Chapitre 8: Chapter 6. (Tsuneo)
My hands tremble slightly as I stash my notebooks into my backpack. The bell has rung, signaling the end of another exhausting day. Around me, my classmates laugh and chat, eager to head out to the courtyard or to their dorms. For them, the school day is just another trivial event. For me, it's a painful trial by fire.
I zip up my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. Then I walk down the halls with my head bowed, trying to go unnoticed. But it's impossible. Some students point and laugh behind their hands. It hurts, but I'm used to it. Here, as in my previous school, I am just the failure Tsuneo, the outcast with neither a striking appearance nor a striking blessing in a sanctuary for prodigies.
I leave the building and head towards the bus stop. Today has been an especially hard day, just like all the others. Professor Ryota had us face a cursed box that projected horrible visions designed to torment our minds. Again, I saw the mocking faces of Juro and his gang of bullies. Although I changed schools this year, my old tormentors continue to haunt me in nightmares.
My face twitches as I recall the humiliations, the beatings, the constant fear. In those days, Juro especially delighted in tormenting me, enjoying my suffering. Of course, I couldn't defend myself, I was too weak, too pathetic. I could only beg for mercy while the fists hit me over and over again.
And my classmates laughed. They laughed at my pain, at my powerlessness. No one stood up for me, no one reached out a hand. I was alone, completely alone against the world. Even the teachers seemed to ignore the bullying, pretending not to see the hell I was enduring.
My head feels heavy, as if filled with lead instead of thoughts and memories. I give a quick, almost violent shake, trying to free myself from the invisible chains of the past. Chains that drag, echoing with a sound that seems to reach no one else.
This school is my supposed rebirth, a chance to reinvent myself among strangers. But the past, that silent hunter, always finds a way to reach me, to coil around my legs and drag me back to its lair full of shadows and whispers, that dark well I thought I had escaped from. And even though I move, even though I smile and nod, even though I make all the right movements, there's always that pull back, that subtle and persistent gravity telling me I'll never truly leave.
At least I had a small ray of light on this horrible day: my new friend, Makoto. Friend. The word feels foreign, as if I had to roll my tongue in a completely new way to say it. I had never had anything like that before. No confidant, no companion, no co-conspirator in laughter or mischief.
In my mind, friends were like stars: always shining from a distance, beautiful but unattainable. Yet now, the word 'friend' resonates in my mind, warm and comforting, as if I could feel its heat.
Makoto is smart but friendly. Always with a smile that asks for nothing in return and questions that seem to come from a sincere interest instead of mere politeness. During lunch, we were just two people sharing a table, talking about trivial things and laughing about silly and funny stuff.
He doesn't see me as an outcast, nor does he seem disturbed by my lack of impressive skills. When talking to him, he smiled, laughed; his eyes did not seek emergency exits nor did they fill with the contempt I am so familiar with. To him, I am just another student, not a disturbing equation to be solved or discarded, which is a relief.
In his company, the word 'normal' takes on the shine of a promise. Being 'normal' next to Makoto doesn't mean being monotonous or invisible, but being accepted and loved. I have never aspired to normality, for I've always been told it's impossible for someone like me. But he makes it seem attainable, desirable.
I even managed to resist the temptation to sabotage myself, to run away before Makoto could discard me. Because these days, thanks to him and the theater club, for a few brief and glorious moments, I have been part of something. Something I never thought possible.
A smile takes over my lips just as the bus arrives, an old vehicle with its engine growling like an animal tired of its daily routine. I board, the smile still fixed on my face. I observe my surroundings. It's empty, save for the driver, who doesn't even look up to charge me the fare.
I settle next to the window, allowing the city to pass by my eyes. The skyscrapers, with their thousands of windows and hundreds of secret lives, fade away and are slowly replaced by the tranquil scenery of more traditional houses. We enter the heart of the Kamiya Clan, my family.
As we get closer, my smile fades away like a candle in a gale. My fists clench over the fabric of my trousers, pressing with a force that finds no release. The main mansion of the clan comes into view, with its high walls and the emblem of the flame fluttering in the wind, as if mocking my arrival.
My stomach twists with nervousness.
I hate this place, where only more humiliations and rejection await me.
I've always been the outcast of the clan, the failure. All my relatives have the blessing of fire, the gift of manipulating flames at will. But I was born without that magic, only with superior physical strength. My uncles say disparagingly that I am a gorilla, all brute force and no brains.
I grew up enduring the taunts and contempt for my anomaly. I trained day and night to master martial arts so that I could defend myself, until my fists became lethal weapons. But none of that earned me the clan's respect. To them, I am just a freak, an embarrassment. A mistake of nature.
