The philosophy of reincarnation and childhood

Now, I’m ten years old. My mental capacity has improved so much over the last five years that I feel almost like the same person I was in my previous life. Or… maybe not. I’d like to think I’m as mature as I was back then, but something about being in this young body just holds me back. When it counts, I can be serious, but I can’t shake this childlike energy. I was already pretty mature at ten years old the first time around, so maybe I’ll just leave it at that.

I’ve also started documenting everything I remember from the manga I reincarnated into. It’s as detailed as any info books, if not even more, and I have already passed 100 pages of information.

But here’s the problem… The 100 Losing Heroines was only published for four months when I was still alive in that world. That’s just eight chapters. Out of the 100 losing heroines, I only know about five of them. I pause, my hands trembling a bit. That’s… really brutal.

For the first time, I realize: What if some of the losing heroines are already beyond my reach? What if I can’t save them all?

The thought hits me hard, and my eyes start to sting. I picture some of them crying, losing to some generic tsundere lead, and I want to scream.

“No!” I yell with all my might. “This can’t be happening!” Tears are actually falling onto the paper in front of me. I scribble fiercely, Still, I won’t give up, even if it costs me my whole life.

I take a deep breath, then exhale with a shaky sigh. “That’s still not enough, though… how am I even going to know if I meet a losing heroine?”

My forehead hits the table with a thud. Pain radiates from the impact, but I don’t even care. “Just kill me, God! I don’t deserve to live! Take my life and give them a second chance at happiness with the main character!”

“Hello.”

An oddly familiar voice cuts through my despair. It’s a refreshing sound, with a mix of feminine and masculine tones, like something I haven’t heard in ages but still remember perfectly… from ten years ago, exactly.

“God is here!!” I spin around, and there he is: a serene figure with an angelic look that instantly calms me.

“I see you’ve been… struggling,” he says, smiling kindly. “It’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t checked in sooner.”

He moves towards me with his small figure and an unhurried walk that’s almost… cute? When he reaches my side, he floats up to my eye level, which doesn’t surprise me at this point. After reincarnating into a manga world, meeting God face-to-face feels par for the course.

I do have a lot of questions, though. I wrote a notebook full of them, about fifty pages of philosophical and existential stuff I wanted to ask in case I ever got the chance to see him again.

“It’s all fine. I am very happy to see you!” After he accepts my welcome with a kind glance at me, I speak again. “I was taking notes so that I don’t forget them. I was scared my memories of my past life might fade, that infantile amnesia might take away everything important to me. I could write and read when I was just two years old, but the notes I took at that age were… how a two years old would write. So I have been rewriting stuff for all of these years.”

“Passionate as always, aren’t you?” He glances over my pages, seemingly impressed.

I pause, a realization settling in. “So… I guess that’s why you didn’t come sooner?” I ask, thinking of the past few years. “Because I was just a baby?”

God nods, his gaze warm but knowing. “Exactly. You weren’t quite ready for a conversation like this.”

“You felt different from infancy onward, right?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately.

“Then I’m guessing you might have figured out why?”

“I was a literal baby with my previous memories. My mental age regressed to be appropriate to my current state, so I couldn’t really use the advantage and form thoughts about my past memories like I wanted. I do think it improved my overall mental growth level and intelligence though.”

“Impressive,” he says. “In many Isekai, the protagonist’s mind doesn’t adapt to the new life. But that’s not quite realistic now, is it?”

I nod in agreement. “Yeah. It's really interesting to experience reincarnation first hand! I still wonder if I’m in a dream sometimes. But this all clearly is real.”

“I wanted you to live this second life fully, with all the limitations and joys of growing up again,” he says, gesturing to my stack of notes. “With your… ‘mission’ in mind.”

“Of course!” I jump.

“Now, let’s speak for a moment, shall we?” He settles onto my desk, extending his legs on the surface, picking up a piece of paper from the stack. He looks like how a plushie would sit on a plain surface, it’s rather amusing and funny. “Since you reincarnated here specifically for the heroines, you do possess the power to help you find them.”

“Power to help me find them…?” I ask myself. “Yes! That’s what I needed!”

He flashes me a quick smile before examining my notes. “Your documentation is impressive,” he says. “And you think that all 100 losing heroines are in Japan.”

“Yes, that’s how harems work. That cursed mangaka follows every trope imaginable, even the annoying ones. I bet they’re all in this prefecture, too.”

“Actually…” he pauses, and I feel a drop of dread, “…they’re not all here. Some are in other cities, and a few are even overseas.”

I’m floored.

He looks back at me, still reading through my pages. “It’s admirable how thorough you are,” he adds, and I feel a little pride despite my despair.

“Thank you,” I reply quietly, still grappling with the idea that some of them are out of the country. “Maybe I can convince my mom to travel overseas for vacation, but still… Even if I know where they are, that doesn’t end there. There’s too many factors to think about… I am not in a creative mode.”

“That’s where human passion and care come in,” he says, leaning closer. “Love is a powerful thing. It creates bonds that transcend time and distance. It will help you in your journey, Renyuki Ask.”

“That’s actually real, too?” I say, my voice betraying a mix of awe and skepticism, remembering all the endless questions I’ve had for him. “And, how is that gonna help me visibly?”

