Sakai

  Sakai’s childhood in the quiet village of Lior was filled with care and light. The fourth child in a family of a priest and a healer, his home was always brimming with life. His mother often carried him in her arms, sharing stories about the importance of kindness and helping those in need. His father, with kind eyes and a gentle smile, prayed every evening in the village chapel, blessing the world as his children listened attentively.

  Sakai seemed to embody all that was good and bright. The villagers spoke of him as the gentlest and kindest child they had ever met. Whenever someone fell ill, they were brought to Sakai’s home, assured that his mere presence would lift their spirits. Even the gravest ailments seemed to recede when Sakai was near, as his gaze, full of kindness, and his simple assurance—*“Don’t worry, everything will be alright”—*brought a healing calm that adults so often lacked.

  “You’re a real angel, Sakai,” his mother would often say when she found him tending to an injured animal or caring for an ailing neighbor before anyone else could step in. To him, helping was as natural as breathing. It was simply his way—to bring light to the world without expecting anything in return.

  Sakai knew nothing of the world’s darkness, and those around him often remarked on how his presence alone could brighten a home’s atmosphere, making every word and interaction gentler. He was the kind of person everyone wished they could be but lacked the strength to emulate fully.

  Even at the tender age of six, when other children sought his advice, Sakai could offer words of wisdom far beyond his years. His world was untouched by malice or fear, a purity that made him a beacon of hope in the village. Everyone knew that when Sakai was near, troubles seemed to melt away like snow under the sun.

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  “When Sakai steps into a house, the pain just vanishes, as if it had never existed,” the villagers would say. And it required no miraculous gestures or healing touches—his genuine goodness was enough.

  Hirata

  In the neighboring kingdom of Ezeris, Hirata grew up in a completely different environment. While his family was not of noble blood, they were wealthy enough to live comfortably. Their home, filled with silence and the weight of knowledge, was a stark contrast to Sakai’s warm and bustling household.

  From birth, Hirata carried an indescribable inner maturity that caught the attention of all who met him. Surrounded by books and philosophical treatises, he absorbed knowledge like a sponge. Yet, despite his extraordinary intellectual development, Hirata often felt as though he didn’t truly belong in this world.

  Questions about his past began to stir within him. Could he have been someone else before becoming who he was now? Was his path somehow entwined with another’s—perhaps even Sakai’s?

  “Am I alone?” This question echoed in Hirata’s mind, persisting as he grappled with a sense of incompleteness. While everything in his life seemed new, deep within, he felt that his purpose was tied to something far greater than mere scholarship.

  As rumors of the “Messenger of the Gods” spread throughout the kingdom, the attention surrounding Hirata grew. Despite his public recognition, Hirata was convinced that his uniqueness lay not just in his knowledge but in a deeper, undefined destiny.

  On quiet nights, when the world around him was still, Hirata sometimes felt the presence of something grand and inexplicable—a force or calling he had yet to uncover.

  Unlike Sakai, whose path was defined by sincerity and unburdened joy, Hirata was a seeker. Each step of his journey felt like it carried him closer to unveiling the truth behind his rebirths and the meaning of his existence.