Rem's everyday life was to be compared to her sister—over and over—no matter how much it hurt inside. Protesting did nothing.
Among the demi-human races, the oni stood out for their superior physical strength and mana. Their only weakness was their small numbers. As is common in this world, powerful races rarely produce many offspring. And in contrast to their great strength, oni lived in tight-knit settlements in deep, remote mountains.
Because they chose to live far from human lands to protect their few kin, the oni established several strict laws. One of those laws: for oni, twins are taboo.
A normal oni is born with two horns. In daily life the horns remain hidden within the skull; when a situation arises that shakes their instincts, the horns sprout forth and devour the surrounding mana. By forcibly subjugating ambient mana, an oni massively boosts their combat strength—the horns exist for this purpose, and are a source of pride to the race.
Twins are different. They are born sharing the two horns between them.
Among the oni, one who loses their horns is called "hornless" and loses their status as an oni. Losing even a single horn invites scorn and reproach. To be born already missing one horn—as twins are—is a complete taboo. Labeled taboo at birth, twins were, by custom, immediately "dealt with."
Rem and Ram were supposed to share that fate—but when the clan head prepared to carry it out, one of the twins released a massive surge of mana…
Great talent commuted their sentence.
Ram was the one gifted with overwhelming talent. Thanks to her, both were spared. But their lives were far from easy. As twins, they still wore the brand of "hornless" and grew up under the cold eyes of the tribe—including their parents.
That hostile environment didn't last long. Once they were old enough to understand, the child Ram began to display her gifts. Ram possessed wits and ability unmatched in oni history. Even as a child, her available mana far exceeded the norm—and most striking of all, the perfect beauty of the horn on her forehead enchanted every oni who saw it.
Her talent and strength, together with that pure white horn, made their kin bow their heads without thinking. She wasn't even ten.
Cold parents, snickering kin—even the clan head who once intended to kill them—fell silent before her. Oni are a high race, and Ram was born to stand at its peak. Oni respect strength, and in the face of the strong, all show due reverence—no ulterior motives in their devotion to Ram.
And Rem's daily life became following behind her superior sister on clumsy steps.
She too had a single horn, but no remarkable talent. Her mana reserves were ordinary. As an oni she was merely equal to a one-horned oni. Unlike her confident sister, Rem had none. She hid behind Ram, imitating her every move like a shadow. That was Rem's way of coping as a child—a way to protect her immature heart.
But she felt no jealousy. She respected, even adored, her sister. Nor did she hate their parents—they loved Ram, yes, but they loved her too. The tribe did not shun her either. Everyone held hopes for her—because she was Ram's sister; since one horn had shone so brilliantly, perhaps the other might too.
But though they were twins—though their height, looks, and outward forms hardly differed—in oni aptitude they were worlds apart. Rem tried everything to get closer to her sister, hoping she could beat her at just one thing.
But nothing worked. In every way, Ram outstripped her. Whatever Ram did was a realm none could touch.
Rem understood: she could never be compared with her sister.
So Ram always stood out front, bathed in the light that shone on the world, while Rem peeked from behind, shrinking under that dazzling glow.
But Rem's heart wasn't content. She didn't know how long this would continue. She didn't want it to.
Until one night.
That night, Rem woke from heat. She got up—but her sister wasn't beside her. She wanted to find Ram. She had to follow—no matter what Ram did, no matter how small, Rem would be just behind.
But when she opened the door, she found the source of that heat: the house was ringed in flame. The stench of char, heat pressing in—her acute sense of smell awakened; her horn sprouted. She could pass through the blaze without harm.
She ran from the burning home, mind fixed on finding her sister—then froze.
The village center piled high with charred corpses. Fire everywhere. The familiar world had become a crimson hell. In the contorted heap of bodies, Rem saw familiar faces crowded together. She stopped thinking and collapsed where she stood.
Figures in black cloaks appeared, slowly surrounding her. Hoods deep, faces hidden unless they drew right near—and even when seen, unrecognizable.
Rem smiled—a defeated smile she'd worn countless times. The cloaks were unmoved. One raised a hand, silver blade flashing down—
—but the ones to lose heads were the cloaks. Four in total. Clean, precise strokes; the heads flew before they knew they were dead. Not even a scream.
Rem leapt to her feet. Her skin felt it—a surge of familiar mana. Her sister.
If Ram was there, she would follow.
Her sister appeared quickly, the same face twisted in grief, and hurled herself into Rem's arms. Rem noticed the moment Ram confirmed she was unhurt; Ram's body relaxed. Rem hugged back, tasting supreme joy—and sorrow.
Yes. She only needed to leave everything to Ram. That was best. That was right. Whatever Ram did was always the best of all possible choices—the perfect one.
But—
They were surrounded again by cloaked figures. There were so many they filled Rem's sight. She stared, believing her sister would resolve everything. But Ram turned her back to Rem, dropped to her knees before the cloaks, and begged, words Rem couldn't make out.
She watched her sister weep, curl in on herself, plead until her voice tore. Rem was confused—she was looking down on her sister, a posture that had no place in Rem's way of life. Her meaning for living was to shrink down behind Ram.
Then Ram suddenly stood, spread her arms before Rem, and mana gushed forth. A power beyond the norm burst outward—an invisible blade that could slice down everything around.
But before it flared, Ram turned back and wrapped Rem in her arms.
The impact hit.
Rem saw steel swing from the side. The white radiance atop her sister's head spun up into the red sky. The white light spun and spun, dragging Rem's gaze with it—it was the severed horn. Then came the spray—the blood that spurted from the broken base. Then a shriek—someone's pitch rising to the heavens.
Rem has never forgotten the thought she had then, watching it all:
Ah. It finally broke.
"…I see."
After listening to the obsession Rem had buried in her heart, Shichen merely nodded. He reached out and stroked her head.
"Shichen?"
Rem looked at him, baffled. "Shouldn't you… hate me?"
"Why would I hate you? My feelings for you haven't changed," Shichen said with a smile.
After all, he'd known all this already. What mattered was hearing her say it herself. It meant she'd finally opened her heart to him completely.
"Why?" Rem stared in disbelief. She was so base, so shameful—she'd felt satisfaction at her sister's ruin. Why would he still like her?
"It's simple."
"I like the Rem I see now," Shichen said gently.
~~~
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