Reborn Ishl and the Magic Fixture of God

The sight of the beginning that I still remember, it's the face of a man smiling troubled towards this one against the background of a dim room with a slight light of day coming in from the side. High nose beams, dark brown eyes and hair. Line from cheek to jaw tightened to burnt skin in the day. Quite a neat face still young.

I wasn't Japanese.

Something tells me gently, but I don't know what I'm talking about.

This one is being put to sleep, probably crying. From both eyes you can see tears streaming down, as if it were a waterfall. For some reason, I can't hear myself crying.

How much time has it taken, the next memory that comes to mind is still myself in a dimly blurred room, held in a woman's chest, and probably listening to a babysitting song.

Lullabies are always sad about something. Even if you don't know what the lyrics mean.

Though a full sleep is supposed to come, your eyes will blink and you won't get any sleep. No emotion whatsoever, time to blur.

Several fine memories and consciousness. Eventually, they connected, and with their own growth, memory and consciousness became less interrupted.

I was reincarnated.

My chest hurts when I remember. When you think you're dead.

Koichi was born with memories of his previous life.

Wheat around about seven or eight women? I wonder, it seems that the grain shedding is taking place. One holds a bunch of wheat, hits something like a drum with a metal needle sticking out, the other has a handle on the side of the drum and turns it around. A short distance away, several women crouch their heads about whether they are sorting the shells and the wheat scattered over the stripped grain.

Was it quite an abundance, the ladies talk bright. Sometimes laughter also occurs.

In the comfortable sun, Goza is laid by the women, Koichi and the toddlers of the same age sit down a bit, playing with wooden building blocks and the likes of dolls and handballs made of coarse cloth.

Is it the same age as myself, about a year and a half? A pretty face girl with blonde hair is in a good mood holding her doll. The other is a prominent boy about two years old. Sitting sideways, playing with building blocks.

The girl's name is Melilla and the boy is called Isaac.

Melilla is the daughter of a farmer about a few miles from our house, Isaac, here, the village chief or small lord's mansion - probably the territory of.

"Ah," he said, raising his little childish voice, roughly pretending to play with his balls, continuing his observations around.

The women who keep working on the front in front of them, the wooden building on their left hand side that seems to be used as a grain bin, the men under this mansion and the pompous men packing the wheat in a hemp bag. I wonder if it won't dry. The one that's already dry.

On the right hand side you can see a wall mixed with stone piles and lacquer, a brown roof mother house, and on the front you can see a stone wall hidden behind the implantation of the trees, and beyond it you can see one small tower about three floors high. I guess it used to be made like a small castle. The stone walls are connected to that little tower, but they're not surrounded. By the way, it is teasing and crumbling.

Now it's a decaying little castle, more like a fallen little lord's mansion. Looking at the view around the old lonely reminds me of the family left over from my previous life with remorse.

What would have happened after I died?

No matter how much I give up, I won't be able to go back to that time in my previous life.

The most disturbing thing is the life of the family after losing the earner and becoming a mother and child family.

I still have plenty of home mortgages on top of losing most of my income. But his death would absolve him of the loan's residual debt. It has not been ten years since it was built, so if we sell all the land, tens of millions of yen will come into my wife's nostalgia. If we go home to her parents with that in our hands and live in part time, we'll be able to do enough until the kids grow up.

Of course, if you find someone good, you can remarry me. If you can live a stable, happy life, that's best. I can't do anything anymore.

There should be no more trouble in life than having to remarry or work without my wife's will.

In the meantime, do you think you can manage financially?

I just should have left my life insurance a little more expensive multiplier. Insurance payments are not significant. If you hit your own funeral or expenses for a new life such as moving, you'll almost be gone… and I'm starting to feel bad thinking it's hard. The top is somewhat hot from the neck.

Because it's small, but I give up on my will, and I start crying.

May I say this is a fever of wisdom? When I turn my thoughts around firmly with my consciousness, I immediately get a fever to see if my brain has not grown yet.

"Well, well, Ish, what's up?"

Just in front of me, a woman who was bending over and working with her back turned around and came over.

I still can't speak well, but I can now understand the meaning of the word.

I was gently held up and hit my forehead.

"I wonder if the fever's starting again."

Listening to my mother's voice, I decide to let go of consciousness for a while.

When a clear consciousness emerged once again about how much time had passed, as if his eyes were awakening, Koichi, his name since his rebirth was Ishul, had been held by his mother, and he was about to walk down a trail with an uncut wheat field stretching on both sides, towards our house.

"Vagina" and so on, I can't talk well yet, but I get them to come down and walk a little while my mother takes my hand.

Clear high skies, wind coming across golden wheat fields. Beyond which the wheat ho cringed with a touch, I could see a white ocean lacquered wall with stone piles of chimneys and a red roof house. You can see another roof of similar colour ahead, a grove of miscellaneous woods, and perhaps a further loose ridge of mountains beyond which it became a forest, and the rugged mountains covered with snow so as to be sumptuous.

