Same Soul, Different Identity

The biting cold and oppressive darkness of the forest had faded, replaced by a tranquil warmth. Slowly, Shen’s eyes fluttered open. The first sensation was a profound dryness in his mouth, the second, an unmistakable truth—he was alive. He had somehow survived and escaped the horrors of that night.

He tried to sit up, but a searing pain from his wounds shot through his body, arresting the movement. As a groan escaped his lips, a firm yet calm voice cut through the stillness.

"Don't try to get up too quickly. Your wounds are still fresh."

The sound of another human voice was so foreign it was almost a shock. A strange thrill, born from long solitude, coursed through him. Heeding the advice, Shen moved with deliberate care, turning his head to see who had spoken.

Before him stood a man in his late twenties, tall and broad-shouldered. He was undeniably handsome, with sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to see right through him. His arms were crossed over his chest, and though his posture was relaxed, he radiated an intimidating energy. He tilted his head slightly.

"What were you doing in the forest in the dead of night, Shen?"

The question was accusatory, but the accusation barely registered. Shen’s focus snagged on a single, impossible fact: this stranger knew his name. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, his curiosity overriding his caution.

A faint smirk touched the man's lips. "They must have hit your head pretty hard for you not to recognize your own brother."

Shen’s eyes widened. Brother? The word echoed in the hollows of his mind as he scrutinized the man’s face. The fleeting smirk had vanished, leaving behind an expression of unyielding seriousness. There was no jest here, no trace of deception.

"Brother?" Shen repeated, his voice a low, uncertain whisper.

The man’s face hardened, his patience clearly wearing thin. "I don’t have time for this nonsense, Shen. The military garrison is waiting for my return to the main stronghold, and I'm here wasting time bickering with you."

Shen’s mind raced. The forest, the wounds, this man… the pieces clicked into a sudden, startling picture. This man had saved him. Needing answers, he chose his next words carefully.

"I’m just trying to understand what’s happening," he said, his tone calm despite the storm of questions in his head.

The man’s sharp gaze softened as it swept over Shen’s battered form, a silent acknowledgment of the ordeal he had faced. His tone became less confrontational.

"From the state of your wounds, it seems you ran quite a bit in that forest."

Sensing a chance to diffuse the tension, Shen managed a wry grin. "Yeah. At some point, I think I was breathing through my ears."

The remark drew a short, sharp chuckle from the man, a fleeting crack in his stern facade. But just as quickly, the humor vanished. His gaze drifted toward a nearby window, lost in some distant thought.

"The more we fight, the more we live." He turned back, his eyes locking onto Shen’s with a newfound intensity. "When I told you to join the commander’s battalion, it wasn’t for nothing. As your brother, I’ve always known there’s more to you than speed and instincts. There’s strength in you, Shen. I see it."

Shen stared, the words swirling around him. Family. The concept was a foreign country to him, one he’d never visited. Yet, as this man spoke, an unfamiliar warmth bloomed in his chest—strange, but not entirely unwelcome.

"Thanks for the kind words," Shen admitted, his tone light but firm, "but I’ve never seen myself as the soldier type."

The man leaned closer, his expression resolute. "I know you don’t like taking orders, but we, the Takeda family, have served the people for generations. It is what we do. It is what we will continue to do."

The name—Takeda—settled over Shen with a palpable weight. He didn’t understand its full significance, but he could feel the legacy of pride and duty it carried. He wondered what kind of life was bound to such a name.

"I see what you mean," Shen replied with a small nod.

"Good." The man let out a slow breath of weary acceptance and pushed himself to his feet. Straightening his posture, he walked toward the door but paused before leaving. "I made a promise to our mother that I would always look out for you. But if you act this recklessly again, I may not be there to save you next time. Remember that, brother."

A pang went through Shen's chest at the mention of a mother he couldn't recall. This newfound family was a puzzle, and every piece only created more questions. But one truth was undeniable: this man had risked himself to save him.

The man pulled the door open, his heavy steps echoing softly. He glanced back one last time from the threshold.

"I leave for the frontlines again in two days. If you change your mind about joining, you know where to find me."

And with that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence flooded the room, leaving Shen alone with his thoughts. The man's words replayed in his mind: strength, responsibility, family. He wasn't sure he could live up to any of it. The warmth of the room stood in stark contrast to the cold truths he was beginning to face. For the first time in his life, he wasn't entirely alone—and that realization brought both comfort and a heavy, uneasy burden.