A full year had passed since that chaotic day of the race and the shocking blessings on the marble stone.
Today felt heavier.
The air itself seemed thicker, charged with centuries of tradition and expectation. The Choosing Ceremony was not just another ritual — it was the moment when the Yama clan officially welcomed its newest generation into the bloodline and gave them their true names. After twelve long months of watching, testing, and judging, Father would finally speak our names aloud.
In my previous life, I had received the name Yama Ga Yamiyosuke — a name that carried quiet shame in every syllable. My brother had been crowned Yama Ga Dragon, a name that rang with strength and promise. Back then I had stood in these same grounds feeling small and unwanted. Today, with far greater blessings than my brother, a strange mix of anticipation and defiance stirred in my chest.
Would they dare give me the name Dragon now?
The ceremony grounds were filled with solemn grandeur. Every important member of the main family stood in perfect formation, dressed in deep black garments adorned with gleaming golden ornaments that caught the sunlight like tiny blades. The atmosphere was tense, almost reverent. No one laughed. No one spoke above a whisper. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Father stood at the center like a mountain carved from authority itself. He wore a crisp royal-blue shirt beneath a tailored dark coat that emphasized his massive, muscular frame. Dark pants completed the look, paired with a heavy golden bracelet on his wrist and matching golden earrings that glinted whenever he moved his head. His face was stern, unreadable — the same cold mask I remembered so well from both lives.
Beside him, Mother stood with elegant poise. Her dark silk robes flowed gracefully to the ground in layered folds, the fabric so fine it shimmered faintly with every subtle movement. A delicate yet imposing golden crown rested upon her head, intricately crafted with small blood-red rubies that resembled frozen drops of life essence. Her long dark hair was swept up and secured with ornate golden combs shaped like twisting flames, exposing the graceful line of her neck. She looked regal, distant, and beautiful in that cold, untouchable way that had always made me feel like an outsider even when standing right in front of her.
The clan elders wore simpler but equally somber dark robes, their faces lined with years of judgment and tradition. In sharp contrast, members of the branch families stood further back, dressed in lighter garments — mixtures of white with subtle accents of gray, silver, or muted crimson — but without any golden ornaments. Their lower status was marked clearly by their simpler attire.
We children, still unsteady on our newly learned legs, wore only plain white robes. No ornaments. No color. Nothing that could distract from the sacred moment. We were blank canvases, waiting to be marked by fate.
The silence before the ceremony began was almost suffocating. I could feel the weight of dozens of eyes upon us — some curious, some expectant, some already dismissive of the weaker-looking children. My heart beat steadily in my small chest. The Hogyoku pulsed quietly inside me, a secret warmth that no one else could sense. It reminded me that I was no longer the same helpless boy from my first life.
An elder lord stepped forward. He glanced at Father, received a single nod of approval, and raised his voice.
"Let the ceremony begin."
A deep, resonant chant rose from the gathered crowd, slow and powerful:
"We pray to god;
We pray to our ancestors;
Look after our future, children and us.
We pray to Death along with Life.
We know what it means,
We acknowledge and teach it.
We pray that the world should never be in dark.
We don't carry darkness,
We don't live in light.
As we give this solo rights to our descendants,
We pray for them…
Please be chosen…"
As the first lines left their lips, something shifted in the air.
The wind, which had been still, suddenly stirred. It moved in perfect rhythm with the song, swirling gently around the grounds as if the earth itself had decided to join the prayer. A strange, soothing energy spread through the crowd. Shoulders that had been tense began to relax. Faces that had been stern softened without warning.
An inexplicable wave of happiness bloomed in everyone's chests — not the loud joy of celebration, but a quiet, profound warmth that had no clear source. Smiles appeared on lips for no particular reason. Eyes glistened with unshed tears of emotion. Even the most hardened elders looked momentarily at peace, as though some invisible burden had been lifted from their hearts.
I felt it too.
The same mysterious feeling I had experienced in my previous life washed over me again. My small body relaxed against my will. A gentle smile tugged at my lips even as my mind remained sharp and watchful. It was beautiful… and deeply unsettling. This harmony between song, wind, and soul was still one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of this world to me. How could a simple chant create such pure, wordless happiness in hardened warriors and proud nobles?
As the singing grew stronger, small sparks of light began to appear in the air above us.
At first they were tiny — mere dust motes glowing in the sunlight. Then they swelled, growing brighter and larger until they formed colorful rectangular gateways, shimmering with shifting hues of crimson, silver, midnight blue, and gold. These luminous rectangles floated gracefully downward, moving with purpose toward each child.
Father's deep, commanding voice cut through the fading song:
"Children… these are your partners for the rest of your life from this day forward. They are called Spirit Ones. They are the gateways through which your future contracted soul spirits will live. You cannot choose them. They choose you. So accept them with gratitude."
One of the glowing rectangles drifted directly toward me, its colors swirling softly — deep crimson mixed with streaks of silver and dark, mysterious blue. It hovered just above my head, pulsing gently like a living thing.
