A/N: I do apologize if this chapter is not up to standard. The scenes, while vividly clear like a movie in my mind, were difficult to put into words. I don't think I managed to do it justice, sorry Shizuru, Natsuki o_O
In the meantime, School of Visual Arts truly have an exihibition called Life and Death till November. I wonder if Natsuki's paintings are there :D I have nothing to do with it, I swear!
Once again, I thank my reviewers, who inspire me to continue writing. Please take the time to leave a note, if you would. Much appreciated.
Natsuki pushed the wheelchair with her mother next to a park bench. It was rather windy for a summer's day. She bent down to secure the brake lever, then straightened to look at her mother's expressionless face. Shaking her head slightly, she circled round to the front and squatted down, making sure her mother's purple wool cardigan was properly buttoned up. After fussing over her for a while, she settled with her feet propped up on the park bench to the left.
Families were out in full swing this weekend. Fathers were seen teaching their sons how to play yakyuu (baseball) on the empty fields, and clusters of little children chased after the kites flown by their parents. A young girl rode by on her red tricycle and waved guilelessly to Natsuki, who then smiled and returned the gesture.
Natsuki glanced over at her mother, who remained staring unseeingly at the bustle of activities around them.
"Kaa-san?"She called softly. No response was forthcoming from the older woman.
Natsuki breathed a sigh, before she unzipped her backpack and took out her drawing materials. The doctor had given her the green light to remove her arm sling, and she was now gingerly removing her large sketch pad with her bandaged right arm. She figured, if she practiced with both hands daily, she would be able to make up for lost time soon enough. In a month or two, she would be on the plane to New York, and she wanted to finish her work on time.
Since her conversation with Mai and Nao, Natsuki had rung up Dr. Nakamura to confirm her friends' observations. Not wanting to impede her mother's recovery, she continued to check on her weekly through Dr. Nakamura, biding her time for the day she could finally have her mother by her side. In the meantime, Natsuki concentrated on her own recovery, and continued to work on her paintings. She didn't have high hopes on her work, as the strokes using her left hand had been awkward and unfamiliar. It was the burning desire to interpret and imprint her jumbled dreams on the blank canvas that stoked her to work feverishly, sometimes days and nights on end without emerging from her room.
She opened up her sketchbook now to an empty page and selected a sharpened charcoal pencil. Using her left hand, she held it against the scene to gauge some measurements, before starting broad strokes on the white paper. Both mother and daughter sat like this for a while in silence, listening to the sounds of children's laughter, and the rhythmic scratching sounds of pencil on paper.
"Ne, kaa-san," Natsuki started without taking her eyes off her work. "Has Dr. Nakamura told you? I'm going back to America soon." She stuck out her tongue in habit when she concentrated in wiping off a smudge with her thumb. Switching the charcoal pencil to her injured right hand, she slowly and shakily tried to fill in the finer details in the drawing. "I got myself a scholarship to go back there. Isn't that great?"
Not really expecting an answer, and with her brows knitted in absorption, Natsuki made a "keh" sound of frustration when her right hand refused to obey her bidding and drew a dark line outside her intended radius. She took a deep breath to cool down, before using her soft eraser to wipe away the errant line.
"I saw otou-san in my dreams the other day." She continued on. "He was telling me what a forgetful daughter I am." She sat up straighter, and with renewed determination, held the pencil in her trembling right hand and started shading the sketch again. "He insisted that I had forgotten something I ought to do. So I guess I have to go back to where it all started, hm? By myself of course. Mai has promised she would take care of you while I'm gone."
"Dammit." The muscles in her right hand were starting to tire, she could feel the strain. So she wasn't surprised when the pencil slipped from her weakened grasp to roll down onto the grass. What surprised her though, was the pale hand that reached down to pick up her pencil before she could even react. Glancing slowly upwards to the owner of the hand, her viridian, wide eyes connected with a steely gaze not unlike her own. Her mother held out the pencil to her, like a peace offering.
"Your father would have wanted me to go with you." Her mother's voice was calm, gentle and deep, devoid of the underlying tones of hysteria or worry that Natsuki had come to expect. "My dear daughter, Natsuki."
"Kaa-san…" Natsuki whispered, certain it was a dream. Her mother gave her a soft smile through thin lips, and reached up to stroke her cheek, which was wet by a single tear.
