Info *[Although there is foreshadowing early on, things get a little angsty. If that isn't your thing, you can skip straight to chapter 21, where things take off, without affecting your reading. If you don't like it, please don't flame me. Thanks.]
February 23, 1990
Kitano Village, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan
The sky was dark. It was a rainy evening, and cold winds swept up leaves and ravaged the village. Far from the city, it had around fifty households. Today, a child's cries shattered the quiet village's peace.
"Village chief! There's a child here. It looks like someone abandoned him."
"What rotten luck. Today's the day we pay homage to the gods. Don't let him cry. Stuff his mouth shut, hurry."
"Yes, yes. Oh! Chief, there's a piece of paper here. Take a look at what it says."
"You illiterate fool, let me see. Hmm... Iga... rashi... Ama... ha. Igarashi Amaha!"
"Igarashi? Chief, that's a noble family's name! If we raise him and then find his parents, won't we strike it rich?"
"You've actually been clever for once. That's what we'll do. Give him to the Ishii couple."
"All right, I'll go right now."
June 18, 2000, inside Kitano Village's kindergarten's only classroom
Rather than a kindergarten, it was more of a playground where children could let their natures run free and play to their hearts' content, while the classroom was a storage shed. Most of the children here were around seven or eight. Their parents had to work in the fields, so they entrusted their children to the only old man here who had received an education. This was also these children's only chance in their entire lives to learn and understand things.
Today brought another dull lesson in recognizing characters. To children of this age, making them learn characters was no different from harming them. Dragging his aged body along, the old man explained in a soft voice, but the children were all doing their own thing. Some talked about what delicious food they had eaten last night, others about how big a fish they had caught by hand at the river yesterday. They discussed all sorts of topics, just not learning characters.
Yet a very small number did not join those conversations-or rather, they were listening to the old man's soft words.
For example, the thin boy sitting in the corner.
His name was Igarashi Amaha. His long black hair hung in messy, fine strands, and his small, straight nose paired with his large brown eyes made him look all the cuter.
Normally, a cute-looking boy would have plenty of friends, but he did not have a single one. In everyone's eyes, Igarashi Amaha was cold and aloof. He never took the initiative to communicate with others, and even at home, he rarely spoke to his parents.
Although Igarashi Amaha listened to the old man's instruction, his eyes were not facing forward. He gazed idly at the sky outside, thinking about who knew what.
In plain terms, he was a transmigrator. In his previous life, he had parents who loved him, a degree from a Project 211 university earned through hard work, and a good position with excellent benefits at an outstanding company. Everything had been wonderful, but a car accident had taken it all away: family, love, status, money, even his life. The only thing it had not taken was his memory, and that left him somewhat uneasy. He did not understand what sort of world he was in. Once he became conscious, he saw a village chief who wanted to use him for money, along with parents who wanted to use him to move into the city. None of that was enough to terrify him. What truly terrified him was the unfamiliar power within his body and the wails coming from the village's basement.
He had spent five years checking every person in the village. Without exception, none had any special powers. They were all ordinary humans who were somewhat wicked. They had no special powers, but he did, which made him an anomaly. Presumably, the way they dealt with anomalies was that heart-chilling basement.
The information he currently had placed him in Shibuya, Japan, in 1995. Unfortunately, he was in a village. A village in this era could be called a miniature country. There were no laws here, no rules, only the village chief's whims.
According to the rules in the novels he had read at university in his previous life, there was an eighty-six percent chance of transmigrating into an "imaginary world," commonly known as an anime world. The remaining fourteen percent was the chance of a "created world," a real world with no plot and no protagonist. Of course, perhaps you yourself were the protagonist.
Then, by his deductions, the world's setting was now clear: Tokyo, Japan, at the end of the 1000s, with special powers. However, he had not developed his power enough to learn any specific information. Based on the following conjectures, he had arrived at five possible "imaginary worlds."
1 [Charlotte]
2 [Bungo Stray Dogs]
3 [A Certain Scientific Railgun]
4 [Jujutsu Kaisen]
5 [Mob Psycho 100]
Of course, there could be more, but those were beyond the scope of his knowledge.
A clamor rang out. As usual, the adults had returned from the fields, and their "studying" ended too.
The village was so quiet at dusk that Igarashi Amaha mistakenly thought he had died again without realizing it.
Walking home alone, Igarashi Amaha thought about the characters the old man had taught them today. Yes, no one came to pick him up. As his current nominal parents put it, "A child from a noble family is bound to be smarter than ordinary people. You're already ten, so walking twenty minutes on your own must be easy." There was nothing wrong with those words, really. A five-year-old could walk for twenty minutes, or even two hours, but whether they could make it home was another question.
"I'm home." He pushed open the house's shabby door and performed the loathsome formalities.
The house was simple. No, shabby was a better word. It did not even have interior walls, just two beds in the left and right corners of one large space. Still, thinking about it, that was hardly surprising. For a household made up of a lazy man and a stupid woman, simply getting enough to eat was already no easy feat.
"You're home, Amaha. Come eat. Did you have fun at kindergarten today?" a plump woman with a face full of smiles called to Igarashi Amaha.
"I had lots of fun. I'll go wash my hands first, honored Mother," Igarashi Amaha answered obediently as he headed toward the sink.
I might be happier if you put away that nauseating smile. Have you stopped even trying to hide the greed beneath it, you stupid woman? Igarashi Amaha's expression turned ugly as he lowered his head to wash his face, inwardly cursing without a care.
At the dinner table, Igarashi Amaha looked at the ramen in murky water in his bowl, just as he had expected. "Thank you for the food."
Performing loathsome formalities, eating food that was hard to swallow, and facing people with ulterior motives-this was his daily life.
"How did your lessons go today, Amaha? Did you learn everything?" Ishii Ogawa's voice swept toward Igarashi Amaha along with her suffocating breath.
With practiced ease, Igarashi Amaha held his breath, took a sip of the murky water, and said, "Yes, I learned everything, honored Mother."
The so-called title of "honored Mother" was nothing more than this stupid woman's own self-indulgent fantasy. Having the noble-born Igarashi Amaha call her honored Mother made her feel like a wealthy family's noble lady.
A foolish affectation.
Please give me all the support you can. I'd be endlessly grateful.