Liquid Inspiration
A/N: Re-written, and hopefully, much improved this time around.
Liquid Inspiration
Vol 0. Prologue - A Liquid Inspiration
Ayanokouji Kiyotaka
From the moment I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by a boundless sea of white.
It seemed almost poetic once I realized I was in a facility named the "White Room."
The walls, doors, and even the ceiling—the first thing I remembered seeing—were all a pristine, sterile white.
Before I found any interest in staring at or playing with my fingertips, I found myself pondering the nature of that white ceiling... idly staring at it. As a baby, you really couldn't do much but stare... and cry.
I didn't know it back then, but I cried because I ached for human connection. Eventually, I learned that no one would come to rescue me, and I abandoned the fruitless act of crying.
Looking back, my response was driven by instinct rather than logic.
This was the first lesson a newborn baby, unable to even speak, learned when coming to terms with its environment.
When I was two years old, I first recognized communication as a means of connecting with others. It was with an instructor whose sole purpose was to fulfill the tasks assigned to him.
I remember him asking something that I couldn't immediately comprehend:
"Guess where the gummy is, and you can eat it."
His words were devoid of emotion, spoken with indifference. The instructor was utterly detached.
Now, with that established, I began mulling over the words the instructor said:
What's a gummy?
What does eat mean?
Was that supposed to be an action I already knew, or was it another command altogether?
I couldn't understand what he was talking about, but I touched his right hand as I noticed him using the same hand to grab something before he motioned for me to come closer.
Upon doing so, the instructor opened his hands, presenting me with the object that I eventually found to be a "gummy."
Now, where am I going with this thought?
Simple.
All my life, I have been raised in an environment where I was simply focused on fulfilling an objective.
It did not matter if it meant anything or how we would feel about the task.
What mattered was that we produced results, which I've been doing from the very beginning.
Initially, I would fail in the challenges presented to me, but eventually, I surpassed everyone in all fields and disciplines that were taught to us. Academically, physically, psychologically, and even in mundane fields like the culinary arts, I excelled.
And I was content with this. After all, I was constantly learning, absorbing everything that the facility had to offer, just as I had desired.
However, over the past few months, a treacherous seed of dissent had been sown within the confines of my mind. I couldn't pinpoint when the sprout of rebellion first took root, but it had grown, challenging the rationale that had been my operational compass for most of my existence: blind obedience was no longer a source of satisfaction.
That said, my insatiable curiosity still existed within me, eager to absorb everything and integrate certain bits of knowledge into my already extensive repertoire of skills. But this thirst for knowledge and boundless curiosity no longer provided me with a satisfying rationale for my actions as time passed.
Things... were starting to change.
And there was something else that I wanted to have in my life.
But just as I was preparing to sink even further into my thoughts, a knock on my door interrupted me.
I stood up from my bed, the only piece of furniture in the room besides a small table and chair, and twisted the door's handle.
Hamada, a worker at the facility, stood before me.
"Kiyotaka-sama, the Professor requests your presence in his office," he said.
"At this hour?" I replied, glancing at the wall clock. It was 11:00 PM, an unusual time to engage in conversation.
"Y-Yes. I believe it is important, so I implore you to go to his office immediately, Kiyotaka-sama," Hamada said as he bowed before me.
"I see. Thank you, Hamada," I replied before exiting my room and closing its immaculate white door.
Hamada simply nodded his head before turning away.
A gesture that I had been used to in the fourteen years that I have been in this facility.
Everything was simply a matter of achieving your objective.
-0-
It did not take me long to reach the Professor... or should I say, my father's office. As the imposing double doors loomed before me, I rapped my knuckles against the wood, signaling my arrival.
"Come in, Kiyotaka."
Upon my father's invitation, I pushed open the doors to his office, and the smell of old leather and aged books wafted through the air.
I scanned the room before my gaze settled on my father, who was already pouring two glasses of whiskey from an antique decanter on his desk.
"Sit down, Kiyotaka," he said, gesturing to the plush armchair across from him.
Curiosity piqued, I settled into the chair. Though I'd been in this room before, this was the first time Ayanokouji Atsuomi, my father, had offered me a drink.
Wasn't this illegal? From what I've read, the legal age to drink in Japan was 20 years old.
Hesitantly, I picked up the glass he offered and chose to simply examine it. The liquid inside swirled gently as I lifted the glass, reflecting the light in a mesmerizing pattern.
The whiskey's deep amber hue radiated warmth and depth. Its aroma filled the air with notes of oak, vanilla, and a hint of smoke.
How... interesting.
"Why have you called me here, father?" I asked.
"Today is October 20, is it not?" He asked.
Ah, that's right.
Today is the 20th of October, which means today is also my 14th birthday.
But I did not feel any significance to this day.
To me, it was simply another day, just like all the days that have gone before this one.
"Indeed it is," I replied.
