A young boy of 17 years is sitting in front of his study table, his face full of bandages on his nose, left eye, and cheek, a broken hand resting awkwardly beside him. Suddenly, a blond angelic figure appears, a boy whose eyes are obscured by a black cloth. His voice carries a soft teasing tone as he asks, "So you again got bandages due to your ideologies?"
Shin Yamahara, with pride and fervor, responds, "Justice must always be delivered! It's the core of our humanity—every injury is a testament to our fight against oppression. We stand for truth! If we allow injustice to prevail, we become complicit. Every bruise is a badge of honor in this war!"
The church bells ring softly in the distance, echoing in the silence that follows. Scaret, the angelic visitor, smiles knowingly at Shin, the light glinting off his golden hair. "You're a stubborn one, Shin. But tell me," he muses, "how does it feel to stand alone in your pursuit of justice?"
"Lonely," Shin admits, a flicker of doubt momentarily flickering through his eyes. "But if the pursuit of justice makes me an outcast, then I will wear that title with pride. In a world filled with hypocrisy, we need standards—");
"Which you intend to uphold despite the cost?" Scaret interjects, his smile unwavering.
"Exactly!" Shin exclaims, lifting his chin defiantly. "What's the point of living without principles? I'd rather suffer than allow the injustice around me to fester and grow. Each day, I fight; even if I'm broken, it means I'm still fighting for something real."
Scaret's expression becomes contemplative, shrouded in the fabric of his mystique. "But justice can be as cruel as it is kind. Have you considered that perhaps your view might be… too simplistic?"
A fire ignites in Shin's chest at the perceived insult. "Simplistic? Justice isn't simplistic; it's nuanced. People twist its meaning to suit their purposes. If I stand quiet, I betray everything I believe in."
The room falls into a heavy silence as the weight of their conversation hangs in the air.
"Then tell me, what would you consider true justice?" Scaret asks, genuine curiosity lacing his tone.
Shin's brow furrows, battling within himself for the right words. "True justice is when everyone is held accountable! It's when the innocent are protected, and the guilty pay for their actions. It's not about revenge; it's about balance, ensuring that everyone has a voice and no one suffers in silence."
Scaret's smile widens ever so slightly. "Such passion, Shin; it reminds me of the fire I once had. But in this world, justice often wears a mask. Are you prepared to confront the shadows that lurk behind that mask? To face the consequences of your conviction?"
"Bring it on!" Shin's voice rings out with unwavering determination. "I am ready, and I won't back down. If I fall, I'll rise again—because making a difference is worth every wound."
"Such resilience in youth," Scaret observes, and for a fleeting moment, his blindfold dips slightly, revealing a glimpse of something profound in his eyes. "I envy you, Shin. Your convictions give you strength, but remember, justice is sometimes wrapped in complexity. You may find that righteousness is often only a perspective."
"Maybe," Shin concedes, his voice softer now. "But I refuse to let complexities deter me. Each act of injustice I encounter reminds me that there must always be someone willing to speak up."
Scaret regards him thoughtfully, the angelic visage imbuing a sense of timelessness to their exchange. "And in doing so, you risk forming a one-sided narrative, Shin. Who defines justice in your story?"
A frown etches itself on Shin's face, the boy's innocence momentarily cast aside by the influx of doubt. "Does it matter? Justice should be universal. It shouldn't depend on who claims it—only on the actions taken to protect the voiceless."
"A noble belief," Scaret acknowledges, "but your spirit will encounter grappling realities that challenge such ideals."
"I won't be defeated," Shin replies fiercely. "Every battle I fight brings me closer to that dream—because only by standing up will I inspire others to do the same."
The air vibrates with conviction as momentary silence falls over the two. Scaret, in his wisdom, nods slowly, his expression shifting. "Then perhaps, let us explore this together; I can guide you—"
"Are you telling me your adherence to injustice is just a ruse?" Shin interrupts, a glimmer of indignation apparent in his eyes. "You claim to be a god of justice—yet you're here, and I am bleeding for what I believe in. How can I trust you?"
"I do not bring injustice to this world, Shin; I simply observe how fragile the balance is. I exist to guide, not to dictate," Scaret offers, pearly patience woven into his tone.
"You can guide someone toward understanding a corrupted truth," Shin counters sharply. "But my way is toward purging that corruption."
"So blind! So well-intentioned, yet knowing nothing of the vastness surrounding your beliefs. You think dichotomously, but the world is gray," Scaret responds, his voice cool yet undeniably intriguing.
"I don't care about the gray!" Shin lashes out, the intensity of his spirit breaking through the shadows of despair surrounding them. "I care about fighting with everything I have for people who can't."
Scaret leans closer, an ethereal glint in his gaze. "Then prepare yourself for a tumultuous path, Shin Yamahara. Justice will not turn a blind eye to your naïveté."
"Bring it on, Scaret," Shin insists. "I'd rather face my pain than stand idle. I'll learn as I tread paths of anguish and triumph alike."