The soft morning light filtered into Haruto's small room, casting gentle beams over the books scattered around him. Haruto sat cross-legged on the floor, a focused expression on his face as he flipped through the pages of a worn, aging book. He skimmed each line with intent, searching for anything that might give him a hint about the strange, faint shadow he had once glimpsed around his hands. It was elusive, like a memory just out of reach, yet he felt certain it was significant.
The sound of his mother's voice broke his concentration. "Haruto! Breakfast is ready!"
With a small sigh, he closed the book, setting it aside carefully. He'd been through nearly every book his family owned, but none of them held the answers he sought. Shaking his head, he rose and made his way downstairs.
The warm scent of cooked rice and miso filled the small kitchen as he stepped in. His mother smiled at him, setting a bowl on the table. "Good morning, Haruto. You were up early again."
Haruto nodded, taking a seat at the table. "Just… reading."
His mother chuckled, giving him an affectionate look as she took her seat beside him. "Always the little scholar, aren't you?"
His father joined them, settling down with a satisfied sigh. "Well, it's good you like reading, Haruto. Not many kids around here do, you know." He ruffled Haruto's hair, causing him to smile.
They ate together, and the conversation drifted over the usual topics—the crops, the animals, and the daily routines of the farm. But Haruto's thoughts kept drifting back to the memories of his past life, although he is still uncertain of everything, he remembered the promise he made.
Haruto thanked his parents and slipped outside. The morning air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of earth and grass. He wandered toward the farm's outer edge, where the fields stretched out under the open sky, and felt a familiar calm settle over him.
He made his way to the yard, absentmindedly examining his hands, wondering if he'd ever see that strange shadow again. The air was still, and he felt strangely connected to his surroundings while meditating.
A noise broke his focus—the sound of soft grunts and the rhythmic clash of wood meeting wood. Curious, Haruto moved closer, rounding the corner to find Kaito, a local boy a few years older, practicing with a wooden training sword. Kaito was so absorbed in his movements he didn't notice Haruto at first.
Haruto watched quietly, his gaze lingering on the blade. As Kaito swung, Haruto felt a faint familiarity in the movements, as though his muscles instinctively understood each swing and shift. He wasn't sure why, but he felt drawn to it.
Kaito finally noticed him and stopped mid-swing, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Oh, hey, Haruto! Didn't see you there." He straightened up, giving Haruto a friendly grin. "What brings you out here?"
Haruto shrugged slightly, glancing at the wooden sword. "I was just taking a stroll and saw you practicing… Thought I'd come take a look."
Kaito's eyes lit up. "You want to practice?we can do few moves." He held the sword out toward Haruto.
Haruto couldn't resist. The grip felt natural, as if holding a weapon was something he had done before, though he couldn't recall when. He positioned his hands on the hilt, adjusting his stance without even realizing it, as though something within him already knew what to do.
Kaito watched him, an eyebrow raised. "It looks like you've become a natural since yesterday."
Haruto managed a small smile, trying to brush it off. "I… don't think so."
"Here, let's try something new," Kaito said, demonstrating a basic swing of his father's sword style. "Just follow my lead."
Haruto nodded, focusing intently. As Kaito swung, he mirrored the movement, the wooden blade cutting through the air in a steady arc. Kaito took a step back, impressed. "You're good at this, Haruto! A natural, maybe."
The compliment made Haruto pause, a strange feeling settling over him. Each swing felt instinctive, as if his body remembered movements he couldn't consciously recall.
"Maybe I have done this before, it is strange" Haruto said to himself.
They continued practicing together, Kaito showing him a few more strikes and blocks. The movements came easily to Haruto, and as they trained, he felt the same shadow-like energy stirring faintly within him, as if drawn out by the focus and rhythm of their practice.
After a while, Kaito leaned back, catching his breath. "You really should practice with us more often, Haruto. I'm sure you'd get strong in no time."
Haruto looked down at the sword, nodding slowly. "Maybe… I just feel like there's something more I need to understand first."
Kaito tilted his head, puzzled. "Something more? Like what?"
Haruto hesitated, glancing at his hands as if expecting to see that flicker of shadow again. "I'm… not sure. Just something I can't quite put into words."
Kaito shrugged, clapping him on the shoulder. "Well, you think too much, Haruto! Sometimes it's better to just train and see where it takes you."
Haruto gave a faint smile, nodding. But inwardly, he knew his search wasn't just about strength. There was something deeper, a hidden truth lying dormant inside him. One day, he felt certain he would find it—but for now, he would continue as he had, bit by bit, gathering clues from the fragments of his memories.
As they parted ways, Haruto felt a quiet determination settle over him. Whatever these uneasy memories of his past life, he was willing to wait and search, to uncover the mystery piece by piece.