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Tetora leaned against the changing room door and let out a tense sigh, most of his costume already assembled on him. He looked over to the jacket hanging next to the mirror, bright red, illuminated by the fluorescent school lights. The color seemed to mock him, burning a hole of disdain in his vision as memories of its previous wearer flashed through his mind. He reached out and grabbed a sleeve, and ran the fabric between his fingers.
Kuro’s handiwork. Tetora allowed himself to smile, however slightly. Ryuseitai hadn’t had the chance to make any new unit outfits yet; the school year was about to begin and they were preparing to put on their first live as a promotional gig to try and recruit beginning first years. He had asked Hajime to make some slight adjustments on the Ryusei Red costume for him; he may have grown some since starting his first year, but he wasn’t quite tall enough to match the height of his predecessor.
He took a sharp breath and shook his head, ridding it of sentimentality. He then slipped the jacket off of its perch and slid it over his arms. After taking a second to feel the jacket’s weight on his shoulders, he zipped up the front and turned his body towards the mirror, absorbing the image reflected back at him. Red, loud and vibrant, glaring right back at him, accented by the streaks in his hair. Taking in his reflection, everything just seemed to feel off, as he had expected it might.
Tetora swallowed his nerves and clenched his fists, bringing one up to shoulder level and keeping the other down by his hip. Just as he had practiced. Just like he had seen countless times before. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead. “Relax,” he told himself, “this isn’t your first performance.” True, it wasn’t. But, it was his first performance wearing this outfit. Maybe, he thought, it would be worth it to run through the lines just once more. He took a breath and began. Just as he had practiced. Just like he had heard so many times before.
“The red flames are the mark of effo-”
He caught his voice in his throat and cursed himself mentally. Now wasn’t the time to be letting his nerves get the better of him. He took a much deeper breath than before and started over, taking care to keep his voice quiet.
“The red flames are the mark of justice. Burning bright red, the sun of life. Ryusei Bla-”
He punched the mirror with his higher fist. “Damn it,” he cursed himself again. More drops of sweat rolled down his face. He stared at his reflection, teeth gritted and eyes filled with self-contempt.
“Man among men,” he thought to himself. It almost felt silly, to keep on saying it. What did even mean at this point? Always aspiring to be like those you admire, those who came before you. What was the point? He dropped his gaze from the mirror and stared at his own clenched fist. What did it... really mean…?
He stood up straight, and raised his fists back to their positions. One more time, just to make sure he could get through it right. He didn’t want to keep his unit members waiting any longer than he already probably had. Another breath. He opened his mouth, his voice felt shaky and weak, but he continued anyway.
“The red flames are the mark of justice. Burning bright red, the sun of life. Ryusei Red, Na-”
TAK-TAK
A sharp knock on the door stopped him in his tracks, jolting him out of his pose and bringing his mind back down from the clouds. Familiar voices followed.
“Hey, Tetora-kun… Are you finished changing…?” Midori’s voice, melancholic as always, made its way through the door.
“Tetora-kun, are you alright? Our live is to begin shortly, de gozaru.” Shinobu’s voice sounded apprehensive. Understandably so, it was bad form to be late to one's own live performance.
Tetora swallowed and wiped more sweat from his brow. He’d spent far too long lost in thought, just as he was afraid he had. “Ah! R-right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long...” Taking another breath, he grabbed the doorknob and steeled himself briefly before pulling it towards him.
The door swung open to his fellow unit members, wearing their personal colors. Their expressions of concern swiftly transformed to bright smiles as they noticed Tetora’s clothes. He felt his face flush in reaction to their beaming faces.
“Tetora-kun, you look absolutely great! As expected of Ryuseitai’s new unit leader, de gozaru~.” Shinobu possessed the same timid enthusiasm as always.
“Ahh~ Tetora-kun certainly looks better in that outfit than I ever could. I suppose I’m sorta jealous…” Midori had certainly seemed more lively since the school year had ended, if only somewhat, though he still had his gloomier moments.
His face still warm, Tetora shook off their compliments with a wave of his hand. “It’s just a jacket. Nothing special about it.” He pushed his concerns to the back of his mind and clenched his fist once more. “Let’s get going!”