The bus stops at the entrance and I get off with trembling legs, dragging my feet along the path leading to the main house. The garden is deserted and there's not a soul in sight, which I appreciate. I'm not in the mood to meet anyone right now, not even the servants.
I open the heavy main door and step into the dark mansion, where the air seems to thicken with the weight of tradition and history on its walls. The smell of incense and candles is overwhelming, almost suffocating. I move silently down the main hallway, trying to reach my room without being noticed.
But luck is not on my side.
"Well, look who's here. Little pathetic Tsuneo," a mocking voice sounds behind me.
I tense immediately, recognizing the voice of my cousin Dai. Slowly, I turn around to meet his gray eyes looking at me with disdain. Alongside him are two of his friends, Hideki and Ryo. All three have cruel smiles on their faces.
"Hello Dai," I mutter, looking away.
"Hello Dai," he mimics in a squeaky voice. "What's wrong, Tsuneo? Did you have another lousy day at the academy? Surely, they made a fool out of you again."
Ryo and Hideki laugh under their breath. I feel my cheeks redden with shame.
"Leave me alone, Dai. I have homework to do," I say, trying to sneak away.
But Dai blocks my path, his eyes sparkling with malice.
"Oh no, that can wait. We need to have a little chat with you, cousin."
Before I can react, the three of them surround me with their twisted smiles. A shiver runs down my spine. This does not bode well.
Dai raises a hand, and soon a sphere of fire forms in his palm, radiating a very powerful energy. It's the visible manifestation of his hereditary blessing, the power to control fire that everyone in my clan has... except me.
"You know Tsuneo, I'm very disappointed," says Dai, playing with the sphere. "The whole family is. A weakling like you shouldn't be here. You don't belong to this clan. You should have been born into a family of peasants, so at least you'd work the land instead of dirtying our legacy."
He lowers his voice to a threatening whisper, coming so close that I feel his breath on my face.
"You should do the clan a favor and disappear. Freaks like you only embarrass us all."
Ryo and Hideki nod with stern looks. I feel a knot form in my throat and impotence boiling in my veins. But I dare not respond. I know that with a simple gesture, Dai could make me feel like I'm in the depths of hell.
So, I remain silent, with fists and teeth clenched, enduring their taunts in silence. Eventually, they tire, giving me one last push as they walk past me to leave.
"Think about what I said, Tsuneo. We'll be keeping an eye on you," Dai whispers in my ear.
Once their steps are lost in the distance, I lean against the wall, trembling with frustration. This isn't the first time Dai and his friends have harassed me. Since we were children, I've had to endure their taunts and mistreatment. I'm a stranger to my own, an aberration.
With spirits down, I finally reach my room. I throw myself onto the futon, burying my face in the pillow. For a moment, I am tempted to stay there forever and never come out again.
But then I think of Makoto, my new friend, and I feel a warm spark of hope in my chest. Maybe not everything is lost. If someone like him can accept me, if someone can see me for who I really am and not for what I lack... then maybe I'm not so alone after all.
***
It's night, and I walk with my head down through the mansion's hallways toward my father's room. My footsteps echo on the wooden floor as I move under the gaze of ancestors immortalized in scrolls of art hung along the corridor. Their painted eyes seem to follow me, reminding me that I do not belong here.
One of the servants informed me moments ago that my father required my immediate presence. I can't help but feel a knot in my stomach, as with every time he deigns to speak to me. It's never good news when he summons his greatest disappointment.
Finally, I stand before the door leading to his private chambers. My heart hammers against my chest, and my head fills with a buzzing I cannot quiet. For a moment, I contemplate the idea of turning on my heels and fleeing, but the chains of obligation and expectation keep me grounded as if my feet were made of lead.
I inhale deeply in an attempt to calm my nerves. The air smells of incense and daffodils. I extend a trembling hand and knock softly.
"Enter," comes his deep, impassive voice from the other side.
I slide the door and enter, kneeling on the tatami in front of him.
"You summoned me, Father. I am here to serve," I say with my eyes lowered in a sign of submission.
I cautiously raise my eyes. My father sits very straight, impeccably dressed in a black kimono with the symbol of our clan embroidered on his chest. His expression is as hard as rock, his sharp features betray no emotion. His amber eyes watch me intently, scrutinizing me, and I must struggle to meet his gaze without shrinking.
"Tsuneo... Let's have tea, we have matters to discuss."
I nod silently. One of the servants approaches to pour green tea into small porcelain cups. Once she finishes, she executes a bow, and that's when I feel it; her eyes sliding over me, a chill and sharp touch.
When she moves away, her steps are silent, but the look she throws over her shoulder speaks louder than a thousand words. A grimace of disgust flashes on her face for a fraction of a second, enough for the wounds in my self-esteem to widen a bit more.
