Rin Tezuka

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Eternal

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  "I’m painting"

Emi could have guessed that. Standing up, she looked at her friend with a new concern. Noticing the features that were seemingly fading and causing Rin to look hollow and soulless.

Unsure of what to say to comfort her obviously (well, as obvious as Rin can make it) stressed friend, she allowed the side of her that saw Rin as a little sister take over, “Rin, I don’t think you should go to the gallery today. You look positively awful!” brutally honest as ever, she continued, “You look positively exhausted and that sniffly nose won’t disappear without a good rest!” she puts her hands on her hips and puffs her chest out to appear like some form of authoritative figure. 

Looking around the room once more, she notices the enormous amount of work that had been put into each painting, each stroke of a brush working with each blob of paint. Come to think of it, when Emi had helped her friend to get dressed the previous day a few of these paintings weren’t here, 'Has she been working all night?' A frown formed on Emi’s face and she looked at Rin sternly, “You’re staying here today Rin. I want you to get some rest. I’ll run to the nurses office to get you some cold medicine.” her bright green eyes meet Rin’s shallow pools, once filled with light now looking dull and lifeless. She should turn away right now and not take no for an answer, but Rin isn’t the kind to play by these sorts of rules. 

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With an eyelid half-open and jaw ajar, Rin almost stands her ground with a nasal, “I’m fine-“ Winking and head-shaking interrupts her flow of speech – more so than her usual attention span would. Wrinkles span her forehead as she tries to shrug a headache, and her skin follows suit with a pinkish complexion. Quivers shoot as she rattles her head full of marbles, but shortly after she can meet Emi’s eyes with a straight face and continue, “I’ll just ask Nom-“ She collapses onto Emi, taking her shoulder as a pillow as legs loosen and shutting her eye as she dives into herself.

…….        hymndi?                      .....

…             sky

dandelion            ..             cloud

me  .-

Feeling fine, Rin wakes up to a sunny meadow with a single canvas and its assorted paints in front of her. The planes and flora expectedly remain the same since she last visited, but the sky does so too. Clouds sit above her, still, and Rin is, for the first time, unable to recognize their shapes…

…

Her eyes move, jolting in every degree, legs shifting to compensate for their movement, head twisting to capture every view -- to escape the still image, to seek inspiration since she no longer had hers; a dandelion. A white fluff ascends to the stagnancy above, circling about on the way as if it is free to flutter where it pleases. Rin focuses on it, transcending the still backdrop as she catches her own reflection in the floating spirit. She grabs a brush to embroider this new-found wonder into her muscle memory. Several thick brushes drip blues – mostly of the sky variety. An accompanying set of smaller brushes damp in pure white and light gray. Her toes tangle each, somehow multitasking like she’d never done before, stroking with an unreal dexterity. When her shades and layers amalgamate, though, she finds something not hers.

           [Original painting: The Kiss by Gustav Klimt]

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Eternal

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  Emi was happy to see Rin. It was an unlikely friendship, yet special in its own way. Following her neighbor across the hall she stares around Rin’s room, noticing the fabulous pieces of artwork propped up here, there and everywhere - there were more than usual.

"No school clothes"

Emi snaps out of her sleepy daydreaming of admiring her close friend’s talent and smiles broadly, making her way over to Rin’s bed. Running her fingers along the denim of the overalls she separated and flattened out the coming day’s clothing before moving her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn, 'What time is it?' She should really get into a habit of checking her clock when she opens her eyes in the morning, 'it must be earlier than usual' Emi’s doesn’t take in to account her restless night’s sleep, “You’re really on a roll lately, Rin!” She beams at her friend before beginning to remove her sleep-crumpled pajamas, a small frown forming over her face as she subconsciously compares the size of Rin’s chest to her own. It disappears as quickly as it had spread across her brow. 

After locating clean underwear, Emi slips them over Rin’s legs before covering up her remaining modesty with a bra. Half skipping to the bed, an enthusiastic Emi picks up the plain t-shirt and jean overalls before returning to her friend. Struggling to get the t-shirt over Rin’s head - after all this time helping her neighbor, she still struggled to line up the neck hole and head which always ended her up in a bit of a tangle, but, a little tug and…success! Kneeling down she opened the overalls and allows Rin to step into the leg holes before shimmying them over her body and fastening the over-shoulder buckles, “Tada!” she grinned at her job well done before taking a step back.

Clenching her fists together and smiling innocently at Rin, Emi questions her friend, “What are you planning for today, Rin?” she looks up with big green eyes and waits for a response - this was something she was used to between the two of them. 

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As the minutes pass during her dressing, the rising sun begins revealing Rin’s new, subtle features. Her dark orbs meet with Emi’s lighter shades, replying with a usual blank stare - or so they seem to at first. Her eyes are shot pink, bags forming below them in a mascara of gray. The ends of her mouth stoop – not as if she means to frown, but as if her face can’t usher the strength to keep her lips perfectly straight. Her nose, usually her most conventionally attractive feature, snuffles as if she’s trying to breathe through a congestion. Simply put, she is quirkier than usual, as if every one of Rin’s characteristic habits had taken twice their toll on her this morning. Even her smell of paint thinner has gone from faint to reeking.

