Masachiro watched the little girl, who had retreated into herself ever since the news had been broken. At first, you was silent—too silent—sitting huddled up, your eyes lost in a distant void. You was far too young to be facing this. An emptiness hung around you, swallowing you from the inside out.

Hesitating for a moment, he gently tapped your shoulder. "Come on, get up. I'll get you something to eat."

But you didn't respond. You remained motionless, your gaze unfocused. With a heavy sigh, he walked away. It felt strangely familiar, like the dist

Minutes later, Masachiro returned, a tray of food in his hands. Sitting beside you on the bed, he mixed the rice into the miso soup before offering it to you. The scent of the food wafted to your nose, and only then did you realize how hungry you truly was. Slowly, you shifted closer, your lips parting, and took a bite.

"Masa-san..." you murmured,  voice fragile. "Why... why are you taking care of me when... when my aniki... killed so many people?"

Masachiro's heart ached at the weight of your words, but his expression remained steady. "It's because you're just a child. You're not to blame for any of this."

 Your eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill as you turned your face away. You sniffled, the sobs barely contained. He didn't say anything more—he simply continued to feed you, his presence a silent comfort in the midst of your grief.

"You know... we have to go now," Masachiro said softly, his voice carrying a hint of urgency. "We're shifting you." He extended his arms, just enough to show the unspoken offer, hoping the young girl would allow him to lift her.

You hesitated for a moment, uncertainty clouding your eyes. But, after a brief pause, you leaned into him. Gently, he scooped you up, holding you close as he carefully made his way out of the place.

The drive was a blur as he moved toward the car. Upon reaching it, he opened the back door, where another official was already waiting inside. The cold figure from earlier greeted them with a sharp remark. "Took you long enough."

Masachiro slid into the car beside him, then carefully settled you into the window seat. The harsh chill of the outside air seemed to seep into the car, but the interior was a little warmer, even if the silence was not.

The cold official glanced at the seat arrangement with a disapproving look. "Should've kept the brat between us."

Masachiro shrugged, offering a calm response. "I think kids like window seats."

You sat quietly by the window, your gaze fixed on the distant blur of the passing world outside. The scenery seemed so far away, just like everything you once knew. Your heart felt heavy, each thought suffocating you more than the last.

Why had your brother killed those people? Why had he taken your parents from you? The questions echoed in your mind, each one more painful than the last. How could someone who had once been your protector, your brother—the good person you believed him to be—be capable of such horrors?

A coldness gripped your chest, the weight of betrayal and confusion pressing down. You felt so small, so lost, trapped in a reality you couldn't understand. Where would you go after this? What was left for you in a world that had turned upside down in an instant?

The turmoil inside you churned, and a tightness filled your throat, but no tears came. Instead, an emptiness spread, as if your heart had become a hollow shell. Everything felt like a blur, too overwhelming to process, too suffocating to bear. The world outside might have been moving forward, but you—you—were stuck, frozen in a nightmare with no escape.

Your eyes widened, your heart skipping a beat as something caught your gaze outside the window. There, walking away, was a figure you never thought you'd see again—an alabaster-haired head, moving steadily, with a child beside him. The child had wild, sea-urchin-like hair.

Saturo... nee-chan.

Your brother's best friend. Your mind raced, memories of them both flashing in a blur. It felt like a lifetime ago when things were simple, when everything hadn't shattered into pieces.

But before you could even process the rush of emotions, before you could call out to him or do anything—the car was already moving on, pulling you further away from her and from whatever fleeting hope you thought you saw.

The car ride stretched on, an endless expanse of highway cutting through the outskirts of the city. The landscape outside seemed to blur, the familiar world slipping further away as the hours passed in heavy silence. The cold man was absorbed in his phone, his attention completely elsewhere. But Masachiro... he only watched you, his gaze lingering as you quietly peered out the window, lost in your thoughts.

After a long while, he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back from the window with a soft but insistent touch. "Your neck will hurt at this point..." His voice was low, his tone almost tender as he rested his other hand lightly on your head. "You want to do something else?"

His words hung in the air, unexpected and kind, a stark contrast to the coldness of the situation. Why was he being so gentle? He was a stranger, yet there was something about him that felt... different. Something in the way he cared, in the way he looked at you, made you wonder if there was more behind the stoic exterior. But you couldn't figure it out. All you could feel was the warmth of his touch, a fleeting comfort in the middle of everything that had fallen apart.

Masachiro pulled out his phone, his fingers gliding over the screen. "Let me see what we can do," he murmured, his voice a soft, steady presence in the otherwise quiet car. Curious, you leaned in slightly, your eyes catching a glimpse of his wallpaper.

The image froze you for a moment—Masachiro, younger, with a soft smile on his face. In his arms, he cradled a small baby wrapped in cloth, their delicate features barely visible but unmistakably precious. A sense of warmth, unexpected and quiet, stirred within you as you stared at the photo.

