A Gentleman's Facade
By: Reinne141
I.
...
Everything was black and white.
...
Yagyuu Hiroshi was seven years old when his parents first noticed that something was odd about their son.
They gave him a labrador puppy as a present for his birthday, to be his companion whenever both of his parents are away. His mom frequently travelled from one place to another, as it was the nature of her job as a liaison officer for the external affairs of the company she worked for, while his dad was an internal medicine doctor who, because of his sudden promotion, was assigned to one of the biggest hospitals in Tokyo.
It was in Kantou though, which was far and unfamiliar to their dear Hiroshi, so his parents opted that it would be best for their son to stay in Kanagawa with his grandparents where he can be taken care of in a comfortable environment. His parents wanted him to grow up in the place where they themselves were raised.
Hiroshi was such a good boy. He never cried for them to stay, nor did he beg for his parents to take him with them. He just quietly nodded, saying that he understood why they have to go so they don't need to explain themselves further. It was quite amazing for such a young boy of his age to be so mature and understanding, that's why his parents felt so proud to have him as their son. He was always silent and unlike the other kids, Hiroshi never bothered to play with other children. He was contented with keeping to himself and reading his favorite books.
Hiroshi was not an overly cheerful boy, and he was often reticent when other people are around, but he had a growing air of dignity radiating from him that made them aware that he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself.
They were sure he'd grow up into a fine, young man, and they couldn't ask for more.
So when they left, they were quite confident that he would be okay, and besides, he seemed to like the puppy they gifted him. His mom would always call him to ask about how he's doing, and his answer was always the same. He'd say he's fine and that's it. Then his mom would ask him about the puppy, and he'd say it was fine too. He never gave more details, and his words were all brief and to the point, but his mom thought it was alright because she knew that Hiroshi was never talkative.
During summer, his parents came back and offered to take him on a vacation, to which he simply shrugged and agreed. They went to the beach and they even brought his puppy. His mom and dad figured they should spend some family time together, and being left alone with his Baa-san and Ji-san in Kanagawa must be so lonesome for Hiroshi. But it was not long before they found out that he did well on his own, and he didn't seem to be missing them either. Suffice to say, it was commendable, but at the same time, strangely saddening.
When afternoon came, his parents suddenly realized that he was gone for over two hours already, and he didn't even tell them where he'd be going. So the couple scoured the beach for any sign of him, and were about to call the police when his dad caught sight of him standing near a cliff. Nervous and terribly concerned, the two ran to where he was, praying to Kami for his absolute safety. As they neared the little boy, they found that he was staring blankly at the waters crashing against the side of the rocky cliff, and when they too averted their eyes to the spot where he was intently gazing at, they quickly noticed something red sticking to the surface of the large stones below them, and it was slowly flowing down to the sea where it spread and mixed with the water, making it appear pinkish until it dissolved completely.
It was unmistakable. It was blood.
"The dog followed me," Hiroshi muttered without any kind of emotion in his voice. It was the same tone he used in his daily conversations with them; monotonous and flat. "I was standing here when it came. Then it jumped to me, but it fell down. It died there."
And as the little boy turned to leave, his parents came to a realization. Hiroshi referred to the puppy as "It". He never gave his dog a name, he never hugged it nor did he ever play with it, and it seems he was never attached to the puppy even after six months of having it with him. Unlike other boys who'd love to have a dog, Hiroshi never once showed any affection towards it and would just let it run around without even so much as a glance.
They realized then that he never talked about the puppy during their calls, not because he wasn't talkative, but plainly because the little boy never cared.
...
Empty, hollow and deprived of life.
...
Unlike what other people thought, Hiroshi never hated his parents. He knew why they were always away and it was only logical for them to do that since they are his parents and they're supposedly and legally obliged to provide for him, so he didn't feel bad about them leaving him in Kanagawa. In fact, he didn't feel anything about it, so he just went along with their decisions as always.
He never felt any sadness in regards to their leaving, nor did he feel any happiness when they returned. Hiroshi didn't feel any fondness for the puppy they bought him either, even though according to the books he read, children are usually joyous when they have pets.
Not that it mattered to him.
But what struck him as strange.. was when he was watching the puppy fall down to its untimely demise. His silver eyes didn't even blink as he saw it slam to the solid, pointy rocks below, its head twisting to an odd and inappropriate angle, and the bone on its neck jutting out of its skin with blood splattering from it, coloring its light-brown fur with a dark red. There was a crimson shower of blood from the open gash on its stomach and chest, revealing its squishy insides and rib bones open, then the puppy, which had all of a sudden stopped its crying rolled down until it fell into the water with a plop.
Hiroshi didn't even emit any sound of surprise or alarm, he didn't move nor flinch away. He just stood there emotionlessly, inwardly wondering why the death of a creature in front of his own eyes didn't even get any reaction from him.
