Hiroshi's POV(Part 1) - Dead Logic

What is a polymath?

A polymath is someone who possesses knowledge or expertise across multiple fields of skills, rather than dedicating their entire life to a single area. Someone who can move between mathematics, science, art, sports, languages, or any other field without allowing themselves to be confined to only one of them.

At least, that was how I understood the word. Looking back, I think I had been trying to become one long before I even knew the word existed.

As far as my memories allowed me to remember, I had been a good child to my parents. I studied well, listened to them, behaved properly, and rarely caused trouble. My grades were good, but academics weren't the only thing I cared about. I enjoyed sports too. Running, cycling, swimming, climbing, and anything else that required physical movement naturally attracted my attention. Whenever I discovered something I couldn't do, my first thought wasn't that it was beyond my ability. I simply wondered how long it would take before I could do it.

That mindset followed me as I grew older. The problem was that the world became more complicated.

When I was young, life looked so simple. But as I grew older, things began to overlap. Studies became harder. Social relationships became more complicated. People stopped being simply classmates and became friends, rivals, acquaintances, enemies, or strangers. Everyone seemed to have different personalities, ambitions, interests, and limitations.

So I tried to understand them. Then came junior high. I remember I tried making friends with almost everyone.

My first choice was the group of students who consistently ranked near the top of the class. Academically, they were impressive.

"Hey there. My name is Hiroshi." I said to the boy beside me and extended my hand.

He said his name and shook hands with me. At the first few days, I sat with him and got to know about his friend circle. I thought that if I spent enough time with them, I could exchange knowledge with them and perhaps discover new ways of learning. During class, everything seemed perfect. We discussed difficult questions, compared answers, and challenged each other over marks.

Then one day in the break time, they were discussing about studies, books, examinations, and whatever else interested them.

"Hey guys!", their attention shifted towards me, "My dad bought me a pumper! With this, we don't need to worry about our football getting punctured. Let's go play!" I said.

"Uh…you know what Hiroshi, I got a quiz test so I wanted to prepare now." one of them replied.

"I am not interested." another one of them said.

"Count me out as well," and that boy left.

They gave excuses. Each one of them. I could see that in their eyes. Clearly. In reality, none of them were interested in playing with me.

It happened multiple times. I asked them to go play with me and they showed some kind of excuse and ignored my offer. I thought to myself that it's good that they study very much but only studying is not good. What about other works? They weren't into other stuff.

I didn't run behind them forever. I went to the field myself to find some folks. And I found some as well. I kept hanging with them and didn't even realize when I distanced myself from my previous friends.

The backbenchers were energetic, loud, and entertaining. They knew how to turn even the most boring afternoon into something memorable. I thought perhaps I had finally found people who could balance academics with entertainment.

I was wrong again.

"Hey bro, can you help me with yesterday's math homework?' I asked a specific person.

"Math? Oh please, you know that I am bad at calculations."

"No way, seeing those symbols make my head spin. Keep that away from me."

"I forgot to bring my work. Sorry I can't help."

Excuses. Whenever I tried bringing about study topics, their mood died almost instantly. The worst part? I kept noticing that they picked the worst possible times for hangouts. They used to call me from outside the house. I understood that they would cause bad influence in my life. So I kept ignoring them. I tried to befriend them.

Then I tried students somewhere in the middle. Their grades weren't exceptional, but they weren't poor either. They were ordinary students, at least by the standards of the school. They were easier to talk to, and for a while, I thought I had finally found the balance I was searching for.

Those friendships lasted longer.

We ate together. We talked after class. We helped each other with homework. Sometimes we played games after school. I enjoyed those days.

But eventually, I noticed another pattern. Every day looked almost identical.

The same conversations. The same games. The same routines. Whenever I suggested trying something new, there was always an excuse.

"Good news! I am joining the archery club. Anybody interested?"

I got the same kind of reply. Disinterest. Zero passion. No motivation.

Then another day, "Guys, great news! I will be designing the stage banner for the lecture in the assembly hall! You can participate too!"

"Nah you go ahead."

"I can't draw properly."

"It will be better without me."

I couldn't understand it. Why wouldn't they try? The opportunity was right in front of them.

One afternoon, I remember looking at the group and asking why none of them wanted to do something different. They simply shrugged. For them, there was nothing wrong with living the same day repeatedly.

For me, that idea was terrifying.

With that, my first year of junior high ended. Then there was the girl who became one of my closest friends. I met with her at the new year ceremony.

We stayed friends for a long time. Unlike many of the others, she genuinely tried to participate in the things I enjoyed. She wasn't particularly athletic, but she never complained about it. We came along very well for a whole year.

One day, we were playing a climbing game. I had already reached a considerable height, while she kept falling behind. Every time she slipped, I had to reach my hand toward her and help her climb again. I didn't mind doing it at first.

But eventually, the timer started running out.

I reached the final section, looked back, and saw her struggling again. I extended my hand, pulled her upward, and by the time we reached the end, the timer had already expired.

We lost. I remember feeling frustrated. Not because I had lost, but because I knew I could have finished if I had been alone.

"Darn it!", I looked at her, "Hey you! You basically dragged me down. Why can't you climb faster?!" I shouted at her without thinking carefully about my words.

She stared at me. Her expression changed.

"Why can't you understand that not everyone can do everything like you?"

I didn't have an answer. She left shortly afterward.

At the time, I thought she was simply angry. Now I understand that she had been trying to explain something to me that I wasn't ready to understand. It was the answer to a question that I never asked. Not even to myself.

Why don't people show interest in things that I do? The answer was simple. Not everyone can do everything. Since they can't do everything, they didn't want to get themselves engaged in everything. They didn't make the effort. That's why they tried to ignore me by presenting themselves as uninterested or unpassionate.