I wonder where we are. Is it around southern Europe? Are those snow-covered mountains part of the Swiss Alps and other mountain ranges? I know I don't have a level of living in my own house that uses electricity, gas, etc. It doesn't even seem to be used in the small lord's hall where I was until just now.

Is it somewhere in Europe since recent times because of the clothing of mothers and adults, such as the peasants depicted in the "pick-up of the grasshoppers", who have come straight from the painting, not once poor but not rich, and on the other hand quite rich wheat fruit that leads to both sides of the road?

Indeed, I have heard that wheat varietal improvement has progressed and a lot of grains have been added to the ears since the recent past.

If it were Europe in the depicted era of "picking up grasshoppers," it would be around the time, after the industrial revolution, when conflicts and wars due to the rise of imperialism were entering an incessant period. It may also be when the peasants grew a little richer, but they were born in quite troublesome times. No, before that, is there such thing as rebirth in the past in the first place?

Or maybe it's the future thousands or tens of thousands of years after I died. The world after civilization was lost in large-scale wars and disasters, what a promise in the world of fiction.

My mother was peeking into Ishur's face when I felt her gaze.

"What's going on? Is it getting hot again?

My mother asked me, who made a smile by trying to put worrying colors in her eyes.

"Mmm."

Only a year old and a few months old, Ishur replied, posing as a toddler.

When I got home, my father had not yet returned. My mother seems to have begun her evening routine.

Ishur is greeted with a little stuffed animal of a patriarchal bear who has been hit by a succession and something like a balloon he was playing in a daytime mansion, playing alone in a living room with a fireplace. The couple are still young, he's the first child and no brothers.

I vaguely think about what's around me and what's to come as I push my stuffed nose and fold my ears.

My birth house is a farmer. Of the countryside, I still don't know how big it is, but probably of a mediocre farmer in a small village, he's one son so far. Perhaps if he stayed this way, he would take over this house and end his life as one farmer who lived whether it was modern Europe or a far future world.

Will I be able to live the life of an old farmer who has lived in Japan in the twenty-first century with no irritation, little entertainment, no electricity on the Internet or on television, and a stiff monotony of life? That's reborn and starts from scratch, and I may get used to life here any day, but I'm not going to be able to forget the remorse of leaving my family and suddenly leaving my life. There is no way you can forget all the memories of your previous life at the last moment.

If you have the memory of your previous life, shall we go out to the capital of this country and manage to become bureaucrats, politicians, etc.? If this is modern Europe, we know roughly what is going to happen. If the land were a future world thousands of years away, where civilization once was lost, it would also make use of its scientific knowledge in general. Though I was just a literary person, and I only have a halfway miscellaneous degree of knowledge.

The certainty is that as a 21st century Japanese, the level of mathematics would be so much better than that of the common people in this world. I've seen my father do some sort of calculation while breaking his finger. So would you like to be a merchant? Well, you'll be able to live in a big city and make small trips at work, depending on the commerce.

Do you want to go? Then learn to read and write early...

No, but even though I don't have any other brothers, when I leave the house, I'll have nothing to carry on my family business. My parents will be sad, too. I don't want to do anything to make my family sad anymore, even if it wasn't my fault.

I can also feel the simple love from my parents. As two children, if they love each other and will continue to live, will there be a time when this still heavy remorse on their little breasts will also heal?

"I'm home."

There was the sound of the door opening, and the voice of my father was heard from the earthly one where the farm tools, parts of the firewood, etc., were located.

"Welcome back, Else"

My mother comes from the kitchen and greets my father, who came to the entrance to the living room.

"I'm home, Luci"

Once again, my father greeted me back.

We're both still in our early twenties, or the beginnings feel good. They both smile and stare at each other.

My father's name is Else, and my mother is Lucy.

Else came into the living room. I have a little straw and dirt on my pants. I guess he was out in the field.

Hold yourself up. All right, all right. Coming.

"You. Wash your hands and feet and change your clothes before Ishl"

I can hear my mother's hobby.

After that, it soon became dinner. A table of about six people in the room next to the living room is set up with soup, solid-looking possibly bread, and a small plate of soothing meat and vegetables. A wooden vessel containing warm milk and breast-feeding like stewed bread or grain is placed before Ishl. Qualitative, but extreme poverty, not so much. The flavour is also thin, pale, but the flavour is pleasant enough. My mother feeds me breastfeeding. I can manage to drink my own milk.

My parents talk about the autumn harvest as usual and rumoured stories such as the novels they kept in the village.

I noticed.

Did you overlook it because you were originally Japanese?

To the fact that the two of them had not crossed before eating, thanked God, or once before.