COTE : Elites War - Oblivion [Hiatus]

Prelude [3]

His depths of despair: The Memoir of Yagami Takuya

The high, rectangular window admitted just a bit of light, so the room remained dark.

Since the room had no lights, I would just have to wait for it to get brighter: the sun had only just risen, and it was maybe around six a.m., judging by my internal clock.

The room was mostly empty, its only furnishings were a bed, one television, a chamber, and study seats. Aside from that, it was completely bare.

The empty gave an even more spacious feel—and that hollow, dead atmosphere that evoked so vividly images of solitary confinement or something.

I couldn’t help but feel a little bit like an inmate on Death Row.

It wasn't the first time in my life I’d woken up with that feeling. I woke up and struggled from this despair every day. Every time I opened my eyes.

It was way beyond depressing.

“Yagami, isn’t there something really scary about people who knowingly, consciously, use others as stepping-stones?” said Tsubaki inadvertently when our eyes were colliding with each other.

Hmm. I wondered.

Actually, it was the people who unknowingly—with all the best of intentions and delusions of just cause—use other people who were way more disturbing.

“But you’re a good guy, right?” she tried to eradicate her apprehensive.

"I hope so."

Whether or not I’m a good guy has nothing to do with anything. Instead, it’s like this: it’s not about two different ways of thinking, it’s about different ways of living life.

About the absolute and enormous difference between people who can get through life without ever needing to walk over others—and those who aren’t even worth walking over.

Yeah, I guess that’s what this was all about.

In other words, this is a question of ‘What is genius, and what isn’t?’

Now, being incompetent—that’s what’s best. To be completely obtuse. To be so oblivious as to never think for a second about one’s purpose in life, to never think about the meaning of life, to never think about the value of life.

Then this world would be a paradise. Calm, peaceful, and serene. Trivial things would be major and major things trivial, and life could be lived to its fullest.

Surely that was indeed the case.

The world is harsh to the fatuous. The world is harsh to the incompetent. The world is harsh to the ugliness. The world is harsh to the ignorant.

The world is kind to the attentive. The world is kind to the competent. The world is kind to the wealthy. The world is kind to the brilliant.

But if you figure that out, if you realize that, it’s already over right then. It’s a problem with no solutions and no interpretation.

It’s over before it’s begun, and by the time it’s over, it’s complete. I guess it’s that kind of story. For example:

“Essentially, people live in one of two ways. Either they live in awareness of their worthlessness, or they live in awareness of the worthlessness of the world. Two ways. Either you allow your value to be absorbed by the world, or you chisel away at the world’s value and make it your own.”

"What do you mean? I don't understand," she curled her lips upwards.

No answer came from me. However, those inquiries were staying in my head.

Which should take precedence, the value of the world or your value?

To accept the world as boring or accept oneself as boring?

Which is more agreeable?

There’s bound to be some amount of ambiguity and uncertainty.

Are there any defined criteria there?

Is it just a choice between A and B?

Do you really have to choose?

Where is the line between genius and not genius?

Where is the line between what is true and who is a lie?

How does the world look to me?

To me, after having experienced in that White Room. To me, there next to the blue. To me, now with this person before my eyes, it was all just mindless babble. It wasn’t even worth the trouble of even thinking of an answer.

And so I said nothing. Instead, I looked away and thought of something else.

My thoughts transcended at the certain time when Tsubaki was coming into my life and rapidly changed everything.

I wondered, how did the world look through her eyes?

Just how did I reflect in her eyes?

“This world… Its people… Could you learn to love them?” she asked me out of the blue when we were in Sobu.

No context, no intention, she just asked it without any interest. Pure the curiosity that popped from her small head.

I didn't reply to her.

“I understand… No, it makes sense. Just think as if I didn't say whatsoever,” she murmured then changing the topic reflexively.

To be honest, the world wasn’t beautiful to me. No, maybe it was, but it certainly wasn’t paradise. And people weren’t kind, nor were they good. They certainly weren’t beautiful.

For me. I had all but given up on the human world, deeming it cruel and wretched and hopeless above all.

Believing people are despicable.

As a member of Wroomers, I had been subjected to severe persecution and cast out into a deadly experience, and in the process, many things had been chipped away from me. My families, my name, my freedom, my dignity.

But as the blade of malice continued to swing, peeling away layer after layer. I had to willingly wipe away the affection I’d once known, the kindness, the warmth, the joy, and the memory of the people who had granted me.

That was why I felt nothing. No scorn. No contempt. Not toward people, not toward the world. They held no expectations for goodwill or justice. Not embracing so much as a sliver of hope.

To this day, I still couldn’t answer her question about whether there was anything I wanted to do. All I did was based on their orders. I did precisely like what instructors had told me.

I still had no answer to the question of what I wanted for myself. I simply pretended I was trying to fight Ayanokouji; nevertheless, that fact was over. I never did try to face my defeat.

I forgot everything so that I wouldn’t have to loathe others. To protect that pride, I had to cut away my emotions. Even the very perception that something precious had been taken from me.

Was it because if I did, I could continue believing people were despicable?

Was it so I wouldn’t give up on this world, cold and cruel as it was?

But that was exactly the way things were. That was just how the world worked. It didn’t revolve around humankind; it was indifferent and cold—and helplessly so.

And that applied all the more for human beings, who, unlike the world, acted on the malice they felt for others.

That was something I had learned all too well in White Room. Seeing it repeat itself time after time gave me all the lessons I would ever need.

20th January 2022.

12th July 2022.