Passing White Daisies, a story by Olivine

Part III

Fuji led her through his house, up the winding circular stairs, which creaked under their combined weight, and lightly steered her towards a large arched doorway at the top.

"This is my mother's studio," he whispered.

"What kind of studio?" Sakuno asked, whispering as well, as if scared of disturbing the ambient serenity in the air.

"Ryuzaki—or rather, Sakuno," Fuji's electric blue eyes held onto hers and he steadied her shoulders with his hands as a comfort, but also to prevent her escape. "It's an art studio."

Before she could protest or even register the shock, he pulled her through the threshold. Only then did she let out her light gasp, but he knew with one look at the awe in her face that she would do nothing to resist. Colored glass orbs blown perhaps accidentally into mismatched shapes and figures hung perfectly coordinated from the high ceiling, reflecting the musky light filtering in through the dusty windows. Brightly colored paintings covered the walls, depicting obscene images of nudity, violence, and crudity, so much so that Sakuno had to look away quickly. Fuji laughed softly and brought her face back to the paintings gently.

"Look again," he murmured.

She glanced up with fearful eyes at them and willed her eyes to not tear up from the primal vulgarity.

There was a painting of a fair woman, bare from the waist up, twisted into branches of thorns and roses, staring deep into the eyes of a dark-skinned woman draped in pristine white cloth. They seemed to be very much in love, despite the physical agony and differences in their appearances. Their love seemed to transcend mere infatuation boundaries; it seemed to crawl into the territory of forbidden lust and yet, it was the purest look of adoration Sakuno had ever seen.

She breathed in unsteadily, with something inside of her racing as an unfamiliar thrill and inspiration overtook her entire body. She left Fuji behind as she stepped forward towards the gruesome painting, holding her hand out to touch it.

She turned back to him to see him smiling at her in satisfaction. "Is this art?" She asked in a hushed voice.

He only nodded and came up behind her, taking her hand in his. He led both of their hands to the left breast of the fair-skinned woman. He could feel her flinching beneath his fingers but he held onto her firmly.

"This is where her heart is," his breath brushed past Sakuno's ear and suddenly, all of her senses seemed hyper-sensitive. His feather-soft hair stroked her cheeks while the course material of their gray school uniforms scraped against her shoulders.

She had never felt so alive at that moment and she turned to look into Fuji's face.

"You're an Artist," she stated.

His face broke into a grin as he looked down, shaking his head in barely suppressed laughter. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were brimming with glee. "Very true," he admitted. "Will you tell anyone?"

"I might," Sakuno smiled. She felt as if she had lived her life only half awake—never realizing the full extent of happiness, or sadness, or love that she could have experienced until now. She would be crazy to keep this wonderful enlightenment to herself.

"Excellent," Fuji smiled back. "I'll be expecting a revolution soon, Sakuno."


"What's that, Sakuno?" Tomoka asked, more than curiously staring at the floral design on Sakuno's hand. Fuji's bright eyes and the colorful glass of the studio flitted across Sakuno's mind and she smiled at her friend.

"It's a flower."

"I've never seen anything like it before," Tomoka cooed, her eyes huge as she traced the design with her finger. "It's unfinished," she observed, looking back up at Sakuno but stopped when she found her friend gazing back at her with a foreign fiery look in her eyes. "S-Sakuno?"

"I can finish it myself," Sakuno said, smiling at the inner Artist that had finally come out in her; she had been practicing drawing all night. Grabbing her simple, black pen, akin to that of Fuji's, she began making light strokes on the back of her hand.

"What are you doing?" Tomoka hissed, afraid the teacher would hear them. "You're drawing! Like—like an Artist! Stop that!"

"It's okay, Tomoka. I'm just finishing Fuji's flower. It's self-expression," she added when Tomoka's eyes grew huge.

"Fuji's?"

Sakuno thought she heard something close to hope in Tomoka's voice but before she could respond, a deep voice called out.