That answer followed me into my final year of middle school.

___

"Hey dad," I was standing behind my father one day and called him. He turned back, "What is it? Imma little busy so…",

"I wanna learn this." I showed him a book. The book had designs of English cursive language.

"That's a beautiful thing in your hand! If you really wanna learn it then let me find some tutor for you." he agreed very easily.

___

"Mom! Look at that!" It was a time when me and my mom went to a shopping plaza. I stopped her in front of a toy store.

"I want that." I pointed towards a rubix cube. I remember mom didn't question my choice. She bought that for me.

Little by little, I tried doing things on my own. By then, I had begun noticing something strange about myself. Almost every skill I had seriously pursued since childhood had eventually become something I could perform reasonably well. Studies, sports, social activities, puzzles, physical training, and countless smaller skills all seemed to follow the same pattern.

I found something difficult. I practiced and eventually, I could do it. So I began asking myself a question. Why couldn't everyone do the same?

I asked my father.

He listened patiently before giving me a simple answer.

"Not everyone can become a doctor and an engineer at the same time."

I didn't understand.

"Why not?"

"Because people have to choose."

I asked my mother the same question later.

She gave me essentially the same answer, although she explained it differently.

"Just because something is possible doesn't mean it has to be practical."

That sentence bothered me more than my father's answer.

I started observing the world around me.

People went through school, chose a field, studied it, found a job, and eventually spent most of their lives doing one particular thing. Doctors became doctors. Engineers became engineers. Teachers became teachers. Athletes trained for their sports.

There was nothing inherently wrong with that. But I couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities that were being left behind. The world seemed to have collectively accepted limitations that I couldn't understand.

So I decided to test the idea myself. I kept training. I trained physically until my body could keep up with what I demanded from it. I trained mentally until difficult subjects stopped feeling intimidating. I studied advanced topics with tutors my parents arranged for me. I learned skills simply because they were there to be learned.

When I encountered a Rubik's Cube as a child, I learned to solve it. Then I found a mirror cube. I learned that too. Then a pyramid cube. I learned that too. Eventually, I wondered whether I could solve one without seeing it. So I learned blindfolded solving. Every successful attempt reinforced the same belief. There was always another wall. And walls existed to be climbed.

I learned to ride a bicycle. I practiced different fighting techniques. I studied subjects beyond what my classmates were expected to know. I participated in activities that demanded coordination, memory, concentration, or physical endurance.

I wasn't satisfied with being good at one thing. I wanted to know how far a person could go if they refused to stop at one thing. By the time I entered high school, I had finished what I called my self-training. I took the entrance examination.

There I was, standing in front of the result board. My name's part showed a full mark. That result should have made me happy and it did. But it didn't satisfy me. I wanted to show people something.

I wanted to prove that dedication could push a person far beyond the boundaries others accepted as normal. Eventually, I became known as the perfect model student.

I collected trophies. I performed well academically. I participated in sports. I joined activities. I helped organize events. I became someone teachers could rely on.

By my second year of high school, I decided to run for student council president

As I had expected, I won. People wanted someone like me in that position. Someone disciplined, capable, academically successful, physically active, and involved in school activities.

For a while, I thought I had finally achieved what I wanted. But there was one problem.

The world had started becoming smaller. Every time I learned something new, another challenge disappeared. Every competition I entered became another thing I could prepare for. Every skill I acquired became another thing I no longer had to fear. And eventually, I needed something different.

Something that couldn't simply be acquired through practice. Something I couldn't force into submission through knowledge.

That's when I discovered about gambling on the internet. At first, I found the concept fascinating.

There were games where intelligence, experience, observation mattered.

But there was always something else. It was luck.

It didn't matter how much I studied. It didn't matter how physically capable I was. It didn't matter how many hours I practiced.

I couldn't control luck. That fascinated me. During high school, I eventually visited a gambling bar.

I remember the atmosphere more than anything else. The noise, the anticipation, the feeling that something could change within seconds. For once, I wasn't looking at a problem and calculating how to solve it.

I just…played. The games I picked didn't have to do much with skills.

At the end of the day, I returned home and went straight towards my dad.

"Dad, can you give me some pocket money?"

He looked at me with mild suspicion.

"What happened to the savings you already had?"

I hesitated.

"And I had given you pocket money recently. So what do you need it for?"

I looked away.

"I've been taking a taxi home for the last four days. I haven't been feeling well."

It was a lie.

"What happened? Did you get fever or something?" his hand extended towards my forehead to check my body temperature.

"No, it's not that. Recently, I have been getting a lot of paperwork as president. So I feel tired at the end of the day."

Another lie.

"Okay then. Don't push yourself too hard."

I went to my room and closed the door. Then I checked my savings. I counted the money. Then I counted it again. I didn't even remember when most of it had disappeared. I sat at my desk and took out a calculator. I entered the amount I had originally saved. Then I entered what remained. The result appeared on the screen.

I had lost approximately seventy-four percent.

I stared at the number. For a moment, I felt panic rising inside me. Then I forced myself to breathe. After I calmed down, I thought about my situation more clearly.

It was only a loss. I wondered what mistake I made that I lost this much. Mistakes could be corrected. If I had lost, then there had to be a reason. Perhaps I had played incorrectly. Maybe I had misunderstood the odds.

I told myself that. It was easier than admitting the truth.

I had discovered something that I couldn't control, and instead of walking away from it, I wanted to understand it. The problem was that the more I gambled, the more I wanted to recover what I had lost. The more I lost, the more important winning became. And the more important winning became, the harder it was to stop.

"So this is what is called addiction huh? It's…amazing!"

Chapter 61 - Hiroshi's POV(Part 1)