Even the servants despise me.
It's not something that should surprise me, yet every small gesture of repulsion, every averted gaze, every pursed lip is a confirmation of what I already know, but nonetheless, it hurts as if I were discovering it for the first time. I'm accustomed to the shadow of myself, to that boy who looks in the mirror and only sees the cracks and flaws. But when others throw light upon those cracks, it's like walking onto a stage illuminated with lights that only point out my mistakes.
I sigh and take a sip, feeling my father's gaze on me, cold and evaluative. The silence stretches uncomfortably as he sips his tea leisurely. He finally speaks:
"I suppose you are aware of the deterioration of your grandfather's health in recent months."
"Yes, Father. I am deeply sorry about his suffering," I respond sincerely. My grandfather may be strict, but he's one of the few that doesn't openly despise me.
"His time is running out," he declares matter-of-factly. "Soon a successor must be named to take control of the clan when he is no longer with us. The council is already evaluating potential candidates among his children and grandchildren."
My heart races. My father is the eldest, the natural candidate to succeed grandfather... but perhaps as his son, I might have a slim chance.
"Of course, you are nowhere near being considered," he snaps, guessing my thoughts. "We both know you would never be a viable option. You do not measure up."
His words are like a bucket of cold water, but they don't surprise me. It has always been this way... my father reminding me of how inadequate and useless I am in his eyes.
"I understand, Father," I murmur, hiding the bitterness in my voice.
My father takes another sip of tea, making a face of disgust.
"Look at this ordinary porcelain. It's cheap, crude. It clashes entirely with the elegance of this room. Just as you clash within our distinguished clan, Tsuneo... You are like a defective piece that tarnishes the whole."
I clench my fists on my lap against the insult.
"From the moment you were born, I knew you were not like the rest. You killed your own mother at birth. The healing monks said it was unnatural. An ill omen."
"I didn't choose how to be born, Father..." I counter in a low voice.
"Do not interrupt me!" he explodes. "Then, as the years passed, it became clear that you had not inherited our fire blessing. You are the first in generations to be born without powers. My own son, a nobody! You don't know the shame I felt."
My father always finds a way to make me feel like an outcast.
"I tried everything to set you on the right path," he continues. "Rituals, brutal trainings, the best instructors. I even came to believe that your superhuman strength was a sign of a special power! But no. That strength is nothing more than that of a wild animal, an irrational ape. You have no control, no finesse, only primitive impulses. You are like those monkeys that climb trees and throw feces. You don't have a trace of the refinement and grace of a true warrior. Your strength is vulgar, unworthy of our lineage. Another sign of your inferior nature. Disappointment after disappointment."
My father shakes his head with contempt. Then he looks at me squarely.
"And now, in the twilight of my life, I see that you will never be worthy of leading this clan. You lack the talent, the ambition... the greatness that runs in the blood. My blood. It's fate mocking me for thinking I could mold you. But you are an absolute failure."
He continues to rant against me, listing each of my defects and shortcomings. I shrink more and more with each word, feeling insignificant. I will never be the son he hoped for, the worthy successor of our clan. I am just a defective piece, like that ordinary porcelain he holds with repugnance.
"Look at you, you don't even have the manhood to defend yourself," he mocks. "Pathetic. You should thank me, Tsuneo. If it weren't for me, you would have been relegated to the servants or thrown out of the clan long ago. I kept you by my side out of pity... and look what I got. A total disappointment as a son."
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to shed them in front of him.
"Thank you for your honesty, you've... opened my eyes," I mutter between my teeth.
He emits a scornful sound.
"Because of you, my own chances of being named leader are much lower. How can I aspire to be the successor if I can't even have a proper heir? You are a stain on my legacy, Tsuneo. A disgrace!"
I feel his contempt like stabs, but I do not reply. I know he needs to vent, to unload his frustration on someone. And that someone is me, as always.
My father narrows his eyes, clearly dissatisfied with my lack of reaction.
"You are too soft. You always were. You lack character, fortitude. Essential attributes for a true warrior. I would have preferred a son dead at birth rather than having to carry you as a dishonor for life."
I lower my gaze to the tatami, feeling myself die inside.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, worthless trash," his hand lifts to slap me.
I muster the courage and look up, prepared to take the blow. But at the last moment, he stops, with his hand suspended in the air. Slowly, he places it back on the table, never taking his disdainful gaze off me.
"You are not even worthy for me to waste my strength on disciplining you," he declares coldly. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind and dispose of you right now. I can't stand having you near one more minute."
I stand up at once, holding back tears, and bow in a brief reverence.
"Yes, Father. I am very sorry to have disappointed you."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone