance of Aira's, so she needed to be careful around her.
The old woman murmured with a smile, her voice filled with fondness. "Oh, Aira… It's only been a day since I last saw your sweet face, yet I already miss our little debates."
Akira forced a polite smile, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment. Her heart thudded once in her chest — not out of fear, but from the effort of maintaining the mask she wore so carefully.
"Stay calm. Just nod, smile, and say as little as possible," she reminded herself, tightening her grip on the edge of her dress.
"Yes… It's been a while," she murmured, her voice so soft it felt like a whisper in the wind. The old woman chuckled, her wrinkled hands clasping over her lap. "Still that quiet little girl, aren't you? I suppose that hasn't changed."
Akira dipped her head again, lips curling faintly. "Quiet little girl, huh? Well, that works perfectly for me," she thought.
Though she had learned the language through Aira's memories, the accent of that faintly rustic tone still eluded her.
In truth, Akira had long mastered the art of silence. She let the old woman talk as much as she wanted, nodding at the right moments, smiling when appropriate. Every now and then, she let out a soft "yes, ma'am," careful to sound natural, even if the tone came out slightly strained.
The boy behind the wheelchair remained silent for most of it. His dark hair shadowed his face, his expression unreadable. Still, Akira could feel his eyes flick toward her once or twice, as if trying to place something that felt off about her.
"So, tell me, Aira," the old woman asked, "have you been studying well? I do hope you haven't forgotten all your letters while the school's been shut for the harvest season. You were always one of my brightest girls."
That caught Akira off guard. "School? Wait… Is she a teacher?" Her mind raced for an answer that would sound natural.
"I… I've been trying to keep up," she replied softly, keeping her eyes low.
"Good, good," the woman said with a nod, clearly pleased. "Your father must be keeping you busy with the harvest, hm? Such a hardworking man, that one. Make sure to help your mother with the weaving, too — winter's coming fast this year."
Akira just nodded again, her thoughts spinning. "Harvest season, school — this world really does have all the systems of a pre-industrial society. But… education? I didn't think peasants in this kind of era even had proper schools."
When the old woman finally decided to move on, she patted Akira's head fondly. "You take care now, dear. I'll see you again once school reopens. Oh, and don't forget to study your letters!"
"I won't," Akira replied quietly, watching as the boy began to push the wheelchair away.
As they departed, Akira released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Each encounter in this unfamiliar world demanded an exhausting level of vigilance. Yet, even amidst the tension, she found herself curiously intrigued.
There was much to learn and understand — about the people, the customs, and perhaps, her place within it all.
When they were far enough, Elsie suddenly appeared beside her, a bright grin plastered across her face. "You were talking to Rona, weren't you?"
Akira blinked. "Rona?"
Elsie nodded enthusiastically. "Yup! But to be honest, I'm really surprised you're getting along so well with her."
Then she continued with a curious smile. "Last I heard, you two had quite the argument. I actually thought you hated her or something—but I guess I was wrong. Still, I'm glad you finally decided to put your pride aside."
Akira's face stiffened, though she kept her expression neutral as she thought to herself. "Wait—so Aira had a bad relationship with that woman? And I've been acting all nice to her?"
She sighed inwardly, feeling a twinge of dread. "Fantastic. This could come back to bite me later… but since I can't do anything about it now, I'll just let the future me deal with it."
Then, Elsie continued, her tone softened, "After all, she's, our teacher! Since the harvest season started yesterday and schools closed for the whole week, everyone's been helping out in the fields. But for someone like her—well, she's too old to work now, and she doesn't really have anyone to celebrate with. She's always been alone, you know? But this year's different, all thanks to Elliott. Isn't that nice?"
"Oh, yeah! And Elliott." Elsie's tone softened slightly, her cheeks tinting pink.
"He's… um, he helps her around a lot. He's really kind and strong, you know?"
Akira raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement curling at her lips. "Oh? You like him?"
Elsie nearly jumped, her hands waving frantically. "W-What?! N-No, I just—! He's… nice, that's all!"
Akira chuckled faintly. "Sure."
The golden hue of afternoon melted slowly into the soft blush of dusk. The day's warmth had begun to fade, replaced by the cool breath of evening.
Akira, Klite, and Elsie made their way home under the deepening twilight. Akira's gaze was drawn to the open field beyond the wooden fences, where she beheld a creature unlike any she had seen before.
The creature stood tall and heavyset, its hide a mottled gray-brown. Three distinct horns jutted from its head—one positioned above the nose, and two curving proudly from its forehead, reminiscent of a prehistoric crest.
Its eyes glowed with a faint amber hue in the dimming light, and though its posture was cow-like, its bulk was unmistakably that of a creature from a distant past.
"What… is that?" Akira wondered, slowing her steps to better observe this marvel.
Klite, dragging a small stick along the ground, looked up and exclaimed with excitement, "Oh, look sis, that's a Tricow! Don't they look awesome?"
"Tricow?" Akira repeated, the name sounding absurdly simple for something so prehistoric.
Elsie chimed in with pride, "They're used to plow fields sometimes. Papa says they're as strong as three oxen! But they're gentle too, unless you bother their calves."
Klite, with boundless enthusiasm, declared, "I want to ride one," earning a stern reprimand from Elsie, which he promptly ignored.
Akira's eyes lingered on the creature a little longer. "A hybrid between a triceratops and a cow?" she mused.
The sight reminded her of how far from Earth she truly was. This world, with its quaint familiarity, was undeniably alien, twisting nature into extraordinary forms.
