The Color of the Passionate and Passionless

Prologue

Red, red, red. Everyday, everything and everyone was red in the Kingdom of Hearts. Sure, there were tints of pink here and there, maybe a magenta looking a little too purple to be safe, but it was all undoubtedly red in Hearts. It was to the point that no one even questioned, cared, or, chances are, noticed anymore. What would be the proper word, monotonous? Yes, monotonous summed it up perfectly, especially in the mind of one Hearts citizen in particular. To most, using the word "monotonous" to describe anything relating to the country of beautiful, lovely red would be betrayal, but not to Haruhi Fujioka. She, unlike how she viewed the rest of Hearts and the rest of Hearts viewed her, was a realist.

Now, the realist she was, she did not have anything in particular against the monotony itself. In fact, she thrived in it. Monotony meant predictability, even with people that should be anything but. The problem lied wherein these predictable yet unpredictable people failed to recognize their own monotony. Preoccupied in their own delusions, they saw each red thing as if it were a color brand new to their eyes and the very world itself. That was clearly a lie because everything in Hearts was undoubtedly red, red, red. That made the realist wonder that if this monotony was really not such a bad thing, then why did people have to lie to themselves about it?

As for an answer, well, she had none. Not to this very day at least, and while she pulled it to the back of her mind and wore her red clothes, submerged in a world of suffocating red, she could not help but hate the color a little more every time she saw it. Strangely enough, though this hate was undoubtedly hate, it was a passionless hate. As hate is supposed to be a passion, it resembled more apathy than anything, but that was because it was very much hate. Red was supposed to be passionate, and to hate the passionate what is required is apathy rather than passion. This very passionless hate for the color red, though now merely subconscious, consumed her life and any passion she may have ever held.

Now this may sound horrible to many, and it certainly terrified her fellow citizens of Hearts though they had no clue of how severe her passionless was, but her passionless life was not a bad one. After all, a life without passion is not a life without emotion. Quite the opposite really. She had quite a full range of emotions, from sadness to anger, happiness to jealousy, frustration to satisfaction, restlessness to exhaustion; the list went on. Simply said, she led a very full life for a young girl without her passions. She did not even lack goals. Goals are normally seen as ambitions for the passionate, but that is not always so. Her goals were practical for the passionless. Simple things really: plans to be self-sufficient, get a house, get married, have children, etc. So she did have goals, merely logical and passionless ones, that set her apart from the other girls of Hearts that had goals of love. Speaking of love, it is a rather tricky thing when it comes to the passionless realist.

The main issue with love is quite simple: love is a passion, much like hate. However, unlike her passionless hate, she cannot get around this with love so easily. After all, love, for another person or anything else, would no doubt have to be a passion. If it were not, it simply would not be love anymore. It might even be morphed into a degree of hate. At most times this perfectly suited the realistic maiden, but on rare occasions it did not. One of these rare occasions regarded her parents. Her father was very much a regular citizen of Hearts. His flamboyant ways made him an ideal example of all the good, bad, and monotonous of Hearts. Even so, he was dear to her, as much as her late mother who had both been a regular and irregular citizen of Hearts. When she realized that her passionless and thus loveless life meant that she could not possibly love them the thought terrorized her. She had never cared much that should would never fall in love romantically, but the fact, the mere possibility even, that she could not love at all, even her family, disturbed her.

In all honesty, she never got over this. A guilt she could never shake was continuously nursed in her heart, but she lived on with her smile. Though she may never love them, she could take a little solace in knowing that she would give as close to love as she could get to them and knowing that they were the one exception that she wished she could change about her passionless life. Even if it was not enough, it had to be. She had no more to give, even if no one else was any the wiser in her world of passionate red.

Little did she know that this world of red, red, red was about to shatter into more pieces than she could ever count, much less collect and repair. This shattering, while indeed very sudden, did have warning signs. Signs she simply missed. In retrospect, the cracks developing in her world seem so very obvious, but at that moment in time all it was to Haruhi was a dress delivery, turned a little odd, just like all the others.

