YOSUKE ■ ■ ■ ■
"Why should I stop him?" I asked, my voice sharp.
My mother's expression tightened. "I don't have time to explain. If you want to know the truth, you must first accept your younger self."
Her words hit me like a weight. My knees gave out, and I fell to the floor. Slowly, I turned to face the child version of me—his golden eyes trembling, his small hands clenched in fear.
"Do you… love yourself?" I asked quietly.
"Yes," he whispered, "but I feel trapped."
My chest ached. I pulled him into my arms and held him tightly.
"Don't worry," I said, my voice shaking. "I'll end this tragedy—not just for you, but for everyone here."
The boy's body began to glow. His form dissolved into countless particles of light, each one seeping into me. My body surged with new strength, but along with it came visions—memories I had buried deep.
The first: my brother, Akira, trying to kill me when we were children. His face burned with hatred.
The second: the moment of our birth. My mother's voice trembling as she asked my father our names.
His answer: "He will be named Akira Shin. And he will be named Yosuke Shin."
My true identity struck me like lightning. I was Yosuke Shin.
I staggered, both shocked and elated. Inside my mind, I heard the child's voice one last time: "Thank you, Yosuke Shin."
"Are you alright, child Yosuke?" I asked silently.
"Yes," his voice echoed gently. "I feel free."
I smiled faintly. "That's good to hear."
My mother rushed to me, eyes wet with relief. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel… good," I answered, though my heart thundered.
The child's voice whispered again, fading but resolute: "Your new powers are the evolution of the old ones."
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"That's something you'll have to learn on your own," he said, and then the voice was gone.
I exhaled heavily. So, the hard road it is.
Gathering my long black hair, I tied it back into a ponytail. My mother handed me a ribbon, her hands trembling as she fastened it. Then she clung to me, her body shaking with fear and despair.
When I finally stepped out into the open air, the village was quiet, almost suffocatingly so. But then I saw him.
Akira Shin. My brother.
He stood across the way, staring at me as if he had been waiting all along. Between us flowed a narrow river, but the weight of our past made the distance feel immeasurable.
"You remember now?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with menace.
"How could you do this?" I shouted. "How could you betray them?!"
"The answer is simple," he replied coldly. "Power."
"By killing our father?!" My voice cracked with fury. "That's your definition of power?!"
The villagers began to gather, whispering in fear. I caught their faces—eyes wide, hearts trembling. Then it hit me.
"You gained control of them… by murdering him," I said through clenched teeth.
Akira's lips curved into a cruel smile. "It's not just about control. You'll never understand the feeling of authority."
Images stabbed into my mind—our father's blood, my mother's screams, my own helplessness as a boy. Rage boiled inside me.
I raised my hand, pointing directly at him. My voice thundered across the river.
"This battle will be to the death."
Akira smirked, unshaken. "I agree. But in the end, you'll regret declaring war on me, brother."