I Feel Like I’ve Become a Bothersome Person Getting in the Way Between My Childhood Friends. - Chapter 1

The concept of “reincarnation” has become quite common these days. As for me, I was stabbed by a random attacker just before graduating from university, and, if you can call it “fortunate,” I was reincarnated into a fantasy-like new life. Up to this point, it’s a familiar story.
But who would have thought that the place I’d be reborn in was America?

At first, I assumed I’d eventually move to Japan, but it turns out my family had been permanent residents since my grandparents’ generation, making me a third-generation Japanese-American, meaning I was destined to live in the U.S. for life. It would have been at least a little exciting if I were half-Japanese, but my grandfather’s son, my dad, happened to marry a Japanese exchange student, my mom, so I am a pure Japanese with not a single drop of mixed bl00d. My dream of being a sharp-featured beauty vanished instantly.

When people hear “reincarnation,” they imagine showing off in a fantasy world or ending up inside some anime or manga universe. But in my case, it’s the very normal year 1993, and the setting is America. I couldn’t think of any anime or manga that takes place in America, so I had no idea what kind of world this was. I briefly wondered if it might be the kind with a magic school, but that’s in England.

As a baby, I spent my days thinking about such things, which understandably freaked out my parents, who were expecting a normal infant. There’s no way I could cry all night with the mind of an adult, so it couldn’t be helped. Still, when my parents had a younger brother only a year later and doted on him excessively, I was shaken.
I guess it’s natural that compared to the eerily quiet me, a “proper baby” like my brother was easier to love, but it still stung. They probably wanted a normal child, hence the second baby. Oh no, I’m tearing up just thinking about it.

Eventually, I gave up on trying to figure out what kind of world this was, and when I reached preschool age, I decided to try acting like a normal kid. If I could just pass as a slightly mature child, my sanity would survive, and besides, I wanted to enjoy life in America.

Just as I was getting excited for this new life, I ran into a huge problem.
I was the only Asian-looking kid in preschool.

I had completely forgotten this was America during the era of white supremacy. On the first day, I was met with curious stares, a totally new experience for me. Somehow, I managed to avoid being bullied or isolated by using all my social skills to make friends. It was the first time I was truly grateful to have an adult’s mind inside. Some teachers, perhaps biased against Asians, acted cold toward me, but I survived that with charm. Smiles really are important. Luckily, since my family had always used English at home, I didn’t have to struggle with language barriers.

Then came kindergarten, and once again, I was the only Asian kid. As children began developing self-awareness, some disliked me even without ever talking to me. That was tricky.
So I adjusted my approach from “Let’s all be friends regardless of race!” to “She might look Asian, but she’s actually pretty cool.” Deep-rooted prejudice can’t be erased overnight, and this was the best I could do.

Kindergarten rolled into elementary school. Knowing I would be spending years with the same classmates through middle school, I worked desperately to ensure peaceful relations.
Thankfully, I wasn’t ostracized. I managed to maintain decent friendships and entered elementary school without issue.

However, I realized I had completely overlooked something important.
One day, while talking to a friend from another class, she said to me,
“Aria, you sometimes use big words, kinda like Xeno. Well, Xeno does that all the time.”

That name, Xeno, caught my attention.
“…Xeno? Who’s that?”
“You don’t know? He’s smart but weird. See, that kid reading over there.”

She pointed, and I saw him, a boy with silver hair slicked back, absorbed in his book, radiating an aura that kept others away.
No way, could that Xeno be the one I was thinking of?
If so, an unbelievable truth awaited me. My mind jumped years into the future.

Humanity will be turned to stone in 2019.

As I stood frozen in shock, my friend dropped a bomb.
“Wait, don’t tell me you like Xeno!?”

Apparently, she mistook my stunned silence for love at first sight. My frozen body jolted into motion, but now I was breaking into a cold sweat. To make matters worse, the other kids overheard the word “like,” and curious eyes turned toward us. Perfect.

“No, no! Don’t say weird stuff so loud!”
“But you were staring at him!”

The others gave me knowing looks, glancing between me and Xeno. Luckily, he seemed too absorbed in his book to notice, which was a relief.

Despite my protests, the rumor spread like wildfire. By the next day, everyone was saying,
“Aria likes Xeno!”

It didn’t help that I was the only Asian-looking girl, and Xeno was famous as a brilliant eccentric.

Reincarnated in America and got misunderstood after finding Xeno