(Third Person P.O.V)
The sweet chirping of birds filled the soul of a teenager who was soundly asleep, accompanied by the warm rays of the morning sun that enveloped his body. His violet hair, bathed in sunlight, glowed brightly like a field of lavender flowers. Beneath him lay a bed -sorry, correction, a friend. A friend who served as both his guardian and protector, the "Kami" of the forest, the divine spirit Totoro, who was also sleeping soundly with Reita atop his belly.
Today marked the end of spring, with the warming air signaling that summer was just around the corner.
Reita opened his eyes, still drowsy, blinking a few times as he stretched out his arms and legs, resembling a cat waking from slumber. Smacking his lips, he lay on his back, gazing at the cabin's wooden ceiling. Half-awake and still feeling lazy, he struggled to gather the fragments of his spirit still wandering in the realm of dreams.
Yawning, he gave in to the temptation of the soft and warm "mattress" beneath him. Hmm, such a chubby and comfortable bed. Feeling cozy, Reita attempted to roll over, only to be met by a rather rude awakening—a direct kiss with the cabin floor.
"Ouch! Damn it... one of the worst ways to wake up."
Falling off his furry friend's belly, Reita rubbed his lips, which had just made abrupt contact with the wooden floor. Wasting no time dwelling on the pain, he got up and stretched his body once more, taking a deep, exaggerated breath like a disappointed Chinese father reacting to his child's report card.
The long and heavy sigh made his furry friend's ears twitch slightly. However, it wasn't enough to rouse the big spirit who loved to sleep. Totoro merely responded with louder snores.
"I'm not sure whether to be impressed or disappointed with you, buddy... Oh well, I guess I'll start preparing breakfast first."
Reita headed off to begin his morning routine in the bathroom before preparing breakfast for the big gray fluffball and himself. Rice was a luxury in the forest, but bread wasn't too difficult to make, thanks to the many alternatives for wheat flour.
This morning, Reita decided to whip up pancakes alongside eggs and smoked meat for breakfast. Totoro wasn't a picky eater, but the sheer portions he required often felt like a hassle to Reita. The chubby fluffball truly enjoyed the meals Reita made—whether out of appreciation for the boy he had raised or simply because the food was genuinely delicious.
"Alright, perfectly cooked. Freshly squeezed orange juice should pair well with this."
(Reita P.O.V)
Waking up that furball is surprisingly easy, you know? While calling his name endlessly wouldn't work, simply putting food in front of his face does the trick. My big gray fluffy friend would immediately open his eyes and pounce on the food like a predator on its prey. Honestly, I have no idea what's so special about my cooking or why he acts... like a middle-aged man. Really, I don't understand how a cute, mischievous mascot beloved by children behaves like an old dad. But I guess it still fits his character.
"So, what's your agenda today? Or are you just planning to laze around all day?"
I asked Totoro, who was happily munching on his food. He tried to respond, lifting his index finger into the air as if to make a point, but then looked at me with a confused expression. He repeated this motion several times before eventually giving up and shoving another mouthful of food into his mouth. Was he trying to annoy me? Just being playful? Or had he genuinely forgotten?
In the end, he shrugged it off as if he had no idea. Or at least, that's what I would have thought if I hadn't caught him snickering with an annoying grin while I cleaned up the dishes after our meal.
"Tch... Fine, if you won't tell me, I've got other things to do today. Have fun on your own, because I'll be busy doing something superb."
Heh, now who's the curious one, you wide-bottomed furball? You think you're the only one who can play guessing games? I can do it too, boi! His face of curiosity and regret only confirmed my suspicion—he had no plans for the day. And now, he was probably thinking that whatever I was up to might actually be something fun.
Totoro seemed eager to join in on my "busy" schedule, but I looked at him with a victorious, devilish grin. Ah, the satisfying feeling of turning the tables.
"Heh... What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, buddy? I might have invited you, but what can I do? After all, it looks like Totoro is very busy today. Oh, how considerate of me not to disturb you."
I said this in the most dramatic tone I could muster, ending with a playful tongue poke just to tease him further. Finishing up the dishes, I walked out of the cabin with a triumphant smirk plastered on my face. Truly, there's nothing more satisfying than flipping the situation and leaving someone speechless.
"Alright, I'm off! Take care of the house, Totoro-kun. Hehehehe."