Hiroshi didn't feel any pity. He didn't feel any tinge of emotion at all.
...
When Hiroshi was eight years old, he was advised to wear prescription glasses. They were so thick that they completely hid his silver eyes, and concealed the only part of him that exhibited even the tiniest bit of expression. And when he took a glimpse of himself at the mirror, a single thought came into his mind.
He looked more emotionless.
The thought itself made young Hiroshi seem empty and hollow as he kept staring at his reflection.
No one at his school seemed to be like him. The children there would always have that peculiar look on their faces they call 'Happy' whenever they're playing, and their eyes would always light up and their lips would tug upwards, giggling and laughing with each other. So during breaks, Hiroshi could only sit alone as he watches the other kids, pondering on how it must feel to be 'Happy.'
Then when a fight breaks out amongst them, he attentively observes as the kids involved in it would shout loudly, their faces scrunching up in 'Anger' and their bodies violently moving to inflict harm on other people. And when one of them is severely hurt, he fixes them with an analytical gaze as the kid's eyes produce 'Tears'. It was mesmerizing.
How ironic for a child who can't feel any emotion to be so fascinated with it.
So, Hiroshi continued observing the people around him from behind his opaque glasses, silently noting every single facial expression and body language, trying to understand them from a logical point of view. Then he studied these, and compared them with the definitions he read in the books and the ones he saw in movies. He was so interested in it that it became his pastime to watch people and how they interact with each other.
He wanted to learn more.
He wanted to see more.
People naturally show their emotions. It's essential to humans. They feel and they express. When they're happy, they smile. When they're sad, they cry. That's when Hiroshi started asking himself; Why doesn't he have these emotions? Does the absence of it make him not human?
Hiroshi contemplated about these as he walked home from school. And when he was just a few feet from their residence, he came across a fairly familiar cat, it was owned by the old woman living across the street. The little boy tilted his head as he realized something upon seeing it.
Do animals feel too?
...
No other color was left in sight.
...
Hiroshi's mom pulled the door close as she stepped into the living room. She just came from the hospital, where her husband's mom was currently in. Her father-in-law refused to leave the old woman's side, so she went herself to the house to get her mother-in-law's stuff. They were going to transfer her to the hospital where her husband works. But as soon as she entered their home, she could sense that something was definitely not right and her feet instinctively led her to Hiroshi's room. He should be home by now, right?
But when she didn't see any trace of her son in his room, uneasiness started to bubble up inside her and she called out for him with panic in her tone as she strode to the back of the house. But just when she reached the kitchen, the open door of the bath room came to her notice and the woman rushed in there.. only to find her own son standing near the tub with a small knife in his right hand, his fingers bloodied and his arms scratched all over.
His gaze was focused on the tabby cat lying on its back inside the bath tub, with its stomach slashed open, and its entrails meticulously removed from the inside and placed in a neat pile of meat beside it. The foul smell of blood was overpowering, and the woman saw the red liquid continuously travelling to the drain. The cat's lifeless eyes were wide open and its tongue was limply hanging, as if it did all it can to take in oxygen to keep itself alive, even in its last moments.
Hiroshi didn't even turn to look at her, he just kept standing there with an unreadable look on his face. Before, his mom thought that that blank expression was just a poker one, a mask to hide his feelings since he liked to keep to himself. But now she realized that she was wrong and it was his real expressions. It was how he felt all along.
"It was loud. It kept on making noises.." he suddenly said, as if reporting his findings to a teacher, "Its tear ducts also kept on releasing tears, and its arms stretched out to reach me so many times." Hiroshi then slowly spun around, his hand loosely clutching the bloody knife and the front of his shirt also stained with blood, "It felt pain, Okaa-san. It felt an emotion, even though it's just a cat. So why can't I?"
And he was engulfed into a tight embrace by his mom, her shoulders trembling with her sobs. Hiroshi watched as tears dropped from her eyes. And somehow, he knew, that those tears were for him.
She was in pain because of him.
...
When one can't feel any emotion, no guilt to tell him that what he's doing is wrong and no joy to tell him that what he's doing is right, it's difficult to determine the right from the wrong all by himself. It's hard to set a line of morale to go by when he himself don't know where to place it.
The psychiatrist who handled Hiroshi when he was ten was of little help but at least, the boy's animal experimentations were halted. That person explained to him many things that he found complicated, but most of his questions were left unanswered. And Hiroshi's constant questioning would often leave the psychiatrist confused and ruffled, as the boy's words made sense but at the same time, they rocked the very foundation of his principles.
Obviously, the sessions were cut short.
In the end, it was his mom's words that became his guide. She was afraid of what her son can be capable of if he grows up to be a.. heartless person who doesn't have any sort of qualms in doing things other people may consider unacceptable. He doesn't feel any remorse, and it frightened her. Truly frightened her. So she taught him the dissimilarities of right and wrong, and that he should only do the things people would deem as morally right.
