A/N: Hi everyone! With the revamp of one of my favorite anime of all time, Shaman King, plus the anime debut of Shaman King: Flowers in the near future, I find myself deciding to Hell with it! I'm gonna upload all of my Shaman King fics created over the years, only this time, they've been revamped just like the OG anime! Hope ya'll enjoy and I own absolutely nothing from this franchise. :)

He was given the opportunity of a lifetime.

He was his other half, his missing puzzle piece.

He won't give them the chance to turn them against each other.

Resting in the shadows with his eyes fixated on the hunched form of the small child's body, the other boy watched his slow and carefully thought-out movements, trying to remain still sans the occasional blink of his eyes and the steady and low breaths that entered and escaped through his nose. He had always been a patient soul, having gone through the motions of reincarnation twice in order to pave the way for making his goals a reality, coupled with waiting all of four years to come back to the very household that tried to initially destroy him. He could deign to wait a little longer for the absolute perfect opportunity to strike.

Well, strike up a conversation.

Two deep pools of darkened earth raked over the softly rustling bushes, then closed at the gentle tinkling of the windchimes tied to the frame of his outer sliding door. He was known to be a quiet and calm boy, only speaking when necessary and not wanting for much despite his father's wishes for him to rely on the family more. Why should he continuously bother his busy family while they were attempting to reel in the chaos that followed the murder of his mother and unborn sibling? Because of the unfortunate circumstances, his family now had to rely on their weak and unstable heir to push past his shortcomings and lead the family if, and that was a big if, he recovered. After he was left to cry by his lonesome at the fact that the last time he and his mother spoke she tearfully apologized for birthing such a fragile and broken boy, he simply stared out into the night with a despaired expression that children his age shouldn't have. His disposition, which prevented him from starting whatever training his grandfather was frantic to push unto the young child, burdened him from the moment he was born, his organs working tirelessly in order to compensate for the constant overworking of the heavy machinery that was his lungs and other muscles he needed for proper breathing. An aura was starting to build up in his body, the boy trying his best to suppress it for as long as humanly possible to prevent his grieving family from coming to his aide, until he could no longer exude control over it, the spirit-shaking outbursts painfully ripping out of his chest and echoing into the outside air, heavily disrupting the peace that was the night. The other boy watched mutedly from the tree he sat in, the distinctly familiar coughs hammering into his head as he recalled times in his past where the same kind of symptoms were a sure sign of death, no treatment available for those who were plagued with the same disorder as his other half. Even in their current time period the medications for his lung disease were scarce and pushing the bare minimum of placating, only serving to temporarily waver the symptoms rather than attempting to cure the underlying issue. It was as if his family could care less to try the treatments anyway, minus the boy's father, since the old patriarch of the household preferred to let the child grow out of the disease rather than bombard his body with "toxic chemicals" and "westernized medicine."

'All these years of advancements on technology, medicine and anatomical knowledge, the old bastard won't even try to help him…how useless!'

Hearing his other half's earth-shattering coughs finally die down, the boy decided that this was the perfect time to make his move, hopping down from the tree silently as the sickly boy reached for a cup of water stationed next to his bed. The household was thankfully quiet and still at the current moment, the passings of the matriarch, who suffered a fatal melee attack from an Oni that plagued the lands surrounding Izumo, and her unborn child who died in utero alongside her still lingering in the air around the manor. The boy pitied the unborn child more, the small spirit resting in its mother's womb never going to know what the morning air would taste like and how beautiful the forests and plains scattered across the world were. But alas, some things weren't written in the stars just yet, the unborn babe's life being one of them. The reincarnated boy would pray for the lost soul of course, it deserved that much.

"Who…are you…?"

Turning his attention to the matter at hand, the young child stood outside of the outer walkway as he made eye contact with what would be one of the most important things he had ever treasured in his lifetime:

The other half of his soul.

"Hi there! I heard you coughing and you looked like you could use a friend right now," the boy stated cheerfully with a placating smile.

Blinking in shock from the sudden rush of words, the younger brunette's widened eyes raked over the other child standing outside of his doorway, unsure of what to make of the boy before him. Yes, he was indeed lonely, but that was the unfortunate reality of the disease that plagued him, but he didn't know why this child decided it best to waste his breath on him. It wasn't necessarily a secret that the current heir of the Asakura household was ill and would probably not live to see his next birthday, but he still had to wonder how in the world the other boy found this place since it was so deep in the mountains, but he chalked it off as the boy more than likely being a child of one of the maids or other workers in the manor.

"…I…would like a…friend…" the small child whispered slowly, afraid of falling into another coughing fit as he spoke and possibly scaring his new companion off.

The stranger's grin filled the ill child with a warmth that he was unsure he'd ever felt before and he watched with rapt attention as the boy hopped up onto the wooden floors from the grass lining the open yard fluidly, his bare ankles and feet visible underneath the yellow star-filled, dark-red poncho he wore. He appeared to be the same age, possibly around four years-old as well, but judging by the way the other boy carried himself spoke volumes of his coordination and maturity, making the sickly boy unsure if he really was as young as he looked. Borderline skipping his way over and plopping down next to his bed, the strange boy with long, flowy hair beamed at the sick child in front of him, holding out a small hand for him to shake.

"My name's Hao!"

Looking into his eyes for any sign of deception or mocking, ultimately finding nothing but friendliness, the other boy reached out with his hand that he was not coughing into earlier and shook the offered appendage, a small smile of his own blooming onto his lips for the first time since he could remember.

"My…my name's Yoh," he replied softly.