And with that, I left. Truthfully, I did have something to check out. Something that had come with me when I reincarnated—something bound to the palm of my hand, visible only to me for now, thanks to the automatic seal I'd placed on it to ensure it remained hidden unless I chose otherwise.
I walked deeper into the forest, heading to a secluded spot where Yōkai rarely roamed or appeared. This place was quiet, ensuring no one could see me—even if I decided to strip naked and dance around. Okay, let's not dwell on that; back to the main topic.
The reason I came here was... because of the two edgy seals I'd placed on the palms of my hands in my previous life. Honestly, it wasn't like I had many options for their placement—the palms just seemed the most ideal to me.
On my left palm lay a seal tied to a well-known urban legend from my past life: the Manggarai Ghost Train. A forbidden seal I carved onto myself, nearly getting me expelled from the supernatural association back then. You see, sealing ghosts or urban legends onto a human body—yes, even your own—is strictly illegal. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking at the time, binding a mystical phenomenon fueled by restless spirits from a tragic train collision.
"Not to mention, Manggarai is a century-old train station. It was both my greatest achievement and my most reckless mistake to seal it into my body. And my right hand..."
On my right hand, I inscribed a seal I created to enhance my perception—being, well, let's just say, an indigo child. Cringe, I know, but let's move on. Born with naturally open spiritual senses, people like me often develop unique traits. In my case, I was blessed with exceptional perception. I could see things in vivid detail, like having the vision of a hawk—able to clearly see up to 1.5 kilometers (or about 1 mile). Pretty impressive for a human, right?
When in a state of hyper-focus, my range extended to 5 kilometers with crystal clarity. Ridiculous? Absolutely. But that's the reality.
And why do I call it "perception" rather than just hawk vision? Because it's more than just my eyes. I could sense my surroundings in a full 360-degree radius. Beyond that, I noticed intricate details, like subtle changes in a person's expression, the emotions they were feeling, or tiny nuances in paintings—differences in brush thickness, or slight variations in someone's handwriting. I could even see what others couldn't.
But, that was in the past, when I'd trained my ability to its peak. Now? I can only see clearly up to 100 meters, like looking through a telescope. My range and sharpness have diminished, and I've lost the ability to sense my surroundings in 360 degrees. What do you expect? That was an advanced technique.
Enough sidetracking—let's return to the seal on my right hand: the Eye of Seeking. This seal, designed by me, is depicted as an eye on my palm. It connects to similar seals I can inscribe or place elsewhere. As its name suggests, the seal allows me to see through any of these marked locations—like having my own peepholes or spiritual CCTV.
To activate it, I simply press my palm over one of my eyes. The seal itself can be drawn using my spiritual energy or a specific medium tied to me.
"For four years, I've restrained myself from using either of these seals, unsure how my new body would handle the side effects... but I can't wait any longer. Let's begin. You'll be the first I try!"
I extended my left arm forward, gripping it tightly with my right hand. There was a reason for this odd stance: it helped me concentrate spiritual energy from my soul into the seal on my left palm. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I fixed my gaze ahead, steadying my focus as I gripped my arm tightly.
"With this, I summon you... Manggarai."
The forest fell silent, but my resolve didn't waver as I began hearing the sound of a railway crossing bell.
"Teng... Teng... Teng... Teng..."
It was soon accompanied by the faint clatter of train wheels on tracks. Then, out of nowhere, a strong gust of wind blew past my face as though something had just rushed by.
"Whoooossshhh..."
Finally, the familiar chime of a Westminster bell echoed, followed by the screech of a train coming to a halt right before me.
There it was, clear as day—a train with ten carriages, just as I remembered it. The same train I'd encountered countless times in the past when I needed to travel—a vehicle capable of traversing the spirit world effortlessly to take you to your destination.
"The Manggarai Ghost Train."
"Hah... Hahahaha... I can't believe it worked... Damn... Now what?"
Staring at the ghost train before me, its length stretching to about ten carriages, I was now certain that the Manggarai Ghost Train had followed me into this new world. There was only one thing left to confirm. Back in my previous life, I had captured—or rather, tamed—spirits and demons that were useful in battles or even daily tasks. I housed them inside the carriages of this train. This naturally meant that I could only capture beings that could fit within its confines. For larger ones, I had to ask them to change their form or shrink their size. Should I check if they made it here with me? I guess I have no choice but to find out.
