"We live in a city where people are capable of mastering all the arts, but they are not masters of themselves, they are lost in their own abundance, they lack projects and are adrift, that is why they do not build anything, even though their possibilities, their powers, are enormous. To live is to feel obliged to exercise freedom, to decide what we are going to be in this world... but when life stops fighting for itself, when society stops listening to its own voice and starts to be able to live only at the service of the State... can we still talk about human beings?"
Sitting on a sofa with legs slightly apart and elbow resting on the armrest, hand dangling in the air with a black pen, Touma Kouzaburou smiled and turned to his colleague, who was looking out over the academy courtyard, standing by a window in the empty library of the Oso Academy. He was gently stroking the page of a book by José Ortega y Gasset with his index finger. He wore a yellow vest and pants, and a purple tie over a neat white shirt. Long white locks fell over his back and chest.
"The Revolt of the Masses. Ortega's analysis of how people can get lost in abundance and conformity is interesting. Centralized planning and excessive state control lead to the loss of individual liberties and the servitude that Tocqueville feared," Touma noted.
"When you limit people's choices and reduce their individuality to a number, you act as an oppressive force that denies the true essence of being human. Each individual must be free to pursue his own interests and goals. It's competition and the pursuit of self-interest that drives progress and innovation, not submission to centralized power.
"Controlling and regulating aspects of people's lives has led to a society where individual decisions and choices are suppressed in favor of a supposed stability. But this centralized planning has its consequences: a loss of autonomy and greater dependence on the state.
"I am against any form of control and manipulation that restricts the individual's capacity for choice and self-determination. Freedom is the basis of morality and human creativity. What do you think of our country's current morality? Or as I like to call it... mandatory morality," he closed his book.
"Morality is erected on the basis of choice, not force or obedience," Touma stated in a soft voice, looking him up and down and twirling the pen between his fingers. "Even in a society that strives to shape individual actions in pursuit of collective welfare, true morality cannot be imposed from outside. Even if we were to force men to act in the right way, that would not be true morality, but forced obedience. Genuine morality is born of personal understanding, choice, and the personal will to do what is right, even when the temptation of conformity or coercion stands in the way."
"Isn't this an intriguing dilemma: chosen morality versus imposed morality? I have always believed that true morality is forged in the autonomy of the individual, away from the chains of law and authority. But, tell me, how do you reconcile your beliefs with your own... occupation?" he asked with a smile.
"You are right about the dilemma, Shougo-kun. It's a topic that has led me to many reflections. Morality is a matter of internal consistency and living by your own convictions, regardless of external circumstances. As for my occupation, it's an act of choice. I am not bound by what the system dictates or what others consider right. My path is my own and doesn't necessarily have to be understood by others."
"Interesting. We seem to share a similar sense of independence. However, I can't help but wonder if your actions, though driven by your own choice, might also be shaped by the system. After all, in a world where morality is closely tied to it, even those who challenge its norms might be contributing to its perpetuation in some way."
"My conscious choice to act morally or immorally is not a resistance to the system, nor an act of rebellion to perpetuate it," frowned Touma. "Rather, it's an exercise of my will and desire to influence the decisions I make in my life. I don't seek to change the country or challenge the system. My moral and immoral actions are my declaration of independence, even if that means facing its consequences. I don't care about the system or how it interprets my actions. But tell me, Shougo-kun, why this sudden curiosity about my way of thinking?"
"Let's just say I find a kind of beauty in those who defy even what would seem to be inevitable. I am intrigued to see how someone like you can maintain your integrity in such a complex world. It would be a pleasure to get to know you better," he turned around, one hand in his pants pocket and the other holding his book against his chest.
"I see."
"Fascinating," he shook his head.
"What?"
"The fact that you don't care at all about my opinion, and that you are only focused on your goals."
"That's true."
"Your determined, self-reliant approach is refreshing. I'm surrounded by people who call themselves virtuous and honest, but wouldn't hesitate to act dishonestly if they had complete impunity," his amber eyes narrowed.
Touma let his words settle for a moment before responding, his gaze direct and defiant.
"Isn't it paradoxical that, in defying and rejecting the system, you seek recognition and notoriety? After all, aren't you looking for your rebellion to be noticed and appreciated by others? Isn't that, in a way, a desire for validation within the very system that you despise? I simply choose to follow my path, with no need for recognition or approval. Who, then, is the true rebel here?"
