Aya drifted in and out of consciousness. The first thing she remembered was warmth. A blanket was tucked gently over her body, and the scent of herbs was faint in the air. Then came the sound: muffled sobs.
Her eyelids fluttered open. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of an oil lamp at the far wall. She was lying on a straw-stuffed bed, rough but warm compared to the cold earth she had grown used to. Her body felt heavy—so heavy she wondered if she could even move her fingers.
"Tessa, my baby… you're safe… you're alive…" Tessa's mother said.
Aya's lips parted, but no sound came out. Her body reacted before her mind could—stiff, unsure, caught in the paradox of being hugged like a daughter when she wasn't one.
Her heart clenched.
She could feel the woman's warmth, the shaking in her voice, the absolute relief flooding from her. And in that moment, Aya realized something dreadful.
This wasn't a stranger's love. This was real. This woman had lost Tessa, grieved for her, and now—without knowing it—was clinging to an impostor.
Aya swallowed hard. Her throat was dry, words stuck like thorns.
Should she say it? Should she tell her the truth?
That her daughter was gone. That the soul inside this fragile body wasn't the same girl she had given birth to.
Her lips trembled. She wanted to say it. She wanted to confess.
But then the woman tightened her embrace.
"Never again," she whispered. "Never leave us again."
Aya felt something break inside her.
For hours—she didn't know how long—the woman stayed by her side, sometimes crying, sometimes whispering words Aya barely processed. She called her "Tessa" again and again, like she was trying to anchor herself to the reality that her daughter had returned.
And Aya couldn't bring herself to shatter that fragile hope.
Aya remained bedridden for nearly a week. Her body had been pushed to its limits—starvation, blood loss, exhaustion. Even with her Healing Factor, recovery was slow, limited by the weakness of the vessel she inhabited.
The woman—her "mother"—tended to her tirelessly. Broths of thin soup were spooned to her lips. Cloths damp with cool water were pressed to her forehead. Her wounds were carefully rebandaged every morning.
At times, Aya wondered if she had truly been isekai'd into a cruel, hostile world. Because in this house, surrounded by care she didn't deserve, it felt… safe.
She learned that the woman's name was Mira. Mira rarely left her side, even when exhaustion pulled at her eyes. Aya caught her humming softly, an old tune that probably belonged to their family.
And then there was Hagen—Tessa's father.
A broad-shouldered man with a graying beard, Hagen carried himself with the steady patience of a farmer who had endured many seasons of hardship. He was quieter than Mira, but no less devoted. He repaired things around the house, brought herbs from the village healer, and often stood silently at the doorway at night, watching Aya sleep with a mixture of relief and disbelief.
Aya, who had been torn from her own family and thrust into the body of another, didn't know how to deal with them.
Every smile they gave her pierced like a blade.Every "Tessa" they called her was a reminder of her lie.
And yet… she didn't correct them.
It was on the fifth night that she almost confessed.
Aya sat up slowly, her body trembling with the effort. Mira had fallen asleep in the chair beside her bed, her head resting against her arms on the mattress. Aya's eyes softened.
She wanted to tell her. To whisper, I'm not Tessa. Your daughter is gone. I'm sorry. I'm someone else.
Her lips parted. The words were on her tongue.
But then Mira stirred, mumbling in her sleep. Her hand brushed Aya's arm.
"Don't leave me again, Tessa…"
Aya's chest tightened, and the words died in her throat. She clenched her fists beneath the blanket, nails biting into her palms.
It would be cruel. Too cruel.
Even if she told them the truth, what would it change? Mira and Hagen would grieve all over again. And Aya—Aya couldn't give them their daughter back.
So she swallowed the confession and let the lie continue.
By the end of the second week, Aya was able to walk again. Slowly, carefully, with Mira fussing over her at every step. Her body still felt weak, but her Healing Factor had pushed her just far enough to leave the bed.