“I’m painting.” She says this with plain, unwithered emphasis, as if she hadn’t spent the whole night working her blood, sweat, and tears against the canvases adorning her floor. A hoarseness in her voice is somewhat audible though. “Not here. Nomiya is driving me to a gallery pla-“ Another yawn escapes as she explains to Emi. It’s longer than her first.

...

Achoo!

“...Sorry…”

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Eternal

  Knock knock knock KNOCK!

"Uh…" Emi opened her eyes and allowed light to awake her brain. One side of her hair stuck out in all directions whilst the other stuck to the side of her face, her tears from a nightmare now forgotten acting as an adhesive to join the fine strands to her skin, "I’ll be right th-" her sentence was interrupted as she yawned. Wiping the sleep from her eyes before ruffling then flattening out her hair she swung her legs over the side of her bed. Sleepily she reached for her prosthetic legs, missing the first time and grumbling slightly before re-attempting with a successful outcome. Emi attached her legs and stood up clumsily, due to tiredness.

Moving slowly to the door Emi turned the latch and heard a 'click', handling the door knob she opened the entrance to her room yawning again she managed a greeting, “Morning Rin!” 

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Still unused to waking up early, Rin yawns, “Hellooo.” She winkles after, her train of thought switching tracks and leaving an awkward pause of near-silence.

Bee-beep. Bee-beep.

“Oh yeah.” Rin looks over her shoulder. “This was a bad idea...” Beeps from across the hall reaffirm her words as she wiggles her stumps. “I’m up now though. You can get rid of the alarm thingy.” She and Emi make their way over.

  Bee-*tck*

The corners of her room are laden with more canvases than usual – some almost-masterpieces that didn’t exist two days before, some could-be-masterpieces discarded after a bad stroke. In fact, her room is laden with more everything than usual – bed sheets and blankets spill into above the carpet and crumpled papers with psychedelic sketches litter the floor, all coated by faint, albeit notable traces of auburn hair melding into the 5AM sun’s glimmer. Her wardrobe also erupted its contents at some point apparently.

 “No school clothes.” She bobs her head at the bed, nose pointing towards a set of jean overalls laid on top of a plain shirt. “I need those now.” Rin stares at Emi complacently, as if there are no questions floating in the trackstar's head about the change in daily routine.

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Reflection

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Upon hearing Hymndi, Rin turns her head towards him. Her gaze, magnifying as she walks back, focuses on an all too familiar expression – the dipped eyes of defeat and a scorned pout of angst. Her jaded irises try to connect with his.  “I need to keep painting tomorrow.” She settles down in front of Hymndi with crisscrossed legs. Her expression is oddly focused. “I don’t know what to paint anymore though… It’s like walking through a big, brick wall. It doesn’t work…”

Her words settle with the slowly falling leaves.

Hymndi’s image reflects in her eyes throughout the silence.

She breaks it, “Are you my friend?”

[hymndi]

Hymndi’s eyebrow raised in a questioning expression. I told her she could leave, but she came right back. Why? Did I do something for her to feel obligated to stay? Probably.. Now I’m making her waste her time.. A sigh escaped, his head dipping down for a moment before looking back up to the female who, oddly, sat directly in front of him. This made him question the situation even more. Why did she sit in front of him? Why not to the side like they had been? No girl had ever sat in front of him, especially this close. He felt his heartbeat pick up speed. He kept his cool and listened carefully to her words, trying to figure out what exactly to say. “Well, why don’t I help you out tomorrow? I can help mix paints, or fetch whatever you need.” In all honesty, he kind of wanted to just spend time with her, but he wouldn’t say that up front. He was stuck at what to say about her next words though. 

 “I don’t know what to paint anymore though… It’s like walking through a big, brick wall. It doesn’t work…”

He bit at his lip as the gears attempted to turn in his head, trying to formulate a sentence. He kept drawing blank after blank until finally words began to pour out. “Maybe I can help with that too. Or.. Maybe.. You need to look at it a different way. Just paint something. Don’t focus on any particular thing, just paint and see where it gets you. Maybe instead of trying to walk through the wall, you need to just go around it.” He nodded a few times, as though he had just said some enlightening words, yet he had no idea what he even meant. 

The next words hit him like a train. Are. You. My. Friend. The words rang out in his head, and stunned him for a brief moment. Nobody had asked him this before, and with her sitting so close it sent him into a paralyzed state. He finally shook himself free of this odd state of being and blurted out “Y-yeah! Of course we are!” His heart was racing. Did this mean he had a possible chance? No, that would be stupid. he couldn’t let his hopes get up, yet, in the back of his mind, the glimmer of hope remained. All he could do now is wait. “Why do you ask?” The last part slipped out, he of course hadn’t meant to ask it. It was a legitimate wonder though. He wouldn’t have came out here with her if he didn’t consider her his friend though. He was rather curious to find out why. Maybe it would give him more insight in to the female’s mind. 

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Rin does not bother answering his question and keeps her gaze locked into his – peering, observing, analyzing. She should be creating eerie air, but for someone that knows Rin, it is not unlike her usual quirkiness.