"We have much to talk about, Natsuki," Saeko Kuga spoke with the strength of clarity that she hadn't known in a decade, when she had succumbed to the fog of trauma and despair. "I fear we have old enemies waiting for us upon our return. It would be prudent to exercise a little vigilance."
The summer rain continued to come down relentlessly, the weather changing as abruptly as the events in her life. One moment, the sun was shining benevolently, warming her from within. The next, the storm clouds had gathered and rumbled in revolt, determined to plunder this brief moment of happiness. Tempestuous winds snatched greedily at the tree branches, chasing away the carefree play of the morning.
Natsuki was stretched out on the front porch steps of her shared apartment, unmindful of the globules of rain water which slid off the shingled roof to soak her Doc Martens leather boots and jeans. She had escorted her mother back to Dr. Nakamura's and now sat pondering what lay ahead of her. She fiddled with her razor-thin handphone with her good hand, flipping it open and close while deep in thought. Cracking open her handphone once more, she ran her thumb along the bezel edges. Her beloved phone, well worn from constant use, had been her alternative tool for escape when she wasn't turning to her art. She had spent countless hours punching away at the buttons, churning out short stories, and conversing with close friends. She opened up her chat history again, and stared at the last few messages left there from Kiyohime.
"10:21 AM, New York: D, it's been a while. How have you been?"
This final message was sent five months, ten days ago, before her accident. Her thumb scrolled upwards to five or six other earlier messages. The earliest ones were more frantic and frequent than the more recent ones, by which time, a gradual acceptance and resignation had settled in.
"D, are you alright? I haven't seen you around for a while, did something happen?"
"D, you're scaring me. Was it something I said? Are you mad at me?"
"Okay, I don't think you want to talk. Maybe you're busy. Drop me a message, alright?"
And then, it became a month. "I missed you. I missed our chats and time together. Where have you gone?"
Initial messages had all been posed as questions, hopeful for a reply. Subsequent messages became sporadic, one-sided random updates of her life, not really expecting any kind of response. Natsuki gripped the phone sadly. At first, her injuries had kept her away from any normalcy in her life, and all she wanted to do was to get well again. When she was discharged from hospital and recovering at home, she didn't know how to respond to Kiyohime's messages. If she didn't talk about her accident, anything else would have sounded superficial and contrived. So she procrastinated, grasping at something to say. Until such a time, it suddenly occurred to her one day that it might have been too late, and the perfect moment was gone.
If a friendship in real life could not withstand a contactless month, what made her think that a virtual friendship could endure more than five months of silence and assumed indifference? The static across the communication channels covered layers of misinterpretation and misunderstanding. She didn't know where to start to mend the relationship, or bring it back to the days where she could talk her heart out to this beautiful stranger. She didn't want to have to explain her entire life story to her, as a weak excuse to her half-hearted attempts at keeping the bond.
After all, they were just two lonely people on two different hemispheres, having found each other by serendipity.
But she was still painfully curious about her world. So much so that she had also enrolled herself in the School of Visual Arts, where Kiyohime last said she was studying. If fate would favour her, perhaps she would meet her muse there? Or perhaps she had already graduated and left? She wanted to see for herself the elm trees that Kiyohime had described, how wondrous the colours of Autumn are in Central Park, maybe even experience a jazz concert at Carnegie Hall. She could lead the life that she had, before she was forced to leave the States at an age so young, she could hardly recall anything.
Your online friend should be the last thing on your mind right now. Such a frivolous thing. Such a foolish venture, Natsuki.
Standing up and sweeping away any remnants of moisture from her flannel shirt, she allowed herself one last wistful sigh at everything she had to set aside and say a silent goodbye to.
She will return to New York, to claim back her father's name and innocence. Find out what really happened that stormy night, all those years ago.
She will do whatever it took, to become a Kruger once more.
Present day, New York…
Shizuru was having a hard time trying to figure out this first year junior of hers that she had met at Graceburt's. The thing was, at the School of Visual Arts, the paths of first years and fourth years hardly ever crossed. First years had to attend courses and lectures, while fourth years had more studio work to complete. However, she couldn't explain the inexplicable pull that made her look out for that dark green aura whenever she walked around the campus.
