"Onii-chan!!!"
A high-pitched, clear voice rang out, snapping Kouta out of his thoughts. He turned his head and saw a young girl with a rare, beautiful face and raven-black hair running toward him. Who else could it be but his sister, Mikasa?
"Mikasa!" Kouta waved, a smile breaking across his face.
Overjoyed at seeing her brother, Mikasa sprinted toward him, but her foot caught on a jagged stone. She tripped, tumbling forward toward the sharp rocks on the forest floor.
"Ah!!!" she cried out in terror.
Kouta's pupils contracted. In an instant, he unleashed his speed, blurring across the grass to catch Mikasa before she hit the ground.
"Mikasa, are you alright?" Kouta asked anxiously. As a brother who doted on her, he would never forgive himself if she got hurt right in front of him.
Mikasa was stunned. Shaken by the near-fall, she clung to him and began to sob. "Onii-chan... Waaaaah... Onii-chan..."
Even at eight years old, her tearful face tugged at Kouta's heartstrings. He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair to comfort her.
"It's alright, Mikasa. Don't cry. Your brother is here. I'll always protect you."
Slowly, her sobbing subsided. She leaned into him, her face flushing a deep red. She was being held in a rather intimate way, but her deep attachment to her brother kept her from pulling away.
"Mikasa, what are you doing all the way out here? Don't you know it's dangerous?" Kouta asked, his voice turning serious as he helped her stand.
"Onii-chan hadn't come back yet..." she murmured, looking down with a hint of a pout.
Kouta felt a surge of affection. He hugged her tightly again. "My lovely sister... let's go home."
Caught off guard by the sudden hug, Mikasa blushed furiously and began to struggle playfully. "Oh! Onii-chan, let me go!"
"Hahaha!" Kouta laughed, refusing to let his adorable sister go so easily as he began the walk back to their cabin.
On the way home, Mikasa fell silent, resting her head against Kouta's shoulder. To her, her brother's embrace was the warmest place in the world. She wished she could stay there forever, but their home was already coming into view.
"Onii-chan..." she whispered.
"What is it?" Kouta asked, gently stroking her hair.
"Onii-chan... will you ever leave me?" she asked, her voice tinged with a deep, sudden unease.
Kouta stopped walking. "Why would you ask that?"
"Mom said that when we grow up, you'll get married and have children, and I'll get married too... that we won't be together anymore..."
Kouta smiled. It seemed his years of being a doting brother had worked perfectly; she was completely attached to him.
"Don't worry, we will never be separated," Kouta said firmly. "No one will ever take you away from me."
"Really?" Mikasa looked up, her eyes wide with hope.
"Really. I promise."
In his heart, Kouta had already decided: Mikasa belonged to him. He wouldn't let anyone—not even destiny—take her away.
"Onii-chan, I love you so much!" Mikasa chirped happily. She leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
Kouta froze, stunned by the surprise attack.
"Ah!" Mikasa realized what she had done. Though they were close, she had never been that bold before. She shrieked in embarrassment, jumped out of his arms, and sprinted the rest of the way home.
Kouta watched her run, a soft smile on his lips. She was too cute. But as his gaze shifted to the house itself, his expression darkened.
Sigh. Fine. Considering you're my father in this life, I'll wait for the story to unfold.
Kouta was not a "good" person. He might control the light, but he wasn't a saint. He was someone who repaid kindness with kindness and resentment with interest.
"It's a contradiction," he muttered with a wry smile. "I'm looking forward to the plot, yet I dread it. I suppose I'm still just a mortal at heart."
"Kouta, you're back."
As he approached the porch, a soft, gentle voice greeted him.
"Yes, Mom, I'm back," Kouta replied.
A stunningly beautiful woman stood there, holding a basket of freshly washed clothes. This was Shia Ackerman—the last descendant of the Orientals in this world. Kouta often wondered how his "father" had ever managed to win her over.
"Little Mikasa just ran inside looking very shy," Shia smiled, though her eyes held a trace of complexity. Unlike her husband, she could sense that the bond between her son and daughter had already crossed the line of ordinary sibling affection.
Being a gentle woman by nature, she didn't know how to handle it. Telling her husband would only tear their already tense family apart. She could only watch and hope that as they grew older, she could salvage the situation.
"How could I bully her?" Kouta shrugged. "Mikasa is my sister—the most important person in my life. I love her dearly." He paused, his tone shifting. "Is he back?"
Shia's smile faltered. She knew who he meant. She was saddened by the state of her marriage, but her personality didn't allow her to voice her pain. Her husband's disdain for Kouta was a constant shadow over their home.
"Yeah," she whispered.
Kouta wasn't surprised. In his previous life, he was an orphan and had looked forward to having a father. But his father's initial reaction to him—a look of such hatred it bordered on murderous—had killed that hope long ago. Kouta wouldn't kill the man, out of respect for the bloodline he provided, but he wouldn't lift a finger to save him when the traffickers arrived either.
"You're finally back," a sharp, rasping voice barked as Kouta stepped through the door.
A middle-aged man stared at him with eyes full of disgust. "Why didn't you just die in the woods?"
"Want me dead?" Kouta glanced at him with total indifference, walking past him to sit at the table. "Nobody in this world has that kind of power."
To the man, Kouta was a monster. He had seen a look in the boy's eyes the day he was born—a cold, ancient gaze that made him feel like an ant. That fear had turned into a desperate desire to get rid of his own son. If it weren't for Shia's constant begging and Kouta's own subtle use of his remaining power, he likely wouldn't have survived infancy in this house.