Stories about being reincarnated in another world were all the rage. Tales in which the main characters get up to all sorts of wild adventures. And just like everyone else, I enjoyed them too.
But let’s get to the point.
I, too, was reborn, though not in the way I would have hoped. I did not die of overwork, nor in an accident, nor in an effort to protect another...rather, I simply neglected my own health. If I’m being honest, when I thought of the people I’d left behind I wanted to tear my own hair out, but regardless, I was reincarnated. The memories of my new life began with my very first cries.
Which brings us to my birth.
So I’m reborn, now what?
Um, aren’t I supposed to get some kind of revelation before the rebirth? Given a duty or something...?
My first thought was “Where am I?”
I couldn’t move freely, and I couldn’t see clearly. Nonetheless, somehow I knew that this place was not familiar. In contrast to my bewildered confusion were the happy couple overjoyed at the birth of me, their child. The man praised his wife. The woman, though still in somewhat of a daze, shivered with elation and wept at the sight of their adorable new daughter.
While my vision and hearing were still hazy, what with me being a newborn and all, I still understood all the same that this was a joyous occasion. The sight of the couple brought warmth to my heart. “Aw, how wonderful,” I thought, as though the scene were not something I myself were a part of.
My mother then brought her face close and spoke to me. I was powerless and could do nothing but watch and listen.
“XXXX, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX.”
It was then I thought to myself, “Oh? Why don’t I understand anything she just said?” I could hear both of my parents, and the importance of the moment was not lost on me, but I did not have the slightest clue as to what they were saying.
This was around the time that it really began to dawn on me that I had been reincarnated. I was originally born and raised in Japan. I was single, in my thirties, and I didn’t have any friends or acquaintances overseas. If I did, I’m sure I would have enjoyed my life more.
I thought for a while, then I slept. I drank my mother’s breast milk, and then I slept some more. Some days later, I arrived at a conclusion.
Oh, I’ve been reborn in an entirely different world.
From then on, I did my utmost. I did the very best I could manage, though in hindsight, I think it would have been better to simply have done nothing out of the ordinary. I was quick to stand to my feet with support, and I had no strong dislikes. Both my parents and grandparents were delighted with my growth, but their happiness only made me more fearful. What worried me most was their language and how unique it was. The pronunciation was strange and unlike Japanese or English.
Father, mother, big brother, big sister.
I could understand that much, but I knew that actually speaking would prove difficult. Now, you may be thinking that I was an adult in an infant’s body and that I was immersed in the language. “With some study, surely you’d get a grasp of how the language works,” you say.
If only it were that simple.
I was in my thirties. My thirties! Now, I realize that’s still considered the realm of the young—at least where the elderly are concerned—but it’s not like I was a teenager. My brain was somewhat stuck in its ways. I had only ever been able to speak Japanese. Tackling a whole new language was not so easy a task.
I had intended for my first word to be “mama,” but had instead called my mother by her actual name. I’d mimicked the sounds of what my father called her, thinking it would make her happy; I hadn’t expected that we’d kick things off on a first-name basis. In Japan, parents call each other “papa” and “mama” respectively. It was a mistake to think it would work the same way in this world. In this way, I began my new life, making lots of these kinds of errors as I did my best to play the part of a child.
Now, let’s skip ahead to when I was fourteen, and my mother forgot me completely. This, I must say, was rather horrible. The worst part of it all was how quickly it happened. It was almost laughable. I was met by our servants when I returned home from visiting one of my few friends. Our family was middle-class, but nobles all the same, and we had servants boarding with us.
“My lady,” said one, “your uncle and aunt are here.”
“They are? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Their arrival was rather sudden. A hastily arranged meeting, it would seem. They’re with the rest of the family.”
“Mother and father will be mad if I don’t at least say hello. I’ll be with them in a moment.”
I was a well-behaved girl, so I made sure to wash my hands and ensure that my appearance was prim and proper before gently knocking on the door. This kind of thing was indeed the very height of bothersome for me, but to ensure a future in which I was free to do as I wished, leaving a good impression on my relatives was a must. And for all my complaints, it wasn’t like I ever had to do any chores, like cleaning or the laundry. In any case, I entered the room with a smile befitting my fourteen years.
My mother took one look at me and was utterly bewildered.
“And who might you be?” she asked.
Naturally, everyone at first thought she was joking. However, their amusement quickly turned to panic when they realized she was entirely serious. Everyone was worried as to whether or not she was okay. Her condition, such as it was, did not improve. My older brother, older sister, and younger brother all took me in their arms.
“What are you saying, mother? She’s our little sister, Karen,” said my older sister.
“Daughter?” replied my mother. “I only have one daughter, and that’s you, Gerda.”
“Father, something’s wrong with mother!”
“How could you say such a thing to your own mother?!” barked my father.
It was like something out of a stage play. My mother was taken to the doctor, and we, her children, were left as our relatives approached, one after the other, to offer hugs and kind words. Among all the consolations and promises that everything was going to be okay, I felt some relief at the fact that I was an adult in a child’s body.
I mean, if a child was completely forgotten by her own mother? That’s a guaranteed recipe for trauma. But being who I really was, I could take it all in the way one might a dramatic performance. It came as a shocking surprise, yes, but I still didn’t even really know where I was. That and the fact I had a mother in Japan brought me a little solace.
And yet life still had more surprises in store for me. Far more.
As it turned out, I was not my father’s child.
I skipped straight to the reveal there, but let me explain it from the beginning. It began with my mother’s selective amnesia. How, or why, it happened, we didn’t know. But what we did know was that all her memories related to me were gone. She no longer had a daughter by the name of Karen. In her mind, her children consisted only of my two older siblings and my younger brother. My family was thrown into a pitiful confusion. Desperate to spark my mother’s memories, everyone searched through the house for items of sentimental value.