"I think it should be pretty clear by now, but when it comes to luck, my soul must've picked the shortest stick in the whole damn existence. Out of everyone alive, it just had to be me."
Akira found herself in a quandary, grappling with an overwhelming sense of disbelief. As she glanced around, bewildered, her small hands clenched tightly around the hem of the oversized dress she wore.
"I can't believe this is really happening. Why me?" Her voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and frustration.
"But still—what the actual hell is this?! Why am I stuck in this ridiculously short body?! Am I a child again?" Her mind reeled with confusion.
The notion of inhabiting another person's body was unsettling, a violation beyond comprehension. Imagining her own body being used by someone else was even more unnerving.
Stepping out of the hut and onto the lush, green grass, her thoughts swirled with uncertainty. The soft earth under her bare feet should have felt relaxing, but instead, it only reminded her how foreign everything was.
When she first gained consciousness in this small body, a single, unnerving question had rooted itself in her mind: had she died in her original world? Or had her soul somehow slipped free, crossing some unseen boundary and landing in this little girl?
"But why her, though?" she muttered under her breath, her brow furrowing. What about this girl could have possibly made her soul choose this child?
"Oh, wait a minute," she grumbled. "Why am I even assuming this place—this world—is another world at all? Maybe this is my original world, and I'm just in some corner of it I didn't know existed. It's not like I know everything about my own planet."
Then, almost to amuse herself, she added with a dry laugh, "But if this really is my world… doesn't that mean I'm outside my country? Oh wow. So this could be the great holiday I was hoping for. And apparently, it's going to last a long time. Lucky me."
Her tone grew flat again as she kicked at the grass. "Or maybe it's reincarnation. Or maybe I'm in the past. Or maybe none of the above, and this is all just a dream." She let the thought hang in the air before sighing. "All this guessing, and still no way to know what's actually true."
Whatever the truth was, she wouldn't know until she gathered more information. For now, she could only keep walking toward the horizon.
As she pondered her speculation, her legs wobbled beneath her, and she sank to her knees, the grass cushioning her fall. The sun hung low in the western sky, casting a warm glow over her skin.
Lying on the grass, she gazed up at the sky where wisps of clouds were painted in hues of red-orange, peach, rose gold, and faint lilac, cradled by the deepening blue of the evening sky. It was a moment suspended between seasons, between warmth and cold, between day and night. Autumn whispered its farewell in every detail. And like magic, her mind went silent, and she couldn't help but remark,
"This is a surprisingly pleasant sensation," whispering to herself, savouring the cool dampness.
"This feels… nice."
Her peaceful moment was interrupted by a distant sound—someone calling the name "Aira." Her curiosity piqued, yet the name held no meaning for her.
After all, her thoughts were already burdened by far more pressing matters. She still had no idea where she was.
Judging by her body size, she must be a child, but awakening in that little hut far from any other dwelling was perplexing. Was this girl hiding from someone? Even if she had been reincarnated into this little girl, she had no recollection of who she was or what she was doing.
If this were a typical reincarnation story, she would have inherited the memories of this girl, "But then again, when had life ever been that kind to her?" sarcastically remarking.
So many questions, yet no answers, and it was making her head ache.
"Oh well, it's pointless thinking about it,"
She sighed, deciding to set it aside for now. More importantly, she needed to find a place to sleep. Sleeping outdoors was not an option, given the risk of wild animals and diseases.
There was a village she had seen earlier; perhaps they had an inn. But she had no money, so her options seemed limited. "Let's not lose all hope," she reminded herself, trying to recall the last thing she remembered before this bewildering situation.
She was in her room, engrossed in a story, when she got up to grab some food. That's when things took a turn for the bizarre—dark corners despite the lights being on, devices suddenly ceasing to work, and a rapid shift in room temperature. Terrified, she crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over her head. Then, a blinding light erupted from her laptop, and the next thing she knew, she was here, in this unfamiliar body.
"Maybe there's something to do with that light," she mused, "but I'll get to that later." For now, her priority was finding shelter for the night. Evening was already upon her, and a little girl alone in the wilderness was far from an amusing prospect.
GROWL! A sound echoed around her. If someone heard it, they might think it's some beast, but Akira knew what it actually was. Her stomach growled again, reminding her of her urgent need for food. It seemed like this new body she found herself in was actually starving.
