A few years had gone by, and Haruto had begun to understand this strange, quiet world he now found himself in. Though he'd adjusted to the routine of farm life, the fragments of another existence still flickered through his mind—a flash of steel, a surge of adrenaline, the heavy quiet that followed a long battle. He didn't know why these memories haunted him, only that they were as much a part of him as his shadow.
He had spent his early years in this small farming village, but unlike other children his age, a quiet awareness sat in the back of his mind, as if reminding him of something hidden, something he was unable to fully grasp. He carried himself differently, with a seriousness that his parents occasionally chuckled at, calling him "wise beyond his years."
Haruto had learned to read and write, a rare skill for children in the village, and he often spent evenings poring over any book he could find. At times, he wondered why he felt so drawn to these practices, as if reading came as naturally as breathing. More than once, he'd tried to explain to his parents that he felt as though he'd done all of this before, though he always stopped himself, fearing they wouldn't understand.
One evening, after a long day in the fields, Haruto sat outside, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. His father joined him, settling down on the steps with a tired but content sigh.
"Good day's work, Haruto. You're getting stronger." His father's voice was gentle, full of quiet pride.
Haruto nodded, managing a small smile. "I… I know I have to be. Strong, I mean," he said, his voice soft. There was a weight to his words that his father seemed to notice.
"Is something on your mind?" his father asked, glancing over with a raised brow.
For a moment, Haruto hesitated. He often found it difficult to share his thoughts—the memories and feelings that occasionally rose in him, memories he couldn't fully place. But his father's steady gaze reassured him.
"Sometimes… I feel like there's more I should remember," he admitted slowly, keeping his eyes on the horizon. "Like there's something I've forgotten, and I don't know why."
His father's expression softened, and he reached over, placing a reassuring hand on Haruto's shoulder. "Perhaps you're just dreaming, son. Sometimes dreams feel real."
Haruto gave a small nod, but in his heart, he knew it was more than just a dream. There was a part of him that felt…older, as though he had lived through things he couldn't explain.
The quietness between them deepened, and soon they heard his mother calling them inside for dinner. As they entered, Haruto stole a final glance at the fading sunlight, a sense of determination growing within him. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he was certain he'd find out.
The following days, Haruto's curiosity grew. He began exploring more, observing others, and even testing his strength and stamina in ways that went beyond ordinary play. When he would sit alone, he would often feel his mind drift back to flashes of a life he could not fully recall but felt in his bones.
Then, one night, as he sat in his room, he closed his eyes, focusing on that faint pulse of energy he'd felt the week before. With a deep breath, he reached inward, calling to it—and this time, he felt a response. A warmth began spreading from his chest, filling his limbs. He opened his eyes and looked down to see a faint shimmer around his hands.
"What…what is this?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
The shadow was gone in a moment, but the feeling remained, a small, exhilarating hint of something more. Whatever this was, he knew it was important—a remnant of something he had once known, from a life he couldn't quite remember.
He tried to make it happen again but was not successful. He stayed up late to feel that again and again every attempt ended in a failure.
He sighed, "Maybe it was just my eyes deceiving me," he murmured to himself.
As he lay back, heart pounding, Haruto stared into the darkness, a thrill of determination tightening in his chest. He didn't know what he had just unlocked, but he knew, deep down, that it was only the beginning.