Gurren Lagann - mecha lord

The young man lay on his deathbed, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he gently closed his laptop. It still displayed the final frame of Code Geass, his favorite show, which he had just finished rewatching for the fifth time. No matter how many times he experienced it, the story never lost its magic.

Stricken with an incurable illness that even the advanced technology of the year 3000 couldn't cure, he had long made peace with his fate. Yet, there was one regret he carried to the end: he would never see a real mecha. Despite humanity's incredible advancements, the dream of piloting a fully operational Gundam-style robot remained firmly in the realm of fiction.

His frail hand trembled as he reached toward the ceiling, his eyes dimming but filled with quiet determination.

"Deus ex machina," he whispered, the words a prayer and a plea. "If you can hear me… in the next life, let me be a pilot."

His voice faded, carried away by the silence of the room. With a final, soft breath, his outstretched hand fell to his side, and his world went dark.

—-

"This is nothing like what I asked for," he thought bitterly, staring up at the roof of his tiny dwelling. His memories from his past life were intact, vivid and crystal clear. He remembered the high-tech world of the year 3000, his love for mecha, and the plea he had whispered with his dying breath.

And now? Now he was in some primitive world, far removed from the technology and wonder he'd once dreamed of.

At birth, he was given the name Goro and unceremoniously abandoned on a dirt road. A day later, he was discovered by Shak, the village chef. There, he was placed among the orphans, raised in the care of the community.

By age one, Goro stood out. His intelligence and strength far surpassed the other children. He could already speak fluently in the native language and had begun piecing together the history of Giha Village.

"Why haven't we gone to the surface?" Goro asked one day, his young voice tinged with curiosity and frustration.

The question startled the village elder, Shimu, who looked at him with a mix of amusement and pity. The old caretaker chuckled, her wrinkled face softening.

"Child, the surface is nothing more than a fairy tale. Since the beginning, we've lived underground. This is our home, and it's how it will always be. Focus on growing up and becoming a digger. That's how you'll help the village expand."

But Goro's modern knowledge made him skeptical. He knew the surface existed, even if these people believed otherwise. "Why do we always dig down and never up?" he pressed.

Shimu's face darkened, her tone turning stern. "We must never dig up. To do so would doom everyone in this village. Do you understand?"

The sudden shift in her demeanor was jarring, and Goro felt a chill. "Understood," he replied, though his mind raced.

'Information is being deliberately controlled,' he thought, staring at the cavern's ceiling. 'Who or what is keeping these people underground? And why?'

Age Two

Goro sighed as he stared at the pigmole pen. "I'll never get used to this… 'cleansing.' I miss real baths."

Water in Giha Village was a precious resource, strictly reserved for drinking. To stay clean, villagers relied on pigmoles, furred creatures trained to lick dirt off their bodies. It was both bizarre and revolting to Goro, who had vivid memories of steaming showers and gleaming bathtubs from his previous life.

Pigmoles were the lifeblood of the village. They weren't just for cleaning—they were also a source of food, clothing, and even fuel. The community's reliance on them was absolute.

As the pigmole began its unpleasant task, Goro's mind wandered. He stared at the earthen walls around him.

Age three

the light that illuminated the village came from generators—a fact that baffled Goro. How had such advanced technology ended up in this primitive place? According to the village chef, the generators were a "gift from the gods," but Goro knew better.

With memories of his past life as a mechanic, he recognized the generators as unmistakably human-made. Their design, materials, and functionality bore the hallmarks of pre-catastrophe human engineering. It was clear to Goro that these devices were relics from an earlier era, created by humans long before the knowledge of their origins was lost.

It wasn't just the generators that puzzled him. The air circulation in this underground village was remarkably well-constructed. Hidden air vents crisscrossed the area, likely leading to the surface. Everything about this place hinted at deliberate design, yet the villagers remained oblivious to its origins.

The generators were regularly maintained by an elderly man named Gosse, one of the village's most respected figures. Recognizing an opportunity, Goro approached Gosse and requested to learn from him. Despite already knowing far more about mechanics than the old man, Goro needed to gain trust and access to the generators.

Gosse, impressed by Goro's intelligence and curiosity, happily took him under his wing. Goro used this apprenticeship as a cover, carefully observing and studying the generators up close while gradually earning the villagers' respect.

Age 6

"Wait!" Goro called out, grabbing the arm of a villager about to toss a pile of rubble into the pit. "That's silver! You can't throw it away!"

The villager blinked, confused. "Silver? What's the big deal about that?"

Goro sighed, realizing just how much these people had lost. "Silver is one of the best conductors for electricity," he explained patiently.

"Electricity? You mean the lights?"

Goro nodded. The villagers had been discarding precious materials without understanding their value. Using his position as Gosse's apprentice—a title that carried significant weight—Goro began collecting these discarded resources.

With his sharp mind and resourcefulness, Goro slowly started to change the village. He designed rail tracks and drilling machines that drastically improved the efficiency of their digging efforts. The machines allowed the villagers to expand their underground settlement much faster than before, reducing the backbreaking labor that had once defined their lives.

At first, the village chef opposed these newfangled ideas, wary of change. But as the results became undeniable, they eventually gave their reluctant approval. The machines increased productivity, and the village began to thrive in ways it never had before.

Little by little, Goro was reshaping Giha Village, not just physically, but mentally. He was laying the groundwork for a future where the villagers might one day look beyond their underground confines and reclaim the surface

Age 7

There was a villager who broke the sacred rules and attempted to dig his way to the surface. Defying generations of tradition, he even brought his young son with him. Days later, only the son returned.

The incident became the talk of the village, with rumors swirling and judgment passed. Goro, ever curious, sought out the boy to uncover the truth.

"I'm telling you, it's real! I saw the surface!" the boy insisted, his voice trembling with frustration as he tried to convince the skeptical villagers gathered around him.

"Yeah, right," one of them scoffed. "Then why didn't you stay up there with him?"

"You think me, Kamina, would just lie for no reason?" Kamina snapped, his face red with anger.

"Of course you're lying," another villager sneered. "You're just like your father a liar and a fool." With that, the crowd began to disperse, dismissing Kamina's words as childish fantasies.

Kamina stood there, fists clenched, glaring at their retreating backs. But he couldn't do anything to defend himself. He had no proof of what he'd seen.

"Hey," Goro called out, stepping closer to the boy.

Kamina turned to him, his expression still burning with defiance.

"I believe you," Goro said calmly. "So tell me what happened up there?"