That was when she noticed the whispers in the village.
Children running past the house, giggling and pointing. Neighbors dropping off baskets of bread and fruit. Hagen leaving early in the morning, returning with supplies.
Aya felt the stir of unease in her stomach. Something was being planned.
And then came the evening.
"Come," Mira said with a smile, guiding Aya by the hand. "There's something we want to show you."
Aya's heart pounded as they stepped outside. The sun had dipped low, painting the sky in orange and violet. The village square was lit with lanterns, the air alive with chatter. And when Aya entered the square—
"Welcome home, Tessa!"
The cheer erupted like thunder.
Aya froze. Her eyes widened as dozens of villagers crowded around, smiling, laughing, clapping. Tables had been set with food—roasted meat, baked bread, and sweet fruit. Children tugged at her arms, babbling excitedly. "Tessa! You're back! We thought you were gone forever!"
Someone handed her a wreath of flowers, pressing it onto her head. Mira was crying again, hugging her tightly. Hagen's arm wrapped around them both, his stern face softening for the first time.
Aya stood there, speechless.
This wasn't her life. This wasn't her family. These weren't her people.
And yet… they were celebrating her return.
Her vision blurred. She bit her lip hard, forcing back tears.
If I tell them the truth now… if I admit I'm not her…
She looked at Mira's radiant smile. At Hagen's proud gaze. At the villagers laughing, clinking cups, rejoicing.
I'll ruin all of this.
Her fists trembled.
So I'll bear it. I'll carry this lie. I'll be Tessa for them, even if it tears me apart inside.
Aya smiled—faint, shaky, but a smile nonetheless.
And the village cheered louder.
Aya's Resolve
That night, after the party had died down, Aya lay awake in the small room Mira had prepared for her. She stared at the ceiling, her chest tight.
She knew she couldn't stay here forever. She had a path she had to walk. This peace was temporary, a fragile illusion.
But for now…
For now, she would protect it. For Mira. For Hagen. For the people who believed their daughter had returned.
And when the time came, when the truth could no longer be hidden. Aya only prayed she would be strong enough to face it.
The first thing Aya noticed was how quiet the house had become. For days, she had been lulled in and out of restless sleep by the sound of Tessa's mother humming at her bedside, the faint creak of floorboards as her father moved about, or the occasional knock of neighbors checking in on the "miracle" of Tessa's return. But this morning, when Aya sat up slowly from the straw-filled bed, there was no one by her side.
Her body still ached, ribs sore beneath the borrowed tunic, but compared to the battlefield of two nights ago—the goblin screams, the burn of claws tearing into her arms—this was paradise.
She pressed her palm against her forehead and whispered to herself, "Still here… still not Aya, but not her either."
The reflection in the basin across the room caught her eye. The girl who stared back wasn't Aya Takahashi from Japan, nor the ant-born creature who had scuttled through tunnels. It was Tessa: soft brown hair, freckled cheeks, and eyes too gentle for the things Aya had seen. The body belonged to someone else, but the movements were hers now.
And that was the problem.
The door creaked open. Tessa's mother, red-eyed but smiling, carried a tray of broth."You're awake early, Tess."
Aya forced her lips to curve upward."Mm. Just… couldn't sleep."
Her voice caught on the nickname, the word Tess tasting foreign even though everyone expected it from her mouth.
The woman set the tray down and brushed Aya's hair back with trembling fingers. "Your friends have been waiting. They wanted to see you yesterday, but I told them you needed rest."
Aya froze. Friends. Of course, Tessa had friends. A whole network of relationships Aya knew nothing about—inside jokes, memories, stories. A minefield waiting to go off.
"Maybe… later?" she offered weakly.
Her mother's brows furrowed. "They've been so worried. Two years of tears, thinking you'd never come back. You don't want to keep them waiting, do you?"
Aya's stomach knotted. She nodded slowly."No. You're right."