"Miss Ryuzaki."

Sakuno glanced up to see her teacher looking directly at her from the front of the room.

"Please come up here."

She looked at Tomoka for support, but found that her friend refused to meet her eye, instead staring straight down at her desk in shock, all signs of acceptance gone.

Sakuno pushed her chair back with a scrape and slowly walked up to her teacher. A cheerleader had never been called out in class before, and all of the students in their class watched with curiosity and fear. As Sakuno walked up to her certain death, they realized that her gray sweater sleeves had been rolled up, revealing swirls of intricate designs of flowers and semi-nude women all over her forearms.

A cheerleader had been drawing. Their world was collapsing.

"Miss Ryuzaki," their teacher started once Sakuno stood in front of him, with her back to the class. "Yesterday, you did not appear in Biology class, and today you are writing on your skin. This is absolutely unacceptable behavior, especially from a school role model like you. There will be very strict punishments for this," he paused to emphasize his fury. "I will expect to see no less than one thousand lines of apology on the black board behind me by tomorrow morning. Am I understood?"

Sakuno's insides cringed, and yet she could not comprehend the justice behind her punishments. "I don't understand," she murmured softly.

"Pardon?" Her teacher's eyes widened with shock and then with livid anger.

"I don't understand," Sakuno stated with conviction, meeting her teacher's eyes, which she found lifeless compared to those of Fuji. "What did I do wrong?"

"You insolate child!" Her teacher raised his palm and with a clean snap, connected it with Sakuno's cheekbone, knocking her to the ground. "You will write the lines because you have broken the law!"

While she could clearly hear her teacher scream above her, all Sakuno could see was blinding white light. Fuji's smiling face materialized in front of her. "It's just candy," he said, holding out a cherry drop. "I see a law banning it almost as crazy as the people who follow that law."

With his voice ringing in her ear, Sakuno stood up unsteadily. "I was making Art," she explained slowly.

She lifted her hand and forearms as if to prove her statement to her teacher, before turning to display the artwork to the class. "I did not harm anyone in the process," she enunciated defiantly. "There is no reason to ban Art."

The class seemed to recoil from the dark ink patterns on her skin. There was a moment of silence, or perhaps of revelation, Sakuno thought triumphantly. She scanned over the room, resting on Tomoka in the back, who slowly closed her eyes and looked down.

"Miss Ryuzaki," her teacher whispered hoarsely behind her, as if in capitulation. "Please," he rubbed his nose bridge between his fingers and pushed the intercom button. "Please turn around, and put your arms down."

Sakuno smiled and obeyed.


There was a light knock on the classroom door before Fuji poked his head in. To his surprise, none of the girls squealed adoringly at the sight of him and none of the boys acknowledged his presence. In fact, all of the students in the classroom looked rather dead, as if their last remaining hope had been drained from their very being.

The only person who seemed unaffected and who greeted him cordially was the teacher standing in front of the room.

"Mr. Fuji," he smiled broadly. "How may I help you?"

"Professor, may I speak with Miss Ryuzaki?" Fuji asked respectfully. He glanced around the room, but couldn't find Sakuno's face.

He missed the slight hardening of the teacher's smile before it became polite again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fuji, but I'm afraid Miss Ryuzaki has been transferred to another institution and will no longer be joining us in this class."

Fuji's eyes widened slightly before settling down solemnly. It had happened all over again. He had liked her too. He bit his lip before nodding.

"Thank you, sir."

As he walked out of the classroom, he almost missed the wide-eyed, stricken look of terror a girl in the back of the room gave him, her hands trembling while clutching onto a familiar simple, black pen. On the paper in front of her were scribbled the words, in shaky, fragile characters, "THEY TOOK HER".


A/N: Aiight, that's it folks! Sorry if the ending is a bit abrupt, but I hope you enjoyed the story nonetheless :)

See you next time!