…

Her legs shift from crisscross to kneeling, gently lunging herself at Hymndi. She drops her weight on him in the most awkward manner possible – shoulder jabbing into his with as much pain as warmth; the tip of her acute nose tracing his cheek with cold sensation; her peck meeting only half his lips and semi-salivating his chin. She remains on him like this, still as a sculpture, until her balance gives in and she collapses on a bed of leaves.

Not long after, she gets up. At this point, her shirt is a discernible mess of paint and gravel. But she does not seem to bother; in fact she is back to her usualness - eyes staring calmly at nothing and thoughts fluttering from one blooming idea to the next. It is as if her kiss was nonexistent, something as easy to forget as it happened.

 “I think I know what to paint now. You should eat more oranges.” And with that, she leaves. Her footsteps leave distinguishable spots of scattered dirt and flora, enough for anyone to find their way back to Yamaku should they keep their eyes peered on the distinct crest patterns left by her sandals.

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Reflection

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“You don’t understand.” Rin’s words noticeably scuffle out of her throat. She scatters leaves and leaflets as she sits up, becoming more attentive of her surroundings and catching Hymndi with her gaze. “Nobody understands.” Her face retreats to her legs curled in front, only somewhat muffling her distant voice. “If I paint a cloud, people act like I painted god. If I paint an orange, people think I painted an apple. If I paint a butterfly, then it’s a moth. If-“ A cough interrupts her ramble, but she continues, keeps talking as if it never happened. “Sometimes I am those people. That’s why I’m not a real artist.” She clears her throat. “That’s why I have to change.” She stops. There is nothing left. Only light shooting through falling leaves as they settle. One. By. One…

Rin’s chin tilts back up to let her head rest against Worry bark. Her expression is usual, but her eyes glimmer different – emerald-ruby, moist. She pushes against the trunk and raises to a stand, revealing stained traces on her knees – lukewarm, damp. The usual grasp on her composure turns into tugging. Her feet pace back towards campus without a second thought until she passes Hymndi and stares the steep incline.

She does not bother turning her head around. “Do you need to hold on?”

[hymndi]

Hymndi jumped a little bit, surprised by the sudden movement. Her words were sharp, full of emotion. Her eyes looked at him for a moment, but in that moment his heart sank even deeper. As Rin retreated in to her own shell, he reached out his hand wanting to give her a reassuring rub on the back, but he stopped himself. His hand hovered there, just above her back. She began to speak again and he listened carefully, not knowing what to say. He wanted to somehow make her feel better but he didn’t know what to say. His hand clenched and he brought it back to his lap, staring at the ground, trying to formulate the proper words. “Maybe.. It isn’t you who needs to change.” He forced words out. They didn’t seem fluid, they seemed choppy. Robotic. You could almost hear the gears whir in his head as he closed his eyes, trying to find the correct words. “Maybe you need to keep painting until people understand who you are.” He took a deep breath, opening his eyes to look up at the sky. “Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe you need to find who you are instead of changing who you think you are.” The sentence was more fluid. He hadn’t realized it, but he said something with meaning. 

Movement and rustling caused Hymndi to look over, seeing Rin leaning back against the tree. Something was different, but he didn’t know what it was. Something he had said had stirred something negative inside of the girl. He wasn’t happy with himself, but he couldn’t go back. Before he could place his finger on what had changed she began to push herself up. His gaze followed her and he tried to stand himself but found himself unable to. He began to push himself up, putting slight pressure on his legs only to feel an immense pain causing him to fall back down. He sighed deeply and stared at the ground in shame. The words that came from Rin next caused a sharp pain in his heart, not because of what she said, but because of his answer. 

"I… I can’t stand, Rin.. You might as well go on without me.." He didn’t want to burden the already upset girl, so he thought this was the best course of action. He would figure out a way to get back. Hopefully.

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Upon hearing Hymndi, Rin turns her head towards him. Her gaze, magnifying as she walks back, focuses on an all too familiar expression – the dipped eyes of defeat and a scorned pout of angst. Her jaded irises try to connect with his.  “I need to keep painting tomorrow.” She settles down in front of Hymndi with crisscrossed legs. Her expression is oddly focused. “I don’t know what to paint anymore though... It’s like walking through a big, brick wall. It doesn’t work…”

  Her words settle with the slowly falling leaves.

Hymndi’s image reflects in her eyes throughout the silence.

She breaks it, “Are you my friend?”

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Reflection

[hymndi]

  Hymndi frowned at her comment. His gaze turned to the sky and he closed his eyes. “But, what if you are a real artist? What if painting for yourself is what makes a person a real artist?” Hymndi’s gaze returned back to Rin, a determined look on his face. “And what if anyone who just paints for recognition is a fake? Who determines what makes an artist real and what makes an artist fake?” His expression turned to that of irritation and frustration, his next words very quiet. “Nobody should have to change who they are just to make someone happy. Not even to make a whole bunch of people happy.” 

Hymndi’s expression faded to that of concern and worry as he looked at the girl. He felt terrible for what she was going through, and he didn’t even fully understand. His heart was torn, not wanting to see a girl like this go through something so troubling. He didn’t know her at all, and he couldn’t even begin to comprehend what she was going through, but he wanted to help in any way he could. He wouldn’t make her go though this alone. 