The village square buzzed with morning chatter, merchants shouting prices, children darting between legs. Aya walked in the center of it, her steps uneven, her hands clenched at her sides. Beside her, Tessa's mother waved cheerfully at neighbors.
Then she saw them.
Three figures broke from the crowd, rushing toward her.
"Tessa!" A girl with curly auburn hair nearly tackled her into a hug. Another—tall, lanky, guy with straw-blond hair—grabbed her shoulders with both hands. The third, a quiet boy with round glasses, stood back, relief softening his otherwise serious expression.
Aya's breath caught. The sheer weight of their affection almost knocked her over more than their hugs.
"You're alive—gods above, you're alive!" the auburn-haired girl cried.
Aya stiffened, arms awkward at her sides before she forced herself to hug back. Smile. Don't hesitate. Just smile."Yeah. I… I guess I am."
The tall boy laughed nervously. "That's the Tess I know. Always joking, even after…" His words trailed off, the shadow of whatever story Tessa had told about her disappearance hanging between them.
Aya swallowed hard. What did she usually say in moments like this?
"Yeah," she said instead. "Still me."
But even as the words left her lips, they felt brittle.
They walked together, the group guiding her to a shaded bench near the fountain. Aya tried to memorize their names as they casually dropped them in conversation—Mia, the auburn-haired human whirlwind; Joren, the lanky boy; and Lyle, the quiet one.
"So," Mia began, grinning ear to ear, "tell us everything. Where did you go? What happened? You've got to give us the story!"
Aya froze. Her mind scrambled. The "truth" wasn't an option. But she couldn't fabricate too much either.
"Um… it's a blur," Aya said carefully. "I was wandering for a while. Hiding. Fighting to survive. I… don't remember much."
"Really?" Joren tilted his head. "But you promised us—you said if anything crazy ever happened, you'd come back with some wild story."
Aya blinked. Promise? What promise?"Oh… right. I guess I… forgot?"
The three exchanged quick glances. Mia forced a laugh. "Guess trauma does that. Still, you? Forgetting something like that? Feels weird."
Aya's heart pounded. First slip.
Lyle broke his silence, adjusting his glasses. "At least you're back. We even argued about what meal you'd want first. Mira insisted on honey cakes, but I said stew."
Aya blinked. The safe answer would have been to agree with one of them. Instead, the hunger gnawing her stomach slipped out first."Bread. I just want bread."
The silence that followed was sharp. Mira tilted her head."Bread? You? Tess, you always said plain bread was for boring people."
Aya's throat closed. She forced a laugh that came out thin."Well… guess I changed."
Joren's smile faltered. Lyle studied her longer than he should have.
Second slip.
Slip-Up Three: The Wrong Tone
The conversation stumbled forward, with Mira doing most of the talking. She recounted village gossip, teased Joren about botching chores, and kept nudging Aya for reactions. Aya nodded, smiled, gave clipped responses.
But Mira's laughter dimmed each time Aya didn't laugh with her.
Finally, Mira frowned. "You're… quieter than I remember."
Aya panicked. Her words tumbled out too quickly."People change when they almost die, right? That's normal."
The words hung heavy. Too blunt. Too sharp. Not the way Tessa would have said it.
The group fell silent.
Alone Again
By the time Aya excused herself and returned home, her chest felt hollow. She closed the door of the small room, pressed her back against it, and slid down to the floor.
Her hands trembled.I can't do this. I don't know her. I don't know what she promised, what she hated, what she laughed at. Every word I say feels wrong.
She buried her face in her palms.Am I Aya Takahashi pretending to be Tessa? Or am I supposed to erase Aya and become her?
Her eyes burned, but no tears came. Only exhaustion.
Outside, she heard children laughing, the same laughter that had greeted "Tessa's return." A village ready to accept her, to love her—if only she could be the girl they wanted.
Aya whispered to the empty room, voice barely audible:"…Who am I supposed to be?