Chapter 1: Split Paths
The sun was a liar.
It rose every morning, casting golden light over cracked sidewalks and broken dreams, pretending the world was beautiful. But Joshua and Isagi knew better. They knew the truth that hid in boarded-up windows and behind every fake smile. Light didn't heal wounds. It only made the scars easier to see.
Joshua adjusted the straps on his cheap duffel bag and glanced at his younger brother, who trudged beside him. Isagi's hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of an oversized hoodie, his dark eyes hidden by a low-drawn hood.
Neither had slept much the night before.
Today, everything would change.
Joshua had been invited to a private tryout—one of those secret ones, whispered about among semi-pros. If he made it, the paycheck would triple overnight. Enough to move out of the slums. Enough to get Isagi into a real school instead of the garbage public one two subway stops away.
Enough to breathe.
But it also meant leaving Isagi alone even more.
He didn't have a choice.
Not if he wanted to give his brother a future.
"Hey," Joshua said, bumping his shoulder lightly into Isagi's. "You got the list?"
Isagi nodded and pulled a crumpled sheet from his pocket: a checklist of things to do while Joshua was gone.
Go to school.
Get groceries (cheap but not expired).
Practice drills (twenty shots, thirty passes).
Finish homework.
Lock all doors by 8PM.
It was ridiculous—an army general's to-do list for a kid barely thirteen—but they didn't have the luxury of mistakes.
Not anymore.
"You're such a nerd," Joshua teased, trying to lift the heavy silence between them. "Bet you already memorized it."
Isagi shrugged without looking up. "Of course."
Joshua smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He ruffled his brother's messy black hair, earning a grunt of protest.
"You're gonna be fine, Isagi," Joshua said, voice steady. "You're the smartest damn kid I know."
Isagi finally glanced up, and for a moment, Joshua saw something raw flicker across his face: fear, resentment, hope—all tangled up.
"Just don't forget to come back," Isagi muttered.
Joshua's heart twisted, but he forced a grin. "Like you could get rid of me."
He pulled Isagi into a tight hug, then turned toward the subway station. Each step away felt like a betrayal, but Joshua didn't look back.
He couldn't afford to.
---
Hours Later: The Tryout
The field was a rotting mess of half-dead grass and worn-out goalposts, but the players were real. Fast. Hungry. Sharks smelling blood in the water.
Joshua gritted his teeth as he laced up his cleats. His body ached from working late the night before, and he hadn't eaten since yesterday. He was running on fumes and determination.
The coach—a squat man with a whistle permanently welded to his lips—blew once, sharply.
Joshua sprinted into position.
The game was a blur of sweat and shouting. Joshua dodged, twisted, and sprinted until his lungs burned. He intercepted a pass and sent a perfect long shot soaring into the net. Later, he broke through two defenders with nothing but raw grit and a ridiculous no-look pass that left the crowd gasping.
By the end of the tryout, the coach's expression had shifted from bored to interested.
Joshua stumbled off the field, barely able to stay on his feet. He pulled out his phone, fingers trembling, and texted Isagi:
"Tryout over. Think I made it. Home soon."
He smiled, exhausted but hopeful.
Maybe... just maybe... things were finally turning around.
---
Meanwhile: Home
Isagi stared at the clock.
Eight PM.
Joshua was late.
The list sat completed on the table, every box checked with mechanical precision. Dinner sat cold on the stove. The doors were locked. The windows shut.
But the apartment felt hollow without Joshua's heavy footsteps, his stupid jokes, his terrible humming while doing dishes.
Isagi clenched his fists.
He hated this feeling.
This waiting.
This helplessness.
He wasn't a little kid anymore. He didn't need to be babied or protected. He needed Joshua here. Not out there chasing dreams that always seemed to cost them everything.
But even as he thought it, guilt gnawed at his gut.
He knew Joshua was doing all of this for him.
And still... a part of him resented it.
The resentment scared him.
---
Nightfall
Joshua finally stumbled through the door around midnight, soaked from another sudden rainstorm.
Isagi rushed forward, anger forgotten. "You're soaked, idiot!"
Joshua laughed weakly, collapsing onto the couch. "Made it, 'Sagi. Signed the contract. Big money, bro."
Isagi's chest swelled with relief and pride. "Told you. You're a genius on the field."
Joshua's smile faltered. "Yeah, well... it comes with strings."
Isagi froze. "What kind of strings?"
Joshua wiped a hand down his tired face. "I gotta move closer to the stadium. Training six days a week. Morning till night."
Isagi's world tilted sideways.
Joshua was leaving.
Not forever. But enough that it might as well be.
"You'll stay here, right?" Joshua said quickly, seeing the look on his brother's face. "I'll visit every chance I get. Send money. We can call every night."
Isagi said nothing.
Because he knew it was a lie.
Not on purpose—but life had a way of swallowing good intentions.
Joshua leaned forward, grabbing Isagi's shoulder hard enough to bruise. His voice was fierce, desperate.
"This is for us. For you, Isagi. I'm building something better. Trust me."
Isagi nodded mechanically. He didn't trust the world. But he trusted Joshua.
He had to.