The outdoor stage stood shining in the sunlight, waiting for their performance to begin. In front of it, a small group of incoming first years with their tell-tale red ties and blue blazers were mingling, drawn by the promise of an appearance by Ryuseitai; they had gathered something of a reputation since last year. The three stood backstage, side-by-side, mics in hand. Midori’s voice pierced the silence.
“... When we all stand next to each other like this, it really feels like there’s something missing, don’t you think…?”
Tetora and Shinobu didn’t respond, conceding with silence instead.
“... While that might be,” Shinobu finally spoke up, “I think that we should give this live the best of our ability, as if they were with us once more, de gozaru!”
Tetora smiled in response, and raised his microphone. “Are you both ready?” He asked them, a determined lilt to his voice.
“Yes!” They replied on either side of him.
“Alright, let’s go!” With one last shout, the three of them charged onstage.
One song had already been performed. The three of them gave it their all with bright smiles, despite the heavy breathing and the sweat dripping down their faces. It was time for their signature calls, the part that Tetora had been most nervous for in anticipation. “Just take it easy,” he assured himself silently, “you’ve practiced this enough already.”
“The yellow flames are the mark of hope! A single miracle shining in the darkness!” Shinobu initiated with his call perfectly as always, with what sounded like even more confidence than Tetora had ever expected from the small boy, “Ryusei Yellow, Sengoku Shinobu!”
“Man among men.” Those same words flashed through Tetora’s head suddenly again. Why now? Why did this keep coming back to him now?
“The green flames are the mark of compassion, the great nature that grows infinitely!” Midori continued, executing his completely and with an energy very much unlike what he had done the previous year, “Ryusei Green, Takamine Midori!”
“It’s my turn,” Tetora realized. However he kept thinking of those words. Them, and the color red, of course.
“Here goes,” He stepped forward and assumed the same stance he had been rehearsing in the changing room before. It was all or nothing.
“The red flames are the mark of justice! Burning bright red, the sun of life!”
He could feel dozens of pairs of eyes clinging to him from the audience, but he refused to let any of that ruin his last words.
“Ryusei Red, Nagumo Tetora!!!”
“Red.” He felt the word hang in the air as he finally let it escape from his chest, echoing across the stage and filling the atmosphere amongst the crowd with a positive, warm feeling, like sunlight falling through cracks in the clouds on a dreary day.
Red. Like Chiaki Morisawa before him. Like Kuro Kiryu, the one he had looked up to for so long. “Ryusei Red. I am Ryusei Red now.” He hadn’t let himself believe it. Until now he had just felt he was filling in for someone gone, but now he finally felt it in his soul. The red he had aspired to be. The “Man among men” he had wanted to become.
“With the three of us together, we are Ryuseitai!” It didn’t feel the same with just three to their name, but they were forced to make due for the time being after all. “We together fight those of evil intention in the name of justice! But, just the three of us can’t do it all alone! We need those who also wish to fight for the sake of justice, like you!”
Just then, something caught Tetora’s attention out of the corner of his eye. He glanced to the front row of the audience as subtly as he could. There, right in front of the stage, was a first year with his gaze fixed onto him. Slightly shorter than average, with brown hair so dark it looked almost black. His mouth was stretched wide in an amazed smile, but what Tetora noticed most were his eyes; they were light blue, the color of the sky, and they were shining brighter than any star he had ever seen.
Tetora immediately sensed it. That sparkle, he knew it well. He had seen it before. He could recognize it anywhere. Studying those eyes, he knew what he needed to do next.
Leaving his stance, he stepped forward and began making his way towards the end of the stage, leaving Midori and Shinobu behind him with perplexed expressions. Tetora walked to the edge, where the dark-haired boy stood, while watching his smile expand further as he approached.
“And how about you?” Tetora posed his question with the mic close to his face, to make sure the entire audience could hear it, yet he focused his attention to that single first year, who now seemed to be overcome with joy at this turn of events.
Tetora knelt down and extended his free hand towards the boy. His next words came to him naturally, and he let himself say them without hesitation.
“... Do you wanna be a hero?”