Chapter Text
Kishibe walked hunched, dragging the soles of his shoes on the marble steps. Looking at him from behind, if he hadn't known he was more than thirty years younger, Aki would’ve mistaken him for a man of eighty.
For those who didn't know him, he wasn't one who inspired too much trust, with that scar cutting his left cheek and his habit of walking around with a flask in his jacket. But Aki had lived with him long enough to decide that he was actually a better person than many more respectable-looking people.
He trusted Kishibe, and this trust was the only thing that made him follow that decision, which still had mystery to him.
The stairs ended and Kishibe stopped in front of the first door. Aki expected him to knock, instead he turned his back to the entrance and looked at him.
"She's an old friend of mine," he warned him. "So behave yourself. Clear?"
Aki hummed in agreement, staring at the door with a blank, disinterested look. Kishibe didn't seem quite convinced by the answer, but not quite motivated to insist either, so he turned and pressed the doorbell.
There was a sound of footsteps coming from inside, then the door opened.
Aki realized that he had unconsciously interpreted the term 'old friend' in an overly literal way. In fact, his brain had automatically decided that behind that door was a somewhat eccentric middle-aged lady, perhaps with a fake fur coat around her neck and butterfly glasses on her nose.
That's why he could only widen his eyes with surprise when the real owner of the apartment revealed herself on the doorstep.
The young woman in front of him couldn't have been more than twenty-six. Her dark hair, shoulder-length and slightly asymmetrical, brushed the base of her neck like raven's feathers. A blue tank top and a pair of mid-length trousers outlined her harmonious figure, while a lit cigarette lay poised between her lips. Her eyes – an intense shade of turquoise – lighted up with recognition.
"Kishibe-sensei!"
Kishibe's mouth curved towards the scar.
"You look good, Himeno."
There was a note of affection in the way he said her name.
Aki thought he’d never seen Kishibe so soft with anyone else.
The woman, Himeno, smiled back.
"Want to come in?" she offered jovially.
The man shook his head.
"Thank you, but today I'm only here as a chaperone."
Aki snapped out of his momentary trance when he felt a pat on his shoulders.
"This is the boy I told you about."
He stepped forward under Kishibe's push and Himeno's smile welcomed him as well.
"Hayakawa, right?"
He nodded with downcast eyes, trying to look anywhere but the space between her shoulder blades.
"Aki" he completed.
Himeno didn't seem the least bit deterred by his attitude. She took the cigarette from her lips and held out her free hand to him.
"It's nice to meet you, Aki!"
Kishibe glared at him and Aki was quick to shake her hand.
"Nice to meet you too," he murmured in addition, in case the handshake wasn't enough.
"He's rude," Kishibe said, "but I made sure he learned at least the basics of manners before leaving him to you."
Himeno kept smiling.
"Stop trying to sell this boy to me like some wild and crazy barbarian, sensei, it's not working.”
Kishibe shrugged. "I'll hand you the reins then..."
He squeezed Aki's shoulder and gave her a nod.
"Anytime for a commemorative drink, princess."
Himeno waved a hand back.
Kishibe's figure disappeared downstairs and she stepped aside to let him in.
"Watch the step," she warned.
Aki obediently followed her, took off his shoes and started looking around. If the owner of the apartment had taken him aback, the sight of it was no different.
He found himself in a completely upset kitchen-living room environment: the furniture had been moved to the four corners of the room, leaving the center to a large square canvas supported by an easel. Acrylics in tubes, jars and cups (…was that a pot?) lay scattered on every surface; colors exploded everywhere on the newspapers that covered the floor. The canvas was completely blank, like an attack's missed target.
"Don't worry, this place doesn't usually look like this. Action painting isn't my style," she reassured him. "It's just that today you find me in the midst of a crisis of inspiration."
She slalomed through the pools of color, walking towards the fridge.
"Sit wherever you like."
Aki sat down on the only empty chair. Himeno returned with two cans of soda and offered him one.
"Does the smoke bother you?" she asked him, taking a drag from her cigarette.
He answered no. Kishibe smoked too: the smell had become familiar to him since the man welcomed him under his roof. Himeno came her way on the table and sat up among the acrylic jars, stretching her back like a cat in the sunlight. Aki watched her with unusual attention. It had been a long time since he felt genuinely intrigued by someone.
"Himeno-sensei" he called, tasting the letters of her name for the first time. "How long have you known Kishibe?"
The honorific made her laugh.
"Nah, no 'sensei' for me. I haven't even finished my internship yet."
"Oh" Aki cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, um... Himeno-senpai? Do you think this is appropriate?"
"Don't be so formal, we don't have that many years of difference.”
She stopped when some foam dripped from the drink on her wrist. She wiped it with her mouth before answering.
"Kishibe was my teacher when I was in high school, and the only person who encouraged me to pursue an artistic career when no one else did," she said. "I owe him many lessons that go beyond the academic ones."
She held the cigarette between her fingers and took a sip from the can.
"But let's not talk about me..." she waved her hand in the air as if to chase the topic away. She placed the chin on her palm and fixed her eyes on him.
"So. I've been told you're here for a specific reason."
Aki briefly repeated to Himeno what his school counselor told him a while ago.
"I have an overly vengeful personality and anger management issues. And picking up a hobby would help with this for... reasons?"
She laughed again, as if he had just said something funny.
"You see, Aki," she reached behind her in an obvious search for an ashtray.
"Art can be a powerful cathartic tool, if you know how to use it. It allows you to take all your emotions and thoughts, good or bad, and transfer them to paper, canvas, or literally anything else. It shares the load with you."
