Cold.
A chill that seeped deep into his bones.
So cold it felt like it could freeze the soul.
That was the first sensation Takeo Minamoto felt upon waking.
It wasn't just the cold—there was also a suffocating pressure, as if he had been buried alive.
No...Not as if.
Takeo opened his eyes, felt the weight of the soil pressing down on him, and caught the stench filling his nose. He immediately realized—he was buried in the ground.
There was no time to wonder how he ended up there. He had to get out. If he didn't escape, he would die here.
Takeo didn't want to die. His body, driven by a desperate survival instinct, exploded with every ounce of strength he had.
Bit by bit, inch by inch, Takeo ignored the pain and the numbing cold in his hands as he clawed his way upward.
How long had it been? He didn't know.
But finally—finally—his hands broke through the frozen soil. He pulled himself out and gasped as he took in the frigid but fresh air!
"Hah—hah!"
Lying on his back in the soil that had not yet been completely cleared, Takeo stared up at the dim sky, snowflakes drifting down silently. The cold seeped into his bones, and he gasped for breath in the frigid air.
Slowly, his reason and consciousness returned, and he began to wonder—why was he here?
Takeo Minamoto. Male. Twenty-four years old. A sales trainee at a regular company. That was all he could recall about himself.
His parents had passed away, he had no siblings, no home of his own, and at twenty-four, he didn't even have a girlfriend. He was completely alone.
The last thing he remembered was standing on the rooftop of his rented apartment.
He had been leaning against the railing, sipping wine and reflecting on his life—when he suddenly heard a crack. The railing gave way.
Then came darkness.
The next moment he woke up... he was here.
"So… I fell? Then was buried alive coz the people thought I was dead, huh? No way—it's modern times, who even buries a young man like me without even checking a pulse anymore?"
Takeo figured he must have fallen from the rooftop and died, then somehow ended up buried underground.
But something didn't add up.
First of all, he worked in the south, and it was still summer. Even if he had fallen and was buried, there shouldn't be snow on the ground when he came to.
Second…
He seemed… smaller.
Takeo, who had barely crawled out of the earth, looked down at the clothes he was wearing—they resembled a kimono.And his hands... they were small, clearly the hands of a teenager.
He turned to look around.
An ordinary forest, somewhat desolate, but not without signs of life.In the distance stood a Japanese-style house, weathered with age. And behind him… a row of burial mounds.
Takeo could see the raised piles of earth and estimated that at least five people were buried there—including himself.
Rubbing his shoulders to fend off the cold, Takeo stepped into the dilapidated house for shelter from the snow and wind, all while trying to piece together his current situation.
"…Did I just transmigrate?"
After sitting inside for a few minutes, Takeo started to form some guesses.
If he wasn't mistaken, then he had probably—possibly—traveled from modern-day Japan to… the past?
No—he couldn't say for sure that this was the past. But one thing was certain: he was somewhere that looked very much like historical Japan.
And the person he'd transmigrated into had just gone through a tragedy.
Judging by the damage to the house and the blood frozen black on the floor, it seemed this family had experienced something horrific—a massacre. Every member of this household had likely died here.
The cause of death? Still unknown.
Takeo checked himself over. Aside from a few rips in his clothing and some dried blood, his body was miraculously unharmed.
Ruling out the possibility that the original owner of this body died of natural causes, Takeo suspected that his transmigration must have caused some sort of anomaly—possibly even healing the body's original injuries.
As for the chance that he had become some kind of undead... he dismissed that idea quickly after checking his own body temperature.
A corpse wouldn't feel cold. The fact that he could still feel the chill in his bones was proof enough—he was alive.
"…Even if I'm not undead, I'll still freeze to death if this keeps up… No, I need to find a way to stay warm first…"
Shivering, Takeo rubbed his arms and forced himself to get moving. He needed heat.
Although the house was in poor condition, the family that had lived here had left behind plenty of firewood and charcoal for winter. Takeo found a decent pile—but then hit a major snag.
He couldn't start a fire!
He had no lighter, no matches, and no tools for fire-making nearby. Having grown up in the city, Takeo had no idea how to light a fire from scratch.
So even though he had wood and fuel, all he could do was stare at them in frustration.
Ugh.. I should have paid attention when my roommate watched Man vs. Wild!
With no other options, he began rummaging through drawers and storage in the house. He found a few thick pieces of clothing and wrapped them tightly around himself. Then, picking a direction, he prepared to leave.
This house was in such bad shape that cold wind blew in from all sides. If he stayed here overnight, he really would freeze to death.
To survive, he had to move on.
This home was clearly built on a mountainside. If he just followed the path down, he should be able to find other homes—or at least a village.
After all, a household this large couldn't have lived in total isolation. Someone had to be nearby. Otherwise, even managing day-to-day needs would have been impossible.
Takeo believed there had to be other people living on the mountain. And even if there weren't, there had to be someone at the foot of it.
No matter what, he needed to find shelter for the night. Freezing to death on the very first day of this new life was not an option.
Fortunately, his guess turned out to be right.
Not long after he began making his way downhill, Takeo ran into someone.
A middle-aged man was walking up the mountain, carrying a bundle of firewood. He noticed Takeo—and Takeo noticed him.
"Kamado Takeo…?"
"...?"
The man spoke in what sounded like old-style Japanese, but somehow, Takeo understood him clearly. The name registered in his mind instantly, as if it had been automatically translated into modern Japanese.
Kamado. That must be this body's family name.
"Uh…"
Takeo didn't know how to respond. The man clearly knew him, but he had no memory of this person.
He didn't even fully know what this body was called until now.
"Why are you coming down the mountain so late? Where's Tanjiro?"
The man approached him, concern in his voice, asking questions Takeo had no answers for.
The man's expression was serious and solemn, his eyes full of scrutiny as he looked at Takeo—especially around his mouth, as if searching for something.
Takeo wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but…he had the strange feeling that the man seemed a little afraid of him.
Tanjiro… that name sounds familiar.
"I… um… I'm really cold… and kind of hungry. Do you have anything to eat?"
Takeo didn't know how to address the man, so he relied on his current childlike appearance, put on a pitiful expression, and looked up at him with teary eyes.
The middle-aged man looked startled for a moment, but when he saw Takeo's expression, his wary demeanor softened slightly. He walked up to Takeo, placed a warm hand on his head, and said gently:
"Did you get into a fight with your family? Never mind. Stay here tonight. I'll take you home in the morning."
"Thank you!"
Hearing that the man was willing to take him in, Takeo immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him. He smiled and thanked him sincerely.
Whoever this man was, it didn't matter right now. At least he wouldn't have to freeze or starve to death tonight. That was good enough.
As for this body's identity and relationships—he'd figure those out later.
For now, his top priority was survival.
That thought in mind, Takeo followed the man into the small wooden house.
…By the way, before transmigrating, Takeo liked watching movies.
But anime? Not so much.
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