"Psssshhh..."
The train doors slid open with a faint hiss, releasing a cold, eerie aura from within. What greeted me was an empty carriage—devoid of any presence. No vengeful spirits, demons, djinns, or other supernatural entities. Not even the lingering malevolence of the spirits that had once merged with Manggarai remained. The train had been stripped clean, reduced to nothing more than a mystical object—or more accurately, a mystical phenomenon.
This made sense since Manggarai was initially nothing but an urban legend—a supernatural phenomenon born from rumors and accumulated negative energy at a specific location, lacking any physical form.
"Well, maybe this is for the best. At least now we can start anew. Although... this time, I think I'll just try to live a normal life. My family now consists of Yōkai, after all. I guess I can just use you as my transport from now on."
Setting foot inside the train, the doors shut behind me the moment I was fully inside. The Westminster chime played once more as the doors closed. I took a seat in one of the passenger chairs and began planning my next steps. Perhaps this was my chance to leave this forest and check out the state of this world—maybe figure out what era I was currently in.
Hmm... since I'm in Totoro Forest, that should place me somewhere in Sayama Hills, which is near... Tokyo, I think? Alright, let's go with that.
"Manggarai, next stop: Tokyo Station."
The Westminster chime echoed again. Back in the day, there would have been a voice announcing the train's departure and its next stop. But now that Manggarai was empty, the train operated entirely under my command. It was slightly inconvenient, but having a mystical transport system capable of connecting to every train station in the world was more than enough to compensate. Of course, it came with its own drawbacks and advantages.
For one, its "fuel" was my spiritual energy, and its speed depended on the train's "growth." Yes, you heard me right—Manggarai could grow, as it was a supernatural phenomenon. It would evolve based on the strength of its associated rumors or stories. Back in my previous life, the Manggarai Ghost Train even had a movie adaptation that immortalized its legend.
Thankfully, I had sealed it before the film's release. Otherwise, I can't even imagine how powerful Manggarai might have become. That being said, its growth was now tied to me—it would evolve as I did.
The sound of railway crossing bells filled the air, and Manggarai's wheels began to turn. Phantom train tracks materialized out of nowhere, carving a path through the mystical realm toward Tokyo Station. Manggarai, now a modern electric train instead of the ancient locomotive it once was after the Manggarai incident, accelerated smoothly. It could now travel at a speed of 95 km/h. This shouldn't take too long. Tokyo, here I come.
(Third Person P.O.V)
A train sped forward on tracks that vanished behind it and reappeared ahead, seamlessly connecting to the general railway system. This ghostly train, unseen and untouchable by normal means, could only be perceived by those with spiritual energy or ties to the supernatural. Only the chosen few were granted permission to interact with it. The Manggarai train raced toward Tokyo Station, the journey calm and serene.
For the first time, Reita gazed out the window, marveling at the expansive world beyond. Vast rice fields stretched to the horizon, quaint village homes exuded charm, clear rivers flowed peacefully, blue skies lay unobscured by trees, and endless grasslands rolled by. Everything his eyes met spoke of boundless exploration. Deep inside, Reita felt a change—a revival of something long dormant. A spark of hope reignited, painting what once seemed a monotonous world in vibrant colors. In this new life, Jonathan—now Reita—found resolve. No longer would he be confined by what people called "common sense." Forget reason—this was his life to live freely, unshackled by labels imposed by others. With newfound determination, he vowed:
"This time, I'll live free, untethered. Because I am liberated."
Meanwhile, curious Yōkai and wandering spirits observed the Manggarai train with intrigue. A mystical train appearing in broad daylight was an unusual phenomenon. Some approached out of curiosity, while others kept their distance. The ghost train pressed on, indifferent to its observers. Manggarai's intangible form passed through other trains effortlessly, like a phantom. In this state, the train was untouchable without potent spiritual interference, far beyond what most Yōkai could muster.
[...]
As the train left rural landscapes behind, urban scenery replaced it. Forests, fields, and grasslands gave way to bustling neighborhoods and towering buildings. Yet, these urban structures lacked the modernity of 2024. The city was lively but retained a dated atmosphere—fashion styles, mobile phones, billboards, and roads all hinted at an earlier era. Reita could not yet confirm the exact time period, so he waited patiently as Manggarai approached Tokyo Station.