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“You don’t understand.” Rin’s words noticeably scuffle out of her throat. She scatters leaves and leaflets as she sits up, becoming more attentive of her surroundings and catching Hymndi with her gaze. “Nobody understands.” Her face retreats to her legs curled in front, only somewhat muffling her distant voice. “If I paint a cloud, people act like I painted god. If I paint an orange, people think I painted an apple. If I paint a butterfly, then it’s a moth. If-“ A cough interrupts her ramble, but she continues, keeps talking as if it never happened. “Sometimes I am those people. That’s why I’m not a real artist.” She clears her throat. “That’s why I have to change.” She stops. There is nothing left. Only light shooting through falling leaves as they settle. One. By. One…

Rin’s chin tilts back up to let her head rest against Worry bark. Her expression is usual, but her eyes glimmer different – emerald-ruby, moist. She pushes against the trunk and raises to a stand, revealing stained traces on her knees – lukewarm, damp. The usual grasp on her composure turns into tugging. Her feet pace back towards campus without a second thought until she passes Hymndi and stares the steep incline.

She does not bother turning her head around. “Do you need to hold on?”

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Reflection

[hymndi]

  Hymndi’s gaze traveled away from Rin, shifting to look at the ground slightly confused. He understood how she was calling herself the people, but the fact that she called this the Worry Tree yet it wasn’t called anything made his brain hurt. He decided it would be better to not try and understand it, but rather to try and move on from it. Maybe after spending more time with the female he would understand her way of thinking and speaking more. He nodded slightly, turning his gaze back to the girl just to see her sinking down the tree. 

She laid there, her shirt not covering as much as it was before. He stomach was revealed, yet she did not seem to care. Dead leaves and whatever else was combined in there touched her back, yet again, she didn’t seem to care. Leaves fluttered on to Rin’s face but she made no movements to move them or even show that it registered when they landed on her. Hymndi let out a small smile, a soft chuckling escaping followed by a slow shaking of his head. “You’ve got some leaves on you, Want me to brush them off?” He realized shortly after asking that he might be invading her personal privacy, a slight panic rising in his chest. He forced the panic down, trying to force the concern from his mind. He worried far too often for it to be healthy, which was something he desperately needed to work on. Then again, this was the Worry Tree so it was rather appropriate for him to be worrying here of all places. “If we’re here, what are you worrying about?” His curiosity had reared it’s head and he asked before thinking again. Well, I suppose it is for the better. Now I get another try at understanding her. Round two, here I come.

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Hymndi’s question is met with a deep breath, then a stare of contemplation. A bird’s singing fills the silence until it departs and rustles a branch. “I appreciate what Nomiya is doing for me… but this might be too much.” Her tone retains its usual stoic in spite of the subject matter. “I’m not a real artist. So far I only know how to paint for myself…” On the other hand, her lips pucker and eyebrows furrow. “…I feel like I… have to become a different me.” No more words come out, but her troubled expression remains. Some part of her brain or her heart keeps churning.

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Reflection

[hymndi]

  Hymndi gripped Rin’s shoulder loosely, trailing behind her. His feet followed the same slide-step pattern that she had done, although he did it for multiple other reasons. Hitting the bottom of this hill made him give out a soft sigh of relief, dropping back in to his wheelchair quickly. He pushes himself to the tree and slides himself out of the chair to sit against the tree as well. He let his gaze wandered around for a bit, examining the odd area. He wondered why a person would want to come here on, what seemed like, a regular basis but decided after some brief thinking to dismiss the thoughts. His gaze returned to Rin, her eyes staring back, which surprised him. What surprised him more was the fact that she spoke.

“We’re here.”

Here. This tree in particular. Hymndi nodded slowly, looking up at the leaves of the tree. His eyes closed and he took a small breath. He didn’t know how to feel aside from confused at this point. The few words the two had exchanged were thought invoking for him, and he had no idea why he felt compelled to follow this girl but it somehow led him here. Whatever here is.. How does a person even find this place? It’s so far out that most people wouldn’t even think to venture out here. His brow furrowed but he opened his eyes and looked back at the red haired girl.

Hymndi’s heart skipped a beat. Rin looked gorgeous at this moment. Her skin seemed to glow, so beautifully that it would catch anyone’s eye. He then noticed her eyes, which made his breathing catch. They were shining for once instead of being this dull, trapped color. Wow.. The only thought running through his head at that moment. His mind, normally racing, was stalling at one word. The gears seemed to kick back in and thoughts began to fire off again. How did I not notice this side? He felt bad for that last thought. She was cute to begin with, but he found her literally breath taking in that fleeting moment. I need to help her. She clearly isn’t happy and.. That’s not right. I want her to look like this every day. Knowing she looks like this every once in a while… I want that every day. The thoughts were somewhat sudden, which surprised himself, but they were honest. He wanted to help her first and foremost, but he felt something else as well. Something… More.

The Worry Tree? Before he could manage to filter the thought his mouth was opening, “Why is this The Worry Tree?” He felt stupid for asking, assuming she wouldn’t answer. It was clearly a spot where she liked to come to think, so he really didn’t need to ask, but he had. Oh well, maybe she would reveal something that he could use as a start for a way to help.