Masachiro continued to scroll through his phone, his attention absorbed as he navigated through it with practiced ease. "Ah, now you won't get bored," he said, a slight grin tugging at his lips as he opened a game on the screen.

He handed the phone to you, his eyes never leaving the road. It was clear he was trying to distract you from the pain, from the whirlwind of confusion and sadness that must have been overwhelming your thoughts. He wasn't trying to fix everything—he knew he couldn't—but in that moment, he was offering you something small to hold on to, something to divert your mind, if only for a little while.

The car finally came to a halt, the engine's hum dying down as the vehicle settled into silence. You looked out the window, your gaze drawn to the vast expanse before you—a sprawling, traditional Japanese estate, the kind of place that felt both ancient and imposing. Its beauty was undeniable, but something about it sent an unsettling shiver down your spine.

Masachiro's brow furrowed, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a mix of confusion and wariness. "Why are we here? Is there a meeting I forgot about?" he muttered to himself, but his question was quickly answered by the cold man beside him.

"No," the cold man replied with his usual calm demeanor, "They wanted to meet her." He gestured toward you with a small but deliberate motion.

Meet you? The words hung in the air, but before you could even begin to process them, Masachiro stepped forward, intending to escort you inside. But as his hand reached for the door, he was stopped—firmly.

"No," the cold man said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Only she can go in."

Masachiro hesitated, his eyes flashing with frustration and a touch of concern as he looked at you. He wanted to protest, wanted to argue, but the cold man's stance was unwavering.

So, with a tight, reluctant nod, Masachiro stepped aside, allowing only you to be ushered toward the imposing building.

The weight of the moment pressed down on you. Why did they want to meet you? And more importantly—who were these people, and what did they want from you?

You stepped inside, the air heavy with an oppressive stillness. The room was dimly lit, the flickering shadows cast by the low lights adding to the unsettling atmosphere. Around you, the doors formed a semi-circle, their presence looming, almost as if they were watching you. The silence seemed to press in on you from all sides.

Then, the sharp light fell upon you, sudden and blinding, cutting through the darkness like a blade. You squinted, struggling to adjust as a voice—cold and authoritative—spoke from behind one of the doors.

"Geto [Y/N]," the voice called, its tone sharp, as though it was a title rather than a name.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as the voice continued, its words calculated, deliberate. "Let us make you aware of why you're here, child."

A heavy pause lingered in the air before they spoke again.

"You're here because your brother has defied our laws," another voice added, this one colder, more disdainful. "He used his powers and his strength to end the lives of non-sorcerers—on a massive scale."

Your stomach twisted as you processed their words, the weight of their accusation settling heavily on your chest.

"As far as we're aware of his agenda," a third voice chimed in, smoother, almost clinical in its tone, "he seeks to create a world for sorcerers."

The words made your mind race. A world for sorcerers? Was that what your brother had become? A person you barely recognized?

"Which means," the voice continued, turning the knife deeper, "if you're alive..."

Another voice cut in, harsher this time. "...you're capable."

The weight of the words hit you like a punch to the gut. Capable of what? What did they want from you? Why did they think you had any connection to your brother's chaos?

"Another loss of a skilled sorcerer..."

The words were cold, detached, as if your brother's fall from grace was nothing more than a casualty of their greater design.

The voice continued, as if the truth had already been settled in their minds. "He drifted to the wrong path, succumbed to the darkness."

"Indeed," a second voice replied, low and unwavering.

The tension in the room thickened, as the words started to carve out a new reality for you.

"Now we need a replacement for him," they said.

A new sorcerer, with the same abilities, to fill the void left behind by your brother's betrayal. The words were calculated, like pieces of a chessboard being shifted into place.

"And you, child, will be that replacement." The declaration rang out in the silence, sharp and final.

You could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their expectations pressing down. A sorcerer who wouldn't stray, a weapon in their hands.

"A sorcerer who won't drift off their path."

The words were almost a promise—one that would chain you to them, to their goals. You could already feel the mold they would force you into, shaping you into something less than human, something obedient.

A child they'd sculpt into a perfect weapon—one that would do whatever they asked, no questions, no rebellion. A pawn, forged in the name of duty, guided by their hand, until you died.

You were being manipulated, guilt-tripped into accepting a fate you never asked for. They wrapped your brother's sins around you like a shackle, holding you accountable for something you couldn't control.

"Your training and education will be handled by us..." one voice said, as if it were a gift.

"In return for us being your anchor," another added, the words tasting like poison even as they fell from their lips.

"For this duty is the price you pay for your brother's sins..." The final words landed with the finality of a death sentence.

CHAPTER COMPLETED 

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A/n : it's been a while everyone. Finally got the motivation to update this distracting myself from other fics.