My Head Hurts
Whenever you make a choice, responsibility follows. That's what I've always believed.
If you choose to spend time with friends instead of studying, you have to own the drop in your grades. If you slack off on your school records while aiming for early admission, then when you fail, having no backup plan is your own fault.
And if a fresh graduate who can barely earn anything stretches out a hand for loans just to help parents who can no longer borrow money themselves… then stepping onto that mountain of debt is also the price of that choice.
That's why, when I stand at a crossroads, I know I have to judge carefully. Rash decisions only lead to regret.
So—
That little kid carelessly chasing a ball into the road, and the truck driver up ahead yawning with his head bobbing, are both making their own choices. They'll have to bear the consequences themselves.
Let me say it again: I know better than anyone that choices demand caution, and haste brings regret.
With my ankle ruined from overdoing sports as a kid, I wouldn't even reach the child in time. Even if I somehow did, the driver might swerve at the last second and kill us both.
By this point, anyone could guess what I'd choose.
Of course—
An adult would never trade a child's future for their own life!
Even I was surprised. After my ankle injury, once I passed thirty, extra weight crept on until climbing stairs left me winded. Yet moments ago I'd sprinted like I was setting a world record for the hundred-meter dash.
Luckily the driver still hadn't noticed the situation ahead. Given the road conditions, pushing the child forward would only put them in more danger.
Praying that same superhuman strength would appear in my arms, I threw myself forward, grabbed the kid by the collar, and yanked them back toward the sidewalk I'd come from.
They'd probably get a few scrapes from the fall, but that was better than being run over by another car.
In short, all those pointless thoughts were just the final flash of my life before—
Thud!
* *
Gender: male. Occupation: ordinary office worker who spent most of his time in the field. Age: thirty-one this year, no girlfriend, same work history.
Family: two parents. We weren't especially close, but from a human standpoint they were good people.
Anyway, let's reorganize.
Name: Leila. Gender: female. Age: five. Parents: none. Current residence: the streets.
Until recently I'd been living off the orphanage, but that shelter was gone now. I survived by pickpocketing and stealing on the streets.
"My head hurts…"
Memories of another life were turning my mind inside out.
Wait, hold on.
"That wasn't a headache. That was a literal head injury."
Blood stained the hand I'd pressed to my forehead. Apparently my head was bleeding. I must have tripped while climbing a wall after stealing coins from a homeless man and fallen headfirst.
That seemed to have triggered the memories of my previous life.
So how long had I been unconscious? While wondering that, I looked up at the sky. A red moon and a blue moon shone down on me, stars scattered beautifully across the black night.
"Are you okay?"
A young voice asked, worried.
Still dazed, I stared blankly at the boy reaching out his hand.
"Yeah, my head's a little fuzzy, but I'm fine. Don't worry, Pyris."
The boy's name was Pyris. We'd escaped the orphanage together when it went bankrupt and the debt collectors came to sell us into slavery. He was… my friend.
From the situation, it looked like I'd only been out for a few seconds.
"You're bleeding, and you're calling me by a name you never used before. You must've hit your head pretty hard… Come here."
"Eek!?"
…There was a bit of an age gap.
Even so, having lived thirty years in my past life, calling a twelve-year-old kid "big brother" felt wrong no matter how little pride I had left.
Maybe once my memories settled I'd feel differently, but right now "big brother" was out of the question.
Embarrassed by the sudden princess carry I'd never experienced even in my previous life, I kicked and struggled to be put down. But a five-year-old girl—malnourished and smaller than her peers—had no chance of overpowering a well-fed twelve-year-old boy.
It wasn't because the embrace felt familiar and warm that I gave up resisting.
…Probably not.
"You're heavy, so stay still, okay?"
"…Fine."
I didn't have any strong objections, and the confusion from my past-life memories was stronger anyway. I decided to use this chance to sort through them.
While I was slowly organizing my thoughts, I noticed we were heading in an unfamiliar direction.
"Big brother… this isn't the way home."
"You bled a lot, and you look a mess after falling headfirst."
"But—"
"If we leave it like this, the blood and dirt will dry by morning and it'll be even harder to clean."
"Ugh."
I wasn't familiar with the route, but I'd been to this place a few times since living on the streets.
It was a hidden passage leading down to the underground waterway, not far from the alley.
Some explanation might be needed.
The street we were on was a back alley in a small city within the Holy Kingdom—like a slum. This world was called Tricia, completely different from the Earth I'd lived on.
I was still trying to recall what I'd learned at the orphanage, but they hadn't taught a five-year-old much. All I knew was that this world had been created and watched over by the one true goddess, Ciel, and that it was like the fantasy worlds from games.
Surprisingly, though, the level of convenience—plumbing and everyday technology—was higher than expected thanks to a combination of advanced techniques and magic. Life here wasn't that different from Earth.
Not that any of that applied to orphans and vagrants like us.
Anyway, this world had the Holy Kingdom of Elysium, founded by those who worshipped the goddess Ciel. Then there was the Empire of Inglis, which had lasted two thousand years under the hero who defeated the Demon King from the old tales. There were a few other countries too, but the only information I'd encountered came from picture books, so I didn't know the details.
We'd been living in an orphanage in a remote city far from the capital of Elysium when it collapsed. To avoid ending up as slaves, we'd taken to the streets. The place we were heading now was the only spot where we could wash ourselves—the underground waterway.
That was the story.
If someone asked why a city this developed had a secret entrance that street orphans could sneak into, the answer was simple: I didn't know. We'd just been looking for somewhere out of sight and stumbled across it by chance.
