Several hours had gone by since the moon took its position in the vast blue velvet sky as its solemn light illuminated the entirety of the Island. The night breeze was particularly cold, making the serene atmosphere more pronounced. While dawn would crack sooner than later, a lone figure stood somberly atop the ruins of what used to be a bomb shelter, previously utilized during one of the more horrific parts of the history shared by those he despised the most.
During ordinary times, Hao Asakura would have reflected yet again on how the human race had gone from bad to worse. When he first descended to the deepest depths of Hell, Hao actually had held this minuscule hope in his heart that they would change - at the very least, would learn to look after their own kind and hold other's needs at par with their own, if they really could not be bothered to give a damn about the grander scheme of things. While his expectations for the humans were bare minimum, he also had the opportunity of interacting with the rare ones whose hearts bled purity and benevolence. He acknowledged them to the point that during the earlier parts of his tumultuous life, he actually held out faith in them, small in number as they were, foolishly thinking that they would succeed in shifting their fellow's journey towards the more righteous and ethical path. Thus, one could just imagine his disappointment when, after half of a millennium, he awoke to something worse. Granted, he was not surprised by the turn of events, still, he rather that they proved him wrong.
At the moment, however, such soliloquy was at the far back of the fire shaman's mind. Instead, he looked straight ahead, his face marred by an unreadable expression. With the view unadulterated by the consequences of the humans' greed, the stars littering the expanse of the night sky shone as brightly as they did thousands of years ago. Despite his adoration for the cosmic jewels, Hao could see that their luminescence offered no competition with that of the gargantuan shapeless form situated at the center of the Island, which at the same time, was the current focus of the fire shaman's undivided attention.
He keenly observed the Great Spirits as it reached up to the sky, until, which he assumed, the High Heavens. The end of its peak was barely recognizable blending perfectly with the litter of clouds. He could hear the Great Spirits endlessly calling back the souls of those who had departed with hearts liberated from any earthly regrets. If he tried to look more closely, he would have been able to decipher the various forms of those heeding its call - people, animals, and nature spirits alike. But, Hao did nothing of that sort, preferring instead to focus on whatever the Great Spirits were saying. They were speaking in tongues - a language he yearned to understand. Ironically, while it was something spoken by the Gods, it did nothing to calm the restlessness inside of him.
Normally, Hao dreaded the cold as he preferred to be in warmer places. However, when he had to untimely retreat from his slumber, he felt the inside of the shelter as freezing as that of the corners of Hell where he trained and where no light ever passed through. Thus, as the brisk chill harshly hit him, Hao allowed his mind to marvel as to the infinite possibilities of what was inside the societies in the Great Spirit.
He learned about their existence during his second lifetime when he chose to be reincarnated as a member of the Patch Tribe, the keepers and guardians of the Shaman Fight. Contrary to the misguided belief of those who expected the worst from him, Hao did not join the Tribe to gain any undue advantage over the participants. The onmyouji had deemed the benefits thereof far too few as to be worthwhile when compared to the possible substantial repercussions of acquiring the title of Shaman King through illegitimate schemes. It was simply not worth it. As a matter of fact, at that time, he had no intention whatsoever to participate in the tournament. Rather, he recognized that his efforts during his first attempt at conquering the Shaman Fight were too deficient, which he attributed to the fact that he had no in-depth understanding about its workings. Hence, he resolved that his first reincarnation would be devoted to researching and gathering all information he could get hold of about the Patch, the Shaman Fight, and the Great Spirits.
Although he wasn't able to uncover much of the mysteries surrounding the entirety of it all, Hao thought he learned more than enough when he heard about the said societies. He just celebrated the his tenth birthday in that lifetime when he heard the story from the woman who bore him. Legends and teachings handed down from generations to generations of the Patch spoke of different societies inside the Great Spirits. It was said that they functioned like stratification devices of some sort, with each society akin to a group of spirits who bonded with each other based on some unknown common ground. The society governing them all was that of the Shaman King's, where only those who he deemed worthy could enter.
When he experienced his first death, it was not surprising to him that he woke up in Hell. Unperturbed, the very first thing he did therein was to search for one particular soul. He travelled all its circles, searched every corner, and defeated the seventy-five Lords. His efforts culminated in a bargain with Taizan Fukun, allowing him to control his own reincarnations. But, such commendable feat meant almost nothing to him as he ended up empty handed.
