Consciousness is a strange phenomenon. For most, it emerges gradually: blurry images, distant sounds, meaningless fragments that over time assemble into something coherent. But for me, it was immediate. One moment of emptiness and, the next, light.
The cold air sliced through my lungs like a blade. Clumsy hands pushed me out of the warm confinement that had been my only reality until then. I didn't cry, though I expected I would. Crying was the biologically expected reaction for a newborn, but I saw no need to give in to that primitive impulse.
"Curious," I thought as I stretched my hands upward. "This is the second time I've had this sensation."
I opened my eyes, blinking against the dim light filling the room. My brain, still adjusting, began evaluating my blurry and peculiar surroundings. I couldn't recognize any particular scent, but the difference in colors caught my attention. One thing was clear—this was not a hospital.
The hands of a woman, rough yet gentle, held me as she murmured something I barely understood. My hearing seemed out of tune, almost like being on a different frequency, accompanied by a high-pitched ringing: "Ein Kind... gesund." Her voice trembled, as if this were a miracle. German? It sounded slightly different, with an Asian accent, though that might just be due to my underdeveloped senses.
At this point, there wasn't much else I could do. I felt a bit sorry for them—they must have been worried not to hear me cry. I silently apologized as my eyes slowly closed, and I drifted back to sleep.
Three Months Later
After my "rebirth," everything turned into a long dream, punctuated by fleeting moments of lucidity that I barely managed to use to gather information. Eventually, my vision returned to normal, and I could finally see my new family.
It seemed my father was Markus Ackerman, a simple, kind-hearted man with a generic German appearance—a far better option than my previous father.
Then there was my mother, Aiko Ackerman, a young Japanese woman with a pleasant appearance, black hair, and black eyes. That came as quite a surprise.
In just a few days, it became apparent that these people lived a medieval lifestyle, making the presence of a Japanese person improbable at best.
The last member of my family was a small girl I had only seen a few times. Her name, apparently, was Mikasa.
Recently, I'd been using every moment of solitude to develop my joints and practice simple crawling. Since I was still uncertain about the cultural context here, I preferred not to draw attention to myself.
It would be rather unpleasant to be labeled a demon or possessed just for starting to speak too early...
Another Six Months Passed
Before long, I had learned to crawl. Honestly, I never thought moving could feel so wonderful. I had never been so grateful to have control over my body.
Another pleasant discovery was my name—now I was Kiyotaka Ackerman. This time, it was chosen by someone genuinely interested in me. It even seemed to hold symbolic value, as if my family, despite their living conditions, had a noble past.
"He's barely out of sight, and he's already somewhere else!" my mother said in a resigned tone.
Sorry, Mother, but I refuse to stay still any longer.
My father walked out of the house with a gentle smile, watching me crawl across the yard. "At least it means he's healthy." His expression softened as he wrapped his arm around my mother's waist. "I was really worried because he never cried when he was born."
"He still doesn't, really..."
I suppose I owe them an apology. Because of me, they were missing out on the experience of having a normal family. The only times I showed any reaction were when I futilely tried to avoid dirtying my pants or when hunger became too difficult to endure.
Back to the point—even if crawling was all I could do, it was enough to learn several things. Primarily:
This place was protected by a giant wall, unnaturally massive, several times larger than the Great Wall of China.
Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out why. I wouldn't be able to until I was old enough to be allowed access to some books.
But let's highlight the obvious: this was definitely the Middle Ages, and our house seemed of German origin. The most likely theory was that I was in a completely different world.
Our house was located in an agricultural area, and my parents seemed to work in the same field—quite an attractive option for my future, honestly.
If someone had offered me the chance to abandon all modernity and live a peaceful life in the countryside, I would have gladly accepted.
I might even use my knowledge to develop a yogurt-making machine and spend my days peacefully dedicated to farming.
While lost in thought, I felt a touch on my cheek. I turned to see Mikasa staring at me with her calm face, slightly flushed.
"Kiyo, what are you doing?" she asked, her pronunciation clumsy but acceptable for a two-year-old. She seemed to sense a change in my gaze because she tilted her head to one side before suddenly getting up and running to our mother.
"Mama, Kiyo is hungry!" she said.
Damn it, not again.
Lately, I had been focusing all my attention on my father's conversations, trying to gather as much information as possible. However, due to my lack of communication, most proper names were just a nuisance.
Among the few useful things I discovered was the existence of three walls. I thought I had misheard at first—three walls of that size housing all of humanity in this world.
