So cold… it feels like my soul is freezing.
That was the first sensation Kamado Akio felt when he regained consciousness.
It wasn't just the chill—there was a crushing pressure, a suffocating stillness, like being buried alive.
This isn't right…
No. This can't be happening!
His eyes snapped open.
The stench of damp soil filled his nose, and he felt the unmistakable weight of dirt pressing down on his chest. Panic surged through him as he realized—
He was underground.
No time to think. No time to question. Akio clawed and kicked with every ounce of strength, forcing his way toward the surface.
Get out. I have to get out—or I'll die here.
He didn't know how long he struggled. Seconds? Minutes? Hours?
But finally, his hand broke through the surface.
Cold air. Snowfall. Light.
He gasped, sucking in icy breaths that stung his lungs, but never had air tasted so sweet.
His mind began to clear. Reason slowly returned.
Kamado Akio. Male. Twenty-four years old. Sales trainee at a mid-tier company.
That was all he remembered. Everything else was a blur.
And then—his vision faded again.
When he opened his eyes next, he was no longer underground.
So… I died? Got buried and somehow woke up again?
No… that doesn't make sense. It's the modern age—who even buries people anymore?
Akio recalled plummeting from the rooftop of a skyscraper. A fall. Then darkness.
But now, something felt off.
First, he worked in the south. It was summer when he died. Even if he had been buried, there shouldn't have been snow when he emerged.
He turned, scanning the environment around him.
A forest. Weathered, quiet, and cold. But unmistakably Japanese.
An old-style wooden house stood not far away. Behind it—mounds. Shallow graves.
Akio stared at the earth-covered lumps, realizing grimly: at least five people had been buried here. Himself included.
He rubbed his numb arms and hurried inside the ruined house, desperate to escape the biting wind.
This… this feels like time travel.
If he had to guess, then yes—he'd somehow been dragged through time. Or at the very least, across worlds.
Was it the past? Another realm? It didn't matter.
What mattered was survival.
He checked his body. His clothes were torn and bloodstained, but aside from that, he was uninjured.
Either the body he now inhabited had died of natural causes, or some strange force had healed the wounds upon his arrival.
Cold means sensation. Sensation means life.
He wasn't a walking corpse. Not yet.
…Still, at this rate, I'm going to freeze to death before morning. I need warmth.
The house was crumbling, but surprisingly, it had stockpiles of winter fuel—logs, charcoal, dried kindling. He gathered what he could.
Then he hit a problem.
He couldn't start a fire.
No lighter. No matches. No flint.
He'd grown up in the city—how the hell was he supposed to start a fire without tools?
In the end, all he could do was ransack drawers until he found a few thick, moth-eaten layers of winter clothes. He bundled them around himself and made a decision:
He had to leave.
The roof leaked. The wind cut through the walls. If he stayed here overnight, he'd freeze.
The house sat atop a mountain ridge. If he descended, maybe he'd find other homes. Other people.
Someone had buried those bodies. That meant there were still humans nearby—or something capable of burying humans.
But Akio refused to die on the first day of his second life.
He trudged down the mountainside, shivering but determined. And soon—
He saw someone.
A middle-aged man, hauling a bundle of firewood.
They locked eyes.
"You're back, Takeo…?" the man said, speaking in fluent Japanese.
Akio blinked. He somehow understood the words, even though he didn't speak Japanese. They translated in his head like native Chinese.
—Takeo.
Who's that?
"Why are you coming down from the mountain so late?" the man asked, frowning. "Where's Tanjiro?"
His expression was grave. His eyes sharp. He looked at Akio's lips like he was searching for something.
Akio felt a chill—not from the cold this time, but something deeper. Was the man… afraid of him?
"I… it was cold," Akio stammered. "And… I got hungry. Do you have any food?"
The man's stern look softened a little.
"Did you argue with your family again? Never mind. You can stay the night at my place. I'll walk you back home in the morning."