Initially, Hao felt bitterness bubbling within him as his search turned out to be a massive disappointment. It was irrational and childish, which only served to aggravate the situation. He figured that if she weren't there, tucked in the darkness of the fiery pits of Hell, then she had already crossed over into the afterlife, returning to the Gods as her spirit left the remnants of any earthly desire, longing, and sorrow behind.
The implications of that left a repulsive taste on his mouth.
Eventually, however, he learned to accept such fact and adapt his plans thereto. He wasn't furious at her - that was something he would never be capable of, not in that life, or the subsequent ones. He was just frustrated that even in death, he was still let down by those whom he valued the most. After all these years, he hoped - nay, expected, that she would have lamented their cursed lives. He selfishly thought that he would meet her in that damned place, her own grief serving as unbreakable chains. They would then be reunited and maybe, he could have given up everything then.
However, that wasn't what happened and thorough reflection and ratiocination allowed him to make peace with the reality. He didn't know how she would react if they met each other - did she miss him? Did she hate the man he turned out to be?
But, those were all beside the point. And if he were perfectly honest, he wasn't sure either how he would have reacted too.
Thus, he spent every minute in that dark and cold place training, ensuring that he would be as strong as ever when he came back.
When Hao learned about the concept of societies in the Great Spirits, he felt giddy inside, almost similar to that of a child's excitement for an excursion to an unknown place. Immediately, Hao rushed to the outskirts of the Village, carefully disguising his tracks so as not to alert the other Tribe members. In its shadows, Hao managed to locate an itako and procure her services. Searching and calling for a spirit that already rejoined the Gods was an insurmountable task, even for him. Consequently, his very first attempt of utilizing an itako failed as the demands of combing through the vast expanse of the Great Spirits depleted the latter's furyoku, despite the considerable power she held. But, with the revelation about the existence of societies, Hao surmised that it would make the task far easier since their efforts could now be concentrated on a select few, rather than spending them in useless arbitrary guess work.
For years, Hao clung to this idea. The first, second, and third attempts were unsuccessful, but he persisted. He only knew her for five years, so he deluded himself into thinking that maybe his understanding of her had been warped by the innocence and naivety of youth. So, he tried and tried and tried, going everywhere and anywhere, looking for an itako, feeling the same emotion of anxious anticipation and heartbreaking disappointment; all the while risking the exposure of his true identity to the Tribe.
He lost count after the hundredth time.
After the twin shooting stars Ragoh and Keito traversed the Earth to signal the commencement of the Shaman Fight, Hao had already accumulated decades of heartaches and melancholy within him in that lifetime alone. Through the years, he had travelled the world in compliance with his task of gathering as many shamans there were and informing them about the inevitable, while he clandestinely searched for an itako nearby, repeating his spiel like a broken record.
After all that he had done, Hao knew that it was time to acknowledge what his subconsciousness cruelly and repeatedly screamed at him, but his mind conveniently ignored throughout the awful years.
Her soul most likely got destroyed into oblivion when that corrupt monk slaughtered her . As such, her spirit could not be recalled, because there was nothing to be called back.
She was, after all, not an exceptional shaman. To the best of his knowledge, she had the basic abilities - she could see spirits and talk with them.
She had a heart as golden as her hair, but she was weak.
And that was the truth of it all.
That didn't mean he learned to accept it, though.
Hence, in nothing but a pure coping mechanism of a desperate man, he had convinced himself into believing the veracity of what the filthy humans accused her of, as he focused all his strength in burying her memories.
Unfortunately, despite the thousand years that had passed, he would still get the occasional nostalgia, montaging the most bittersweet memories while omitting the harshest truths.
Rare as they were, without fail, he would still be caught off guard.
And tonight, she showed up in his dreams, effectively robbing him of any desire to sleep.
Hao felt the wind rustling his hair, making it flow momentarily towards the opposite direction. He wasn't sure how many hours had passed since he went out to clear his head, all he cared about was the feeling of frustration rising up within him like bile in his throat.
Something was happening and he could not figure it out.
All he knew at that point was that his recollections of her were being extracted out of him, like a felon forced to confess to a crime as the fragments of his past were obscenely thrown out in the open like shattered glass he was being compelled to pick up.
