Geto [Y/N]

Age: 13

Grade: First-Grade Sorcerer

Mentor: Masachiro

Years had passed. Training had shaped you, hardened you. The child who once curled up in silence, trembling under the weight of grief and manipulation, was now a first-grade sorcerer. Strong. Capable. Controlled.

But quieter.

You no longer asked why. No longer hesitated. Orders were given, and you followed. Missions, exercises, evaluations—it was all just routine now. A life dictated by the higher-ups, a path carved for you before you could ever choose for yourself.

Masachiro... he was the only thing that felt real. The only constant in this life that wasn't dictated by duty or obligation. He wasn't just a mentor anymore. He was something closer—like family. Not in the way your real family once was, warm and full of laughter. But in the way someone becomes an anchor when you've drifted too far into the unknown.

Even now, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, you could hear him in the kitchen, preparing a meal like he always did. The smell of miso and grilled fish filled the space, something familiar in a life that had become so foreign.

But despite the comfort he provided, despite the years you spent under his guidance, one truth remained unchanged.

You were never meant to be anything more than a weapon.

Dinner was quiet, as it always was. The soft clink of chopsticks against ceramic, the faint hum of the cicadas outside, the distant scent of rain lingering in the air.

Masachiro set down his bowl, exhaling slowly. "You did enough for this week," he said, his voice steady but firm. "Refuse the upcoming mission. It's a special-grade case."

You didn't respond at first, focused on the steam rising from your miso soup. You always did more than enough missions. A perfect weapon—obedient, efficient, relentless.

"I'll do it," you said finally, voice devoid of hesitation.

Masachiro's gaze hardened. "I'm serious. Let someone else handle it."

But you only lowered your chopsticks and looked at him, eyes unreadable. Maybe you believed it wasn't your choice. Maybe you thought you were too indebted to the higher-ups to say no.

Or maybe... deep down, you didn't know how to be anything other than what they molded you into.

Maybe this was the price you paid for being his sibling.

For sharing his name, his blood, his cursed technique.

It felt like a debt you never agreed to, an invisible chain wrapped around your throat, pulling you deeper into a fate you never chose. No matter how much you fought, how much you bled, it was never enough to sever that bond.

The world had already decided—you were his shadow. A living reminder of his sins.

And they made sure you never forgot.

The whispers followed you like ghosts, clawing at your back, digging under your skin. Stares heavy with judgment. Words laced with unspoken blame.

"She's Geto's sister."

"Will she turn out the same?"

"A ticking bomb—just like him."

Everyone made sure to remind you. Everyone but Masachiro.

He never looked at you like you were a time bomb waiting to explode. Never treated you like a burden, a walking tragedy, a mistake waiting to happen.

And yet, it wasn't enough to quiet the hate curling inside you.

Not hatred for him. Not even for the higher-ups who puppeteered your life.

But for yourself.

Because no matter how much you tried to carve your own path, you could never outrun his shadow.

CHAPTER COMPLETED.