When there were times he'd speak coldly towards their neighbors and the kids there who only wanted to play with him..
"You should always be polite to people, especially girls. It's the right thing to do." Then she'll pat his head and lead him to them, encouraging him to interact with children around his age.
And since it was the right thing to do, he went along with it. For someone like him who can't distinguish things like that on his own, his mother's instructions became his beacon of guidance.
"Show respect to your elders. Use honorifics. Bow formally when greeting them, yes, just like that."
At least, now he knows how to conduct himself when in other people's company.
"Don't hunch. It's a show of discourteousness. Keep your posture straight, Hiroshi. "
The little boy etched these lessons into his mind, organizing them in a mental list to act as his social rulebook.
"Do a good turn for somebody everyday. Never forget that."
Hiroshi soon found that it was quite easy to act in front of other people, to be kind to them simply because he doesn't particularly care who they are.
As long as it's right, he's fine with it.
...
Just like his heart that was bereft of light.
...
By the time he was 13, he became quite known as "the Gentleman".
Hiroshi smiled when the situation required it, shared his intelligent thoughts when asked for it, nodded at the right moments in a conversation and leaves with the politest of words.
He never truly liked anything, but for the sake of living up to his nickname, came to be fond of- or rather, pretended to be fond of classical music, Johann Strauss' Work specifically, and classical plays, like Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables, because according to the books he'd read, those were the common favorites of many known gentlemen.
For him who doesn't favor anything, it was easy to feign interest.
He was good at everything he did and never had a single bad grade. His superb athleticism was also admired, for he played the sports most gentlemen play, which was none other than Golf. His silver eyes were quick to find errors, and his hands were quick to fix them.
All in all, he was the exact embodiment of gentlemanly manners, and soon rose to popularity among his schoolmates, may they be males or females. It was not long before he became a member of the Rikkaidai Student Council, and the School's rulebook became his holy bible.
Everything was perfect.
They said he was perfect.
But for Hiroshi, it was his facade that was perfect.
It was all just a replica of perfection he created to mask the indifference he was feeling inside.
In reality, he was still a creature void of any emotions.
And sometimes, he still can't help but compare the various expressions of his schoolmates to the expression of the glasses-wearing boy he sees in the mirror everyday.
...
But then, there was silver..
...
"Tennis?"
It was not foreign to him, he knew its meaning. It's a game played with racquets and a light elastic ball by two players or pairs. But it still seemed strange when the word rolled off his tongue. Closing his locker, the bespectacled lad gave the boy standing near the door a long, careful stare.
"Yeah. You should try it."
He had long, silver hair that ended up in a rat-tail, and his steel-blue gaze was mischievous and sly, but the clever spark in it told him that there's more to this person than meets the eye. He had a lean physique under that yellow and black jersey, and Hiroshi was sure that behind his lazy-cat slouch, was a mind more cunning than anyone he'd met.
"I'm in the golf club."
The silver-haired boy simply shrugged, "And I don't care. Besides," he reached for the tip of his rat-tail and played with it, "You don't seem too happy with it." At this, a slight frown tugged at Hiroshi's lips. He noticed. "So why not try Tennis?"
Instead of answering, the purple-haired Gentleman queried, pushing his glasses stiffly with two fingers, "Who are you?"
"The name's Niou Masaharu." The silverhead smirked confidently, "Remember it. Co'z I'll be your teammate in no time at all."
Although Hiroshi gave him a solid 'No' that day, the stubborn Niou Masaharu came back the next day. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Like he had nothing better to do with his life than to bother other people, which he probably does on a daily basis.
"What are you reading?"
Hiroshi closed his book shut. "Will you please stop following me around? It's rather uncomfortable."
"What? I was just asking. No need to be so stiff," the silver head took a peek at the cover of the book, and grimaced. "Romeo and Juliet?"
"I take it you're not fond of the story?"
"Of course, I'm not. They're two impulsive teens who both committed suicide just because of love. That's a dumb way to die. If I was the writer, I'd give them a different ending."
"Well, in my opinion, it's-.."
"Wanna join the tennis club?"
"…"
"Na?"
"No."
It happened almost everyday, until the bespectacled lad just decided to deal with it once and for all.
"Give me a reason why I should join you." Hiroshi asked the silver-haired regular outside the golf clubhouse, taking off his gloves. "And maybe I'll consider it."
"That's easy." Niou leaned his back on a tree, his right hand skillfully twirling his racquet. "Because tennis is fun. And I, for one, think you need it more than anyone else here."
That answer had Hiroshi signing up for the Rikkaidai Tennis Club.
...
Pink, blue- now he could see a sliver..
...
Hiroshi didn't know what he was expecting, or the real reason why he agreed to come with that willful silverhead, but there was something in what he said that had hit close to home.