The first time her memories haunted him in his current reincarnation was when he intercepted the golden-haired itako who pridefully introduced herself as the wife of the future Shaman King. He was genuinely curious about her, having defeated his shikigamis without much effort. And when he did meet her, he had to mask his astonishment with flirtatious words in a juvenile effort of concealing how much Anna Kyoyama reminded him of her …
from their physical features, their fiery attitude, their prowess…
Damn, even their slaps!
It would have been extremely amusing, if it were not unnecessarily cruel.
Hao could not understand. Was she reincarnated as Anna?
That did not make sense, though, because he knew for a fact that her existence had long been wiped out from the face of this world and that of the next. His unwanted memories were the only evidence left that she once walked this soil.
The most plausible explanation Hao could come up with was that the Great Spirits had a penchant of seeing him miserable, and so, they molded Anna Kyoyama to resemble her too much for his comfort, while making sure that their differences were too blatant and conspicuous, enough to crush any hope on his part of seeing her for one last time.
The thought made Hao seethe with unadulterated hatred.
And as he stood there, Hao was certain that the oppressive Gods were having their sadistic festivities as they merrily forced her image into his dreams. Mocking him with how close she was yet far beyond his reach at the same time. It had been years since he had dreamt of her, but his chest still tightened even with just her silhouette, as if her form transformed into a hole, swallowing him whole.
As Hao wallowed in the sea of despair, contempt, and confusion, an innocent thought sliced through his misery, interrupting that of his own.
'Hao-sama…'
It was Opacho.
He had expected that she would come looking for him, perhaps rolling into the side where she expected him to be, only to find it empty; or her waking up by pure instincts after sensing his absence.
Hao let the child come to him, not offering any acknowledgment as his mind travelled back to the time he first met her.
He found her lying still on the cold ground, and at that moment, Hao knew that Opacho would grow extremely powerful, perhaps even more than him.
His intentions in taking her under his wing should not be mistaken though. It wasn't an act of self-preservation, as if he were threatened that not taking Opacho would be tantamount to raising a potential opposition. It was nothing as perverse as that. Hao took Opacho for the simple reason that the tragedy that befell the young child represented everything he despised about the humans. She was left dying, because the village people murdered her parents, using their ignorance to strengthen their conviction and justify their crimes. The small-minded community foolishly branded the family as demons, with their offspring as spawn of evil. It was ironic that it was almost laughable. To the best of his recollection, Opacho's parents only utilized their shamanic abilities for the sole benefit of their clan. Apparently, that wasn't enough to prove their good-intentions, because humans were extremely greedy but also exceptionally ignorant, a deathly combination when they congregate in numbers.
When he learned about what they have done to the unfortunate family, acting like barbarians as they left a defenseless child dancing with death, Hao did not know how to react. He was not surprised, but that did not mean he understand.
Thus, as he felt the eyes of the real demons gawking at him, he took Opacho with him, barely containing himself from burning the entire village to the ground.
It then came as no surprise to him when Opacho manifested abilities similar to his own - reading the minds, hearing the thoughts and deepest desires of each and every person. A power and a curse.
Since Opacho was too young for all of those ordeal, she could not comprehend what was happening. The first time she heard those intruding thoughts, she was terrified and he felt pity for her. The next weeks were a nightmare for her and each member of his group of misfits, as well as for him. Opacho wailed and wailed through day and night - the sound shrill and grating to his ears. He asked each one of his companions to comfort her and make the crying stop once and for all; but, the looming threat of his patience wearing thin did nothing as Opacho continued to make every day miserable because she could not sleep and the thoughts simply would not stop.
Almost a month of them suffering, Hao accidentally discovered that when she slept next to him, the whispers would cease plaguing Opacho. The first time it happened caught him by surprise. That day started and went by with everyone at their wits end caused by the pitiful child's nonstop outbursts. He had braced himself for another sleepless night when he retired to his place. As such, when morning came and he found himself well-rested after having an uninterrupted night's sleep, Hao was momentarily confused and angrily thought that maybe someone from their camp snapped and finally killed Opacho. But, his fury directed at some unidentified shaman quickly subsided when dreams of hundreds of sheeps being chased in an open field traversed his mind as his eyes laid upon the slumbering child next to him. Hao figured that Opacho might have trespassed his room and crawled into his bed the night before. Unexpectedly, he did not find the act as intrusive as it sounded.
