According to the predictions of physicists, there may exist countless parallel universes. Let us assume for a moment that they do, for the story that follows takes place in one of them.
The winter forest was a world of mystery and profound silence. A thick blanket of white snow covered everything, and the branches of trees—each as wide as three or four grown men—were draped in crystalline frost, looking like a rain of diamonds scattered by spirits in the night.
In this silent world, the only sounds were the occasional flutter of falling snow and the rustle of wind through the leaves. A rabbit darted quietly across the snowy field, leaving a trail of tiny footprints. Beside those prints, however, was another set: the tracks of a human.
Crunch. Crunch.
Following the tracks, one would find a young boy shivering in the bitter wind. His thin clothing offered no protection against the cold. The trees of the winter forest swayed like ghostly shadows, and the only sound in the silence was his solitary footsteps as he trudged slowly through the snow.
The biting wind scraped against his face, bringing sharp stabs of pain that eventually faded into a dull numbness. He had been walking for two hours without finding a single trace of human life.
His surroundings began to blur. His breathing grew shallow and labored, and his legs could no longer support his weight. The chill had seeped into his very marrow; the flame of his life was flickering out.
As his consciousness began to slip away, his final thought was: "It would have been so good to stay alive."
He sank into the darkness, a fading star in the cruel winter night.
He felt his mouth being coaxed open. A warm, savory liquid was poured in. Gradually, he drifted back to consciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw a white-haired old man holding his head with one hand while the other tilted a bowl of milky-white soup to his lips.
"Samui no, kodomo." (It's cold, isn't it, kid?)
The boy didn't understand what the old man was saying. He simply swallowed the soup greedily, sucking down every drop of this hard-won life force. After finishing the bowl, he fell back into a deep sleep. But this time, his last thought before drifting off was: "It's good to be alive."
When he woke again, he took in his surroundings. He was in a small log cabin. A fire crackled in the hearth, and he was tucked under a thick cotton quilt. His clothes had been removed and hung on a nearby chair.
He sat up and gave himself a quick once-over. "It really is good to be alive," he thought.
Finding nothing amiss, he got up and pulled on his thin undershirt. Seeing the pile of wood by the fireplace, he walked over to help, only to find his hands covered in frostbite. Even picking up a single log to toss into the fire sent a jolt of agonizing pain through him.
Enduring the sting, he added a few logs to the flames and sat back on the bed, lost in thought.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. The white-haired old man walked in.
"Okaeri..." the man muttered, followed by more words the boy couldn't grasp.
The boy couldn't understand the speech, but he recognized the cadence of Japanese. He could only point to his own mouth.
"Ah... ba... ba..." He gestured to show he couldn't speak, then pressed his hands together and bowed deeply to the old man in gratitude.
"Ah, so the boy is a mute," the old man murmured. "Well, you might as well stay with me for now. I don't know whose child you are, to be thrown away in the mountains like this."
Regardless of whether the boy understood, the old man pointed toward the floor. "This is your savior."
The boy looked down. A small Shiba Inu was looking up at him with squinted eyes, its tongue lolling out. As if it understood the situation, the dog let out a soft huff. The boy leaned over, patted its head, and then stood up to bow to the dog with his hands pressed together.
To make a long story short:
Five years had passed since that great winter snowfall. It was now summer. As the sun began to dip in the west, the youth stacked the last of the split firewood beside the cabin and walked over to a rattan chair beneath a tree.
A small patch of green shade shielded the chair. The youth stretched comfortably. In the distance, two dark specks were approaching. A small Shiba Inu came racing toward him.
"Hachi, you're back," the youth said, standing up to scoop up the dog.
He looked up to see the white-haired old man. His frame was slightly hunched, standing at about 170 centimeters, but he was still a height the youth had yet to reach. The old man looked fierce, with a scar running from his left eye all the way down to the right side of his nose.
"Yun-kun, I caught a wild rabbit today. I'll leave the prep to you."
Having lived in this world for five years, even though he only had the old man for company, it had been enough time for him to learn Japanese well enough for daily conversation.
Hasegumo. That was the name the youth had given himself after arriving in this world.
In his previous life, he had been a terminal cancer patient. In the final stages, he could only lie in bed, completely immobile, kept alive by liquid food and tubes for three years. Those three years of agony hadn't extinguished his desire to live. Even at the moment of his death, he had been yearning for survival.
He didn't know why he had been reincarnated into this world with his memories intact, but he was sincerely grateful to whatever entity had brought him here and given him a second chance at life.