I stood there in my plain white robe, heart pounding with a mixture of awe and quiet determination. The Hogyoku in my chest responded with a single, steady pulse, as if acknowledging the moment.
In my first life, this ceremony had felt empty and meaningless.
This time, I could feel it in my bones — this was the true beginning of my second chance.
The glowing rectangles continued their slow, graceful descent, each one carrying its own unique color and presence. The air still hummed with the fading echoes of the prayer song, that strange, wordless happiness lingering in everyone's hearts like a gentle afterglow. Yet beneath the calm surface, tension crackled once more. Every parent, every elder, watched with sharp eyes as the Spirit Ones approached their children.
One by one, the lights settled.
The son of the clan elder received a vibrant violet rectangle that pulsed with steady energy. Another boy from the main family drew a deep sapphire-blue one that shimmered like ocean depths. A girl from the branch family smiled shyly as a soft rose-pink rectangle hovered above her. Colors ranged from fiery orange to cool silver-gray, each one distinct, each one seemingly alive.
Then came my brother.
A dark green rectangle, rich and heavy like ancient forest shadows mixed with veins of emerald, drifted down and stopped directly in front of him. It felt solid, grounded, full of latent power — exactly the kind of presence that suited the healthy, talented first twin. Whispers of approval rippled through the crowd. "Strong… very fitting for the first son," someone murmured.
My heart beat a little faster as the last few lights found their children.
Finally, one descended toward me.
It was different from everything else.
Not a tall rectangle like most. Instead, it formed a perfect ring — a floating circle of swirling red and gold. The crimson was deep, almost blood-like, intertwined with threads of brilliant metallic gold that caught the sunlight and threw it back in warm sparks. It rotated slowly above my small hands, elegant and commanding at the same time.
In my previous life, I had received a plain white ring — dull, lifeless, almost mocking in its simplicity. A quiet symbol of how little the clan expected from the weak second twin.
This time… red and gold.
A quiet thrill ran through me. The change felt meaningful. Significant.
Father stepped forward, his massive frame moving with surprising gentleness for a man built like a mountain. Unlike the cold indifference I remembered from my first life, his face today carried a rare, genuine warmth. His gray eyes gleamed with unmistakable pride as he looked between the two of us.
He scooped my brother up first, lifting the boy effortlessly into his strong arms. The dark green rectangle followed obediently, hovering near the child's chest.
"Yama Ga Dragon," Father declared in his deep, resonant voice, loud enough for the entire gathering to hear. "You shall carry the strength of our bloodline. May your path be forged in power and victory."
The clan erupted in cheers and nods of approval. Mother's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. Even the elders looked pleased.
Then Father turned to me.
He scooped me up just as happily, his large hands surprisingly careful as they cradled my small, still-fragile body. For the first time in either of my lives, I felt the weight of his full attention — not disappointment, not dismissal, but something warmer. Something that almost felt like hope.
"Yama Ga Yamiyosuke," he named me, the words ringing clear and strong across the grounds. "May your blessings guide you to greatness beyond measure."
The same name as before. Yet it didn't sting this time. Not with the red-and-gold ring hovering beside me and the shocked blessings still fresh in everyone's minds.
I accepted it quietly, my small fingers reaching out toward the floating ring.
The moment I touched it — the instant my will acknowledged and welcomed the Spirit One — something inside me reacted violently.
The Hogyoku, that mysterious orb hidden deep in my chest, surged with sudden, intense energy. It wasn't pain. There was no outward flinch, no cry, no visible sign that anything was happening. To everyone watching, I simply looked like a calm infant accepting his partner.
But inside, it felt like two long-lost pieces had finally found each other.
The Hogyoku pulsed wildly, a deep resonance vibrating through my entire being. Warmth flooded my core, fierce and joyful at the same time — as if it had recognized a missing companion after centuries of separation. The red-and-gold ring seemed to brighten in response, its colors swirling faster for a brief moment before settling into a steady, harmonious glow.
A partner. A true partner.
I kept my face neutral, but my mind was already racing ahead.
This was only the beginning. I had been given a second chance with far greater potential than before. But potential meant nothing without action. I refused to remain the neglected, sickly twin any longer. I needed to become confident. I needed to become strong — strong enough that no one in this clan, or this world, could ever look down on me again.
The first step would start immediately.
Basic training.
From tomorrow onward, no matter how weak this child's body still felt, I would begin pushing it. Simple movements at first — crawling with purpose, strengthening my limbs, building endurance. I would use every spare moment to train my body and mind. The Hogyoku would respond to effort and resolve; I was sure of it now. Resources, discipline, and relentless will — those would be my foundation.
As Father set me down gently beside my brother, the red-and-gold ring settled comfortably near my shoulder, pulsing softly like a loyal guardian.
The ceremony concluded amid cheers and congratulations, but my thoughts were already far beyond the celebration.
I was Yama Ga Yamiyosuke now.
And this time, I would make that name mean something entirely different.