The only times when she had a legitimate reason to spend time with the new girl was when they had to prepare for Maria's exhibition. Despite being a first-year student, Natalia proved to be very confident and very exact in how she wanted her art to be displayed. This was quite a relief on both Shizuru's and Maria's part, to have someone who could direct and give instructions, instead of relying on them. It was later on during their infrequent conversations that she realized Natalia was only one year younger than herself. Why she had enrolled into the school that late, and what she had been doing in the interim years remained a mystery. In fact, much of the girl remained a mystery for she had never made any mention of her life in Japan, nor where the roots of her fluent English had come from. She was always seen dressed in black or darker tones, like she was in perpetual mourning. All these eccentricities seemed to resonate with Shizuru, for she also saw herself as something like a misfit in society. And so, her intrigue with the young girl grew.
Very soon, she found that she wasn't the only one. She had heard whispers in the corridors with regards to the beautiful dark-haired, and porcelain skin international student. Even Armitage's attention had been caught.
"You look out for that student over there, Shiz." She told her friend one day as they were walking to the cafeteria for lunch. Shizuru lifted her head and spotted the aforementioned girl leaning against a tree in the courtyard, her side profile hidden partially by the falling locks of her hair as she bent over a notebook. That aura emanating gently from her like a perfume was quite distinct though.
"Why?" Shizuru turned back to Armitage curiously. "She seems quite harmless."
Armitage shrugged. "Just saying, Shiz. The air of a rebel, that one. I heard she skips her classes regularly. Cannot imagine how she obtained the Searrs scholarship like that."
Shizuru pursed her lips with amusement. "Come on, Em, those are just rumours. I happen to know her, and know for a fact that she attends her classes religiously. She loves art."
"You know that girl? !" Armitage whirled around to face Shizuru.
Shizuru laughed at Armitage's usual exaggeration. "That girl, has a name Em, just like you and I. Her name is Natalia. I happened to know her because of her upcoming debut exhibition at Maria's."
Resuming her walk, she glanced at Natalia again, only to catch her staring at her direction. The girl blushed and quickly moved around the tree so that she was out of sight. Shizuru blinked a few times, her lips parting slightly in surprise. What was that for?
Armitage crashed into her from behind. "Hey, ow… Shiz, don't stop suddenly like that!" Her friend complained, while rubbing her forehead.
"Oh my, sorry Em. My mind went somewhere else." Shizuru apologized. Armitage rolled her eyes.
"So how's the event coming up? It's this evening right? Your boyfriend going?" Armitage asked as they both turned around the corner of the building.
"Reito? I did ask him, and he said he would. After all, he knows Joseph Searrs and it's good for him to network." Shizuru said. "Although I'm not very certain he would actually show up. Reito's like this when he's very busy. Completely forgets his appointments."
"Sounds like he needs a personal assistant." Armitage sniggered.
Shizuru crossed her arms, annoyed. "Exactly! I know! I'm becoming his personal assistant already. Looks like he also forgets sometimes that I'm supposed to be his girlfriend."
Armitage gave Shizuru shoulder a pat. "Aw, Shiz. We truly sympathize with you, my friend. You really need to sit pretty boy down and make sure he gets his priorities right."
Shizuru shook her head. Not wanting to burden her friend further with her petty relationship problems, she changed the subject. "Tonight's event is going to be marvelous though. I think the guests will be very impressed. Natalia's very talented."
"Oh?" Armitage raised her eyebrows. "To be praised by the goddess-like Viola, top of her class, then this girl must have been something."
Shizuru smiled radiantly. "She sure is."
Natsuki stood awkwardly in a corner of the gallery, trying to blend into the shadows of the room. The lights were dimmed, to create an atmosphere of enigma, as she had requested. The high ceilings were studded with glowing LED lights, mimicking flickering stars in the night sky. Red carpet ran a line across the middle of the room, from the glass door entrance all the way to the raised platform, where a single metal stand was erected for the presenter. Unlike a conventional exhibition where the art pieces were framed and displayed on the walls, her various canvas were suspended by wires and steel brackets above the attendees, shrouded by large cloths of black silk to be unveiled later. Natsuki herself was dressed in similar colours. A simple black blouse with a drape cut hung low on her back, paired with her black skinny jeans and high heels, therefore giving her a flattering silhouette. She coupled this with a satin, navy blue scarf wound loosely around her neck, with the two ends falling gracefully off her shoulders.
She had orchestrated this event within two weeks with the assistance of Shizuru and Maria. The vivid ideas in her mind spun, and she couldn't have realized them without all the logistics and preparations turning them into reality. It was her debut, and she had intended to make an impression.