After all, as the daughter of a not so humble dressmaker that owned a not so humble dress shop that did humble business she supported her family in any way she could, including becoming the normal delivery girl. As the delivery girl, she met all sorts of people, those that she was grateful and not so grateful she had met, and found more excitement than she probably ever should have in her passionless life. That was why when her dress delivery took her to the Castle of Hearts she was not concerned in the least. If anything really, she was more annoyed with the inefficiently long walk she had to take solely within the castle and impressed, as well as slightly startled, by the guards' relaxed security.

She had started that day in her hometown. It was not a small town, but not truly a city either by the name of Roseland. From there she had to travel to the very capital of all Hearts, Heart of Vermillion. It was no simple walk, for sure, but the capital was travelling distance from Roseland. Though it would eat up all of her day, Haruhi could leave at dawn and make it home just after dark. Her father had assured her that it was an awfully important client, and even if it had not been, Haruhi would have made the journey anyway. She knew nothing more of the client, or even the dress that was tightly packaged to prevent any damage, except that her father worked very hard and that this dress was one of the rather expensive ones. Still, that mattered not. At her age she had yet to have been to the capital, much less alone, and a scenic walk through it appealed to both her curiosity and practical senses. Heart of Vermillion was a thriving place that would be a good place to live in the future to her knowledge.

At the very least, she had no problems with that bit of the journey. Her frustrations only began after she reached the castle. Though she had not been shocked by this development in her day, she could tell at the start of it that this delivery was going to be one of the taxing ones. Chances were, if she was delivering to the very castle that contained the royalty of Hearts then she was delivering to a spoiled brat or diva of sorts. Those types tended to shoot the messenger or the delivery girl, on top of the fact that she would not be all too happy to hear insults flung at her father's hard work. She supposed the money would be worth it to sustain the family business, but they had a pride as a business, as artists, and as people to worry about as well.

Even without this worry, she had a bit of a dilemma. Not only did she not know the name of owner of the dress she was delivering, but she had no idea how to navigate the castle, no thanks to the guards that had just shooed her inside. So she had to scrutinize every detail of the endless red gardens, red rooms, and red hallways. She knew that the red rose, often called the vermillion rose, was the national flower, but the castle was full of them. They grew absolutely everywhere. There was not a single garden or a lone room without a living rose, either rooted to the ground or in a vase. Even the artwork was lavished in countless roses. The red walls and ceilings had carved roses as ornamental decoration. Needless to say, everything was her most favorite color as well. She had to admit, though, that this castle did actually have some hues of red she had never seen, even as the child of a dressmaker. That was impressive, but the admiration did not last.

As expected, she quickly became lost. She had not seen a single person since the guards so she had been left to wander on her own with the packaged dress clutched tightly to her chest. By the time she had realized how hopelessly lost she was she had decided that even that people who lived here could not possibly know the entire layout of this place. Not only was it massive, but it was made like a maze apparently, she convinced herself. Perhaps it should be noted that it was quite easily done as well, and not simply by way of her amazing charisma.

"Why hello there, my lady."

The words, more of the sound of them, sent her spinning to look behind her. She was in one of those awkward halls that she was not sure even was a hall at all because it was outside. Instead of windows there were gaps in the stone walls that looked out into the gardens on the side, but she had walked through a door that had taken here from inside. However, these details quickly faded to the back of her mind as she sought the voice she had heard, or hoped she heard. This would be her first real detection of life in this castle, and it was about time. Maybe she would even be lucky enough to come across a servant that would finish her delivery for her after pointing to the exit. She could only dream, especially as she started to believe that her desperate mind had conjured the voice on its own.

"You are lovelier than any rose in this garden—no, this castle—this world!"