He was grateful for everything. Even on that night when he was nearly frozen to death, he had felt nothing but gratitude. He was grateful for the old man, Hasegawa, even if the man called himself an utter failure. He was grateful for the dog, Hachi, who had heard him collapse in the snow and led the old man to save him.
He was even grateful for this rabbit for providing them with a delicious dinner.
Hasegumo walked to the shed beside the cabin. With a swift, practiced motion, he beheaded, skinned, and butchered the rabbit. He tossed two more logs under the stove. A small piece of lard sizzled in the wok. As he added chili peppers, fresh ginger, and scallions, the scent of life—savory and aromatic—wafted out with the steam.
He tossed in the rabbit meat and began to stir-fry. Once the meat had browned, he added wild greens gathered from the forest. A plate of spicy stir-fried rabbit was ready. He scooped out bowls of steaming rice from the other pot.
He knelt to place a few choice pieces of meat in Hachi's bowl, then brought the food into the cabin. Hasegawa and Hasegumo sat across from each other and began to eat.
"Yun-kun," Hasegawa said. "I reckon you're about fourteen this year. Have you ever thought about leaving? Going to school, getting a job? I'm a failure, and I don't have many days left. But your life is just beginning. You can't stay here and watch over an old man forever."
Hasegumo didn't answer immediately. He pressed his hands together, looking at the food on the table with a solemnity as if it were the last meal of his life. Then, he picked up a piece of rabbit and chewed slowly. The fresh, spicy flavor spread across his tongue and through his body. Hasegumo felt that the beauty of life was distilled into this very moment.
Seeing that Hasegumo wasn't speaking, Hasegawa sighed and began to eat his own rice. He ate quickly. By the time Hasegumo was on his third piece of meat, Hasegawa had finished and moved outside to lie on the rattan chair.
Hasegumo finished the meal at his own pace, washed the dishes and the wok, and walked out to join the old man. The two lay side-by-side on their respective chairs.
"You little brat... you've managed to skip thirty years of struggle and go straight into the retirement phase of life," Hasegawa remarked. He pulled out a lighter and lit a cigarette. "If only I had been this open-minded when I was young. Yun, seriously, think about it. Go to school."
Hasegumo had no intention of leaving. Hasegawa was getting old—really old. Though he could still go out with Hachi to hunt, there was no telling when he might suddenly fall ill. Hasegumo was indebted to him for saving his life, and after years together, he viewed the old man as his own grandfather.
"I'm not going anywhere, Old Man. I'm staying right here to take care of you until the end."
"Stubborn brat." A look that was somewhere between relief and sadness crossed the old man's face. Once he felt he had digested his meal, he took Hachi back into the house, pulled a yellowed book from under the bed, and began to read with great interest.
Hasegumo lay in the chair, watching him through the window, lost in thought. After a long while, he stood up, picked up his axe, and went back to splitting wood.
He wasn't sure why, but he had realized his body in this world was... strange. It was the polar opposite of his previous life, where illness had rendered him immobile. Even before the cancer, he had been frail. Now, he felt as though he had an inexhaustible supply of energy. No matter how much manual labor he did, he woke up early the next day without a trace of fatigue.
Perhaps it was a talent of some sort, but Hasegumo didn't care much for the 'why.' He performed every task with a sense of piety. Because of the suffering he had endured, he cherished this life immensely. Even without modern entertainment, he was never bored. Simply being able to move was enough to fill his heart with gratitude.
By the time he finished the rest of the wood, the sky was pitch black. Hasegumo tidied up, went to the river to wash himself down with cold water, and returned to the cabin. The old man was already asleep. The sound of his light snoring had a grounding, peaceful quality that made Hasegumo feel drowsy as well.
"Another beautiful, peaceful day."
With that thought, Hasegumo drifted into a deep sleep.
As the first light of dawn filtered through the trees, Hasegumo was already drenched in sweat, mid-run.
Ever since his frostbite had healed years ago, he had committed himself to a "Saitama-style" workout every morning: a ten-kilometer run, one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, and one hundred squats. He hadn't missed a day in five years, regardless of rain or snow.
It hadn't made him "invincible," and fortunately, he hadn't lost any hair. He simply cherished his health. The exercise was his way of keeping his body in peak condition.
Finishing his final squat, Hasegumo grabbed a towel from the rack to wipe his sweat and headed to the river for his morning wash. When he returned, he saw the old man stepping out of the cabin, but his gait was a bit unsteady. Hasegumo figured the man had overexerted himself hunting the rabbit the day before.
"Old Man, stay home today. I'll take Hachi out to hunt."
For once, Hasegawa didn't argue. He just gave a small sigh and sat down on the rattan chair. Hasegumo silently prepared breakfast, and after eating, he set out with Hachi.
