Chapter Text
There is something despicable about the way a mask can stick to its actor’s face.
To Goro, it seemed especially ironic. Every time he was back to wearing this red thing, he couldn’t help but want to laugh at his own reflection. Deep down inside of himself, he was constantly sneering. No matter what he would do, he could never take it off. It melted, blended with the surface of his skin.
Every time he smiled, he felt every inch of his face ignite.
And it burned ─ charring further the ashes left of what once used to be his heart.
Yet he would always grin throughout. This is what was expected of him.
Comedians are only acclaimed for their roles.
When remembering this ridiculous, childish costume, Goro would always picture himself standing in the middle of a wide, exquisite scene. The audience was vivaciously clapping, enthusiastically cheering, throwing him the most beautiful bouquets. He would pick up every last flower, submerged in fulfillment, proudly bowing to the crowd.
“Finally, I have the right to exist !”
This is what his naive, younger self would have shouted at the top of his lungs. After all, this is all he had dreamed of. To be praised, cherished, adored, so he could be convinced his existence was something other than a complete waste.
Still today, whenever he would get memories of the past, Goro would often be trapped in this reverie. The thorns on the roses made his fingers bleed, his whole body was agonizingly burning. His eyes blankly stared at a horde of faceless spectators, applauding without emotion, the sound of their claps echoing in dissonance.
Goro smiled, genuinely smiled, to the point it started to hurt.
His pupils looked dead, but his sneer was wide.
“A day will come where you will all be bowing at my feet. At my filthy, royal feet.”
He squeezed his bouquet tighter, jabbing the thorns deeper in his wounds.
“I don’t care about seeking anyone’s acknowledgement, you will simply be obliged to constantly look at my face, whether you want to or not.”
By now, there were only two silhouettes standing in the audience, more defined than the other ones, their faces blurred in a very recognizable way. A mismatched couple Goro couldn’t stop glaring at, his eyes locked on the man sitting to the right. Swiftly, Goro threw his sword, which bloodly pierced right through his head, breaking his stupid orange glasses in half.
“I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore. From now on… I’ll be the one in control of everything.”
His words fell into silence, resonating in nothing else but his own ears, yet he was still continuously hearing passionate applause.
Gradually, his vibrant scarlet mask turned to a shining black, as dark as a crow’s wing.