The Dissatisfaction of Kaneshiro Daisuke

Kaneshiro Daisuke wandered alone, swallowed by the darkness of the forest. Branches creaked in the wind, but he heard nothing—his mind roared too loudly. Rage consumed him. Rage, and something worse: humiliation.

He had failed.
Again.

He had seen Rioshi—that insignificant ghost, that quiet shadow—stand against the impossible and survive. He had watched him defeat Morvath, a feat that should have belonged to a legend. Not to him. Not to that boy.

Rioshi, the one he had always deemed beneath him, had become the figure carved into fate by fire and silence.

Daisuke couldn’t accept it.

Wouldn’t.

He knew he wasn’t ready. His strength, however flashy, wasn’t enough. It never had been. He was still a pawn, still caught in someone else’s game. Rioshi had transcended. And he—Daisuke—had barely kept his head above water.

He stopped abruptly in a clearing, chest heaving, fists trembling. The sting of defeat echoed in his bones.

What am I missing?

He clenched his jaw.

No. He refused to stay behind.
He wouldn’t watch others seize greatness while he rotted in mediocrity.

He wanted more.
Not just strength—dominion.

As he glared at the stars, high in the ink-black sky, a voice coiled through his thoughts. Deep. Hypnotic. Ancient.

“You want to become stronger, don’t you?”

Daisuke staggered back, startled. The voice didn’t echo through the trees—it came from inside him. As if someone had cracked open his mind and whispered into his soul.

“Who’s there?” he barked, heart pounding.

The voice responded, low and smooth, like smoke crawling under a door.

“I am the one who can give you what you desire... at a price.”

He stood tall, scanning the treeline. His hand hovered over the hilt of his blade.

“A price?” he repeated, wary but intrigued.

From the edge of the clearing, shadows coalesced.

A figure emerged—no, unfolded—from the darkness. It was tall, draped in a cloak of shifting blackness, as if the night itself bowed to it. Its eyes glowed faintly, wrong in their color—something between void and fire.

“A pact,” the voice said again. The figure's mouth never moved.
“You will gain the strength you crave. Enough to surpass him. Enough to shatter the chains of your limitations. In return, you will free me from this prison. Let me walk this world again… and you shall rule beside me.”

Daisuke stared.

A pact. A shortcut. A forbidden path.

Part of him—some deep, dying flicker—hesitated.

But then came the voice again, sharp and cruel:

“Refuse… and stay weak. Watch Rioshi rise while you fade into nothing.”

Daisuke’s blood boiled. His pride, his shame, his fury—all twisted together into something darker.

“I accept,” he said without flinching.

His voice was cold. Final.

The deal was sealed.

From the being’s chest burst a lance of obsidian light. It pierced Daisuke’s heart—no blood spilled, but something deeper broke. Black lightning surged through his veins, searing him from the inside out.

He fell to his knees, gasping, but didn’t scream. He welcomed it.

The darkness soaked into him. Twisted around his soul like roots finding a host. He felt it—power—unfurling within. Wild. Relentless. A storm bound in flesh.

His eyes snapped open, now gleaming faintly with that same unnatural light.

The entity leaned close.

“You have chosen,” it said.
“Now… prepare the world for my return.”

And just like that, the entity faded.

But the voice remained. Deep within him.

Whispering promises.
Feeding his hunger.
Rewriting who he was.

Kaneshiro Daisuke stood once more. Taller. Colder.
Changed.

He looked at his hands, feeling the pulse of a new force beneath his skin. The forest around him seemed smaller now. Slower. Weaker.

A cruel smile curved his lips.

“Your time’s coming, Rioshi…”

And this time,
I won’t be in your shadow.