"My quest is not for recognition or notoriety. I'm not looking for applause or validation. What interests me is to awaken the essence of humanity, to stir the stagnant waters of complacency and conformity. I want to inspire individuals to question and challenge the world of their own free will and see if they really have value.
"While it may seem contradictory to challenge the system while coexisting in its shadow, my intention is to destabilize its foundation, not win its favor. You and I share a quest for autonomy, but our routes differ. I choose confrontation with the very rules that crush individual will. Who is the true rebel? That is a question only time and actions will answer. However, there is something else I want to ask you."
"Go ahead," nodded Touma.
He headed for a couch in front of him, and sat down on it, crossing one leg over the other and resting the book on his thigh.
"For the first time, I hear you openly admitting the immorality of your actions. What has prompted this new perspective?" he asked, causing Touma to frown and fall silent. "You said you don't care how the system interprets your actions and yet..."
"It must have been a student of mine," Touma blurted out, raising an eyebrow. "You remind me of her. But she's not like us. She possesses a rare strength, like those fragile plants that defy the odds and bloom in the face of adversity. It's a strength I admire and respect, even if it differs from my own pursuits. But all men can be crushed, their ambitions thwarted."
"Is she the one who made you question your own beliefs and values?"
"I've never been so aware of them before," Touma's expression hardened in a deep voice. "I just want her to understand..."
"In the midst of immorality, you also seek to act as a moral guide for someone. Perhaps, someday, I will discover what really drives you. Your purpose. Can I give you some advice?"
"Of course."
"One can guide people, but the path they take may differ from the one we initially expected them to take. You may not be able to guide her along the path you set out for her, and she may even try to influence or betray you."
"She wants me to betray myself. I forgive her that influence."
"Didn't you say the same thing about your sister? If past behavior is a precursor to future actions..."
Touma looked down with a serious expression, his fingers holding his black pen by each end, until he gazed up at him with a smile, "I'll have to kill her."
"Any man can make a mistake, but only an artist can turn it into a work of art."
"I'm not much of an artist, but I understand their desire to stand out, the inability to repress one's own nature."
"And there is something in that you can relate to? What can't you repress?" he asked slowly.
Touma narrowed his eyes and smiled, turning his head towards the window.
"I only dream of leaving a mark on this world... one of yours and mine."
"I look forward to it," he smirked with narrowed eyes.
"What would you like to do when you finish your studies?" Rikako asked with her back turned, hands on either side of her body.
The few clouds in the sky allowed both Yashiro and Rikako to enjoy the warm embrace of the sun. They were away from the other students, so they could hear each other without interruption. Yashiro was sitting by the fountain in the courtyard contemplating every detail of the falling water, listening to the sound it produced, letting herself be carried away by its beautiful calm.
Yashiro reached out her hand towards the water, letting her fingers gently caress it. She smiled as her eyes narrowed, and then the image began to flicker. Rikako watched as the rippling water transformed into a play of light and shadow. It was as if a subtle spell had been woven over the fountain, revealing its true nature: a hologram.
Sitting on the stone surrounding the fountain, Yashiro seemed to blend into her surroundings, like an ancient sculpture emerging from history. Her posture was serene, one leg crossed over the other, her arm outstretched towards the hologram of water dancing before her. That moment seemed suspended in time, a gracefully captured image, framed by the ethereal flicker of the projection.
"That's a question not everyone has the luxury of asking today. Some people don't even bother to ask it anymore... what's the point, if the Sibyl System recommends professions according to talents?" Yashiro pulled her hand away.
Yashiro's silver eyes seemed dreamy, but strangely subdued, as if they searched endlessly for the answer to something they had no access to. Her tone was nostalgic, so gentle that Rikako needed to sharpen her hearing to hear it.
"I would like to continue my father's work," said Rikako.
Yashiro studied her for a long time in silence. Her father, Ouryou Roichi, had been a highly regarded artist. She had the pleasure of enjoying some of his works online and found them mesmerizing. Especially the one depicting a head with its hands around it, as if engulfed in grief or hatred, among the naked body of a woman and with flowers and plants on the sides of the painting. Rikako's room was a clear demonstration of his legacy.
For her it was admirable that in a world like the one they lived in, there were still people who chose their future profession without taking into account the recommendations offered. There was no longer any place for artists in that city, since art made no rational sense, and yet Ouryou Rikako belonged to that small sample of people who chose to devote themselves to what they were passionate about, even though they sometimes knew they were no good at it.
