Wataru Gray,
I don't know how to tell you this.
I mean, honestly, I don't have a clue. Not a one. Not even a vague hint. I'm going on emotions, and maybe what I've seen on television. What good is that?
Every day I look for you. Every time I turn the television on, I hope for a story on you. Every time I talk to someone, I hope to hear news of you.
Funny, isn't it? I guess I'm crazy. This is beyond anything I've ever felt or experienced. I can't handle it, and I don't know if I can stand it.
It doesn't make any sense. I've tried to explain it to myself, but everything sounds like a lie. It sounds like I'm stumbling for an explanation. There isn't one, so how can I find one?
Sometimes I lie in bed trying to understand. How can any of this be? How is it possible? What is it? I ask myself questions, and I don't understand any of them.
No… That's not quite right. It's not that I don't understand; it's that I don't want to think. Thinking can lead to shit I don't want, that I don't need. So I try to push it away. Not that it helps.
I don't get it. Screw this! Screw everything!
How can I feel this? How can I be this way? I don't even know you! I've never even met you!
True, I've seen you. You're on television nearly every week, telling off newscasters who seem to bug the hell out of you. I suppose that that's normal… Being bothered by the newscasters. Yeah, I can see where you'd become annoyed.
At least you've got limelight, though. Everyone knows you. Hardly anyone knows me. I'm just… I'm just another face in the crowd. Yeah, that's about right.
I'm a face in the crowd and you're a celebrity. Everyone knows your face. Everyone knows the hard planes, the hair that seems to be almost greasy yet stylish at the same time. Everyone can recognize the determined set of your body, can recognize your not-quite-hoarse voice.
Everyone seems to think that they know how you'll act. They think they've got you down. I know; I've heard them talk about you. You're a hot topic, you know.
They all say that you've got a strong personality. They say that you're bound to use a combination of wit and strength when you fight. They say that you're a nice enough guy out of battles, and that you'll at least try to be polite to anyone who asks questions of you.
I'm under the impression that this is stereotyping, though. There's more to you than what they see, isn't there? You're a difficult person to understand; I knew that from the moment I saw you.
Yeah, the first time I saw you in the arena. I was just another face in the crowd then, sitting among hundreds who had managed to scrounge together enough money to buy tickets. Do you have any idea how much those cost? All right, I suppose you do… Never mind.
I saw you battling some kid. You seemed to be concentrating completely, fully into what you were doing. Those around me seemed entranced… I must admit that I too was pulled into your field.
It's something about you. There is a strength that radiates from your being, engulfing anyone unlucky enough to stand in the way. Unlucky or lucky?
Lucky. Now I've seen the light, praise the savior and all that. I mean it, though. Before I saw you, nothing had a purpose. Now I have one, as impossible as it may seem.
Impossible is all right, though, isn't it? That's what you show everyone. Even when it looks like there is no way, there can be one. All you need is strength and will.
I've got that at last. It's all for one purpose, all for you. I doubt that you're flattered, and I can't blame you. After all, you're only my purpose.
Fans swarm over you like mad. I've seen other girls go crazy, swooning at the sight of you. I've heard many start blabbering about you. And now I've found myself drawn into the attraction to you.
I'm not quite sure how it all happened. Like I said, it hit the moment I actually saw you. From there on it built up piece by piece, layer by layer. It grows stronger every day, becoming even firmer as I go on.
I join in conversations about you. I join in raving about you. I join friends… or those I call my friends, in watching you on the television, in listening to you on the radio. Yeah, I'm caught in the rush of the crowd.
Caught in the rush of the crowd, lost in a while of song. You're ringing in my ear…
Sorry. You probably don't know what that is. It isn't original. It's from a song… It just seemed to fit the mood.
If I'm not making sense, don't be surprised. Even as I write this, I know that it'll confuse you. It's the way I am when I think of you… I get confusing. I'm sorry. I can't help it.
I don't know why I'm writing this. Well, I do. I want you to read it. I don't think you will, though. You probably have someone else read the letters. Perhaps Itsuki. I don't know…
I'm hanging onto the hope that you will, however, and I'm going to send it to you. I want you to know what I'm about to say, as stupid as it may… will sound.
Wataru…
I hate you.
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.
You get that?
I HATE YOU!
I hate the way you can beat everyone. I hate the way you can be so confident. I hate the way that everyone looks up to you. I hate the way you have so much control. I hate the way that you talk. I hate the way you dress. I hate the way you battle. I hate the way you look at people. I hate the patience that you show. I hate you.
I hate you, and I'm going to kill you.
Thank you for giving me purpose, Wataru.
~The Face in the Crowd
-----------------------------------------