In his past life, Hasegumo had been an anime fan. During the days when he was bedridden, he spent his time watching various series on a tablet, often fantasizing about what it would be like to have superpowers. When he first arrived here, he had wondered if he had a "cheat" or a "system," but after finding nothing of the sort, he had put those thoughts aside.
He only wanted to greet the sun every day with a grateful heart and live a quiet life. Even this "ordinary" existence was something his past self could only have dreamed of.
Hasegumo moved slowly through the forest with Hachi, checking the traps the old man had set the day before to see if any unlucky animals had fallen for the old man's schemes.
One, two... he checked them all. "Looks like we aren't so lucky today, Hachi. We'll have to work a bit harder ourselves."
Hasegumo leaned down to pat Hachi's head. The dog huffed, his tongue lolling out as he licked Hasegumo's palm.
Snap.
The sound of a breaking branch came from ahead. Hachi immediately went on high alert. Hasegumo's expression turned serious. They moved quietly through the brush, peering through the leaves.
To his surprise, it wasn't an animal. It was a woman dressed in black, wearing traditional wooden clogs, walking through the brush.
"Watch out!" Hasegumo shouted, rushing out to intercept her.
"Wh—? What is it?" The woman seemed startled. She spun around, eyeing Hasegumo warily.
"There are hunting traps laid out just ahead," Hasegumo explained. He took a moment to look her over. She appeared to be in her thirties, maybe forty. She was wearing a black kimono. What struck him as odd was how pristine she looked—no scratches from the brush, no mud on her hem.
Hasegumo couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing in the woods alone? It's dangerous."
Aside from the old man and the merchant who came once a month to buy pelts, this was only the third person Hasegumo had seen in five years.
The woman looked troubled. "I was on a trip, but somehow I got lost in the forest." She lightly licked her lips. "Could you lead me out? My phone has no signal here, so I can't contact my group."
It was then that Hasegumo noticed something: a line of stitches running across her forehead, from the left side to the right.
An instinctive, faint sense of unease flickered in his gut, but he didn't refuse her. Since being reborn, he felt he had to make this life meaningful. Helping others brought him a sense of fulfillment he truly enjoyed. He wouldn't turn down a reasonable request.
"Alright. But please wait a moment. I need to finish checking the traps. Stay here."
Without waiting for her reply, he continued forward with Hachi. During the process, he ducked behind a marked tree and reached into a hollow in the trunk. He pulled out a handgun—a gift from Hasegawa for protection against dangerous predators.
Hasegumo hadn't encountered any large beasts in years, and he usually worried about the gun misfiring if he carried it daily, so he kept it hidden in this secluded spot. He tucked the gun into an inner pocket where it was easily accessible, then returned to the woman.
The woman was standing exactly where he had left her. Seeing him return, she smiled. "What's your name, little brother?"
"Hasegumo. Shouldn't you introduce yourself before asking someone else's name?" he replied, pushing through the brush.
"Ah, sorry, sorry. I was just a bit flustered from being lost. Thank you. My name is Kaori Itadori."
Itadori?
Hasegumo paused. That name sounded familiar... wasn't that the surname of the protagonist in Jujutsu Kaisen?
In his past life, his mobility issues meant he didn't read much manga; he mostly watched anime. He had only seen the first season of Jujutsu Kaisen. He knew the lead was Yuji Itadori, there was an invincible teacher named Satoru Gojo, and a thousand-year-old "King of Curses" named Sukuna had taken over the protagonist's body. Beyond that, his knowledge was fuzzy.
He knew that the world of Jujutsu Kaisen was incredibly dangerous for ordinary people.
Luckily, I was reincarnated into a normal world, he thought to himself. No monsters or sorcerers here.
With that reassuring thought, he led Kaori Itadori back toward the cabin. "Old Man, this lady says she's a tourist who got lost. I'm going to show her the way out."
Hasegawa looked at the woman with a strange expression. He didn't say a word, merely nodding his head.
"Just wait here for a passing car to give you a lift," Hasegumo said, pointing toward the road above. "Or you can try calling your friends again now that you're out of the trees."
"Thank you so much for your help. Here, take this." Kaori Itadori pulled out a thick wad of cash and handed it over.
Hasegumo felt the thickness of the stack and didn't refuse. Living in the forest required buying supplies periodically, and since recent hunts hadn't been great, some extra income was welcome.
"Well then, goodbye." Hasegumo waved and turned to leave.
Something about that woman had felt off, but nothing had happened. He patted the gun in his coat. I'll just hide this back in the tree on my way home, he thought.
Hasegumo started his long walk back to the little log cabin.