"Hm. It's been 14 years since I decided to put you, my own flesh and blood, in this facility... and with how you have turned out, I have no regrets over my decision, Kiyotaka," he said as he took a sip of the glass of whiskey that he's been holding.
I decided to be a little impudent as I do not see a reason why we are having this mundane conversation.
"Where exactly are you getting at?"
If this was an attempt to build up a non-existing familial bond, that was not going to yield results. I, for one, know that this man, Ayanokouji Atsuomi, holds no love or any feelings toward me.
All he saw in me was a vehicle that would fulfill his grand ambitions.
Nothing more, nothing less.
"I am not here to build a relationship between us, Kiyotaka. Our relationship had already been too far gone to even consider building a healthy one; even I know that. I simply wish for company... one that wouldn't annoy me. You are a convenient outlet for this," he answered.
"I see."
My father looked at me for a couple of seconds before once again taking a sip from his glass.
"Tell me, Kiyotaka, what do you think about the White Room?"
I raised an eyebrow at his strange question.
By now, he should already know how I see this institution. I do not particularly like or dislike this environment, as it was the only environment that I had found myself in. Furthermore, we have been taught to disregard everything unnecessary, so I simply looked at the White Room from an objective perspective.
"The White Room was perhaps the most efficient place in the whole world to raise a human, but somehow, I feel like there is still something missing that would allow me to understand the meaning of achieving what the White Room wishes to achieve," I replied.
As he heard my words, I noticed his eyes grow in interest in what I had just said.
"Something missing, you say?" He asked.
I nodded my head.
"I do not exactly know what that is... but I have been thinking about how, in the grand scheme of things, being at the pinnacle of humanity holds no meaning if I do not intimately understand its significance. I believe it is something that I have yet to learn," I replied.
"That's strange coming from the masterpiece himself. Tell me more about your theory, Kiyotaka," he said.
"In the books that I have read, there was something that drives its protagonists to strive for their goals. A motivation... or perhaps, a feeling of fulfillment to look forward to. Despite being flawed and imperfect, they seem undeterred so long as they manage to achieve this goal. It led me to think that, in the context of the White Room, this certain element is missing."
I then curiously raised the glass and took a small sip, similar to what my father did. As the glass was lifted to the lips, the flavor of the whiskey flooded the senses, starting with a sweet and smoky taste before settling into a smooth warmth that lingered on the tongue.
It was... a strange sensation. I thought it'd be stronger.
"This brings forth a question: What is the point of doing something if I do not see the meaning in what I'm doing?"
"Go on."
"In the same vein, I would like to ask you... what is the meaning of establishing the White Room?"
"To mass produce exceptional people under the perfect environment."
"Then... how do you think I would fare in the outside world? A simulation can only bring me so far. I've concluded that the real world is more dynamic than what I've been trained in. And so, how can I make an impact in a society that I'm yet to understand?" I asked.
My father's cold gaze met me for a second before he turned away. He put down the glass he was holding on his table and began to lean back on his chair.
"Products of the White Room would probably not survive in the real world environment," he answered.
"At least... for now," he finished.
"That is true," I said in agreement.
That was why I became interested in how education in the outside world works. Given that the White Room functioned in a heavily controlled environment, there should be drastic differences when we compare it to normal educational institutions.
While, indeed, the White Room is the most efficient way of training humans, there are still limitations to what it can do. After all, not everything could be taught in the White Room as it was an institution that threw away anything unnecessary to the extremes.
"Are emotions... truly unnecessary?" I asked.
"Elaborate," he replied.
"When we talk about ruling a country, I have read that ruling based on fear will simply lead to eventual revolts and being evicted from power. While I do think that a certain level of hold on the populace is needed to hold order, I have also noticed a pattern that sentiments such as compassion and approachability are essential to be a ruler that only a few would defy. But expressions of compassion cannot be easily faked," I paused as I took another sip of the glass in my hand.
"Since proper leadership would utilize the feelings of desire and fear, shouldn't emotions be necessary to some extent? For example, how do we encourage a sense of ambition in the people we lead? Moving forward listlessly and without motivation beyond completing an objective... seems nonsensical now that I thought of it," I replied.
My father let out an odd chuckle.
"To think you could say things like that with an empty voice. You're quite something, Kiyotaka."
"Am I?"
He nodded.
"I never loved your mother. I simply decided to be with her because she never held any lingering affection toward me as well. That would make it easier to achieve my goal of having an heir without adding another baggage to my life. An heir that I could mold under my guidance... an heir that would allow my goals to be realized."
"Now... the point of this was to tell you that everything that I have done was driven by my ambitions. A feeling that arose from my desire to step out of the mediocre cards that I have been dealt. My rise in politics, the rationale behind the White Room... was simply to challenge fate," he finished.
"I see. Then, would it be fine to ask what drove you to challenge fate?"
