Compared to the Reiwa era, the late Muromachi period—or rather, the early Sengoku period—had absolutely nothing.

Even the bedding situation was terrible.

There wasn’t even a thin futon.

I was practically sleeping on something halfway between a floor and a tatami mat.

No wonder people ruined their bodies.

Then again, people had short lifespans even without war, didn’t they?

The food…

The baths…

The toilets…

No, seriously.

This was no time to be fighting wars.

It was practically the same as the survivalist lifestyle my husband used to talk about.

Actually, when it came to food, it might even be worse.

And that’s despite being the heir of the Miyoshi main family.

There was almost no animal protein at all.

This isn’t a situation where we should be heading into the Kinai region.

Improving life back home comes first.

Even with the common sense of a housewife who raised three children, I could tell this was bad.

On top of that, it was freezing.

Now that I thought about it, the Miyoshi lands were surrounded by mountains.

Compared to Tokushima City, it was colder in winter and hotter in summer.

As I grumbled about that in my head, Nagayoshi explained that it was because the world was still unstable.

In other words, castles had to be built in places that were difficult for enemies to attack.

Of course, I had heard that the Miyoshi clan’s base was Katsurui Castle.

The Awa Hosokawa family was nearby as well.

“Katsurui…”

I searched through my memories from the Showa, Heisei, and Reiwa eras.

I vaguely remembered there being some ruins there.

There was a JR station too.

But I had never really thought of it as the center of Awa.

If I remembered correctly, after the castle fell to the Chōsokabe clan, the Hachisuka family reused its materials when building Tokushima Castle.

I think temples and shrines had been relocated as well.

I had never actually set foot in Sengoku-era Japan before.

I could tell that Uncle Nagayoshi found my level of knowledge somewhat disappointing.

But as someone born and raised in Tokushima City, I couldn’t help wanting to see Mount Bizan and the sea.

I’ve never actually seen the castle.

Still, if possible, I’d rather build one where Tokushima Castle Park would eventually stand.

Hmm.

That would require money.

Which meant domestic development came first after all.

Awa before the center.

Let’s stabilize Shikoku.

Yes.

The conclusion I reached regarding the third life Uncle Nagayoshi had entrusted to me was simple:

Domestic development in Awa.

Improving people’s lives comes first!

The state of the toilets alone was enough reason.

If I was going to live here, something had to be done.

That said, I was currently Chikumamaru during Miyoshi Nagayoshi’s childhood.

Just a three-year-old child.

Or, since that was counted age, maybe only two years old in actual age.

There was only so much I could do.

For now, I had some of the incredibly precious paper of this era set aside for me.

Then I began writing down all the reincarnation clichés and knowledge that remained in my memory.

The various survival techniques my family had experimented with.

The wisdom of our predecessors throughout history.

Or rather, in this case, wisdom from the future.

I drew pictures and added explanations in writing.

I also made lists of necessary items.

Things obtainable in present-day Awa.

Things available in other regions.

Things that could only be acquired through foreign trade.

I wrote down everything that came to mind.

At the edges of the paper, I organized them into rough categories.

Shinohara Magoshirō Nagamasa, Chikumamaru’s tutor and guardian, watched all this with a mixture of surprise and fascination.

When had the young lord’s handwriting improved this much?

The hand that moved across the paper felt noticeably different from just a few days ago.

The writing was far from masterful.

Yet the bold and forceful brushstrokes of his lessons had become soft and gentle, almost like a woman’s handwriting.

Each character was written clearly and legibly.

As line after line was added, explanations accompanied drawings of objects he had never seen before.

Occasionally, the young lord would ask questions, seeking confirmation of words he himself had never heard before.

Good heavens.

What in the world had happened to the young lord after falling from that tree?

More and more unfamiliar objects appeared on the pages Chikumamaru produced.

Following the young lord’s instructions, the tutor sorted them, mounted them on backing sheets, and organized them into scrolls.

When the lord returned, this matter absolutely had to be discussed.

As he watched Chikumamaru enthusiastically continue writing, the tutor silently made up his mind.