“Love is one of the most potent emotions there are, Renyuki,” he responds, turning to face me. “There are many beliefs, such as souls, right? In simple terms, you can think of emotions as something humans produce naturally -spinning around the universe and beyond. They have meanings. Something surreal, ethereal, much like the soul term in your world. But that’s an entirely different topic to discuss. A bond between humans exists in so many levels and types. In your case, with your love and passion that knows no limit, the bond between you and the losing heroines beyond comprehension exists.”

I’m left speechless. Here I am, taking a lesson in philosophy from God himself.

“You are saying that in our fate, it’s written to meet each other?”

He simply smiles, and I smile back.

“You are God, right? Kami-sama?” I ask, just to make sure.

He chuckles at my innocent question. “You’re asking that now? You’re funny.”

His tone is gentle, fond even. Hearing that from God makes me blush slightly. I like how cool and nice God is. Honestly, it would be amazing to play Smash with him, I think dreamily. Then, I pause, confused. Why did I think he couldn’t play games with me? Of course we can, and it would be helluva fight!

“I have a name,” he says, breaking my trance. “You can call me Rana.”

“Rana-san.” I whisper, it has a good ring to it.

“And while you interpreting me as God wouldn’t be entirely wrong, I am not the god you might be thinking of.”

I can’t help but feel an overwhelming excitement, my heart racing in anticipation -almost as if I’m about to make my lovely, world-deserving waifus happy. It’s like I’m witnessing the very truth of life and death unfold before me. I listen, my full attention on every word Rana-san speaks.

“I have emotions and a personality, my own free will. Just like you, I can feel envy, rage, sorrow. I can laugh like any human being,” he says, pausing for a moment. He looks out the window thoughtfully, I follow his gaze. The sunlight flickers across my room, a typical summer morning. My parents are away at a meeting, leaving me home alone with Rana-san now. Their expressions as they left were a little curious, but I didn’t think much of it… though now, I wonder if something serious happened.

I have other things to worry about now, I am just overthinking out of nothing.

“There are many interpretations of gods in fiction, right? Like the useless water god, the apple-loving god, the chess-obsessed god, the god who doesn’t even realize she’s a god, and the god who helps people for five yen. You can imagine me in a similar concept. Or you can see me as some sort of sentient angel. Isn’t that cool?”

“Cool? You’re awesome, Rana-san!” I say, grinning.

“Pftt. I didn’t mean it in that sense, but thank you.” He flashes me a porcelain-like smile.

“There are many of my kind,” he continues, his expression turning more serious. “We each do different things -some of us are even evil and cruel. In many ways, we’re a lot similar to humans. Free will, personality and overall nature makes a creature. Endless possibilities, lowest of lows to the highest of highs.”

The weight of his words hits me, and my mind races. Evil gods with real powers?

“Are they the reason why my world is ruled by a corrupted mangaka who loves making lovely heroines lose?” I ask, anger bubbling up.

Rana shakes his head slowly. “Can’t be.”

The answer catches me off guard.

“Human free will remains untouched,” he explains. “Benevolence is mostly in our nature, so there are not many ones with questionable intentions. The most evil among us are kept in check, unable to cause drastic harm to your world.”

For the first time, I see Rana shift into a thoughtful pose, his long arm raising to rest his chin in his hand. It's a small gesture, but it changes the way he looks entirely.

“Now that I think about it, there might be some influence. A world ruled by a mangaka obsessed with the trope of losing heroines does seem… unusual. Your world has generally been peaceful and comfortable, but the manga and novel industry has always had its unwritten rules, unseen oppression. The glorification of losing heroine tropes was a consensus that people never questioned.”

He stares at me for a few seconds, and for some reason, it makes me feel strangely self-aware. The silence hangs in the air, as though he's waiting for something to click in my mind. “So, it’s no wonder someone like you, with such a deep connection to these heroines, would feel the weight of it the most. That’s why you see your world as a dystopia. There’s even a chance that an angel could be behind it. Strange, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure I understand…” I say, still digesting everything. “You are saying, even you are not sure what’s going on? Is tha-”

The rumble of a car pulling into the garage interrupts our conversation, and my attention shifts.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it too much. You’ve got a long life ahead of you, with your mission in mind, right? The past is just that -behind you. I’ll be seeing you later, Renyuki.”

“Wait! I have so many more questions!” I reach out, grabbing his hand, but it feels unexpectedly warm and real, not as delicate or fragile as I imagined porcelain would feel.

“We’ve talked enough for today,” he says gently, though there’s an unspoken finality in his voice. “Your family’s back. It’s probably going to be a long day for you. You should prepare yourself.”

“But, when will we talk again? How can I see you? What should I do to call you? Are you always watching me?”

“I am not always watching over you. I don’t think it would be appropriate, and I am not all-seeing. There are things we need to attend to as well… and some other responsibilities.”

“Didn’t I say we are a lot similar to humans?”

I am getting new information, and each time I speak with Rana-san, I feel like I am not talking to a divine being with unlimited wisdom, but an intriguing and mysterious friend. Both leave me with confusion and warmth. A quite strange feeling I can’t really explain with mere words.

Before I can say anything else, I realize my arm holds on to nothing. I blink, and at that very moment, the door to my room bursts open with a force that makes me jump.

A girl, a year or two older than me, probably, stands in the doorway, arms crossed, giving me a demanding look. “Hey, you.” Her voice is sharp, but there’s something oddly familiar about it. “You’ve got the nerve to stay locked in your room and not come out to greet us?”

I freeze, confused, as she leans against the doorframe with a scowl.

What the hell…? I think to myself, staring at this girl who seems to have entered my life with the force of a storm.