Hikaru let out a soft hiss of breath, the sound escaping his lips like a whisper in the wind, as he slowly rubbed his temple with tentative fingers.
The harsh, unwelcoming, chill of the outside air hit him with a jolt, a stark contrast to the warmth his dream had provided him with moments before.
He blinked up at the dim sky peeking through the arboretum's skylight, the fading light of dusk casting shadows across the garden he had been admiring earlier, before he lost consciousness.
Confusion settled over him like a fog; he didn't remember how he had ended up here, nor could he pinpoint when he had even lost consciousness in the first place.
All he knew was that one moment he had been lost in the intricate beauty of the blooming flowers, and the next, he was lying on the cold ground, the world around him both familiar and disturbingly distant at the same time.
The dream lingered in his mind, filling him with a profound sense of dread, yet it also filled him with gratitude for the fleeting warmth he had experienced at the sight of his mother once more, even if it was only a dream.
Her image felt elusive, as if each busy moment within the palace chipped away at the vividness of her memory, causing her face to blur into obscurity.
Even now, he struggled to recall the gentle shimmer of her eyes, which had once sparkled with love and wisdom.
His mother had been a strikingly beautiful woman, her delicate features woven into his own likeness.
In a world where being mixed was the norm, he often thought about what the past was like, captivated by the thought of how centuries ago, borders separated nations.
The history books, videos, and online articles were his only windows to peer in at the past, and he was fascinated by the stark contrasts of the 21st century—an age he had only glimpsed through the secondhand recollections of the internet.
The concept of borders puzzled him, because they just seemed to create useless boundaries that tore people apart.
He was also curious about when English had begun to dominate as the universal language.
In the 31st century, the world had transformed into a vibrant tapestry of cultures interwoven with one another.. but, at the same time, it had become a bit too much of a melting pot, in his view.
His mother's ancestry report revealed a lineage that traced back to the land once known as 'Japan', while his father's ancestry mostly traced back to Germany and Eastern Europe.
At times, he almost wished to be able to experience the 21st and 22nd centuries, even if things were beyond corrupt.
The destruction and watering down of so many beautiful cultural traditions genuinely irritated him, and he frequently found himself criticizing his father's ruling style, which so clearly prioritized conformity.
While he didn't really understand the concept of borders.. he didn't understand the point in getting rid of cultures altogether either.
With determination to honor his heritage that society tried so hard to erase, he had always made it his mission to fill his family's palace with a variety of informational texts, each one a key to unlocking the stories and traditions that had shaped the identity of his ancestors.
When Hikaru was first born, he didn't come into the world in a palace. Instead, his childhood took place in a rather sophisticated mansion, full of technologically advanced quirks.
The mansion that he had once called home was equipped with cutting-edge features that allowed his family to control nearly every aspect of their environment through their devices— for example, their phones and computers.
As a result, Hikaru experienced a life mostly free from physical struggles or inconveniences. If he needed a doctor, he could just consult one of the many private specialists his family had connections to.
Among his hyperfixations, he found himself particularly drawn to the elegance of Victorian architecture.
The intricate details, lavish embellishments, and history within the structures from the past captivated him.
As his middle school years passed by, this fascination blossomed into a longing for something more than the hideously modern aesthetics of his childhood home. He found it.. to put it plainly enough, boring and distasteful.
Determined to surround himself with a less hideous environment, Hikaru constantly pestered the architects employed by his father, and insisted that they design a palace rather than the overly square-ish mansion that he was stuck in.
His vision was clear: to blend the elegance of the past with modern technology, creating an artistic environment that actually had class, while keeping the tech-savvy interior.
As a ruler, Hikaru's father was well-acquainted with numerous CEOs, and it proved to be a simple matter for his mother to recruit top-tier companies in the construction of a palace fit for her beloved son.
If anything, Hikaru absolutely adored and respected his mother more than anything.
While his father was cold and cruel, his mother shone with warmth, compassion, and unwavering support.
But then tragedy struck, shattering Hikaru's reality—his mother's life was mercilessly cut short at the hands of his own father, and the truth was buried beneath a veil of deception, hidden from the authorities.
In a twist of fate, anyone who dared to voice their suspicions about her death met an ominous end, leaving Hikaru trapped in silence.
Among them was one of his favorite content creators—a popular true crime investigator who was on the brink of unraveling the mystery during a live stream that had all of Hikaru's hopes raised high.
Just days later, her sudden death sent shockwaves through the media, igniting pure rage within Hikaru.
The stakes were higher than ever, and as whispers of conspiracy danced through the air, the battle for justice became a thrilling game of life and death, pushing him ever closer to following in his father's violent footsteps, to get rid of the corrupt man.