He had already quitted those experiments he did when he was young, because his mom said they were inhumane. Good kids should never do that; it's wrong and immoral and sinful. It's not in the social rulebook his mother had set up for him.
Therefore he halted his search for his own emotions.
But now, he's once again embarking on a new search. He knew it was risky, he's straying from the path his mother had taught him.
But the words Niou said kept on replaying in his mind, stirring the questions he'd had since he was a child.
'Tennis is fun.'
Will tennis really be able to show him the meaning of the word 'Fun'?
So, he entered the door to the tennis clubroom that day, wanting to know what it was that could put such passionate gleams in the tennis players' eyes whenever they get a hold of their racquets, wondering if he could one day learn to feel the same as well.
"The famed Gentleman, ka?" muttered the intimidating Emperor, Sanada Genichirou, from his seat. His black baseball cap laid uselessly on his lap, victimized by the same person who recruited Hiroshi.
But it didn't go unpunished, as the Trickster was already sporting a crimson-red slapmark on his left cheek. It was his own brand of discipline.
Yanagi Renji, the brown-haired Data Master, helpfully offered, his irises moving underneath his seemingly closed eyelids, "Height is 177 cm, weight is 64 kg, born on October 19, a Libra and a blood type A- both a testament to his personality."
It made the bespectacled boy wonder how much information this individual has in his arsenal, and how much data he had already processed in the mere five minutes they've met.
"Well then," Yukimura Seiichi, the Demigod, tucked a few stray blue locks under his headband, his smile warm and pleasant, but Hiroshi was no fool to believe it; he knew this one's the most dangerous among the three. "You'll be pairing up with Niou, and we'll see what you can do against Marui and Jackal. But I guess that will have to wait, he has to finish his three hundred laps first."
There was something about them that made them so distinct from the others; the way they carry themselves and the way their auras alone could emanate such unthinkable power.
They were living enigmas.
They were the Three Monsters of Rikkaidai indeed.
The tennis team was a whole new world filled with many diverse people- people whose opinions would always clash, whose tastes were far too different, whose personalities were very much opposites and who had no other commonality aside from one: They all love Tennis.
It was what united them and made them comrades.
Hiroshi decided right then and there, as he silently observed how these people interacted with each other: He'll just give it a try. If it doesn't work, then he'll leave the team and go back to golf.
Needless to say, he never did.
...
Of the one thing he'd been longing for..
...
Somehow, through the experiences he'd had with his teammates, he would almost have a taste of their emotions, of his own emotions.
"Oi, Yaaaagyuu, wanna learn a trick? Been thinking about it for some time now. Puri~"
The simple thrill of getting the ball past the opponent and having that score.
"Niou-kun, please don't prolong my name like that. And if it involves blowing up another classroom, then I refuse."
The determination to endure the harsh, spartan training with people worthy enough to be regulars.
"Yo! Yagyuu, Niou! Jackal says he'd treat us today to some ramen, wanna come?"
The triumphant feeling of standing on the top and reigning supreme amongst legions of rival teams.
"EHHHH? WHY ME?! I never said that-.."
The pride from being one of the so-called 'King Rikkaidai'.
"That's great, I'm starving. Some Yakiniku would be nice too, Baldy. Piyo."
But what he had so far were all just partial glimpses, a shadow of emotions, a sliver of the whole. And it made Hiroshi want more. It was one of the reasons why he stayed with them, the Rikkaidai regulars, who were all so different but exhibited a wider array of emotions that captivated him more than anything. Maybe it was their long-standing friendship and camaraderie, or maybe their fervent devotion towards Tennis that compelled them to go to unbelievable heights. Whatever it was, it drove him to discover more of that one thing which fascinated him so much since he was a child.
"That Kirihara brat's back again, and he's challenging Yukimura! Tarundoru!"
Still, it wasn't enough.
"Hey, Yagyuu. 'Bout the trick I was talking about.. No, nothing to do with that. I'm laying low after last time. But say.."
"Hmm?"
"What do you think of switching places with me?" He paused, a smirk playing on the side of his lips then, "Pretending?"
And the look in Niou's blue eyes was undoubtedly saying that it was something Hiroshi could easily do.
He wanted to learn more.
He wanted to see more.
"..And how exactly do we do that?"
...
A kaleidoscope of iridescent colors.
...
Soon began his days as a trickster, hiding behind a gentleman's facade.
It opened a new world of colors for him, its doors only inches away from the tip of his fingers. He saw a lot, and experienced a lot, alongside his new-found company.
But the sad truth remains still. Hiroshi can only watch, but never feel. No matter what he does, it's still not enough.
He was still that black and white entity in a haven of differently-colored beings. Empty, hollow and dull. Just like his heart..
But that was.. until he met her.
Until he met a girl named Ryuzaki Sakuno.
...
End of Part One.
...