Okay, there was no way her mind could come up with anything so cheesy. Her chocolate eyes darted over every inch of the hallway before she desperately started scanning the gardens. By a sheer miracle she caught sight of someone, in all red, in front of a red rose bush in the second garden she searched. Naturally she was relieved, but as she took her first step through the gap into the garden she froze. She could not help but feel cautious all of a sudden. She had no idea why at first, but then it hit her: he was rattling off pickup lines to a rose bush. This took talking to plants to make them grow to a whole new level and it made Haruhi wonder just who she had found and if she should leave before he found her.

"Be mine, my darling, and I will be your knight in shining armor and never let you go." the mysterious man continued, stretching out his hand to the rosebush as if it would reach out and take it, "Ah, a love as pure as ours will never falter."

By this point, Haruhi was getting chills. Debilitating ones. She was torn between running away and just yelling for him to make it stop. Whatever delusion or lucid dream this weirdo was in she did not want to see, much less become a part of. She was fearful, however, that no matter what she did the latter was unavoidable. Plus, even if she did run, what would she do if she just went in a giant circle and ended up right back here? Maybe Mr. Crazy was a little more grounded when it came to directions and not rosebushes. She supposed that was plausible and it was not like any option was very good at the moment.

"My love, I cherish you more than—"

"Hey!"

"GYAHHH!"

Crash!

Haruhi's eye twitched as she surveyed the damage of the surprised man leaping into the rosebush he apparently cherished so much and getting caught up in as many thorny vines as possible. She was beginning to believe his love was one sided.

"Hey, sorry about that." she apologized over his moans, whines, and cries within the bush, "But I am completely lost in here and I thought maybe you would know the way."

It was the first time she had a really good look at the odd man, who actually looked to be a teenager. He had purple eyes, currently watery with tears, and bright blond hair. He seemed as if he would have been rather clean and possibly even good looking if he had not been thrust into dirt and scratched more times than the two of them could probably count. A particular scratch on his cheek stood out, one that had long past beaded with bright red blood that was now starting to roll down his face. If nothing else, he did truly look in pain, and it finally occurred to her that maybe she should apologize more seriously.

"Are you okay? Let me help you out at least and then we can find someone to help us, if you are not as hopelessly lost as me." she suggested, taking the lead before he had time to answer by reaching out her hand.

Despite not a word leaving his mouth, he took her hand without hesitation. She smiled apologetically before doing not much more than ripping him out of the clutches of his previous lover. She heard the rips before she saw them, but once he was free and standing in front of her she saw just how much damage the thorns had done. Not only was he scratched and bleeding all over, but his clothes had numerous tears. He had dived in face first and then struggled like a captured wild animal, so it did make sense, but it did little to ease her guilt, especially as she subconsciously started counting the thorns still buried in both his clothes and skin.

"So, there would not happen to be a medical professional in this place, would there?" she asked with a nervous chuckle.

"There is a doctor here, but I do not know where." the man admitted with a face and voice that was contorting more and more with a pout as he spoke, "But it is not like I could really walk there anyway if I did."

Haruhi felt each word feeding her guilt, "I guess you are right. I really am sorry. It might not be much, but I can help you get the thorns out if you would like."

The blond man actually contemplated it this time and before he finished a quick flash of horror went through his still watery eyes. Despite this, he nodded slowly shortly after it was gone. That was more than enough to tell Haruhi that she had to get it over with before he could change his mind, and she set straight to work pulling out any thorns she saw, occasionally giving a warning while she was pulling out one that looked deep. Pretty much without fail each thorn elicited a yelp or a cry of some sort, and she was sure that at least one tear had gone down his cheek by now, but she did not comment and just tried to make the process faster. As much as she had tried, due to the sheer number of thorns, she had no doubt taken a while.

She sighed with relief, "I think that was the last one. You can celebrate now."

She doubted he would do much celebrating, as wounded as he was. If anything he needed to see a doctor as soon as he could. The last thing he needed was for his scratches to get infected.