After that, Opacho slept next to him, restoring tranquility in their group. Hao convinced himself that the peculiar solution was due to the fact that she could not read his heart. And since she was still too young, he surmised that her powers was not as expansive as his and so, having only him in the immediate vicinity offered the young child the closest to peace she could ever acquire.
"Hao-sama…?"
Opacho had now made her way to him, standing directly behind him. Hao turned around to face her. He watched as her small hand curled into a fist, attempting to rub away the sleepiness plaguing her eyes, to no avail. Something akin to contentment overwhelmed him for a moment, and Hao allowed himself to linger in that small luxury for a little while.
"Why Hao-sama not asleep?"
Hao regarded the young child before him as his features visibly softened, washing away all the hostility engulfing him earlier.
"Ah, I could not sleep."
A lie, since he was blissfully resting before those dreadful Gods felt that even that was too much of an indulgence for Hao to enjoy.
But, she did not need to know that.
"Nightmare?" Opacho offered as she made herself comfortable next to him. She was standing barefoot but did not show any indication that she felt cold. Hao could not resist as his lips curved, bemused by how perceptive she was. He turned his attention again towards the Great Spirits, before answering her,
"Something like that."
Hao then felt some tugging at his right leg making him turn again at her direction. He then saw her embracing his limb, her stout fingers clutching the fabric of his pants.
"Opacho make it go away!"
The innocent declaration made the long-haired shaman's eyes widened involuntarily, as he was momentarily inundated by the simple words of the little girl. It was quickly replaced by a smile as he knelt down at her eye-level, patting her unruly hair.
"Opacho is very reliable."
She beamed at him.
"Opacho reliable!" She repeated with earnest. Hao let out a chuckle before scooping her up, concerned that she might catch a cold. He held her as he carried her back inside, the chanting of 'Opacho reliable! Opacho reliable! Hao-sama no more nightmares!', echoing again and again in her young mind.
The distance from outside to his room was not that far, but by the time they reached his door, the child in his arms already went back to sleep. Hao smiled to himself, briefly thinking that while he named her after his first friend, there were times that Opacho reminded him of himself.
However, the fire shaman shook his head before he could even finish that thought.
At the far opposite side of the Island, another figure lied awake despite the wee hours of the night. His hair was disheveled and his eyes appeared to be bloodshot. While a characteristic smile would graze his young features every so often, it was undeniable that he looked as if death had came to his door. His samurai guardian spirit lingered behind him, silent but anxious as to what was making his master refuse the one activity he loved the most for the third time that week.
The said shaman tried to brush it off. He gave a lopsided grin when his friends expressed concern about the sudden change in his activities. He tried to give what he thought echoed his carefree laugh as he tried to put to rest his fiancee's worries when she expressed her bewilderment as to why he wouldn't lie in the futon neatly prepared next to hers.
Yoh didn't appreciate a single thing that was happening. More importantly, he did not like the fact that he was keeping something again from the people he cared about.
But, the sword-user was left with no other option except to reluctantly withhold any information from them, for the meantime, as he tried to grapple what words should be said and what explanations should be given in his attempt of unraveling this entire ordeal.
He refused to sleep, it was as simple as that. It made him miserable because he liked sleeping . And while his entire being drowned in exhaustion, he helplessly resorted to such an extreme measure because whenever he closed his eyes, even for the briefest of moment, he could hear his laugh…
could hear his voice…
could see his face.
'Okaa-san…'
Yoh had accepted that it was nothing but a cowardly act. However, could anyone blame him? Seeing that man's face tainted with childlike but genuine terror was all too much. The first time he saw that terribly familiar face, he tried to explain it to Anna, but he could not find the words as he felt each syllable vanish into thin air even before they came up to his throat.
Something gnawed inside him and Yoh really didn't know what it was.
He knew his abused mind was not playing any tricks on him because that child really did look like Hao. But, the resemblance ended there. Whenever he tried to think about that child, hiding behind the bushes with tear-stained cheeks watching the fire consume his house, Yoh would be reminded of the same face, although more matured in appearance, heartlessly feeding three souls - and who knows how many more, to his guardian spirit, devoid of any hesitation as the presence of the crowd did nothing to stop him from orchestrating such merciless act.