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Rin’s toes pensively wiggle against her sandals, her gaze locked on half-decayed shrub. “Because I call it the Worry Tree.” Her eyes shut as she tries to muster her best words. “Some people believe you must come here to wallow in misery…” Brows furrow and her forehead wrinkles slightly, squeezing her vocabulary like a bottle of dried, acrylic paint.  “Only I am the ‘people’ and the tree isn’t really called anything.” Her eyelids shoot back up moments after her speech, and her skin returns to its usual smoothness as her express settles in some form of boredom or apathy.

The rustling of Rin’s loose shirt echoes as she slides down the tree trunk, her back soon meeting a bed of crumpling leaf. A chill breeze lifts leaflets, leaving them on Rin’s paling face as if they were as much a part of her as her green pupils. Unfazed by dead plant matter dirtying her uniform, she directs her eyes toward Hymndi once more as if he had successfully registered anything she said.

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Reflection

[hymndi]

Hymndi waited for the response as he quietly followed just behind her, his hands and tires making soft noises as he pushed himself forward. As the moments passed he decided he wasn’t going to get an answer, which didn’t really bother him at all. It was probably for the better, to be honest. The question rang out in his head though. Was he even happy? His brow furrowed as he tried to think if he was really happy or not. He could say he felt moments of happiness, but not that he was truly happy. Was that enough though? No, that’s not enough. You have to be happy more often than not, which I know I’m not.. It seems I’m not really happy either… A sigh escaped as he followed the female, the thought of him not really being happy rattling around in his head. 

Rin led Hymndi on what he thought was a random, wild goose chase. He sure hoped that the female knew where she was going, because this was progressively getting more difficult. He began to sweat as he pushed himself through leaves, twigs, and over the occasional rock. He was not used to this kind of work out, but he was still enjoying himself oddly enough. It was a bit of a challenge, but he wasn’t going to stop until he found out where the female was going. That was what he thought until the pair came to a steep descent. 

“You can hold on to my back, if you want to try.”

Hymndi looked up at the female and shook his head. “No, no. I may need to hold on to your shoulder though.” He forced himself to his feet, the dull ache of pain already finding it’s way to his legs. He grabbed his wheelchair, holding on to it at his side and looked over at Rin. “Let’s make this quick though, I don’t know how long I can stand for.” He smiled faintly at the girl, waiting for her to go first. 

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Rin descends, leaving dirt skids as she slide-steps the incline. Her shoes nick against dead bark and live sapling, all encompassed under the shadow of a large tree, and she proceeds to drop her weight against the trunk. Hymndi winces as he follows Rin’s path, but soon finds himself under the same dimming canopy. The girl’s leafish glare looms over his presence, finally acknowledging him as part of her world.

“We’re here.”

A maple. The roots sink beneath lapping saps of green and grey as its leaves parasol. Struggling shrubs once hatched from spore wither or have withered as their mother steals their nutrition. To anyone but Rin, finding this tree in particular would be a wild goose chase, but feeling its palling shade, smelling its decaying grime, and hearing its muffling rustles indicates something different – this place is an anomaly.

Rin’s face tilts upwards to catch squeezed beams and a canvas of blue, turning pale skin to milk. For once, her irises shine emerald rather than gloom jaded. However, the rolling clouds soon reflect, and her vision returns opaque.

“This is the Worry Tree.”

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Reflection

[hymndi]

  Hymndi looked confused. Do I really look like that much of a pervert? He looked down at himself for a moment, examining himself. I don’t think I do.. I mean.. His thoughts were cut short by Rin’s words, and he looked up to have her lock eyes with his. She had beautiful eyes, and he was transfixed by them. Quite honestly, he was drawn to keep gazing in to them, and he really did want to. The longer he stared, the more of a connection he began to feel grow. However, there seemed to something awry. Something blocked the two from fully connecting, like some sort of invisible barrier. She spoke again and he listened carefully, not wanting to miss a single word. He felt like her words were rare to come by, based upon their conversation so far. 

Hymndi watched Rin stand, his eyes locked on her back. Her pace was slow, he could easily follow her. Does she want me to? Should I follow her? He pushed himself in her direction slowly before stopping for a moment. Was this really what he wanted to do? Intrude on a girl he didn’t even know? He was already rude and asked her something he shouldn’t, so was it wise to be rude and follow her uninvited? He sighed, and pushed himself along, catching up to roll along beside her. He felt like he couldn’t just leave her alone, and so he went along following this girl, uninvited as he was, to wherever she was going. 

Hymndi looked up at the girl, wanting to break the silence, wanting to ask her so many things, wanting to break that invisible barrier between them. He had only known the girl for a short amount of time, but he was strangely drawn to her. “Will that make you happy though? Being a real artist?” The words seemed to hang there for a moment in an awkward manner. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, awaiting her response. 

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Hymndi’s words manage to follow Rin more closely than the tips and taps echoing the vacant hallway. Happiness? A vague and lingering concept - the sole reason people live, the yang to sadness’ yin, something not actually real?  Whatever it is, though, Rin knows she does not have any of it at the moment, and keeps walking the path of the artist without muttering a single word.

