I forced my eyes open fully, blinking against the dim light that filtered through the thatched roof.
The smell of burning wood hung in the air, mingling with the dry dust that seeped through the cracks in the walls. The ceiling was low, made of wood and covered in dry leaves.
I was on a straw bed spread out on the floor.
I turned my head slowly, feeling my small, fragile body protest with every movement.
The environment was too primitive, walls of straw and bamboo, a clay bowl of water beside me, some clothes hanging on a wooden hook.
No glass. No plastic. Everything breathed a primitive antiquity. But what caught my attention was the short sword hanging on the wooden stake.
My fingers twitched, as if it had a life of its own. Kodachi—a word invaded my familiar mind. I had never been sure about a sword... but Ichiro had.
That was not my knowledge—at least not from my past life.
I pressed my fingers to my temples, ignoring the strangeness of the situation.
More images slowly emerged: a woman with a small face and calloused fingers; a man with a rough voice and a scowl; muffled screams and...
I frowned and shook my head, it seemed that I had not been reincarnated in a good place.
I opened my eyes and a cold serenity enveloped me. This was not a dream. I had been reborn. A new world. A new flesh. And enough borrowed memories to live on.
I heard footsteps approaching. Two pairs, one heavy, leaving a trail of dust, the other light, barely audible.
The creak of wood indicated that the door was opening. I stood still, my eyes half closed, listening.
"Still alive," a male voice murmured. "I passed out before we finished. Weak as always."
A sigh. Another pair of lighter footsteps, I already knew who it was.
"He's just a child. Five years old, Daisuke... five! Have you forgotten?"
"There's no time for weakness, Haruka. If he can't handle it now, he never will." His voice was cold.
We'll try again tomorrow." He left after saying that.
Silence fell. My mother knelt beside me. A cold, damp cloth touched my forehead. The scent of herbs and leaves.
I pretended to be unconscious. My body still ached, muscles trembling from the brutal training I'd endured. It made sense now. He hadn't died from illness or accident. He'd been pushed beyond his limits.
They hadn't realized I was dead.
But I wouldn't make the same mistake my predecessor had. I would survive!
"My son..." The voice beside me was soft. "You don't need to prove anything. You're just a child..."
Silence... For a moment, I thought she would say something else, but all I heard was a tired sigh.
So that's what you think... Mother.
The words sounded strange but natural in my mind, though my face remained still. Eyes closed.
Her hand stroked my hair—slowly and gently. For a second, I felt something that almost made me shiver. The genuine tenderness of a mother. Something I had never felt before...or perhaps I had forgotten.
But it didn't last. The feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"Rest, Ichiro," she said, and shouted. The door creaked as she left, and silence filled the cabin once more.
My heart raced—Ichiro...
The old Ichiro was dead. But...this body...is mine now!