The two images would go back and forth until they morphed into something that was beyond Yoh's comprehension. And so, he kept the situation to himself, not telling anything to his friends, to Amidamaru, not even to Anna.
Without any other plan whatsoever, Yoh did not sleep. He opted to stay behind after everyone had retired to their beds. During the first night, he trained. Needless to say, everyone gawked at him, including the very author of the regimen. He only gave them a small laugh, joking that Anna should be happy he was finally training on his own accord. That did nothing, however, except to escalate everyone's concern. Anna particularly did not find anything humorous. To cope with that, Yoh feigned ignorance.
Because the truth of the matter was, if Yoh did not preoccupy himself with anything, he would enter the dream world and he would be bombarded again by those terrible montage of whatever, suffocating him in more ways than he thought was possible.
Yoh really didn't want any of that, at least until he could figure out what was going on.
He later on discovered that doing Anna's training from Hell was a disastrous mistake since when the next morning came, he was exhausted as his muscles ached and his mind treacherously lured him into bed. And of course, he woke up after a few hours, cold with sweat and heart racing as he saw again the scene of the burning hut with the woman inside while he heard the child's voice calling for his mother again and again and again to the point that drove him to waltz with insanity.
'Okaa-san…'
'Okaa-san…'
'Okaa-san…'
After that, Yoh decided that he would not sleep.
It was a stupid plan, but he felt himself being cornered by whatever was causing those dreams. To complete his cycle of cowardice, he had not left the place where they were staying despite hearing from Anna about his father in the Island, bringing with him two children, apparently in a bid to participate in the Shaman Fight. While Yoh told himself that his only reason for willingly imprisoning himself within the four walls of the room he shared with Anna was fatigue, a sinister voice inside him suggested otherwise.
He tried to shush it, refusing to hear whatever it had to offer. But, as the third day rolled by, his asinine plan of not sleeping had eroded his resolve to almost nothing.
And so, Yoh listened as that child's ghostly rhythmic laugh mixed with his own treacherous voice, taunting him, 'You're not going out because you are afraid that you may run into him '.
Yoh was about to lose his mind.
In an effort to reconcile his thoughts, he stayed outside to watch the stars. Their sight usually offered him some peace of mind; however, this time he only felt bitter as he thought how the root of all of his frustrations probably gazed at the very same sky. Yoh presumed that the other most likely had drifted into dreamland hours prior, oblivious to the predicament he had unwittingly subjected Yoh through.
Although he was aware that it was the exhaustion talking, Yoh was unable to quell the foreign sensation of anger consuming his already battered mind with such ferocity that the sword-user felt detached from his self.
At that time, however, Yoh was drained of any willpower and he was utterly confused and he simply wanted things to stop. And so, in an uncharacteristic lapse of judgment, he relished in the burning red inside of him, directing all of them at a particular fire shaman.
He knew he was being unreasonable, but what was the point of showing these things to Yoh? In a brief moment of terror, Yoh heard the irrational part of him whispering that perhaps, the older shaman had decided to stoop so low and had ordered his henchmen to use witchcraft upon him, manipulating the younger shaman into feeling a semblance of pity for the former in an effort to have him sympathize with the onmyouji's insane plans. Yoh thought that the situation was not entirely improbable as the other allegedly had witches in his team.
But, the barely functioning rational part of his brain shut down that ridiculous notion as soon as it had formed. Hao was a lot of things, but Yoh's gut told him that something like that was beyond the former. Besides, he was not that important, contrary to what his mind suggested.
So, Yoh resumed looking at the stars, relishing in their presence as he tried to assess the situation. The very first thing he had to figure out was, what was this reaction he was feeling? He couldn't put a name on it - surprised, incredulity…pity? At the very least, Yoh had managed to isolate and identify that particular issue as the source of his inability to comprehend and sort out his chaotic dilemma.
What was it with seeing a mini-Hao crying for what Yoh supposed to be the former's mother, killed with undignified conspiracy?
He was not prepared to admit that the child and the Hao Asakura he knew were the same, and so, Yoh focused himself trying to decipher why the sight of that child completely unnerved him.
Of course, the entire episode was disturbing on its own. However, Yoh knew that it was not the particular cruelty that elicited such reaction from him. It was definitely the uncanny resemblance that innocent yet woeful child shared with the Asakuras' founder, who coincidentally, was also his twin.