The pair’s soles and treads crunch twig and rustle leaf in their ascension past Yamaku’s dormitories. Birds sing their song to the crackling, building their chorus as the trees grow dense on Rin’s trek. The musk of dead earth seeps and lingers, but quickly turns into an aroma when moist, fresh ferns introduce themselves. Not too long in the wandering, the pair approach a steep decline of rotting birch and torn cherry petals. Rin’s emerald glance reflects off Hymndi’s aluminum chair before returning to the descent, “You can hold on to my back, if you want to try.”

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Reflection

[hymndi]

  Hymndi sat there in silence for quite some time. It seemed the girl was ignoring him, which didn’t really bother him all that much. He was used to the quiet, and really used to girls ignoring him. So, he sat there watching the girl paint, breathing quietly. He used the time to admire her dexterity again, and admire her painting skills as well. 

Suddenly the girl stopped painting and turned her head to look at Hymndi. It was a strange sight, and looked like an eerie sight straight from a horror movie. Fortunately for him, she didn’t start murdering him. Instead, she answered his question. He nodded and looked at her expression, if only for a moment before she quickly returned her gaze back to the canvas. He furrowed his brow, confused by her look and answer. All just to make him happy? What about her happiness? She sure didn’t seem happy.. His thoughts began to speed up and branch off before he words shattered his thoughts. He shook his head and looked back at her, which was the back of her head at this point. 

“Did you come here to watch girls?” 

Hymndi’s eyes went wide and he quickly shook his head, snapping out an answer. “N-no! I was curious and so I came in here and was transfixed by your art so I just kind of stayed…” His voice trailed off and he began to twiddle with his thumbs, the shattered parts of his thoughts slowly repiecing. Before he knew what he was doing, his mouth was opening and he was asking her a question. “You don’t seem very happy. It doesn’t really seem like you want to do this. If that’s the case… Why are you?” He regretted the words escaping from his lips, wishing he could grab them and pull them back. But he couldn’t, and they were already heard. He could apologize, but he figured that would do nothing. So, instead he just sat there, waiting for an answer.

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Hymndi’s answer lands on her ears. “Oh. I thought you would be more scandalous.” The question is not as easy to respond to.

“Happy…?” Rin ponders still before turning her head towards Hymdni. In rare occurrence, her emerald gaze locks directly with his dark orbs, and subtle aspects become obvious: pupils constricting, eyebrows elongating, blinking decelerating. Despite the connection, however, a distant fog scape reflects off Rin’s eyes, as if she perceives an entirely different world. “I will do this. I… want to do this.” Her eyelids gently settle, painting a wise expression over her internal tumbling. “I will become a real artist. That is what I decided.” She opens her eyes and a deadpan pause ensues.

 Not too long after, her legs extend to stretch sore calves before finally standing. “The teacher isn’t here until tomorrow. I have somewhere to go.” Her feet make their way through the door, though at a slow enough pace for Hymndi to keep up. Although he is in the background of her world, she left footprints. It was as if the dried splotches of paint shared between their clothes has sown a small thread of understanding – just enough to invite Hymndi on her path if he dared.

  Her newest creation remains cradled against wooden beams. The painting is gone to her, but the moths remain.

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Reflection

[iwonderifcloudstastelikesnails]

The blotches of paint swirl together, conjoining into a burgundy red – the color of luxury and love. “That’s not what I need. Try mixing the blue and red…” Hymndi repeats the process with the guide of Rin’s minute instructions.  Emerald green – the color of fertility and healing. “No…” Sunrise yellow – the color of growth and optimism. Rin’s eyes widen in unusual surprise, perhaps desperation. Earth brown – the color of stability and support. Toes and feet intrude to point out the proper procedures, even guiding Hymndi’s wrists at some points in the dexterous venture. Mandarin orange – the color of enthusiasm and content. Enough colors to paint an elegant butterfly goop and splot on the table. “Why…?” Gray. Plain gray. Pall gray. Exasperation escapes Rin in a sigh, returning her tranquil nature. “There.” Her right calve stains itself further as her toes clasp the brush with a fresh goop of gray. The correct color’s presence overrides the rainbows smothered across Rin and Hymndi. She returns to her world, enclosing herself with easel and canvas, slowly painting moths instead of butterflies.

[hymndi]

Hymndi frowned slightly, he thought the color was good, but the female thought otherwise. So, he tried again, with barely any instruction. Wrong again, yet he kept trying until finally… Gray? She wanted gray? He shrugged slightly, looking at the different colors covering his pale hands. He smiled a bit, it was about time he got a little color. Laughing at a bit at his own joke he turned his attention to the female one again, leaning forward a bit to see what she was painting. Were those… Moths? He leaned back in his wheelchair, watching her brush dance across the canvas. “You’re really good.”He commented quietly, hoping he didn’t break her concentration. Then again, it didn’t look so much like she was concentrating, but more like she was not letting any emotion show. Was that still concentration? He dismissed the thought and continued watching her paint. He was amazed at how dextrous her toes were, and how detailed she was able to make this painting. He sure wouldn’t be able to do this. Then again, he never really tried aside from some doodling in his notebooks on occasion. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided it may be better to keep his mouth shut. So he did, and he sat there in silence watching the girl paint. 

