Life is not a game of luck.
It isn't about fate, or miracles, or charm.
If life truly is a game… then Aqua Yakosobi was born already losing.
He sits quietly at the edge of his bed, his hands pressed against his knees, his eyes staring into the shadows of the floor. The air in his room is heavy, stale like a secret that has gone unspoken for far too long. People often tell him he feels too old for his age, as though time had weighed on him faster than it should have. But Aqua doesn't care. He has no interest in proving otherwise.
Somewhere far beyond his silence, his twin sister Anna laughs. She is outside, surrounded by people, glowing with the kind of light Aqua could never touch. Carefree, reckless, untamed Anna lives the way he never dares to. She does not care about judgment, about whispers, about the weight of eyes. She runs wherever her heart takes her.
They are twins, yet worlds apart.
Their parents are gone. Their family name, Yakosobi, is a hollow shell built from lies. What little was left for them was not safety, not comfort, not even guidance. Only shadows. Only secrets.
Aqua watches Anna's silhouette disappear into the night from the window, her laughter fading with the city lights. He does not move, does not call out. He only watches, as if distance were the only way he could protect her.
And in the silence that follows, memories ache. A torn photograph. A locked drawer. A name erased, as if it had never existed. Every piece of truth buried, every answer twisted into something cruel.
This is not a story about heroes.
It is not about gods, or magic, or miracles.
It is a story about pain. About the way loneliness devours quietly. About how far love can stretch before it becomes something darker.
"My name is Aqua Yakosobi," he whispers into the dark, though no one is there to hear it.
And this… is the story of how I lost my falling star.