People mingled around in small groups, speaking in soft whispers as classical music played in the background. Flutes of champagne and canapés were served to the guests while they waited for the introductory speech. Instead of the usual socialites at such art events, the invitees were selected professors and students from the art schools, a few well-known art critiques, as well as representatives from Searrs Foundation.
Watching the entire room of strangers, Natsuki began to feel the first fluttering of nerves in her stomach. She had been so focused on preparing for the event, only now did she contemplate what it was like to have someone else view her work with a critical eye. During the preparations, Shizuru often stood pensively in front of her paintings for long periods of time without saying a word. So much so that Natsuki became nervous and self-conscious, finally plucking up her courage to ask Shizuru what she thought about them. All she got was a cryptic smile from the crimson-eyed girl, and an ambiguous reply of "You'll see!"
Her emerald eyes roamed the room now, catching sight of the honey blonde hair girl standing near the entrance as she spoke to a handsome tall man with jet black hair. Natsuki tilted her head slightly, scratching her cheek with a finger. Shizuru Viola, her rather peculiar senior at SVA. Her first meeting with the taller woman had been a bit of a shock. It was the strange, garnet red eyes that were the most arresting feature in her appearance. And then her question.
"Have we met before?"
Natsuki had been caught unaware, and was immediately suspicious that this person, however fragile she may have looked, might be one of those "old enemies" that her mother had cautioned her about. But the genuine warmth that Shizuru emitted quickly dispelled any cold doubts that remained. Throughout their interactions, Shizuru had talked to her unreservedly, while Natsuki had been tight-lipped about herself.
And then, another kind of suspicion grew.
It began as a little seed of hope that she had carried with her when she came back here to New York. In all her imaginings, she might, perhaps, find the person who was only Kiyohime to her. That seed of hope was tinged with a shadow of uncertainty, that Kiyohime may just be a well-crafted illusion. It could very well be that this person never existed or never enrolled in School of Visual Arts; or that she had claimed to have a Japanese mother only because Natsuki was from Tokyo, to establish some sense of kinship.
Then, the seed of hope was planted, and took root, when Shizuru happened to let slip that her mother was also from Japan. In that moment, Natsuki could not breathe; her heart had thundered so hard with anticipation, she had feared Shizuru could hear it. Natsuki kept telling herself to let it go, to stop being delusional. That it was pointless grasping at straws for the higher her hopes were, the harder she would fall. Yet, she began to look out for her senior on campus, her eyes automatically locating and recognizing the tawny-haired girl as if an invisible force of magnetic attraction was there.
Could it be? Is it really her? Her heart sang out to her every time.
There was one question on the tip of her tongue whenever she and Shizuru were together. What had Shizuru meant, during their first encounter, when she had said the word "green"? Green that meant the feelings of jealousy or the different shades of nature or the metaphorical colours of inexperience? If Shizuru truly associated her to that chromaticity, there was only one person whom Natsuki knew to possess such uncanny characteristics of Synaesthesia.
Kiyohime.
Shizuru was speaking rather distractedly to Reito, who had arrived fashionably late for the event. The reason for this was that she could detect the unmistakable greenish glow of the resident artist in a corner not far from her. And if she had to guess, a pair of eyes with a similar hue was probably boring holes through the back of her skull right about now. While she felt mostly amusement when any other person would have been more than a little disturbed at the constant attention, she nevertheless chose to ignore the matter for the moment. It was almost time for her to give the opening speech.
As if on cue, the music faded and a cone of light was directed at the stage. Shizuru excused herself from Reito, glided across the red carpet and stepped up to the microphone.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. Distinguished guests." Shizuru began smoothly in her signature tone enriched with her blend of accents, capturing the attention of the audience. "It is our honour, on behalf of the School of Visual Arts and Searrs Foundation, to welcome you here to our gallery showcase."
Music with a slower tempo started, building up an atmosphere of contemplation. "Tonight, the winner of Searrs Foundation's first Scholarship of the Fine Arts will make her debut."
The wires from which Natsuki's art pieces were suspended, started to lower gradually. Strategically placed fans started blowing, ruffling the surface of the black silk covering the canvas. Like dark dancers decked out in ballgowns, they twirled and descended gracefully upon the enraptured guests. Natsuki stepped out of the shadows to position herself on the red carpet, just as one of her larger canvas was brought down low enough to block her from view.