"We're here. You can climb down by yourself, right? If it's too hard, I'll carry you."
While I'd been lost in thought, we'd already arrived.
No matter how comfortable it was, I had to climb the ladder into the underground myself.
"Mm, I'm fine. I can do it alone."
Now seemed like a good time to bring up something that had been bothering me.
"Then I'll go down first."
"Wouldn't it be better if I went first and caught you?"
"No."
"What's with you all of a sudden?"
But big brother, I'm not wearing any panties right now, damn it.
"It's embarrassing."
What would runaway orphans wear? The decent clothes we'd once had turned to rags long ago, and the underwear I'd been wearing had torn recently. I hadn't managed to replace it yet.
In this world, pants were more expensive than skirts, so all the girls at the orphanage wore skirts as standard.
In other words, whether in my past life or this one, whether male or female, even if we were like family, I had no desire to show a twelve-year-old boy what was under my skirt.
"Ah."
Pyris let out a sigh, as if he'd only just realized I was going around without underwear.
Wait—why was that guy suddenly trying to take off his own pants?
"Sorry. It must be rough for a girl to go without underwear."
No, that couldn't be it. Don't do it… Don't!
"Want to wear my underwear for now?"
"No. It's dirty."
"Even I get hurt when you say things like that."
"Tsk."
"My little sister's too sharp-tongued…"
Wear underwear that had touched someone else's junk? Insane. I'd rather go commando. Unless I ran into some deranged pedophile, no one would feel lust toward a body like this anyway. At worst, people would just think it was a shameless child's behavior. So I'd just keep going without them.
Seeing Pyris's wounded expression at my fierce rejection stirred a bit of guilt, but right now I planned to use the fact that I was five years old as a weapon.
Waaah. I'm baby Leila. Leila is a little one. You have to protect her.
"I'll go down first."
"I'll follow right after, so be careful on the way down."
"Okay."
Done with the banter, I decided to head down before the drying blood started feeling gross.
The water was freezing, but it was cleaner than I was, as expected from a well-maintained waterway.
It wasn't very deep, so I'd worried whether my five-year-old body could manage, but apparently the physical conditioning from street pickpocketing had given me more strength than it looked. I climbed down without issue.
Pyris followed soon after, and we moved closer to the flowing water.
"I'll hold you, so wash up first."
"Thanks."
Even in a well-maintained waterway, if two little kids carelessly tried to scoop water, they could get swept away by the current. That was why we held onto each other while washing.
Splash.
First, I pressed my skirt down to protect my vulnerable lower half and leaned forward. Feeling Pyris grab my ankles from behind, I started washing my face.
Thankfully my head wasn't actually cracked open. Enduring the sting, I wiped away the dried blood until my face felt clean again.
Since my face was clean now, I figured I should wash the dirt from my hair too. I leaned over the water to see my reflection.
Even though it was an underground waterway, the lighting was decent enough to see reflections on the surface—proof the facilities were well managed.
Light green hair with a texture that didn't look like it belonged to an orphan. A delicate, beautiful face that promised to become stunning once I grew taller.
The water was murky, so I couldn't tell the exact color, but according to my memories my eyes were gold. Looking closer, though, there was something red in them.
…Excuse me? There's a red cross in my eye? I definitely didn't have that in my memories.
"Eek."
"Did something come out?"
"M-my eye…"
"What about your eye?"
"Something appeared in my eye!"
"Where?"
Forgetting about holding my skirt down, I shot up and shoved my face right in front of Pyris.
"Hold on, your face is too close."
"But—"
"Haah… Fine. Try opening your eyes wide. It was dark on the way here, and you were squinting, so I didn't notice."
Following his request, I opened my eyes as wide as I could.
With them wide open, I finally understood the discomfort I'd been ignoring, thinking it was just a headache.
My eyes had been dry this whole time.
Dry eyes at this age… Seriously?
"They're pretty…"
"What?"
"No, what am I saying? It's just… there's a red cross in your eye, like the ones on church roofs."
"Suddenly?"
"It wasn't there this afternoon, so maybe it appeared after you fell from the wall? Are your eyes okay? Do they hurt? Can you see fine?"
"Mm… They don't hurt. I can see fine too."
"They don't seem abnormal, so let's head home for today and ask the adults tomorrow."
"Okay."
After washing up, we climbed back to the surface and headed "home."
Calling it home might sound impressive, but it was really just a basket we'd scavenged from the dump, placed behind a corner building that didn't get much wind.
Deciding to ask the adults about my eyes tomorrow, I said goodnight to Pyris, who had already lain down, then stared up at the sky and began sorting through my thoughts.
I'd clearly been trying to save that child when I collided with the truck… and my memories had cut off like film breaking while I was seeing my life flash before my eyes.
The broken film had resumed right after Leila's sense of self formed—at an age when she could recognize herself as "me." That meant I hadn't stolen someone else's life. I had been born as myself and given a new one.
At least, that was how I could summarize it.
I didn't have any thoughts like the protagonists in the novels I'd enjoyed reading—insisting I had to keep my male identity because I'd been a man before.
Maybe it was because I was still young, but my current situation didn't allow me the luxury of worrying about something so trivial.
For now, my first goal was simply to survive.
I hoped that if the gods truly existed in this world, they would keep Pyris and me safe tomorrow as well.
Recalling the clumsy prayers from my childhood when I'd still believed in gods, I offered one up and closed my eyes.
Without knowing what might happen once we tried to find out about these eyes.
We were still young, and ignorant.