Hymndi thought back to what the older man was saying, and began to get curious. This girl didn’t seem to enthusiastic about getting  dragged in to this, but she didn’t object at all. Whereas the older man was over the top enthusiastic about this whole thing. Should I ask? Is it inappropriate to? He took a deep breath and looked at the girl. “So, what’s up with this whole painting thingy the older guy was talking about?” He hoped he wasn’t crossing a boundary, but his curiosity was getting the best of him and he wanted to know.

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The boy’s ears are met with further swoosh and dip of paint brush, and his existence begins to fade a slight transparent. Seconds turn to moments turn to minutes as emerald eyes stay locked with canvas.

…

A final stroke from Rin’s splattered toes concludes the silence, and the girl turns her head towards Hymndi as if he had just been made a part of her world. “He wants me to paint for an art gallery. I said yes, so he looks happy.” Ironically, her own expression stands light years apart from Nomiya’s, reflecting unamused lips and unfocused glares. She cocks her focus back to the easel and embraces the cold floor with her soles. After a literal staring contest with drying paint, Rin decides to let her moths recline. “I am done for today.” Her thoughts ponder on how to live by the next breath. “Did you come here to watch girls?” Though her words are aimed at Hymndi, her eyes focus on the painting as if there was something left to do with it.

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Reflection

[hymndi]

  Hymndi’s eyes wandered to the top shelf, a deep sigh escaping as he looked at how far up it was. How am I supposed to get that? He began to think, his hand drifting to stroke his chin. He thought he could maybe pull himself up and grab the canisters, but that was only if the shelves were sturdy enough. He might be able to risk jumping to try and grab them, but did the pros outweigh the cons there? His thoughts were soon interrupted by the female’s voice, and he spun his chair around to face her. 

Hymndi shrugged as he was ordered to come over by her, pushing himself in her direction. He took a moment to look at her, particularly her eyes. They were green, which was his favorite color. Her skin was rather pale, but also looked smooth. Her hair was another matter all together. It was short, which wasn’t bad, and red, which also wasn’t bad. It was simply something he wasn’t used to. He settled in next to the female, wondering what she would have him do. 

 “I need you to mix. Squeeze the blue, red, and yellow ones.”

So, that is exactly what Hymndi did. He picked up the blue, squeezed out a bit, repeating the process with the other two colors, and mixed them all together. “Like this?” He showed her the final result, hoping it was somewhat close to what she wanted. 

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The blotches of paint swirl together, conjoining into a burgundy red – the color of luxury and love. “That’s not what I need. Try mixing the blue and red…” Hymndi repeats the process with the guide of Rin’s minute instructions.  Emerald green – the color of fertility and healing. “No…” Sunrise yellow – the color of growth and optimism. Rin’s eyes widen in unusual surprise, perhaps desperation. Earth brown – the color of stability and support. Toes and feet intrude to point out the proper procedures, even guiding Hymndi’s wrists at some points in the dexterous venture. Mandarin orange – the color of enthusiasm and content. Enough colors to paint an elegant butterfly goop and splot on the table. “Why…?” Gray. Plain gray. Pall gray. Exasperation escapes Rin in a sigh, returning her tranquil nature. “There.” Her right calve stains itself further as her toes clasp the brush with a fresh goop of gray. The correct color's presence overrides the rainbows smothered across Rin and Hymndi. She returns to her world, enclosing herself with easel and canvas, slowly painting moths instead of butterflies.

[iwonderifcloudstastelikesnails]

Reflection

[hymndi]

  Hymndi chuckled as she spoke. Two simple words, blunt and to the point, but she wasn’t lying. It was, in fact, a painting. He didn’t know why he found it funny, in all honesty, a normal person would have probably been offended. Then again, he definitely was not normal. 

Hymndi watched her paint, the brush strokes delicate as her toes gripped the brush, her foot making such precise movements that he doubted he could even make with his hands. His mind began to wander, and before he knew it, he was merely just staring at this girl painting, an odd sight if anyone were to see it. 

"Pass me the cloudy white and sleepy black"

The words snapped him back to reality and he raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment, until his brain started whirring again. Paints. She meant paints. He looked around, dumbfounded, having no idea where to find the desired paints. “And, uh, where might I find them?” He felt stupid for asking, but he honestly did not know where they were. Or who would name a color sleepy black, but he quickly banished that thought and pushed himself further into the room to try and find the paints.

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Minutes pass. Deprived of her blacks and whites, Rin finally settles her brush and stands up. Her feet pace closer to Hymndi, who, in spite of  peeking past drawers and cupboards, failed to be resourceful. “They’re up there. On the top.” Two canisters of acrylic eye down the rest of the room; whoever cubby-holed them in a peakish corner did not consider the student body. Funny enough, only Nomiya inspects the club room before leaving.

Without a word of instruction, Rin stares in Hymndi’s direction. Her face is a painting in itself – open to so many interpretations that it can only be described as Rin’s face. Whether it is expectant, bored, or unamused, however, she clearly needs those paints. But a quick inspection of Hymndi's wheelchair (and Rin's lack of arms) dampers the idea.

"Nevermind. Come here."

Rin trails with Hymndi back to her easel, surrounded by an iridescent spectrum of containers. "I need you to mix. Squeeze the blue, red, and yellow ones."