"How is he?" Yashiro asked.
Rikako gazed at the sky, until she finally sat down next to her. She had a sweet but barely perceptible scent permeating her clothes that brought a smile to Rikako's face for a moment. Her hands rested on the stone seat, and Rikako could not help but glance at them.
Yashiro watched her features. Rikako closed her eyes and held her breath. Then she slowly opened them again and Yashiro looked at her out of the corner of her eye, wondering what her hue would be like in those moments. When she placed a hand on Rikako's shoulder, very gently, her body relaxed.
"My father suffers from Stress Deficiency Syndrome. It's a disease called serenity-a way of dying that people have wished for. He started worrying obsessively about his mental health, undertaking different treatments, and ended up becoming so dependent that it could even be considered an addiction..."
Yashiro imagined her father in a bed with his eyes half-open, but lost in nothingness itself. A shadow covered Rikako's face, and her eyes narrowed as she stared straight ahead. Yashiro looked down for a few seconds, thinking of all the other people who would find themselves in the same situation as her father, or perhaps even worse.
"I understand... whereas in the past stress was considered an energizer that motivated one to live, today excessive care brings serious side effects. Ironic, isn't it? I'll even go out on a limb and say that much of the unexplained deaths from heart failure are due to that..."
Rikako remained silent, unmoved by the possibility that her father might die. If she were another student, Yashiro would be more careful with her words, but it was not necessary in her presence. Deep down she was anticipating it, but was still unable to assimilate it into reality.
Yashiro wondered what her reaction would be if she saw her father die, abandoning all those fantastic ideas that had made him a successful artist. She could not help but imagine her continuing her father's works, perfecting them in her own style.
"I admire everything he has done, but what I don't forgive him for is quitting his job," Rikako stated with a serious expression and a firm voice.
Yashiro analyzed that posture, eager to find out what Rikako was capable of. So young, but her willingness to change and improve was worthy of admiration. There were so many students at the academy and yet few, like Ouryou Rikako, dared to look beyond, to seek the answers to their questions without waiting for the answers of others. In a world where there was a universal father who offered absolutely everything, few dared to leave his warm and imposing arms, to grow of their own free will as individuals and unique entities.
When a bird remains caged for so long with food and water in abundance, with the confidence that it will always be safe and in the company of an owner who never stops caressing it, even if he opens the door for it to regain its freedom, the bird will stay inside the cage, because it has already forgotten how to fly, how to be free.
Some others may dare to leave, but it will only be a matter of time before they return to the others, frightened of the new world. The latter may even allow themselves to be killed by predators when they realize that they are alone outside the cage, in the open, as if they were no longer part of their own species and therefore no longer part of any other.
Rikako, on the other hand, was able to spread her wings and see the world with her own eyes, from the vast sky. Her father's absence, however, was like a thorn in her side; while she longed to fly, he remained lying in the big cage. She was completely alone and felt that her father had been murdered in life by the system, until he was absorbed by the society he so wanted to enlighten with his ideas. Yashiro wanted to lift her up, to encourage her to take the leap of faith, until she could spread her wings and let herself be carried by the wind. And she wished to be present to contemplate her flight. She wondered who would fly higher.
"Then you should take his place," Yashiro replied in a soft voice.
They spent a long time in complete silence. Neither seemed to realize how close they were to each other. Yashiro softened her expression with a smile and rested her hand on the stone seat again.
"You didn't answer my question," Rikako said quietly, stretching back and pulling her slender legs together.
Yashiro narrowed her eyes, enjoying her controlled impatience. She had a habit of changing the subject so subtly that many did not even notice and got carried away by the flow of her words, including herself. Rikako, however, knew her well enough not to get carried away so easily.
"Are you worried about me leaving the academy?" Yashiro raised her eyebrows in amusement.
Rikako's face lit up with a faint smile. Yashiro had to blink and squint her eyes. However, Rikako remained impassive to her own reaction, as if she was unable to perceive her surroundings. Imagining herself outside of that school made her wonder what would become of Rikako's life from now on. What would become of her even outside of Oso Academy.
"I'll tell you when I find it," Yashiro continued, lowering her gaze for a moment. "I hope you can find meaning in your works. I'm sure your father would be proud of you."