Shizuru smiled enchantingly at the audience. "In all my years as a synesthetic artist, I haven't come across such clever use of colours and strokes to invoke such a multitude of perspectives."
Natsuki's head snapped up. Time seemed to trickle to a stop. Her hand, which had been adjusting her wireless microphone, trembled.
"Please join me to appreciate the works of an exceptional, budding artist – Natalia Kruger!" Violins rose to a crescendo, as black silk was tugged off, revealing the multiple pieces of artwork. Two rows of Natsuki's paintings, formed a wave like pattern in the air. All of them depicting doors, windows and frames, where bursts of colours and paraphernalia spew forth. There were a few gasps of delight, as the audience soon recognized that the portraits were three dimensional in perspective, showing different levels of depths that tricked the human eyes. In one painting, a door was opened to reveal an iced kingdom in the distance, while chunks of glacier floating by like flotsam in the chilly waters.
A beam of spotlight was turned on and directed at the canvas where Natalia stood. The music rose in volume and grandeur, as the silhouette of the artist was revealed by the rising canvas. Shizuru felt a shiver run down her spine, as a set of eyes burnt a trail of green fire directly towards her. She gripped the sides of the metal stand as she found that she couldn't look away; the soulful eyes held a hidden message for her that she did not comprehend. Was it relief, recognition or a more intense emotion boiling beneath the surface? The spotlight cast a halo of radiance around Natalia, and her long, silky hair shone as cobalt blue. To Shizuru's mixed emotions of perplexity and wonderment, she realized that Natalia's stare remained fixated on her, as if the two of them were in their own private world having an intimate conversation.
"Many times in our lives, we have to make a decision." Natalia's voice, deep and ethereal, floated out with crystal clarity in the hushed room. "So many paths to choose from, futures that we cannot possibly hope to foresee."
Natalia started to walk slowly down the red carpet, towards Shizuru, who remain stunned like a deer caught in headlights. "Gateways that could lead us to our salvation, or our destruction. Humans, weak and fragile that we are; we will pray for divine intervention, heavenly signs that we can interpret to trust that behind that door -" Her pale arm swept upwards to encompass her creations, "- lies our destiny."
With poised grace, Natalia prowled like a jungle cat, ever closer to Shizuru, all the while her viridian eyes never left her face. "May I humbly present to you, the theme of my artwork – 'The Portals of Moirae'. How many years of our lives do we have, how many doors do we have to open, in our quest to seek out our fates?"
As Natalia stalked past, a light breeze from the fans swept up the tail ends of her scarf and hair, spreading them out behind her like dark angel wings. A tragically, beautiful butterfly of death, Shizuru thought.
In that instance, like an electrical spark, it occurred to her the exact reason of Natalia's familiarity to her. The girl with midnight blue hair and green eyes like molten fire, in that long forgotten artwork of "Death becomes Her".
Duran.
"Everyone of us have the same desire, to want to open all the right doors, to transcend and experience what's beyond. It's the same message, I believe, that we can all identify with. The understanding that I try to convey, through my paintings. What I am in fact saying, is that -"
Natalia now stood in front of Shizuru. The corner of her lips quirked up in a beguiling smile as she looked up at her.
"I know you."
In the silence of the cavernous warehouse, a lone young man grunted in exertion as he pulled himself rhythmically up and down an exercise bar. Moonlight shone through the confines, gleaming off his well-toned naked torso. Unperturbed by the cold night air, he was only dressed in a pair of dark track pants, with his feet bared and dirtied.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that his handphone had lit up and was vibrating away on a small desk. Lowering himself to the ground, he wiped his sweaty palms with a white towel, while he glanced at the digital display. It was a name that he hadn't seen in more than a year. Nevertheless, he picked up the call without hesitation.
"Hello." He spoke crisply.
There was a pause on the other line, from which he could make out music and people chatting away. "What was the name of that Kruger girl." The speaker did not waste time to greet him, even after so long.
"Natsuki," the young man replied swiftly. He lifted his head to gaze at the moon through the skylight windows of the warehouse. Silver light streamed in, revealing the pale impressions of a cross scar under his left eye.
"This one's called Natalia. How much of a coincidence can that be." The other voice mumbled, almost incoherently.
"I need your services again, Takeda. I have sent the photo to your phone. Check out her background, and get back to me."
Takeda nodded, but before he could respond, the line went dead.