It didn't take long for the train to arrive. The Westminster chime rang as the doors slid open. Reita stepped off the train and onto the station platform, finally setting foot outside Totoro Forest for the first time. To ordinary eyes, he appeared as a violet-haired boy clad in a white kimono and wooden geta sandals, his sudden appearance akin to a ghost. However, unnoticed by the bustling crowd, Reita blended in effortlessly, slipping past security and into the heart of Tokyo.
"Haha, Tokyo. I've arrived. Time to explore, but first…"
Tempering his youthful excitement, Reita focused on his primary goal: discovering the date. He ventured out of the station, searching for a newspaper stand. It didn't take long to locate one nearby. Without hesitation, Reita "borrowed" a newspaper and checked its publication date.
"Tuesday, May 4, 2004. Which means today is 20 years in the past from the future. Haha… Damn, even Jonathan Belfagel hasn't been born yet. What a twist of fate..."
He muttered to himself, wide-eyed in disbelief. Reita had reincarnated far into the past—even before his original birth. Considering he had spent four years in this new life, he deduced he was likely born in 2000, though the exact date remained unknown. Nonetheless, Reita found satisfaction in uncovering a piece of this new world's timeline.
Returning the borrowed newspaper, Reita ventured further into Tokyo. The city's liveliness, sprawling streets, and towering buildings brought a wave of nostalgia. After years of nothing but trees and Yōkai in the forest, he now felt the warmth of civilization once more.
Walking through the streets of Tokyo, people found Reita's outfit a bit peculiar, but that was the extent of their reaction. While some glanced at him curiously, none went out of their way to interact with the boy. It wasn't unusual for city folk to ignore a lone child dressed flamboyantly, even if he was only four years old and unaccompanied by any adult.
"Such bothersome attention... I suppose I have no choice but to move on to the next location."
[...]
After wandering aimlessly for some time, Reita stumbled upon a park where he could rest. The clock in the park read eleven in the morning. Seated on a bench, Reita contemplated that perhaps it was time to return home. They were likely searching for him by now, and staying out—or in this case, being "missing"—for too long might spell trouble.
"At least I've familiarized myself with Tokyo's layout. That'll make things easier next time. I won't have to direct Manggarai to public stations but can instead target specific places I've marked."
With that thought, Reita stood and began seeking a quiet spot in the park. Being a weekday, most people were either at school or work, leaving the park relatively empty as midday approached. It wasn't hard to find a secluded area. Extending his left arm forward, Reita summoned Manggarai once more. The sound of railway crossing bells filled the air, signaling the train's arrival. In an instant, Manggarai materialized before him, its wheels screeching to a halt. The Westminster chime echoed again, and the train doors slid open. Reita stepped aboard, signaling the end of his short excursion in Tokyo for the day.
"Goodbye for now, Tokyo. Next time... I might experiment with the Seal of Seeking Eye. Until then, wait for me."
The doors closed, and the train sped off, accompanied by the warning bells of the railways. It barreled forward, phasing through all obstacles in its path, unstoppable in its spectral form. Heading back toward the Sacred Forest in Sayama Hills, Reita was on his way home. Tokyo had indeed been enjoyable, but nothing could beat the comfort of home, right? "My home, my castle," he mused. "It will never be replaced, no matter how time changes."
[...]
Returning home safely, Reita remained unaware of one critical detail. Since stepping off Manggarai earlier, it wasn't just the Yōkai observing him. Other eyes hidden in the shadows had been monitoring his every move. There's a reason why powers aren't often used openly, even when no one seems to be around—and Reita had forgotten this fact. His actions would inevitably attract unwanted attention in the future.
Thus, on Tuesday, May 4th, 2004, a rumor began circulating among the Yōkai. It spoke of a mystical train that appeared out of nowhere and a young boy dressed in a white kimono who emerged from it. Some whispered that the boy himself was the reason the spectral train had manifested, moving through Tokyo and Saitama Prefecture. While the veracity of this rumor was uncertain, the Yōkai who saw the boy swore they felt an unsettling gaze watching them, even as they hid. None of them escaped Reita's perception—or, more accurately, Jonathan Belfagel's.
That creeping sensation of being watched, the nagging paranoia that something—or someone—had eyes on you... even when nothing seemed to be there. Was it all in their heads? Or was it real?