"It may still hurt, but we really need to find that doctor—"

Haruhi's words died on her tongue as she watched the wounded man, without a doubt still bleeding, get down on one knee to take her hand before placing a chaste kiss to it and then looking back up to her. He was clearly going to saw something, but he did not get the chance.

"I will not be the rebound of a rosebush!" she roared, ripping away her contaminated hand and using the very thing to slap him hard enough that he completely fell to the ground.

Admittedly, she felt bad that she hit a wounded man, on his bleeding cheek no less, but her first and main priority was putting some space between her and this weirdo. She had certainly not forgotten that he might have been dangerous and the fact that his blood and saliva was now staining her hand felt quite disturbing in a contamination sort of way. She actually almost touched the dress's packing with her hand before realizing it in a bit of a flail, and though she doubted the buyer would be able to see the difference in reds she did not want to get anyone infected.

"Owie, what did you do that for!?" the man groaned from the ground, "I was thanking you."

"Then say 'thank you very much' like normal people!" Haruhi growled, still a little shaken up from it all.

"I was just about to, before you hit me." he whined, now at least sitting on the grass and tears freely flowing, "B-b-but y-you—WAH!"

Haruhi was taken aback for a moment at how childlike this person was. It made her wonder for a split second if this really was the weirdo she saw earlier trying to woo a bush. Odd romance with plants, pouting, tears, clumsiness, contamination, it all was not adding up to be a single, congealing person. Maybe he had a mental disorder for all she knew. Yeah, that sounded good. Still, that was all the more reason to get him to the closest doctor, and his little fit certainly was not helping.

"Hey, I am sorry, really." she consoled, taking a hopefully comforting step forward because she was not going to take another, "You just surprised me. You cannot do that to people you just met. I mean, we do not even know each other's names—I am Haruhi by the way."

"I am Tamaki." he sniffed, eyeing her suspiciously, "Do you really mean that?"

"You bet. You scared me quite a bit." she insisted, "But come on, we have to find that doctor. I mean, we both are lost in here, right?"

There was an odd sheen in Tamaki's eyes, "But what about my clothes?"

"C-clothes?" she muttered, suddenly even more nervous than before though she quickly pushed past it, "Oh, your clothes. You really are worrying about that right now?"—She sighed—"Well, it is kind of my fault so I will fix them. I do not have my things with me and I may not look like it, but I am the daughter of a dressmaker. That is actually why I am here. I am delivering"—she motioned to the parcel—"this dress and got lost before I found anyone to give me directions. Once we find a doctor, I deliver this, and I have a minute to buy some thread and a needle, or better yet if you let me take them back to my shop, I can fix your clothes right up."

That odd sheen was back in Tamaki's now red eyes as he sat silently. It took Haruhi a moment to come to the conclusion that he was thinking and the more she looked at him the more she felt she could see the wheels turning in his mind.

"Renge had ordered a dress, hadn't she?" Tamaki muttered lowly, too low at least for Haruhi to hear.

"What did you say?"

Suddenly, he bolted upright from the ground. He was smiling now, even in his red, puffy eyes. He marched confidently over to her, his smile not wavering at all.

"Come my lady, we have a dress to deliver." he commanded, once more grabbing her contaminated hand but this time dragging her by it.

Haruhi, for the first time that day, was too stunned to struggle. All she could do was look at his back and the clothes that she would no doubt be fixing later. It had not occurred to her earlier, but his clothes looked expensive. Quite expensive actually. The material looked like one of those that her father used for only certain dresses. While she contemplated this she analyzed her memories, trying to remember what his clothes had looked like pre rose bush. While doing that, the image of his face when she saw his cheek bleeding for the first time got stuck in her mind. She had not noticed earlier, but right under that cheek, where a drop of red blood had fell, was an emblem she knew she had seen before. She simply could not place it. The country's emblem? It looked similar, but it was different. A soldier's emblem? Not that either. For the life of her she could not figure it out, but her mind kept telling her that it was important. And that was when it hit her. The emblem. This idiot was the Prince of Hearts.