As the sun finally dipped below the hills, they reached their home. The house sat quietly under the rising moons, and the comforting fragrance of stew wafted from the hearth inside, welcoming them back.
Hours later, when the stars glittered like frost in the dark sky, Akira lay on her straw mattress, staring at the wooden ceiling beams. The crickets outside sang their nightly song, and the flicker of a dying candle dimly lighted the room. Drowsiness had almost claimed her when the soft groan of the door stirred the silence.
"Aira?" came Elsie's voice, hushed but eager.
Akira propped herself up on her elbow. "Hmm? What is it?"
Elsie tiptoed in, clutching her blanket around her shoulders. Her eyes gleamed in the candlelight.
"I just heard Mama and Papa discussing. They said they're not going to make you work at the factory."
Akira blinked in surprise. "Wait… really?"
Elsie nodded quickly, grinning. "Yup! They said they'll find another kind of work for you to do here at home instead. Something easier."
Akira exhaled, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. "Thank goodness… I was half expecting them to toss me into that place tomorrow morning."
Elsie giggled softly and plopped down beside her. "See? They're not so bad. Papa just gets grumpy when he's tired, that's all."
For a while, the two sisters sat in the hush of the night, wrapped in the warmth of shared relief. The flickering light painted their faces with gentle gold.
But then Elsie, ever the chatterbox, broke the calm with a mischievous smile. "Hey… can I ask you something?"
Akira glanced at her, suspicious. "Depends. What kind of 'something'?"
Elsie hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Do you… know anything about Elliott?"
Akira raised an eyebrow. "Elliott? Oh, you mean the boy who was pushing Rona's wheelchair?"
Elsie's cheeks immediately turned pink. "W-Well, yeah! I just thought maybe you might know him since you two were—"
"Were what?" Akira asked, clearly amused.
Elsie twisted her blanket nervously between her fingers. "Um… since you two were in the same orphanage together."
The words hit Akira like a certain thud. She froze for a moment, staring at Elsie's face, searching for any hint of mistake — but Elsie's eyes were clear.
"…The same orphanage?" Akira repeated quietly.
Elsie nodded. "Yeah. Mama told me that before she and Papa adopted you. You and Elliott lived in the same place when you were little. You probably don't remember, though, right?"
Akira's fingers tightened around her blanket. "So, I was right," she thought. "This body… Aira… she wasn't their biological daughter after all."
The theory she had been quietly nursing in the back of her mind all along had now solidified into fact.
She forced a small, thoughtful smile. "Maybe. I don't really remember much from back then."
Elsie tilted her head. "That's okay. You were both really small. I just thought… maybe you'd tell me what he was like."
Akira looked at her sister — at the curiosity glowing in those eyes — and felt a faint warmth in her chest. But she didn't answer. She simply reached out and gently flicked Elsie's forehead, smiling softly.
"Ow! What was that for?" Elsie pouted.
"For being nosy," Akira said, chuckling quietly.
Elsie giggled, rubbing her forehead. "You're so mean sometimes, Aira."
"Go to sleep," Akira replied, lying back down and turning toward the window, where the moons hung pale and cold over the village rooftops.
As Elsie curled up beside her, humming softly, Akira's mind drifted elsewhere — to the mystery of the life she had inherited.
"An orphan girl, huh? Well, this just got a whole lot more interesting..."
The forest lay deep in silence. A thin mist coiled lazily between the trees, and the moonlight filtered through their skeletal branches, casting veins of light across the mossy ground.
Nestled at the heart of that forest stood a small, weather-worn cottage. Its roof was crooked, patched with old timber, and its single window glowed faintly orange in the darkness. Smoke curled from the chimney, twisting into the cold air.
Inside, the faint crackle of a dying fire filled the cramped room. The walls were lined with old books, herbs hanging from the rafters, and shelves of glass jars filled with things that moved.
At the window stood a man, his gaze fixed upon the star-scattered night sky.
He was tall, his frame lean, and though most of his features were obscured by the dim light, his eyes caught the moon's reflection.
On his gloved hand perched a raven, its feathers black as midnight, its head tilting as if listening closely.
The man's voice broke the stillness. "Everything is proceeding according to plan, but the winter is coming… sooner than expected."
The raven let out a low croak, as if in reply. He smirked faintly, stroking the bird's feathers with his other hand. "Yes. I'll handle it when the time comes," he said softly.
Behind him, came the faint sound of something being torn apart.
At the small wooden table sat Rona. Before her lay a plate of raw meat. She tore into it with an unsettling eagerness, her movements unrefined. Blood smeared the corner of her mouth, her hands stained red as she ripped another piece free with her teeth.
The candlelight flickered over her pale face, glinting in her feral eyes. "Rona," the man called without turning around. His tone was neither scolding nor kind, merely stating her name as one might address a hound.
She froze for a heartbeat, her teeth still sunk into the flesh, then slowly raised her head.
The man turned slightly, enough for the light to catch his face — calm, emotionless, with an unnerving smile curling his lips.
"Soon, everything we've worked toward will unfold on itself…" He gestured toward her with a faint flick of his fingers.
Rona lowered her gaze, her ferocity abating.
The raven croaked again, spreading its wings briefly, scattering a few black feathers into the air.
The man looked back toward the night sky, "The threads are moving. Fate stirs again after centuries of silence. The prophecy of the Oracles will finally come true."
The raven cawed once more, and outside, the wind brushed against the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of blood.