Looking around, she saw a vast wheat field stretching out under the sun. The thought of wandering into it and getting lost was not amusing, so she figured it was better to find a path to the nearby village.
She was hoping to grab some food there without causing a scene.
As she was thinking about her next move, she heard that familiar voice calling out that name, "Aira." Akira froze on the spot because the voice was much closer than it had been before. Suddenly, the wheat parted, and out came a young girl, maybe around fourteen or fifteen. She had brown hair tied up in a simple knot and wore a grey-blue skirt, giving her a classic, farmgirl look. Her expression was a mix of surprise and concern as she hurried over to Akira.
Grabbing Akira's hands, the girl spoke in a language Akira didn't recognize. Despite not understanding, Akira sensed the urgency in her tone. She managed to pick out a couple of words: "Dummy" and "let's move." Puzzled, Akira wondered if she was being insulted. Nonetheless, the girl pulled her insistently toward the hut where Akira had awoken in this foreign body.
"Her familiarity with me, or rather this body, the way she interacted, suggested a close bond between her and this body's previous owner. I wonder what that relation could be. This body's features are completely different from hers, so I don't think they are related. Maybe they are friends or something. But can she slow down a little?"
Akira was still getting used to this body and didn't think she could keep up for much longer.
As they hurried along, a voice commanded them to stop. This time, the words were in the same foreign language, but Akira understood them perfectly. They turned around to face a young man, older than both girls, with brown eyes and hair.
He was dressed simply in a light blue shirt and brown pants, with a gardening tool at his waist. With a smug smile, he spoke again, and his words were partly clear and partly puzzling to Akira.
The girl beside Akira avoided the young man's gaze, clearly afraid. He approached, speaking words Akira understood: "Let's go, Aira."
His grip on her hand was firm, nearly painful, as he dragged her away. Though Akira tried to protest, only muffled sounds emerged. He spoke again, and the words made sense: "You are in great trouble." Confusion and fear swirled within Akira. Why couldn't she speak?
The girl from the wheat field followed behind, her head bowed. As they approached a quaint house, the young man released Akira's hand. The house looked like it was from the 1800s, with patchwork walls and a thatched roof.
As Akira admired it, a sharp flick to the back of her head jolted her. She quickly covered the stinging spot with her palm, rubbing the spot furiously to alleviate the pain and glared at the young man, anger rising, while he maintained his confident demeanour and told her something that she clearly didn't understand.
He raised his hand, pointing a finger towards the already open door of the house. Akira glared at him and thought, "Well, I clearly didn't understand anything he just said to me. It was so frustrating! Why could I sometimes mysteriously understand this foreign language, like I'd been speaking it all my life, and then, at other times, become a complete illiterate, just as I was supposed to be?"
Recalling the way he pointed at the open door, Akira figured he must have told her to go inside. "But is it really safe to enter this strange house?" she mused, a fresh wave of apprehension washing over her. But before she could ponder further, he started pushing her from behind, urging her towards the door. Then, he spoke again, and this time, she understood him perfectly. "No matter how much time you waste, it's useless."
As he propelled her forward, a reluctant resignation settled over her. "Maybe I should just go inside," she thought. "This man, despite his arrogant personality, hadn't actually tried to harm me in any significant way. Plus, that girl, who was still silently trailing behind, didn't seem worried." So, she figured, it would probably be fine.
But the real reason was, Akira had no way out of this situation. Her control over this new body was still imperfect; her limbs were shaky, she could barely walk, let alone run from him. And just by looking at him, she clearly knew he could easily catch her.
Akira's best bet to escape would be to bolt into the wheat field, but the thought of getting lost in its vastness froze her in place. So, left with no other choice, she resigned herself to his command and stepped inside the house.
When she stepped inside, a strange wave of nostalgia washed over her—as if her soul recognized this place long before her mind did. The house was modest, with wooden furniture filling the living room, polished smooth from years of use. To her right, a staircase curved upward toward the unseen second floor. To her left, the kitchen flickered with the soft orange glow of a fire, a pot steaming gently atop it, filling the air with the scent of broth.
Two figures sat in the room.
The man was the first to catch her attention—sharp features, stern eyes. He looked older than the boy who had brought her here, though the resemblance between them was unmistakable. The same dark brown hair, the same earthy tone to their skin, even the same set to their jaw. That had to be their father.