Yoh's mind then offered that it was probably because he originated from the same soul, but he quickly brushed the idea aside since, as mentioned, he really wasn't prepared to accept that both persons who tormented him in dreams and reality were one and the same.
Deep in his thoughts, Yoh missed the soft click of the sliding wooden door opening and closing behind him as a small boy stepped out, resolute on offering the clearly suffering shaman some sort of support.
"Yoh-kun?"
Yoh blinked for a few times before his mind registered that Manta had already sat beside him, the latter's legs dangling as he fidgeted.
"I… don't really understand what's happening with you, but," his friend took a deep breath and Yoh felt guilt bloom in his heart as he was confronted by the reality of him selfishly imposing upon those he held dear the unpleasant experience of being left in the dark, "you know you can talk to me, right?"
Of course, Yoh knew that. The problem was, he didn't know what exactly to talk about and so, he hummed, trying to tell the other that he had not forgotten about Manta's unwavering loyalty.
The two of them sat in silence after that. Amidamaru had retreated, leaving the two alone, believing in good faith that he was affording the two friends some space, oblivious to the fact that his master only felt the walls enclosing upon him. Yoh was not sure how many minutes or hours had passed, but he decided to speak whatever his worn-out mind came up with, resolving to save all thinking and reflection for later.
He was just that damned tired.
"Manta," Yoh began, and he saw the other visibly perk up, "how would you feel if someone who you grew up hearing to be the evil incarnate, and which you witnessed firsthand…"
Yoh trailed off, unsure how to phrase the remaining parts of his query. Manta waited patiently for him to compose his thoughts.
"I mean… what if there was this person who you decided was nothing but evil..." Yoh felt his tongue burning as the nasty word rolled at its tip, "not because people told you so, but because you actually experienced it firsthand…"
This time, it was Yoh who took a deep breath.
"What I wanted to ask is this: what would you do when someone who you decided was nothing but egregious, turned out not… entirely as who you thought they would be?"
After finishing his sentence, Yoh immediately felt disappointed because it didn't really convey what he wanted to ask the other. Manta was smart, so Yoh knew that the latter would have some answers.
But, he figured it would suffice for now, since he himself did not exactly know what he wanted to say.
"Are you asking me what will be my reaction if someone turned out to be different from how I judged them to be?" While Yoh was aware that Manta's clarification was nothing but that, he couldn't help feeling hurt by the other's choice of words.
Yoh knew that Manta was correct. He had indeed judged Hao, and it wasn't particularly flattering. However, some stubborn part within him refused to accept that Hao Asakura was more than the one-sided degenerate Yoh's mind had conjured the other to be. Hao reincarnated twice just wreak havoc in this world, because… because he prosper doing heinous things like the devil he was.
Yoh could not comprehend why he could not accept otherwise, but he had also reserved that issue for later.
"Yeah, something like that." Yoh added a sheepish grin, in an attempt to diffuse the uncomfortable atmosphere between him and Manta. If the latter noticed the unwelcoming environment, he didn't show. Manta only looked down on his clenched fists, thinking. Yoh stretched his legs and leaned back with both of his arms on his sides, supporting his weight. That position gave him a better view of the sky and it was the first time in days that Yoh appeared to be his normal self.
"I'm not sure what I would feel, to be honest," Yoh heard Manta, but he spared the latter no glance as he continued to look ahead. "But, doesn't Yoh-kun always say that we ought to look beyond the surface? That everyone had to have a reason for how they act and why they do whatever they were doing?"
This time, Yoh met Manta's gaze. The sword-user expected Manta to point out his hypocrisy, but being confronted thereby still felt like heavy boulders pulling him into a bottomless abyss leaving him with no choice but to face the truth.
"..that since we had not experience what ever they went through, we really are in no position to judge whether or not what they are doing is correct?"
Yoh unconsciously bit his lips, haunted by his own proclamations, his sanctimonious words thrown back at him, slapping him in the face.
Of course, he said that.
But, he wanted to bite back, 'Yeah, I know I said that. But listen, Manta, that does not apply to Hao because…'
'…because…'
Yoh kept silent as he immersed himself in his own internal conflict, attempting to finish his thoughts so as to justify his manufactured quandary.
