The Story of the Antagonist
by Her Pretty Smile
Synopsis: [AU] Hitsugaya Toushirou has always been introverted and uncaring towards the world. That is, until one girl comes along. However, she's in love with someone else—his very own friend Kira Izuru. And the painful fact is that he loves her too. So, Toushirou does the only thing he can think of: break their love story. [Toushirou-centric]
Warning: Unbeta-ed; may contain mistakes or any of the sort. Rated T for language and the harshness of reality.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Kubo Tite owns it.
Authoress' Note: So now I present to you my long-awaited-to-be-published 'The Story of the Antagonist'. It features some of my favourite characters, especially Toushirou! (SQUEE~) Haha. Okay, what I mean is, it features romance (slow pacing is a MUST for the development of this genre), drama (expectedly), angst (oh yeah I'm gonna have fun with THIS), family (YES, there's family!), friendship (a little), and slice of life. This story will have at least twelve chapters, the length will be 8,000 words or more, the updates will be weekly, and the pace will be slow for the purpose of development but not too much, otherwise it'll seem boring. -.- Anyway, I hope you will all enjoy the prologue (which is a little short, by the way, because... it's the, uh, prologue). So Toushirou's the antagonist. SQUEAL! He's still hot, though. :3
P.S.: All of the chapters will be having a first person POV. Haha. Toushirou's the protagonist and the antagonist at the same time. AW! :D
The Story of the Antagonist
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There are times when we fall. There are times when we can't pick ourselves up.
There are even times when we can do nothing but give up.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is a story of a unique, enigmatic guy whose problems in life are not the least bit shallow. This is a story of feelings and instinct. This is a story of courage and forgiveness. This is a story of development and change.
This is the story of the antagonist.
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Prologue
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"You don't know me. You don't even care."
—Boston by Augustana
I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO be born into this world.
That is the cold, harsh truth my father and mother told me when I was in my rebellious stage. Of course, I was hurt, and my self-worth took a major downfall. Some piece of me also broke, and I didn't know if I could ever mend myself back again.
My parents never cared about me. Not once did I ever feel that I was loved by them. I knew it deep inside. I knew it by looking deep into their eyes.
Even when they were smiling...
Even when they were laughing...
Even when they had a soft, gentle expression on their faces...
It didn't reach their eyes.
In reality, I was just nothing to them. I was a machine as well as a robot; I was someone they could manipulate anytime, anywhere. Their 'kindness' towards me was fake; it was merely a method of their manipulation.
The day they found out I was actually a genius was the day I wanted to forget the most because they started to show their true selves to me little by little. This was because it turned out that my high intellect was very advantageous to their progress of me becoming the next CEO of our company. So, with that in mind, they began to pressure me a lot, applying strict and unfair discipline to the extent of not allowing me to have any friends. Not even a damn acquaintance.
To add to the mess I called my life, they applied me to numerous different classes like self-defense, voice, dance, piano, guitar, yoga... They said that it was all necessary to shape me into the perfect person, but I knew damn well what they were trying to achieve. They just wanted to show me off as their own achievement and success for their own damn pride. I was merely a tool for their own greed. I would be nothing of importance to them after I'd gotten them rich.
I was thirteen when I got into my rebellious stage, unable to handle the pressure any longer. I slacked off in my studies, I didn't show up at any of my extra classes, I snuck out of my house frequently...
Until one day my parents finally snapped.
"You weren't meant to be born, did you know that, you little punk?!" my father had yelled, his face red in outrage. "You were a mistake! A mistake, I tell you!"
"We did everything for you, you ungrateful brat!" my mother had shouted. "And now you do this? You should thank us for raising you! Better yet, you should thank me for not murdering you while you were in my womb!"
I was in shock. Paralyzed, even. Don't get me wrong, I knew—I even suspected and guessed—that that might have been the case. But I guess that a tiny part deep inside me was actually hoping that it wasn't true, because if it was, then it would really hurt.
I'm not a strong person. I have my limits, my boundaries. I have feelings.
I have a heart.
I can only take so much, because I'm just human. I wasn't fragile, but that didn't mean I couldn't be broken.
The mistreatment and the torture almost sent me into depression. When my parents told me the cold, harsh truth, I was forced to abandon all hope and sink into the depths of my misery. I was forced to back into a corner and do everything I could to pay them back for their 'kindness'.
So I fell into complete silence as I did what they told me to. I didn't complain, I didn't slack off, I didn't rebel.
I didn't even cry.
Crying was worthless. It would only bring me more trouble.
So I bottled all my feelings up inside me, only letting them out by playing a harsh and melancholic piece on the piano, beating up my practice opponent, painting dark expressionism on canvas, and many more. I had multiple outlets, and all of them were effective.
But sometimes I felt like they just weren't enough.
Whenever I looked at the mirror, I always saw a guy with spiky, messy white hair, dull, icy, and slightly narrowed green eyes, knitted eyebrows, and mundane, average height. I looked fairly normal, but there was no mistaking the dark, low circles under my eyes, the exhausted expression on my face, and the way my shoulders sagged in fatigue. I was always losing a lot of sleep. It was no wonder I never really grew much in height.
But then again, I didn't care about it, because all I really wanted in life...
...was to be happy.
Was that really too much to ask?
...I guess it was.
I'm Hitsugaya Toushirou, and my story begins when I was fifteen.