He let out a pitiful laugh.
"Love."
"Love?" I repeated.
Although my face did not show it, I found it incredulous that love was why my father began defying his fate.
"Indeed. When I was a young man, I was enamored with a woman... one belonging to the upper echelons of society. Compared to myself back then, our gap might as well be heaven and earth. She had everything: looks, charisma, intelligence, influence... whereas I am simply a normal man. No special talents nor anything that could be of note," he answered.
He downed the entire glass that he drank before grabbing the whiskey bottle and pouring it into the now-empty glass.
"I suppose you should be grateful I chose a beautiful woman to give birth to you, Kiyotaka," he said.
"Ah... thank you?"
"That aside, we were on good terms... even to the point where you could even call us close allies. Day by day, I found myself more attracted to her, more drawn to her aura... to her visions of a greater Japan. I even found myself clinging to the same ambitions."
"Like I said, I was not anything special... but if there was something that nobody in this world could match me in, that would be in terms of ambition. That was why I aimed for that woman, that was why I desired to move the nation, that was why you were born, and that was why this entire project existed."
"No matter what, I will rise above everyone. I have lived up until now with that one idea in my heart. That ambition alone was what supported my life... but it was amplified once the realization of my inferiority sunk in. I couldn't get the things I wanted simply because I was not good enough... that we were not equal. It strengthened my already indomitable will," he finished.
I simply stared at him.
"You... may be onto something, Kiyotaka. My feelings... my emotions drove my ambitions to greater heights... to the point that I would even challenge fate itself."
"Interesting," I replied.
"But emotions can also be a factor that would allow you to immediately fail, Kiyotaka. I deemed it unnecessary for students of the White Room to learn because it would negatively affect how you would react to adversity and other threats the outside world could bring," he said.
"Then... perhaps it would be best to strive for a method of effectively cultivating ideal emotions," I replied.
"Hoh? Would that even work for products who already had their hearts destroyed by the nature of the White Room?" He challenged.
"Why don't we try?" I countered.
"Elaborate."
"Your story had already implied how your leap to become who you are today was driven by your desire to rise to the very top and challenge fate itself. That... is a mentality that, more often than not, allows a person to succeed. Upon observing myself, I do not hold such feelings within. I do not even know how the outside world actually functions to know what I actually wish to do with my life. To survive in society would entail that we would be able to blend in with society," I answered.
"I am not even aware of just how superior I am compared to my peers. There is even the possibility that I would simply end up being a tool to be utilized by inferior beings, provided that I do not have goals of my own. Perhaps that is the one thing you are superior to me at," I added.
"Interesting. You never cease to fascinate me, Kiyotaka. Now, tell me what you really wish to ask."
Under the weight of his penetrating gaze, I felt an unsettling mix of admiration and unease. It seemed impossible to shield any thought from his observant eyes.
"I want to experience life in the real world."
He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity.
"Hm." The sound was contemplative, an acknowledgment of a truth only he perceived. "Now that you have completed your formal education, it seems... yes, this is indeed the perfect time to mold you into someone who can be integrated into society," he finally answered.
"Tomorrow, we leave. However, I will always be keeping an eye on you, Kiyotaka. That is the compromise for this demand of yours," he replied.
"That is fine by me," I replied.
"Very well. For now, prepare your things, take a rest, and after breakfast tomorrow, we shall depart. Do not disappoint me, Kiyotaka," he said.
"I won't," I said as I stood up from my seat.
This was the start of the newest chapter in the life of Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.
A chapter that would liberate me from the invisible chains that had long confined me...
One triggered by a liquid inspiration.
As I departed the office, a cough from my father halted me. Puzzled, I glanced back, only to see a smirk that ill-suited the man I knew.
"Kiyotaka, about that drink you had earlier... it wasn't whiskey. It was non-alcoholic."
Even till the end, he manages to deceive me.
What a deplorable man.
End of Chapter
A/N: I finally wrote a story with our favorite Kiyopon as the MC!
So, for starters, Kiyotaka is starting this story as a 14-year-old. This is so that we get to the point where he has already finished his training in the White Room. Well... I assumed he was 13 because, according to Tsukishiro, Kiyotaka had finished his training about two years before the start of the story, which would be on April 1st, when Kiyo had entered ANHS... where he'd be around 15 and a half years old.
He would still be sorted in Class D simply because it's what Ayanopapa wanted. He won't be actively moving to expel Kiyo in this timeline because he (by virtue of plot convenience, jk) gambled on siding with Kiyo's desires and wanting to see what he can do when he's placed at the bottom of the barrel.
Furthermore, this fic is more likely to focus on characters rather than Class Battles, given I'm looking at this fic as some sort of a character study on Kiyo and some COTE characters that I like.
Again, not meant to be canon-compliant. So, if you'd be willing to read another guy's rendition of COTE, you're more than welcome to read.
