Chapter 1

JULY 18, UNIFIED YEAR 1914, SOMEWHERE IN IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN 

In the beginning, there was only light. Then came a gentle sensation of floating, a brief repose. There was warmth and a vague restlessness, provoking a desire to lose oneself. Lose oneself? Yes, I've forgotten something. But what could it be? What could I have possibly forgotten? 

Before a chance to face such questions came along, it suddenly began shivering. A moment later, its mind registered the cold. A chill that pierced the skin. Such was the nature of a newborn babe's first brush with the crisp, raw air outside the womb. Not that there was time to realize. 

But the sudden onslaught of alien yet once familiar sensations caused a panic. At the same time, it began writhing in distress, caught up in a violent struggle to breathe. The pain was nearly unbearable as the lungs—the entire body, each and every cell—cried out for oxygen. Unable to remain calm enough for rational thought, all it could do was thrash about. 

The overwhelmed, unresponsive senses ravaged by agony left no option other than flailing in pain. Strangled by these things, it easily lost consciousness. Fully free of the emotions of a human who hadn't wept in ages, the body sobbed instinctively. 

Awareness faded, and the concept of self grew muddled. Upon awakening, it saw the ashen sky. The world was blurry… Or perhaps that was due to hazy vision? Everything seemed distorted, as if seen through glasses with the wrong prescription. 

Despite having been out of touch with human emotions for so long, even it was unsettled by such clouded eyesight. It was impossible to discern even rough shapes. 

After nearly three years of objective time, having finally begun to regain a sense of self, it was struck with utter confusion. 

What is this? What happened to me? This vessel couldn't maintain awareness for very long, and the memory of being placed in it had yet to surface. So when its fading consciousness just barely registered an infant's wails, it found the cries shameful yet failed to understand why. 

Perhaps mature adults didn't cry, but babies certainly did. Infants were supposed to be protected and given equal opportunities, not despised. Thus, with a deep sense of relief, it relegated the vague shame to a dark corner of its mind, blaming it on the lack of a clear consciousness. 

The next time a hazy sense of comprehension dawned, it was absolutely bewildered, not surprisingly. If memory served correctly, it should have been on a Yamanote train platform. Yet after coming to, it was somehow inside a massive Western-style stone building, getting its mouth wiped by a nun who seemed to be a nursemaid. If this was a hospital, then a safe assumption could be made that there had been some sort of accident. Blurry vision could be explained by injury as well. 

Yet now that its eyes could see clearly in the poor lighting, it could make out nuns in old-fashioned dress. And the inadequate illumination…apparently came from anachronistic gas lamps, unless things were not what they seemed. 

"Tanya, dear, say 'ahh.'" 

At the same time, it noticed a bizarre lack of electrical appliances nearby. In the civilized society of 2013, here was a room devoid of electronics yet riddled with items long considered antiques. Are they Mennonites or Amish? But…why? What am I doing here with them? 

"Tanya, dear. Tanya!" 

The situation was a difficult one to grasp. The confusion only deepened. 

"Come now. Won't you open your mouth for me, dear? Tanya?" 

I don't understand. That was precisely the problem. That was why it hadn't noticed the spoon the nun held out. But of course. Even if it had, never in a million years would it have dreamed of eating the proffered food. Surely the spoon was meant for this "Tanya, dear." 

But while all these thoughts were swirling around, the nun finally lost her patience. With a sweet yet stern smile that brooked no argument, she stuffed the spoon into its mouth. 

"You mustn't be picky, dear. Open up!" 

It was a scoop of vegetables that had been stewed into mush. But that single spoonful also thrust the truth at hitherto uncomprehending "Tanya." 

Stewed vegetables. That's all the nun had stuffed into its mouth. But for the person in question, the action only made things more bewildering. In other words, it —I—am Tanya. 

Thus, a cry arose from the depths of its soul: Why?