I Siphon the Dead to Become the Strongest

He looked up, his eyes reflecting a cold, unwavering conviction.

”He taught us that the pursuit of absolute strength requires a certain surgical precision. He told me, ’Purge the distractions of the heart, for emotion is but a fog that obscures the path to true dominion. To be admired is a weakness; to be feared and respected is a necessity. Do not seek a hand to hold—make the world chase the shadow of your back, and they will spend their entire lives striving merely to catch a glimpse of your stride.’”

The two siblings locked eyes across the table—one representing the quiet strength of the tide, the other the sharp, uncompromising edge of a storm. For a moment, the air in the small dining room grew heavy, charged with the clash of two opposing legacies, before Kiyoko simply smiled and pushed the plate of gyoza further toward her brother.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the ghosts of memories that neither of them truly wanted to invite to the table. Kiyoko’s gaze drifted from Hifumi to the empty space beside her, her expression remaining serene, though a flicker of profound sadness touched her crimson eyes.

”You cling to his principles with such desperation, Hifumi,” she said softly, her voice like a mourning bell. ”But perhaps you should consider the price he paid for that conviction. It was that very obsession—that relentless, starving hunger for power—that carved a canyon between him and the people who actually loved him.”

She paused, her fingers tracing the edge of the porcelain plate. ”He had the audacity to build a family, to bring us into this world, only to discard us like obsolete tools once he decided that his own contentment was more valuable than his children.”

Hifumi stiffened, his fork clattering against the plate. He looked at her as if she were speaking a dialect he couldn’t comprehend, his lip curling in a slight, instinctive sneer.

”He provided for us, did he not?” Hifumi countered, his voice sharp and clinical. ”The wealth we enjoy, the status we carry—all of it is the fruit of his ambition. He is one of the most formidable hunters in all of Japan. He didn’t ’discard’ us; he transcended the mundane needs of a domestic life. If anything, that singular focus is exactly why I admire him. Power is the only true currency in this world. It dominates everything—morality, love, and the petty grievances of the heart.”

Kiyoko let out a long, slow sigh, a sound of weary resignation. She didn’t argue; she simply looked at her brother with a pity that seemed to irritate him more than an open insult would have.

”And what of Mother?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filling the room. ”While he was ascending his mountain of power, he left her in the valley, alone. He left her to raise us in the shadow of a man who was more a myth than a husband.”

She turned her gaze toward the window, the reflection of her crimson eyes shimmering in the glass.

”What kind of man is he, truly? A father who treats his own flesh and blood as strangers? A husband who views the devotion of his wife as a mere distraction? To him, we were never a family, Hifumi. We were simply... background noise in the symphony of his own greatness.”

Hifumi pushed his chair back with a sharp, decisive scrape against the hardwood floor. The conversation had reached a stalemate, and the air in the room had become too suffocating, thick with his sister’s quiet accusations and the lingering scent of a family’s dysfunction.

”I am full,” he announced, his voice regaining its cool, detached edge. ”Thank you for the meal.”

He stood abruptly and began to move away from the table, his movements fluid and hurried.

”And where exactly are you going?” Kiyoko asked, her voice drifting after him, calm and curious.

”Outside,” Hifumi replied without looking back.

”It is the middle of the night, Hifumi.”

He paused at the threshold, his silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway. ”I require some fresh air. I shall return in ten minutes.”

Kiyoko remained seated, watching him in silence as he returned to the living room. She observed him as he slid into his dark blue trousers and shrugged into a heavy, dark blue jacket that matched the coldness of his expression. He didn’t offer a final glance or a parting word; he simply stepped out and closed the door behind him.

As the door clicked shut, the mask of indifference Hifumi wore finally cracked.

He walked down the quiet street, the cool night air hitting his face, but it did little to clear the turbulence in his mind. His expression was grim, his brow furrowed in a rare moment of genuine inner conflict.

Sister is right, he thought, his teeth clenching. How dare that man—that so-called father—treat us as mere footnotes in his biography? To abandon a family for the sake of a title... it is an act of such grotesque selfishness that it should be loathsome.

He stopped walking for a moment, staring up at the pale moonlight.

And yet... he paused, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. Why can I not bring myself to despise him? Is it this insatiable hunger for the very power he possesses? Or is there something more primal, something I cannot fathom or explain?

He let out a sharp, disdainful huff, his breath frosting in the air. He didn’t want an answer that involved emotion; emotion was a vulnerability, a flaw in the armor.

No. The only way to resolve this is to move forward. To climb.

His eyes sharpened, the iris gleaming with a predatory intensity. The conflict vanished, replaced by a singular, driving ambition.

Overwhelming strength. That is the only truth. I have no need for the sentimental clutter of love or the fragile crutch of friendship. I will cast those things aside—I will burn them if I must—if it means ascending to a height where no one can ever look down on me again.

He started walking again, his pace faster now, his stride purposeful.

I will surpass him. I will become the pinnacle, and in doing so, I will prove that my path—my will—is the only one that matters.

---

Hifumi is certainly... a piece of work, isn’t he? I wanted to peel back the curtain on where that arrogance actually comes from. Do you think he’s beyond redemption, or is he just a product of his father’s cruelty? I’d love to hear your thoughts on whether you can sympathize with him or if he’s just too far gone.

But Hey...Hifumi is a fascinating character because he is fighting a war within himself—he hates his father’s selfishness, yet he is addicted to his father’s philosophy. He’s trying to use the very weapon that hurt him to climb higher.