Demon of nightmares

1. Shadow and Light: The diversity of the Sakura Twins

The image does not belong to me, all rights go to the artist.

The name Yūma can be spelt in two in two ways, the first 優真 and the other 夢魔

"優" (yū) means 'kind' or 'excellent,' and '真' (ma) means 'truth,' so my name, Yūma, could mean 'true kindness' or "genuine excellence." But for me, it never had that meaning.

Instead, my name is spelled with "夢" (yū), meaning "dream," and "魔" (ma), meaning "demon" or "evil". My name, therefore, is "dream demon" or "nightmare."

I'm Yūma Sakura, I'm 15 years old boy, and although my name means "dream demon," I have never had a real dream to pursue. Instead, I could be considered the demon of other people's nightmares. It's as if my entire existence was crafted not to chase dreams of my own, but to haunt the dreams of others, to embody their fears and insecurities.

The irony isn't lost on me-while others dream of greatness, I find myself drifting in the dark, consumed by shadows I never chose.
Maybe it's fitting. I've always felt like a phantom, wandering through a world where hope and light belonged to someone else-someone like my twin brother, Haruka, who effortlessly reflects everything good that I can never be.
I hated it, and yet... I needed it. I needed his light more than I needed my next breath. Without him, I was nothing.

I've come to believe that I'm not meant to dream. Instead, I'm the darkness that lingers just beyond the light, reminding everyone that not all stories have happy endings. Probably, they would have given Haruka my name if he had been born before me, but fortunately, my sweet little brother was born a few hours later, leaving me to carry this burden of darkness.

I always wondered why people treated us with coldness and disgust. It used to confuse me, like we had done something wrong just by existing. Over time, I came to understand that people don't like what they can't understand, what doesn't fit into their narrow definitions of "normal." So, in response, I began to mirror their indifference, treating them like they treated me-like pawns on a chessboard. If they wanted a monster, I'd be that monster. It was easier that way, to keep them at a distance. If I didn't let anyone close, I didn't have to feel their rejection. Simple. Safe. Haruka never understood. He never accepted the way I handled things. His bleeding heart wouldn't allow it.
That big heart of his, always bleeding for others, even behind the mask of a tough guy. He never let the cruelty of the world harden him like I did.

I admired him for that, even though I couldn't understand it. He always struggled to carve out a place for himself in this cruel world, fighting against the tide. And somehow, he always found a way to belong.

Meanwhile, I... I let the darkness swallow me whole. Depression crept into every corner of my mind, wrapping itself around me like a suffocating fog. I stopped trying to fight it. I stopped caring whether I belonged anywhere. I accepted the emptiness because, in a way, it was easier to live without hope, without dreams. Because I didn't need a place to belong. My place was beside Haru. That was enough. At least then, there was nothing to lose.

I became a ghost in my own life, drifting through each day, watching Haruka from a distance, wondering how he could still smile in front of me when everything felt so pointless.

Loneliness became my closest companion. It's a funny thing, loneliness. You can be surrounded by people and still feel like you're on another planet. It wasn't just the physical isolation, but the feeling that no matter how many people surrounded me, I was completely alone. No one could reach me-not even Haruka, though he tried. And that made it worse, knowing that even he, the one person who cared, couldn't pull me out of the darkness I had willingly embraced. But that's the thing about darkness-it was easier to live in the shadows, especially if it meant I could keep watching him, keep protecting him.