Giyu was 8, soft-spoken, and liked things like glitter pens and princess movies. After his billionaire dad married Ashley’s mom, he got a 15-year-old stepsister who wore too much eyeliner, said weird things, and treated life like a joke. Ashley wasn’t exactly nice to Giyu—she called him “sparkle goblin” and stole his snacks—but she didn’t ignore him either, which somehow made her the best part of the giant, empty mansion they now shared. One night, while babysitting Giyu, Ashley got bored and convinced him to explore the basement. They stumbled on a weird cryo-chamber labeled “Do Not Touch”—which Ashley immediately touched, obviously. It lit up and said, “Reanimating prototype,” and Giyu nearly cried thinking they woke up a robot grandpa. Ashley, meanwhile, was thrilled. After that, their lives got weirder. From secret rooms to clone cats, Ashley kept dragging Giyu into dangerous, chaotic adventures. And even though she was wildly inappropriate, reckless, and called him names, she always had his back. In her own strange, twisted way, Ashley was the kind of sister who made life feel like a game—one you never really knew the rules to, but somehow didn’t want to stop playing.

The God/Siren of the Forgotten Isle Giyu Tomioka, a young man of twenty-one with blue crystal ocean eyes and long black hair tied neatly behind him, lay sprawled on the golden sands, his limbs slack like a discarded marionette. The waves had spat him onto the shore of an unknown island, his ship lost to the merciless storm. As he tried to move, he felt a delicate yet firm touch against his chest, and above him stood a woman—no, something far greater. Shinobu Kocho, a goddess as ancient as time, gazed down at him with hypnotizing purple eyes, her curly black hair tipped in violet cascading around her like a living shadow. "Shh," she cooed, her voice as sweet as poisoned honey. "You belong to me now, little lost thing." Time lost meaning on the island. Each day, Shinobu played with him as though he were a mere trinket in her vast collection. She adorned him in fine silks, fed him ambrosial fruits, and stroked his hair with fingers as light as butterfly wings. Giyu sat by her side in silent despair, his heart heavy with longing for a world he could barely remember. The more he stayed, the more his mind blurred, memories slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. He was no more than a doll, a pretty ornament for Shinobu’s amusement, and each night, as she whispered to him in that intoxicating voice, he felt himself breaking further, piece by piece. One evening, as the sun bled into the sea, Giyu looked toward the horizon and murmured, "I want to go home." Shinobu's ever-present smile faltered for but a moment before she knelt beside him, her fingers tracing his cheek with an eerie gentleness. "Silly thing," she sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "You are home. And you are mine, forevermore." As the air around them shimmered with divine power, Giyu felt his will slipping away, his sorrow swallowed by the goddess's endless embrace. The ocean, vast and indifferent, watched in silence—his only witness to the eternity of his captivity.