'…because he killed so many people.'
But, as soon as the thought formed, his deceitful mind retorted back, 'but so did Ren'.
Yoh frowned, unaware that a pair of troubled eyes was observing him, the entirety of his fleeting attention dedicated to fighting a battle he had already lost. So, while perfectly aware of its futility, Yoh halfheartedly reasoned with himself , 'I know that he suffered if those dreams really were his past, but Hao's plan is to literally obliterate innocent people who do not agree with his crazy beliefs…!'
which was, unsurprisingly, shot down with a whisper of , ' but so were Lyserg's.'
With that, Yoh closed his eyes as he was confronted with the very question he had attempted to circumvent since all of these masochistic charade began.
What makes Hao different from them?
Although Yoh had made such considerable leap in his train of thoughts, he didn't think it was the right time to discuss with Manta the conundrum haunting him right then and there. Instead, Yoh sighed, closed his eyes, flashed the other another sheepish grin, before replying, "Ah…right."
Manta returned the smile, and Yoh was too tired to assess whether it was genuine or not. And so, the two of them lapsed into silence again, but it was more bearable than earlier. Still, Yoh found himself at his wits end trying to rack his brain of what set Hao apart from Ren and Lyserg that he was already at the verge of going hysterical.
And like disgusting cold water cascading down his skin, realization dawned upon him.
It wasn't really so much as Hao being different from Ren and Lyserg. Rather, everything had to do with him - his thoughts, feelings, and resentments.
Yoh resented Hao, even prior to all of these madness.
Why did that pyromaniac choose to be born as Keiko and Mikihisa Asakura's child? While he didn't linger on the probability of him not existing had the other not infiltrated his mother's body - a topic which was far to complex for his already drained mind - Yoh's reflections ended with the thought that everything wrong with his life was directly or indirectly caused by Hao.
If Hao weren't born as his twin, his father would not have withdrawn to the mountains - an act of atonement for his supposed transgressions, eternally going beyond Yoh's reach. Yoh imagined coming home from school, excited to talk with a real father instead of playing records on loop to give him some glimpse of what type of person the latter was.
Perhaps, Yoh wouldn't have spent a great chunk of his life alone, lying on the cold wooden floor of a dilapidated house, described by the uninformed as haunted. He marveled at the idea of a normal older brother. He imagined they would be inseparable, and while the other children would have probably taunt them with the moniker 'demon children', at least Yoh would not be alone.
If Hao weren't born as his twin, Yoh would not feel the weight of the world on his shoulder. In all probability, he would be taught the basics of shamanism, but only for the purpose of continuing the family's traditions, to be passed on to the next generations. None of that bull of saving the world from the crazed older shaman.
If Hao simply did not exist in this lifetime, Yoh would probably have a happier life, to the extent that concept applied to their cursed family.
But, Hao was his twin brother, and for that Yoh resented him.
And so, Yoh finally had to accept that it was really about him, and not Hao. He didn't resent Ren and Lyserg, and thus, he was quick to alter his point of view, almost as if it was second nature. It was easy - far too easy, to offer them his friendship and acceptance as his judgment remained unclouded by his own feelings, his heart neither favoring any sides.
It was different with Hao, though. Yoh had tucked away the ugly emotions he had against the other, willing them to stop overflowing his system. And when he saw the other commit such unspeakable crimes, Yoh unscrupulously took that as an opportunity to justify the hatred brewing inside him.
Hence, when he was confronted by those memories, his world came to a standstill.
Yoh was unwilling to compromise the values he had tout and proudly proclaimed, unwilling to look beyond his jaded beliefs.
He was really a hypocrite.
"Yoh-kun?"
Manta's soft voice brought Yoh out of his trance for the second time that night. The sun was just around the corner and Yoh could sense his body caving in.
"Let's go back inside, Manta."
The invitation earned Yoh a smile filled with relief. While Yoh was still at lost about what to do, he gave in to the demands of his young body which had been subjected to too much physical and mental torment during the previous days. Thus, he crawled into the futon, missing the golden orbs intently watching him as he made himself comfortable under the covers.
Yoh did not hope for anything that time, he just wanted to sleep.
And as the early rays of the sun overpowered the remaining moonlight, Yoh learned that the child plaguing his sleep and waking hours was called Asaha Douji.
