“Hitomi, hurry up!” The sharp, insistent voice cut through the quiet of the room. The girl in the blue kimono, a picture of youthful impatience, glared at her older sister. “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to slack off!”
The older sister, Hitomi, tried to maintain an air of dignified calm. She was brushing her sister’s hair with deliberate, refined movements, each stroke measured and graceful. Despite the teasing, she wore an expression that was a blend of affection and mild exasperation. Her younger sister’s eagerness was endearing, yet it brought to the surface a tumult of emotions that she tried to keep buried.
Hitomi had always been overshadowed by her twin sister, Midori. Although she loved Midori deeply, there was an undercurrent of frustration that gnawed at her. The Satows, a family of high prestige, placed immense value on their children’s accomplishments, particularly those who demonstrated exceptional cognitive abilities. Midori, even at the tender age of eight, had already displayed remarkable prowess in Hydrokinesis, a trait that drew admiration and affection from everyone around them.
“We’re done,” Hitomi said, her smile tinged with a bitterness that only her sister could truly sense. “We should get to the family hall now.”
Today was significant—the day the family heir was to be chosen. Traditionally, the heir was selected from the male members of the family who exhibited promise. However, in rare and exceptional cases, a female candidate could be considered if she showed extraordinary potential, far surpassing her peers. Hitomi was well aware that the family heads were likely to choose Midori as the heir. This knowledge filled her with genuine happiness for her sister, yet it also tore at her insides, leaving her feeling inadequate.
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She had grown accustomed to a life of luxury, with access to medicine, food, and comforts that those in lower classes could only dream of. Despite her privileged existence, she felt a profound sense of inadequacy. No matter how much effort she poured into her endeavors—how many exotic disciplines she mastered in an attempt to stand out, how many sleepless nights she sacrificed to perfect her movements, or how diligently she tried to speak in a manner that would impress the influential figures who saw her as little more than a tool—none of it seemed to be enough.
The weight of her own perceived inadequacy was crushing. The realization that she could never quite measure up to the expectations set before her, that she was forever destined to play second fiddle to her younger sister, was a bitter pill to swallow. It was a gnawing sensation that made her question her worth, her place within the family, and even her value as an individual.
Determined to carve out her own path, Hitomi decided to take the peacekeeper exam. It was a decision fueled by her desire to prove herself, to earn respect on her own merits rather than simply through her family connections. She was resolved to demonstrate that she was worthy of admiration and recognition, not because of who she was born to be, but because of the strength and dedication she brought to her own pursuits.
As the two sisters made their way to the family hall, Hitomi’s heart was a tumult of conflicting emotions. She carried with her both the burden of her own perceived shortcomings and the hope that, despite the overwhelming odds, she might find a way to redefine herself and her place in the world.