Beside him sat a woman, likely his wife. Her appearance was strikingly different—rosy skin, hair black as ink, and eyes just as dark. She shared none of the siblings' colouring, though there was something soft and graceful about her presence, like a steadying calm in contrast to the man's simmering restraint.
As Akira watched, the woman poured tea into two small cups. Steam curled in the air as she handed one cup to the man before taking her own.
The man took a slow sip of his tea, exhaled quietly, then lifted his gaze toward Akira. His expression didn't change much, but there was a faint flicker of emotion behind his calm eyes—something that looked a little too controlled, as though anger or worry had been tucked neatly away beneath the surface.
Then, setting his cup down, he spoke.
"Aira."
The name hit her—familiar yet foreign. It took her a second to realize he was talking to her.
"So, this girl was Aira all along… I kinda had a feeling, but wow, I guess I was right. Wait—hold on. Does that mean… I'm Aira?"
…
(Akira's bewildering realization: she had been thrust into a new life without her consent, finding herself in a world she neither chose nor comprehended. Suddenly, she was grappling with a new identity, unsure if she was still Akira or had become Aira. Answers, she knew, would reveal themselves only with time. For the moment, she had no choice but to cautiously navigate this unfamiliar path, stepping into a future that seemed both daunting and obscure.)
As she attempted to process her confounding circumstances, the man in the room called out in a language she somehow understood despite not recognizing it. "Elsie!" he beckoned, and a girl whom Akira remembered emerged from the wheat field, joining Akira in the house.
As Elsie stood beside her, Akira felt a kinship with the girl, despite never knowing her, although the language barrier was significant, the man's lecture was unmistakable in its intent—Akira and Elsie were being scolded, but for what reason?
The shared reprimand seemed to forge a silent bond between them, one of mutual understanding and unspoken support. Akira, feeling the heat of embarrassment, nodded along, attempting to convey agreement even though she couldn't fully grasp the specifics.
Once the man departed, the woman led Akira upstairs to a bedroom in disarray. The room, with its four beds, hinted at yet more companions she had yet to meet. Akira, with her introverted nature, shuddered at the prospect of sharing such a space.
The woman's unexpected actions left Akira feeling vulnerable and exposed. She found herself undressed and bathed by a stranger, an experience that felt both mortifying and surreal. The boundaries of personal space and privacy were obliterated, leaving Akira to grapple with feelings of violation and helplessness.
After being dressed in unfamiliar clothes, Akira ventured downstairs to meet the final member of her new "family"—a small boy absorbed in his play, and unlike his siblings, he looked strikingly like his mother. Despite Akira's discomfort, she managed to establish a small connection, delighting him with a simple hand trick, a brief reminder of her past life.
Dinner was starkly different from what she was accustomed to. The bland stew and soup were a far cry from the flavors she once enjoyed. Yet, the meal was a necessity, and she forced herself to eat alongside this ordinary family living a simple yet challenging life.
After dinner, Akira continued to observe, piecing together fragments of her new reality. The family moved with practiced routines, and she felt like an outsider, an intruder in a world that wasn't hers. Her mind drifted back to her previous life, to the comforts of technology and the fantasies she once entertained about magical worlds. Reality, however, proved far more mundane than the vibrant adventures she had imagined.
As night enveloped the house, Akira joined the children in their shared bedroom. Despite her introverted nature, she had no choice but to accept this new normal. The children fell asleep quickly, their ability to drift off so easily both enviable and unsettling.
Lying awake on her coarse mattress, Akira's mind replayed the day's events—each moment a stark reminder of her dislocation from her previous life. The thought that this might be a dream was her only comfort. She clung to the hope that, upon waking, she would find herself back in familiar surroundings. With eyes tightly shut, she willed herself into a slumber, yearning for the security of her own world.
...
As Akira drifted into an uneasy sleep, her world transformed into a blurry, fermented dreamscape. She found herself in a place vastly different from where she had fallen asleep.
Akira found herself standing in front of a village, bathed in the mellow glow of morning light. The air was fresh, the scent of wildflowers and damp soil. Birds chattered from the rooftops, soft rustle of leaves.
She looked down—small hands again. Bare feet pressing into the cool dirt road. Around her, cottages with thatched roofs lined the lane, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, and the laughter of children playing near a stream.
