"Am I getting a little brother?" a small girl shrieked, bouncing on her heels.
A broad, bald man beamed down at the newborn cradled in his wife's arms.
"Let's name him Cid Kagenou."
"Cid Kagenou?" The name echoed in the newborn's mind like a thunderclap. *Isn't that Shadow's name? Wasn't I just pulling an all-nighter at the office?*
Cid's tiny eyes swept the room.
A beautiful little girl gazed at him with pure, radiant joy. A strikingly lovely woman held him against her warmth. And standing tall beside them — a middle-aged man, completely bald, and absolutely delighted.
He recognized all three of them instantly.
*Shadow's family. His parents. His older sister.*
A laugh built somewhere deep in his chest — though what came out was a gurgle.
*I died from overwork, and I transmigrated into the body of my all-time favorite protagonist. Me. Cid Kagenou. This... this is insane.*
Lord Shadow wasn't the flashiest anime. It wasn't the most beautifully drawn, nor the most critically acclaimed. But it was, without question, the most deeply, bone-satisfyingly wish-fulfilling story ever written.
Limitless power. A legion of breathtakingly beautiful and fiercely loyal subordinates. The rare and godlike ability to make words reality simply by speaking them.
The thought alone sent electricity crackling through Cid's newborn body.
Then he felt something warm and wet spreading below.
*...I got too excited.*
*I wet myself.*
---
Time has a way of moving quickly when you have a destiny to prepare for.
Five years passed.
During that time, Cid had been quietly, methodically refining his magical power — molding and tempering it in secret, guided by everything he knew of the plot to come. The results were, even by his own estimation, absurd. His reserves of magic had long since surpassed anything he could meaningfully measure.
In short: he was terrifyingly strong. And no one had any idea.
On a crisp afternoon, his older sister Claire appeared at his side, wooden practice sword in hand, her silver hair catching the light.
"Cid. Want to spar?"
"Sure."
He picked up his own blade, and the two of them fell into the familiar rhythm of practice.
Claire's technique was earnest — precise, disciplined, driven by genuine effort. Cid could have ended the bout in a dozen different ways before she'd even registered movement. Instead, he matched her pace. Let her lead. Quietly fed her openings she could capitalize on, small enough to feel earned.
He wasn't being condescending. She was his sister. She deserved that much.
But Claire was sharp. Sharper than most people gave her credit for.
Every time they sparred, she walked away having learned something new — a subtle shift in footwork, a cleaner angle on a parry. Her brother, meanwhile, never seemed to take anything away from their sessions at all. He improved at nothing she could teach. It was as though he were humoring a child.
She hated that feeling.
She wanted to be a real older sister. Someone worth looking up to. Someone who could *protect* him.
When the session ended and Cid claimed victory — *her* victory, really, she knew that much — she couldn't feel proud.
"I'm a little tired, Sister. I'm going to clean up," Cid said simply, already turning toward the hall.
"Go ahead."
She watched him go, an odd hollow feeling settling in her chest.
Their father appeared a moment later, hands clasped behind his back, expression grave.
"Claire. A Magic Swordsman has been operating near our territory — one who targets nobles specifically. Until he's dealt with, you and Cid are not to enter the forest. Are we clear?"
"Understood," she said.
---
Claire lay still in the bathtub, staring at the ceiling, the water slowly going cold around her.
*A Magic Swordsman who kills nobles.*
The idea took root slowly — and then all at once.
She sat up.
*If I defeated him myself...*
*If I could bring proof back to Cid — proof that his older sister was someone worth respecting, someone with real strength—*
She was dressed and moving within minutes.
She found Cid in his room, crouched over what looked like a pile of mud, quietly turning it over in his small hands. He looked up when she appeared in the doorway.
*(In truth, Cid had spent the last hour compressing raw magical energy into a slime-like, malleable form. The mud was a convenient cover. He was thorough like that.)*
"Cid. Come with me."
He tilted his head. "It's getting late, Sister. Where are we going?"
"The forest," she said. "I thought we could take a walk."
Cid looked down at the slime in his hands.
He already knew, more or less, what she was planning. He'd seen the look on her face when their father delivered his warning. He knew his sister.
If he let her go alone, there was a real chance she'd get hurt.
He set the slime aside and stood.
"Alright then."
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