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Chapter 2 – The Name of a Dead Man
The world was still small to me. My fragile body limited my movements, but my mind knew no restrictions. I observed everything around me: the silent corridors of the mansion, the servants' soft steps, the furtive glances of the elders as they passed by, as if they were constantly evaluating every move I made. Deep down, I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't quite understand what.
Above all, I observed my parents.
My mother was kind and attentive, always holding me with a tenderness that seemed to want to protect me from something invisible, something she feared and I couldn't yet comprehend. Her eyes, though loving, were always slightly distant, as if there was something she didn't want me to see. My father, on the other hand, was firm and disciplined, but not cold. His gaze, serious and calculating, seemed to measure me constantly, as if he was assessing my ability to be what I was supposed to be. But there was always something there too, a hesitation, a shadow in his eyes that never quite disappeared. They were, perhaps unknowingly, waiting for something from me that I wasn't sure what it was.
The Name That Was Not Mine
It was during an unexpected visit that things started to take a different turn. The woman who entered the room had an impeccable posture, a controlled voice that seemed to belong to someone who knew exactly what they were doing. She observed me for a moment, evaluating me from head to toe, as if she were searching for something inside me.
"He's growing up well," she said, with a lightness in her voice that seemed to try to conceal something. "He almost reminds me of…"
The silence that followed was heavy, so dense it seemed to suffocate the room.
My mother lowered her eyes, as if afraid of something. My father, on the other hand, clenched his fists and, with a rigid expression, said firmly:
"The past should stay in the past."
But the woman hesitated before leaving. She looked at me one more time, and, almost without realizing it, murmured:
"Little Seiji would have loved to meet you."
Seiji.
The name did something strange inside me. Something I couldn't immediately identify. It was my name, but... it wasn't. That name had already belonged to someone else, someone I had never met, but who seemed to have left such a deep mark on those around me.
Suddenly, everything made sense. The way the looks fell on me. The silence that would fall in conversations when I was nearby. The hesitation my father showed when he called me, as if that name wasn't something he was used to saying without pain.
I wasn't the first.
I had been given the name of a dead man.
A Bitter Truth
In the following days, my mind never stopped working. Who was Seiji before me? What happened to him? How could someone so young already be gone? The answers came gradually. Fragments of conversations between the servants, a vague comment from an elder who passed by me, small clues that started to form a bitter, undeniable truth.
My brother died on a mission.
I shouldn't care. I shouldn't feel anything but curiosity. But for the first time, something different happened. Something heavy.
I felt anger.
The name.
It wasn't mine.
It belonged to someone else, a specter, a man I would never get the chance to meet. Seiji. The name my mother whispered with sadness. The name that made my father look away. The name that, in the woman's mouth, wasn't spoken with affection, but with the weight of a failure, a mistake, something that should never have happened.
I wasn't a beloved child. I was a second attempt.
A substitute.
And that was unacceptable.
From that day on, I began paying more attention to details I had previously ignored. The way the elders looked at me when they saw me. The conversations that abruptly stopped when I walked by. The way my own father hesitated before calling me by my name, as if it wasn't something natural for him. I was the shadow of a dead man.
But if I'm going to replace someone, let it be completely.
Seiji, the first, was a failure.
Seiji, the second, will be remembered as something greater.
I didn't know how my brother died. I didn't know if he was strong, weak, brilliant, or mediocre. But there was one thing I knew: in the end, he was forgotten.
No matter how much my parents loved him, he was gone. And little by little, the world would move on without him.
If I was brought into this world to take someone else's place… then so be it.
If they want me to replace Seiji, let me be so good that no one will remember that there was anyone before me.
If they want me to be a replacement, let me be so exceptional that no one will remember the first. My name will not be a tribute to a dead man. It will be something that will mark the history of the Hyuuga Clan.
Seiji Hyuuga will be remembered as a great name.
But not for the first.
For the second.
The Weight of a New Beginning
As I walked through the hallways, my mind spun relentlessly. I needed to understand. I needed more than ever to shape my destiny, prove that I wasn't just a reminder of the past. Every step I took brought me closer to something greater, something I couldn't see yet, but I felt it deep in my soul. If I was only a reflection, then I would make that reflection something impossible to ignore. I would not be the lost brother, but the name that everyone would remember.
And so, with the memory of the deceased Seiji as fuel, I began to chart my path, certain that my journey would be much more than that of a substitute. I would be the new story of the Hyuuga Clan, a story that no one would ever forget.
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