A woman waved from a nearby doorway, her voice bright and familiar.
"Breakfast is ready, Aira!" she called, her long blonde hair swaying gently in the morning breeze.
There was warmth in her smile—comforting, almost nostalgic. Yet, for some reason, her face remained hazy, blurred as though wrapped in a thin veil of fog.
Akira's feet carried her forward automatically. Inside, the scent of freshly baked bread and boiling herbs filled the air. A man sat by the table, polishing a wooden carving, while a younger boy—her brother, perhaps—muttered about chores he didn't want to do. The woman, her mother, placed a bowl of steaming stew before her and ruffled her hair.
After breakfast, she helped hang laundry under the soft sun, the breeze tugging at her sleeves. Far beyond the fields, the mountains stood tall, capped with snow that shimmered faintly in the light. The river glistened nearby, winding through wildflowers in hues she'd never seen before—violet and gold, with petals that shimmered faintly when the wind moved.
And as she turned toward the horizon, a quiet peace settled in her chest.
As the day came to an end and night settled in...
She looked behind, flames engulfed the dark sky, consuming everything the girl had ever known. Her village was a cacophony of destruction, with fire roaring and clawing at her chest. The sky was shrouded in smoke as terror-filled screams echoed endlessly, mingling with the crackle of fire and the collapse of wooden homes.
Akira saw men crawling through the inferno, their faces twisted in horror, burned and charred. They reached for her, and despite her attempts to escape, they caught her. Her skin felt like it was ablaze, the searing pain making her throat raw and her vision blur.
Through the flames, she caught glimpses of the haunting, melting faces of the men, their expressions frozen between agony and pleading. Their hands clawed at her, at each other, until a sharp, ragged breath tore through her chest.
She awoke in the dead of night, drenched in sweat, her heart hammering against her ribs. The nightmare's remnants lingered, leaving a cold dread across her skin.
"What… what was that?" she wondered aloud.
"A nightmare, if so, why was it so vivid?" Trembling, she tried to shake off the memory of screaming, burning faces that refused to fade.
After an hour or so had passed.
Akira finally managed to push away the last hints of the nightmare. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, still quivering. The cool night air filtered through the open window, carrying the faint scent of grass and distant earth.
Her mind, frayed and restless, sought distraction—anything to push aside the horrors of that vivid dream.
she stepped closer to the window, her breath caught. The night sky stretched vast and endless, a tapestry of twinkling stars sharper and more vivid than anything she'd ever seen. The moons—five of them, each glowing a different shade: silver, pale blue, soft amber, faint rose, and one shimmering like liquid metal—hung in silent rotation across the heavens.
"So… this really is another world," she murmured, her voice low and filled with disbelief.
Her eyes traced the celestial display, trying to memorize the quiet beauty of the night sky. The elegance of it all made the grief of her dreams seem distant, though only slightly.
Then, for some reason, a thought struck her, one she struggled to fully believe. "The dreams I saw… could it be that they are this girl's memories?"
The realization pressed heavily on her chest. If her speculation were to be true, it would be such a tragedy for this small life.
Akira let out a soft, bitter laugh, tinged with sorrow. "Well, isn't that… convenient? Someone has to suffer, and I get to inherit it. Fantastic." Yet even in her sarcasm, a part of her ached for the girl she now inhabited. A life so fragile, so fleeting, reduced to memories of loss.
She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, letting the night sky calm her trembling hands. If this were truly another world, if she had indeed been given a second chance, she now couldn't help but think about what happens now that she was her, but for now, though, all she could do was look up and let the night hold her mind hostage long enough to forget the screams....
While she sat by the window, quietly watching the night sky, on the other side of the room, her older brother lay on his bed. From the rise and fall of his chest, anyone would think he was fast asleep. But his eyes were open, barely—a sliver of brown peeking through half-lidded lashes as he watched her silently.
In the dim light, he could see her shoulders tremble ever so slightly. A faint sigh escaped him, though he quickly stifled it, turning his head to the side. "So... she's starting to have nightmares again," he thought, his brow furrowing slightly.
He closed his eyes, pretending once more to sleep. But his mind remained restless, tracing the soft sound of the wind and the faint creak of the bed as Akira shifted. Outside, the moons drifted slowly across the sky. Inside, two souls lay awake in silence—one lost in recollection, the other trapped in the weight of unknown responsibilities.