The Soulmate Link | SaneGiyuu

Two - Conceal, don't feel

Sanemi Shinazugawa had learned to handle pain early in life. The kind that twisted inside, gnawing at the edges of his heart until it felt hollow. It started when he was little and continued until he was seventeen. His father, the man who had been a constant source of pain, died from cancer. The irony wasn't lost on Sanemi; the disease that ravaged his father's body was far less brutal than the damage he had inflicted on his family. When his father finally passed, Sanemi felt a strange mix of relief and resentment. The man who had made his childhood a nightmare was gone, but the scars—both physical and emotional—remained.

After his father's death, Sanemi's mother was left to pick up the pieces. She took on multiple jobs, anything to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. By day, she walked dogs for the wealthy and worked as a receptionist at a small clinic. At night, she stocked shelves at a local supermarket, her hands rough and cracked from the constant work. Sanemi hated seeing her like that, so worn down by the weight of the world, but he didn't have the luxury of wallowing in anger or self-pity. He had six younger siblings to look after, each one needing something different from him—support, guidance, a quick meal when their mom was too exhausted to cook.

Sanemi was twenty-one and attending a local community college. Engineering was his major, and while he found the field interesting, it wasn't his passion. It was practical, something that would eventually lead to a stable job and, more importantly, money to help his mom. He worked part-time at a mechanic's shop, the grease under his nails and the smell of engine oil becoming as familiar as the weight on his shoulders. But even with all that, he stayed close to home, refusing to move away to a university like some of his old friends. Whenever strangers asked why he hadn't left, he brushed them off with a sharp "none of your business."

The truth was, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his family behind. His mom needed him. His siblings needed him. And as much as he wanted to escape, to breathe for himself, he couldn't. So, he stayed, taking on the role of the man of the house—a role he never asked for but one he couldn't refuse.

Then there was Genya, his sixteen-year-old brother. The poor kid had just discovered his soulmate link, and it was throwing him for a loop. Genya had always been the happy one, the kind who meticulously planned out his day and rarely forgot a detail. But lately, he'd been plagued by moments of forgetfulness, his usual composure shattered by the emotions bleeding through their bond.

Sanemi found it amusing at first, watching his normally cheerful brother fumble around, confused by the strange sensations. But beneath the teasing, he felt a pang of sympathy. Sanemi knew all too well what it was like to feel someone else's pain. His own link had come to life the day he turned sixteen, a cold shiver of loneliness and despair settling into his bones. Whoever his soulmate was, they carried a darkness that mirrored his own. At first, the connection had been overwhelming, the constant barrage of sadness and hopelessness nearly driving him mad. But Sanemi was nothing if not resilient. He learned to push it aside, to lock that part of himself away so it wouldn't interfere with his responsibilities.

Sanemi didn't talk about his soulmate much. Not with his mom, not with his friends, not even with Genya. It wasn't that he didn't want to meet them—somewhere deep down, he did—but the idea of being bound to someone who felt like that all the time terrified him. What kind of life were they living? Did they know that he existed, that he felt their pain, their sorrow? And did they feel his? The thought of his soulmate experiencing the beatings he endured for that year, up until his father died, made his stomach churn. He knew the bruises and cuts would appear on their skin too, only to fade away after a few minutes. But that brief moment of shared agony was enough to make him want to shield them from his past, from the remnants of his father's cruelty.

One afternoon, as Sanemi was helping Genya with his homework, his brother finally snapped.

"Nemi, how do you control your soulmate bond? This person is killing me. I can't get through my homework without this overwhelming sense of forgetting something," Genya blurted out, his voice tinged with frustration.