Souta PoV
I jogged around the block. I needed to get my blood pumping after having sat studying for an upcoming exam.
As I rounded the corner, the crisp morning air filled my lungs, and I felt my heartbeat quicken in rhythm with my footsteps. Just as I was settling into a comfortable pace, I noticed someone keeping stride beside me. It was Purpura.
"Hey there, Sou!" he called out, his voice bright and teasing, as though he weren't even breaking a sweat. His amethyst hair danced with each stride, framing his delicate features in a way that made my heart flutter unexpectedly. He looked like he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine, his fitted joggers and a cropped tank top clinging to his slender frame.
"How do you make it look so easy?" I gasped between breaths. Not that I was struggling at all, but compared to him, I was exhausted.
He smirked. "Remember, I'm perfect."
I rolled my eyes at him and snickered. "A perfect pain in my backside."
He snickered. "In all seriousness, this is nothing compared to the training they had me do in the lab."
I frowned. There was still so much that I didn't know about him. Not that I needed all the details. Knowing he suffered under those jerks was enough.
"Training in the lab?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. We continued to jog side by side, the rhythmic sound of our footsteps echoing down the quiet dirt road outside of town. "What kind of training?"
Purpura's expression shifted subtly, a flicker of something I couldn't quite place crossing his features before he shrugged it off. "Just... conditioning. You know, for agility and speed. They wanted me to be the best at everything." His voice held a mix of pride and bitterness, and I felt an urge to reach out to him.
"That sounds intense," I replied, trying to keep my tone light. "But it sounds like it worked. You're definitely fast."
He laughed, but there was a sadness behind it. "Yeah, well, it's not just about speed. It's about control, finesse... sometimes, I feel like they wanted to turn me into a machine."
I frowned, my heart tightening at the thought. "You're not a machine, Purpura. You're a person. You deserve to have fun, too."
Purpura looked at me, his expression softening. "Thanks, Sou. I appreciate that. It's just... sometimes I forget how to have fun." He sighed. "No, it's more like I didn't ever get to learn it... the closest I came was when my dad..."
He gripped his head and stopped.
I frowned. Purpura mentioned having a dad, but he was a lab experiment. Neither of us knew the true origin of those memories. My guess was, his true father, Prince Suoh inserted them into him. As to why, I had no clue. Not like he cared about his mental wellbeing, given everything he and his cronies put him through.
"Pura, are you okay?" I asked, grabbing his arm.
He kept wincing. "Y-yeah..."
I frowned. "You don't look fine... Is your head acting up?"
Purpura sighed and kept avoiding me. His gaze was distant, as if looking at a different space and time.
----
Purpura PoV
[Eight years Ago]
The cold gymnasium echoed with the sound of my heartbeat, a relentless drumbeat that seemed to synchronize with the pulse of the fluorescent lights above. I stood in the center of the expansive space, my body clad in a white uniform that clung to my form like a second skin. It was a uniform designed for performance, but all it did was remind me of devoid of color this place was.
Around the perimeter, scientists in lab coats stood like sentinels, their eyes fixed on me with a mix of anticipation and scrutiny. Their expressions were cold, detached—like I was no more than a test subject. I swallowed hard, trying to push down the anxiety that clawed at my insides.
"Begin!" a voice barked, and I nodded, my heart racing as I prepared to leap through the first flaming hoop. The flames danced wildly, casting an orange glow that flickered against the white walls, but there was no time to hesitate. I sprinted forward, my feet pounding against the polished floor.
With a powerful leap, I soared through the flames, the heat licking at my skin as I passed through. The rush of adrenaline surged through me, momentarily drowning out the scientists' murmurs of approval. I landed gracefully, the impact softening as I rolled and sprang back to my feet.
"Good! Again!" the voice called, and I obeyed, my body moving almost instinctively through the next series of hoops. Jump, flip, land—repeat. Each maneuver was a dance I had perfected, a routine drilled into me through endless hours of training. But as I jumped through the fiery rings, I felt less like a dancer and more like a puppet on strings.
The flames roared around me, but it was the faces of the scientists that burned into my mind—their eyes devoid of warmth, their interest purely clinical. It was a familiar sight, one that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I was a specimen, an experiment, and every leap felt like a desperate attempt to prove that I was worth something. To prove to them my value. They didn't care about the toll all of this took on me; they only cared about the results.
As I soared through the final hoop, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass windows. The boy staring back at me had wide, frightened eyes, and I barely recognized him. I was supposed to be perfect, but all I could feel was a deep emptiness where joy should reside.
"Excellent work, Purpura," one of the scientists said, clapping as I landed. "You've exceeded our expectations once again."
I didn't say a thing. Only when they asked me to speak, did I speak.
"Now, let's move on to the next exercise," another scientist announced, and I felt my heart drop. The next exercise always pushed the limits further, testing not just my physical abilities but my mental endurance as well.
As they set up the next set of obstacles, I closed my eyes for a brief moment, wishing I could escape this reality. I thought of the outside world, where the sun shone, and laughter filled the air. I thought of the boy who would sometimes appear in my dreams, his smile big and bright.
He called me a friend. Although, I had no idea what that meant at the time.
"You okay, Morado," the scientist from earlier asked. He wore a worried expression.
I nodded slightly. But, I was confused. Why was this man worried about me? Not even my own creator showed concern.
"Why… why do you care?" I found myself asking, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty. The scientist, Dr. Saito, looked taken aback, his brow furrowing as he processed my words.
"Because I'm responsible for your progress, Morado," he replied, but there was a hint of something softer in his tone—an unexpected flicker of concern that I wasn't used to. "I want to see you succeed."
Succeed. The word echoed in my mind, twisting into something foreign. What did success mean for someone like me? Was it measured in leaps through flaming hoops, or was it something more profound, something I had yet to grasp?