Several days passed.
I had realized it in some way, from the beginning. This was not Japan. It was probably not even the same time period.
I could hardly believe that time travel was possible, but I didn’t have much choice when the truth was right in front of me.
It didn’t matter if this was the countryside, it didn’t make sense that there was not a single electronic device here.
And even if this was some kind of strange community that deliberately lived with nature and away from civilization, you would think that they would keep the bare necessities. But they did not.
And the giants.
It turned out that it was actually quite the opposite.
It was just me that was very small.
I was currently in the form of a child.
…Can you believe it? I can’t.
I was in the body of a foreign child of…perhaps seven or eight?
My hair and eye-color were black, which reduced the shock, but my face still looked very western.
And I was apparently called Balian.
And I think that the man and woman were my parents…well, I could get no confirmation due to the language, so you’ll have to excuse me if I am wrong.
But after that, it was presumed that I had lost all memory, and I was treated as if I were ill.
A doctor came and had me drink some medicine, and once that proved to be ineffective, we visited a church and received prayers and purifications rituals and what have you.
The priest or whatever the old man was, splashed water over me and sprinkled some sort of incense, but nothing worked.
For a moment, I thought that they would try to exorcise a demon from me, but that didn’t happen.
But really, what was this?
I thought that it might be transmigration, but would that really begin in the middle of childhood?
And if you could reincarnate into a past person, what happened to the Balian who existed up until now?
I didn’t feel like doing anything for those past few days, and I just rolled around in my odorous bed.
How long would this state even continue?
Perhaps the real Balian would awaken one day, and I would be gone.
Thinking of it like that, I had very little will to do anything.
Tadashi Tanaka was dead.
What right did I have to meddle with someone else’s life…
As Balian’s mother looked at me worriedly, I recalled the words that my grandfather had once told me.
‘You should not chase the past, the future will not wait. Just live strong and in the present.’
If I remember correctly, those were the words of Buddha.
As I was raised at a temple, I heard many words like that as a child.
…Live in the present, huh? Those were wise words…
Being imprisoned by what is long past or the future that hasn’t happened yet…it really was pointless.
Now that I think of it, I might have turned into a hopeless failure had stayed like that, just rolling around in my bed, wondering about something that would never happen.
I thanked my grandfather then.
…Grandpa, thanks… Sorry for being so harsh about not wanting to inherit the temple.
I apologized to him in my heart, and slowly put my hands together.
I had died already. But for now, I would do what I can… It took me four days to reach that conclusion, but I’m sure that could be overlooked.
Still, I don’t think it was time wasted.
That time was necessary for me to accept the reality that was in front of me.
I was not Tanaka, I was Balian, and this was the land I would live in.
In any case, it was necessary for me to understand my situation before doing anything.
As I began to inspect my surroundings once again, I realize just how uncomfortable this place is to live in.
We had a thin, disgusting soup and dark bread twice a day for meals… Well, that might have had to do with the fact that I was presumed ill, but it still seemed that the diet was rather poor here.
As for the toilet, you just plopped it into an unglazed pot.
Sanitation was dismal. They cleaned themselves with water, but there was no bathtub.
Of course, no one washed their hands or brushed their teeth.
There was no gas in the kitchen, and so they cooked with a stove and firewood.
I did see a cast iron pot, so we were at least in the iron age.
Still, there was no chimney in the kitchen, and the place was often full of smoke.
The town was filled with plain houses built with stone, with some having straw-thatched roofs, and most were single story houses. The Balian house was a single story house as well.
The people who walked down the streets wore wool or cotton.
I’ve seen people carrying swords and bows, but no guns.
There were also lordly types that rode horses.