Apparently, humanity was being oppressed by an invincible enemy.
It seemed I was doomed never to have freedom, only to move from one prison to another, slightly larger one.
"Hey, Kiyo, is something wrong? Do you need a change?" My mother looked visibly concerned. I supposed it wasn't normal to see a baby sigh with an expressionless face.
I shook my head vigorously, which earned a laugh from her. "Oh, Kiyo is so smart!"
I didn't mind appearing normal, but please—I'd rather not be checked again. Even I wanted to maintain some dignity...
I officially turned one today. My family prepared some sort of small celebration—nothing extravagant, just a few congratulatory words and a couple of new trinkets. It was pleasant, especially considering it was only the second time in my eighteen years of life that such a thing had happened.
One thing I noticed was the physical development and appearance of this body. From what I managed to inspect, my weight, height, facial features, and body proportions were at least 90% identical to my previous self. However, my strength and stamina seemed noticeably higher. I supposed it was a family trait since Mikasa, despite being only three years old and lacking any breathing techniques, was already far more resilient than she should be.
"Kiyotaka! Where are you, sweetheart?" I heard a voice from the kitchen, but I stayed silent in the yard. Either way, that would be the first place they'd come looking for me.
Before long, both of them came outside and spotted me standing. Their bright smiles and teary eyes met my gaze.
"Kiyotaka, over here! You can do it—walk a little!" my father said, opening his arms with tears glistening in his eyes while his wife hugged him tightly.
Slowly, I moved my small legs, managing a few shaky steps before falling. But before I hit the ground, my mother caught me, lifting me into the air and twirling me around. The three of us came together in a warm group hug.
In a way, it was... satisfying—unconditional love, something so natural and obvious yet something I had never experienced.
Now that I thought about it, during this entire year, no one had placed any expectations on me or forced me to do anything. There was nothing purely black or white in this world...
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mikasa peeking from the doorway, keeping her distance. I supposed I could do it—
"Nee.. Chan....," I pronounced, trying to sound clumsy.
Immediately, her eyes sparkled as she rushed forward and joined the hug.
I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life like this.
Year 840
Who was the idiot who came up with this? Inverted katakana? Does that even count as a form of writing?
It was disappointing. Part of me wanted to decipher the language from scratch, especially now that I had taken a second to invert all the symbols in my head. To my surprise, it was perfectly coherent—well, ignoring the content of the story, which was more supernatural than my reincarnation.
After approximately two years, I managed to get my hands on a book—the only one in the entire house. To my surprise, it seemed to be a basic history book or at least a heavily manipulated version of one.
After my reincarnation, I had assumed the supernatural was possible. I would have been a fool not to. But only an idiot would believe this book.
Humanity completely wiped out beyond the walls? History books should never assume anything. They should merely recount events as impartially as possible. It should have said something like, "It is believed that humanity outside the walls perished."
Another suspicious thing was that this world—or at least this book—only accounted for just over 100 years of history, starting precisely when the king built the walls. Shockingly, no one seemed to question how walls spanning thousands of kilometers were built instantaneously with this era's technology.
For now, I could only set it aside...
I heard footsteps and quickly hid the book under my bed. Just then, my mother opened the door with an eerily cheerful smile, Mikasa standing by her side with her head lowered.
"Kiyotaka... do you know what day it is today?"
I blinked a few times before quickly deducing the answer, letting out a sigh. What a bother.
Moments later, I found myself naked in something resembling a bathtub, Mikasa sitting beside me while our mother poured soapy water over us using a bucket and gently scrubbed our hair with a brush. We both tried to hide the pain under expressionless faces, but after a few strokes—
"Itai!"
After that bath/torture session, she wrapped us in towels and dried us lovingly. "Now get dressed, and let's eat," she said.
I supposed this might have been awkward if I were some repulsive individual with no prior female contact. But after living in this house, I was certain these people were much more family to me than that man ever was. I couldn't see Mikasa as anything but my little big sister.
Afterward, the four of us shared a peaceful meal. Many might have issues with the food of this world, but anything was better than the nutrient bars of the White Room.
Even so, I needed to compensate for the missing nutrients to ensure the ideal development of my body.
I should start doing some exercises more regularly. The ideal would be the routine I followed in the White Room, but without meat, that wouldn't be possible. For now, I'd stick to the basics.
And so my life continued for the next four years...
Until—
"Mikasa, Kiyotaka! Mr. Jaeger is here to see us!" my mother called from the entrance.