She blindly found the ashtray and nearly put out the cigarette in a jar of yellow paint.
"If you give it a chance, you'll find that using pencils and brushes can be more effective than using your fists. And more fun, too!"
Aki stared doubtful at his soda. The argument didn't totally convince him, and he still didn't understand why Kishibe had taken him to an art class, when the most logical choice for anyone else to make would’ve been to send him to therapy. In any case, it wasn't as if he could suddenly get up and leave now that he was here. So he replied:
"I think it's worth a try then…"
"Great!"
Himeno jumped down from the table and picked up a pair of large paint brushes from the floor.
"To begin with" She stopped in the middle of the room and held one out towards him, "how about you help me fill this canvas? No rules, just do what your eyes feel right to do."
Aki looked up at her.
He had to admit that she had a charism like that: handing him the brush like a lord would hand a sword to his knight. He found it difficult to refuse. He set the can aside and took the brush from Himeno's hand, silently agreeing to become her knight in that battle.
Battle that had a white square canvas for an enemy.
Aki traced the pencil on the paper, drawing the numbers of a graphite clock with meticulous accuracy.
The real one chimed, nestled between the stones of the building, pointing out the end of the morning lessons. He placed pencil and paper on his lap, and began to watch the dozens and dozens of students starting to pour in the schoolyard.
His school days ended last year. They hadn't left him much: a few suspensions and a struggled diploma, lying at the back of a drawer somewhere in a house that wasn't even his. That, and…
"Top knot, I'm starving! I hope you brought me a whole roasted boar!"
"With fries!"
The sight of two familiar blonde heads approaching brightened his mood.
Denji sat down with spread legs and Power quickly reached for his shoulder bag.
"It may not be whole boar, but it's still pork" Aki told her, "There are also potatoes. Not fried, though."
Denji didn't complain. As soon as she opened her bento, instead, Power screamed with horror.
"Vegetables?"
She spat it as if it was a dirty word.
"Essential for human nourishment."
"Then classify me as non-human, cause I live just fine without them!"
“No, you don't," he insisted, "Remember that time you couldn't go to the bathroom for almost a week?"
That shut her up.
She looked down at her carrots and zucchini skewers, then reluctantly lifted one. She almost looked like she was convincing herself, then Denji spoke and everything went to hell.
"Yes Power, be a good brat and eat your veggies."
Denji intercepted the skewer before it pierced his eye, then he ate it.
He shouted an insult at her, but Power's attention was elsewhere. In fact, her eyes fell on the triangle of paper that stuck out from Aki's knees.
It was too late when he realized it: Power snatched the paper from his hands before he could put it back in his bag.
"No way" She turned over the paper and pointed her finger at the sketch of the school's facade. "Did you do this?"
Aki flushed and tried to take the paper back, but Power passed it to Denji, who grabbed it with greasy fingers.
"Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "You're not really joking with that art class of yours."
"Bet the teacher’s the reason," Power commented, "I heard she's a woman. And that she's young too."
Denji almost choked with a mouthful of rice.
"What?"
Deeply outraged by the omission of that detail, he began to accuse him.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me!"
Aki shrugged and took his drawing back. "I thought you liked Miss Makima."
Power corrected him.
"Makima? You're late, man," she said, "now it's Bomb girl that Denji’s drooling over."
Denji clarified. "Reze.The girl in charge of the fireworks displays for the annual festivals."
The thought of Denji hanging around someone who handled explosives warned him quite a bit. He had a feeling that this wouldn't end well, but he refrained from making comments.
"And anyway, this has nothing to do with it," he continued, "I'm always open to meet beautiful women. What is she like?"
“Yeah, I want to know! Tell us about her!"
Aki thought about what exactly to say. He could’ve just given confirmation to Denji, saying that Himeno was beautiful... gorgeous, actually. He could’ve talked about how the summer sea stirred in her eyes or the way her lips closed softly around a cigarette, but that would’ve been reductive.
Himeno was spontaneous and empathic, endowed with a precise sensibility that was rare to find amongst people. Her welcoming demeanor, mixed with her freshness of soul, had a truly restoring effect on people around her, as well as being – at the same time – inspiring for creativity. Her company relaxed him, and he enjoyed drawing. Plus, he really felt like he was learning something new, and even though he would never admit it to those two, he was quite proud of his progress.
"Well? Did your tongue get tied or something?"
He felt Denji shaking his shoulder. Power's voice rose an octave when she found parsley among her cubes of meat.
Aki was about to scold one and reply to the other, but he froze in the process, staring at something beyond Denji's head. The duo of friends followed his gaze.
The first thing they saw was Kishibe, smoking at the parking lot entrance as usual. They exchanged glances and shook their heads, then turned back to look again.
That's when they realized Kishibe was smoking with someone: a woman with black hair and round shaped face. High-waisted trousers and a smart blazer hugged her profile leaning against the dashboard of a car. When she turned, two turquoise eyes showed up between the locks of her bangs.
She ended up looking in their direction during the movement. Her eyes lit up and a smile appeared on her lips. She waved at Aki, and he waved back; his usually neutral expression turned into an authentically content one.
The unknown (or not so much, anymore) woman averted her gaze and went back to her conversation with Kishibe.
The first to speak was Denji.
"Is that your art teacher?" His wide open eyes still fixed on Himeno.
Aki murmured in agreement.
"Is she single?" he asked, without looking away.
Power took another look at Aki's face and showed a know-all smirk.
"Ah! Wrong question!"
Aki didn't pay much attention to her implications, reather realizing that he didn't know the answer to Denji's question.