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Reflection

[hymndi]

  Hymndi was bored. So bored in fact, he decided it would be a good idea to get a better feel of the layout of the school. He was so bored, he thought being in school would have been better than doing what he was. Which, admittedly, was nothing. He pushed himself down the bland hallways, his eyes wandering over doorways until an older man rushed past him, apparently in a hurry. “Huh.” A smirk danced across his face as he slowly pushed himself forward, following the man at a safe distance. He eventually turned into a room and began talking to another person. Or himself, but he was sure there was another person in there, his suspicions confirmed when he heard a.. Was that a female’s voice? 

Hymndi was very curious and pushed himself forward, looking in through the doorway just to see a female holding a paint brush in between her toes, beginning to paint on the canvas in front of her. He looked down at his foot and wiggled it. How does she do that? His mind wandered a bit, wondering what else she could do, but shook his head. Best not get into that. Safe to assume she could easily kick your butt. He laughed softly to himself at his pun before pushing himself into the room a bit, clearing his throat loudly. “Hey, uh, hate to bother but.. What’re you painting?” He was genuinely curious. It was after school hours, and if she was here, she must be good and he did kind of want to sneak a peak. However, he decided it would be better if he didn’t try anything until she addressed him.

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“A painting.” Zig-zags cross in front her in a flourish. The brush lands a final splash on the canvas – another disappointment for Rin and another masterpiece for the untrained eye. Rin dexterously shifts the painting with a blank canvas beside her, starting her next piece at steady pace. Her emerald eyes reflect the strokes left by her feet, but not a hint of Hymndi. Only dips of paint and rustling of brush vibrate among the silence as Rin continues living in the world she has made for herself – a world where Hymndi’s presence has little priority above her dancing colors. Brow furrowing with concentration, she finally opens her mouth, “Pass me the cloudy white and sleepy black.”

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Reflection

Rin sits alone. The art club got colder than usual since festival. It was a checkpoint - a reminder that the school year is almost over, and that the day kids become adults was looming over the horizon. Brush strokes and paint drips echo their whispers until a barrage exclamations and the clasping of a cell phone barge through the door.

”Tezuka! You will not believe the proposition I just received!” Rin looks in the direction of Nomiya, the art club’s obnoxiously polychromatic head figure. She barely acknowledges his presence. “An old colleague of mine wants to put your paintings on display! Can you imagine that? Your own gallery at this age?” Rin’s face doesn’t change beyond her trademark deadpan. “This is an opportunity for growth! What can measly classroom supplies provide for someone as gifted as yourself? You need a future! You need to become a real artist!

Future and become are the only words she needed to hear. Rin’s eyebrows peak up with contemplation, worry – an unusual sight.

Each canvas she had bred left a trace of herself, a reminder that Rin was someone thinking something at some time. Making the marks of the past could make her future still wouldn’t answer the important questions. What was I then? What will I become? Time’s cruel fate leaves her memory flawed and her future unpredictable, but she can still seek the present, What am I now? This has always been her reason to paint, but through the path of a real artist, it might not seem so futile…

A thorny road and cozy campsite lie in front of Rin, and Nomiya pokes her towards the former with a hot pike.  “With your feats and this opportunity, you could become famous, a public figure!” This is what the world wants of her, right? Her parents, the students, society. Rin Tezuka – Japan’s creative savant who rose to fame from pure talent and dedication in spite of her disability – someone with a name, a future, an identity, a clear ending and a beginning. Someone that can be understood. Someone Rin can call Rin. She thinks this is what she wants too. Her fear and her hope tighten the rope in their tug of war.

 “I’ll do it.” A smile surfaces on Nomiya, twice as bright as his fashion statement. “I’ll become a real artist.” Rin, on the other hand, beams worry under stoic guise. An ugly laugh escapes from the old man.

“Excellent! We’ll need some proof of your talents first. I have some photos of your older paintings somewhere in the back room…”

Nomiya disappears in preparation for the months ahead. Rin stays behind in the art room, unable to cross her fingers for the journey. Miles of broken glass lie between Rin and the shell of her cocoon, and it’s too late to stop walking. A brush jumps in between her toes. A canvas walks in front of her. She knows what to do.

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[alphonsewruble]

Alphonse gives a slight smile as the bubbly girl sounded out his name, give a slight chuckle. His reaction to the nickname was more or less just a shrug.

"If you want to."

Alphonse listened to Misha’s description, nodding as he started to look around for someone fitting...

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“No…”

A long silence and contemptuous stare answer Alphonse and Misha. Gets cold. Mr. Mural freezes; his bleeding becoming part of Rin. The drill-haired girl sinks to the background of the picture, her pink draining pale like the rest of the world. The only traceable movement is the auburn girl’s (now more Prussian blue) winces – tiny jolts of her lips, brows and lashes that signify something’s still crawling in this moment of stillness, something supposed to be warmer, gushier, fluffier. Clouds in Rin’s eyes begin to scape, cheeks turn rose before pall, and voice breaks the glass.

“…Leave me alone.”

It’s sharp.

Without turning her head back, Rin walks with stone wall stride. Was that a request or a command? Her nature spilled most of clear intention from the day she was born, now barely dripping clues from what’s left. Time of the month? Alphonse? Misha? The answers are gone with what’s left of the mural. Rin was either was too early to brace pain or too early to confess.