During highschool, nearly every teenager goes through a rebellious phase, and he was no exception. Each time that he accompanied his father on shopping trips, they would often be stopped by eager reporters.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, he would always respond to their questions with sassy, backhanded remarks that dripped with sarcasm, much to his father's growing dismay.
His father's frustration was overwhelming, a mixture of fury and disappointment as his son reveled in the attention, clearly having fun with pushing the man's boundaries and testing his limits. Obviously, he had no respect for a man who had killed his own wife.
Who would?
Once Hikaru got home from his classes each day, he was always met with a beating, but he was satisfied nonetheless.
Despite his feisty nature, his mental health increasingly deteriorated as he struggled with the void left by his mother's passing.
He often felt trapped in a bubble, unable to form meaningful connections with those around him due to the anxiety of the thought of being used for his status.
For that reason, he mainly stuck to anonymous friendships online. Yet, as time raced by, the loneliness seeped deeper.
He poured his heart into his art, posting pieces that reflected his inner turmoil, and in doing so, amassed a fairly dedicated following, especially from people who appreciated the darker aspects of art.
However, none of the virtual admiration could ever truly fill the grief that weighed him down.
The situation at home only brought him down more; his father's relentless abuse felt suffocating, leaving him feeling like he was drowning in a world that seemed indifferent to his pain.
It really didn't help his case at all.
Now that he was 19; he was on the brink of something monumental– he needed a plan to escape.
The weight of his upcoming responsibilities loomed over him, and he feared that the emotional pain he had endured for years would prove too heavy to bear for someone who was meant to become a leader.
He could already tell that he was hanging by a thread, so it would be of no surprise to him if he ended up snapping.
Soon, he would inherit the leadership role currently held by his father, and the idea of managing an entire nation felt utterly overwhelming.
As former memories began to flood his mind once again, a sense of dread washed over him, blurring his vision and causing a sharp pain to surge through his knees as he dropped to the stone ground, his legs unable to support him anymore.
He hadn't been taking his medication lately, and panic surged in his chest, as suffocating anxiety threatened to close in on him.
The gasps filling the air… were those his, or was it the sound of the wind? He couldn't even tell anymore.
It didn't matter; he was spiraling.
He scrambled toward one of the bushes, yanking a white rose from the greenery and gripping it tightly, trying desperately to ground himself. It was a toxic technique, but worked nonetheless.
As crimson began to seep down his hand, he struggled to catch his breath, frustrated that he was once again caught in another episode. "I feel like I'm going insane…" Hikaru whispered, tears welling in his eyes as he fumbled for the miniature notepad inside of his pocket.
Typically, he used it for autographs, but he had a different intention in mind this time. He cursed under his breath when it skidded out of his grip due to the shakiness of his hands, his heart racing as he glanced around for a pen.
In a moment of desperation, once he realized that there were no pens in sight, he dipped his finger into the crimson on his hand and began to scribble a note. Just two simple words, but they would convey everything he needed.
After dropping the notepad on the ledge of the garden alongside the tainted white rose, he broke into a run.
The doors of the garden swung open behind him as he pushed past them, leaving them ajar without a second thought.
At that moment, Hikaru was especially grateful that security was never assigned to this portion.
Since it was his private garden that nobody else knew about, he never felt the need for any of that wing to be monitored.
He headed toward the beautiful bridge spanning the glistening water of the man-made lake, his heart racing with both fear and anticipation.
The deep water beckoned him, promising an escape from the constraints of his future, and a promise to free him from the ache that had held him captive for so long.
He smiled weakly as he gripped the railing tightly, preparing himself to hoist up his body.
The water had always terrified him, even though it was his own elemental ability in every one of its forms—a power that he felt surging within his veins, even now.
He raised an outstretched hand towards the lake, visualizing the chaos he wanted to form as he yanked it up violently, making sure that the lake began to stir with aggressive waves.
Anticipating the waves that would crash and swirl around him, he tried to steady his breathing.
With his unscathed hand, he combed through his messy dark locks, a reminder of the soft blue dye he had always longed for, but never had the chance to achieve.
He had admired those beautiful male idols with their vibrant and colorful hair, still thriving in popularity, and couldn't shake the guilt of what he had missed out on. But as the thrill of what was to come filled his body, he let a weak smile linger, hoping to steady himself against the surge of emotions.
He prepared to tip himself over the edge as he stepped forward even more, adrenaline coursing through him, when suddenly a loud voice rang through the air, jolting him back to reality.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing, man!? Get down from there!"