The smell of damp earth, the soft breeze brushing across my skin—everything told me I was no longer in the world I once knew.

A warm, gentle light shone from above, making the moment feel more real than anything I had ever experienced.

At that moment, I realized: I had been reborn.

In my previous life, back in 1930, I was Riku—a simple farmer.

My days were spent in the fields, my hands buried in soil, my fingers cracked and wounded from endless work.

The ground was always wet and slippery, and the sound of the nearby stream was both calming and strangely sorrowful.

I carried one dream, though it felt impossible: I wanted to be a writer.

Since childhood, I had filled a small leather notebook with fantasy stories, hiding it so no one would ever see.

Not even my parents, Haruto and Akemi, knew.

They always smiled kindly, unaware that I had built entire worlds inside my mind.

Those stories were the only place where I truly felt alive.

But the war in Japan grew worse.

One day, while working with my father, distant screams reached us.

Enemies had attacked our village.

Gunshots, cries, explosions, smoke—chaos swallowed everything.

My heart pounded as I stumbled through the mud, desperately searching for my family.

When I finally saw my mother, Akemi, a bullet was already aimed at her.

Without thinking, I threw myself forward.

The world erupted into noise—shouting, flames, terror—and then darkness consumed everything.

When I opened my eyes again, the gentle warm light surrounded me.

A goddess stood before me, her gaze soft and calm.

“You died,” she said. “But you will be reborn.”

Shock hit me.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

She smiled gently.

“Because you wished to see the worlds you created in your mind. Now, you have the chance to build them.”

When I opened my eyes once more, my mother’s familiar warm smile welcomed me.

My father stood beside her.

My brother, Takumi, and my sister, Sakura, were there too.

I could feel the faint jealousy and curiosity in their eyes, though I didn’t yet know how to deal with it.

Life began again.

Remembering everything, I made my decision: this time, I would become an anime writer.

The whole world would see my stories—nothing, not even my siblings’ jealousy, would stop me.

Years passed.

I grew up learning about anime, manga, and web novels.

No magic, no powers—just my own imagination.

My parents stayed as kind as ever.

But Takumi and Sakura never stopped being jealous.

Sometimes when I showed my work to my father, Takumi would walk past with a mocking glance.

Some days Sakura would steal my notebook just to hide it.

Even then, I didn’t give up.

Every night, before sleeping, I wrote.

Characters came to life. Worlds formed.

With each page, I felt closer to the dream I once thought impossible.

But once I entered high school, everything shifted.

Stories vanished overnight—even when I locked them away.

Eventually, I discovered the truth.

It was Sakura and Takumi the entire time.

Still, I refused to quit.

No matter the obstacles, I pushed forward—with my pen, my determination, and the worlds only I could create.

And with every story I wrote, the voice inside me grew louder:

“This is only the beginning…”