31

Colors

Furuichi grabbed one of the last of his canned fish stash. He spent the last of his money on paint. He may go hungry for the next few days, but at least the rent was paid. He would have to paint as soon as he came home for work if he was going to create the piece in time. The young artist was preparing for his next art reveal, staring at the several shades of grey pooled in buckets, Furuichi Takayuki wouldn't give up on his dream of becoming one of the best painters in history. It didn't matter to him whether he saw a single shred of that fame alive, as long as there was something left of himself long after he died, that was all that mattered to him.

Furuichi ate slowly as he sat staring at his only friend. The blank canvas. Someone will buy you. I know it. He looked over his shoulder at the other pieces that had been accumulating over the years. Someone will buy all of you. In order to keep his word, all of his paintings cost 5¥. Not each. Altogether. Scratching the visible ribs that peeked out from under his threadbare shirt, Furuichi got up and went to work. If you want to be immortalized, you gotta earn it.

...

Oh, the art show was beautiful. Furuichi put on his best clean clothes and enjoyed a bottle of water and some crackers on the walk over. His back ached from carrying his canvases to the show, but it was all worth it. Each piece he walked over gave him inspiration to paint, he spoke with like-minded creators and also enjoyed his own company if only to be close to so many people at once. "What's this?"

The offended tone caused Furuichi to look in the direction of the gallery from where it came. "The color choices are awful! Who painted these? They're absolutely hideous!" The wife of the couple looked around nervously with apologetic smiles to passersby. She whispered something into her husband's ear to which he replied, "If this is an art show, then bring art! Not idiotic strokes of clashing paint! Our daughter can do much better than this!"

Furuichi was glad that they were escorted out. He was glad that the art community was fiercely protective of their creators. Especially when he had to sit outside to recover from the breaking of his heart. That section of the gallery held every single one of his pieces.

Furuichi stared at his paintings when he recovered. They looked beautiful to him. And that was all that mattered in the end. Painting made him happy, and he'd never stop; no matter how hard he tried to make others understand, they didn't matter anymore. Furuichi had to stay until the end of the viewing in order to carry his pieces back home. The show was only for a night. "Sir, where are you going with those pieces?"

A tall, slender woman with long blue hair inquired of Furuichi as he began to take down his paintings to take back home. "I'm taking them home...Kunieda- san."

"I'm afraid that will be a problem. May I ask who you are?"

"Furuichi Takayuki. The artist. Why will taking these home be a problem?"

"Oh! Furuichi- san, I'm sorry to come off so cold. I thought you were stealing them. My apologies!"

Furuichi gave her some semblance of a smile, then continued to pack up his work.

"Furuichi- san. You can't take them."

"What do you mean I can't? I made them!"

Furuichi was getting hungry again and still extremely defensive over that fat fuck's comments earlier. He was also really tired, and taking his babies back home is already such a chore on a full stomach and a full tank of energy. Besides, he always took his paintings back home after a show. What kind of place are they running around here?

"Yes, I know. But someone's bought them. All."

"Okay, but I'm tired and I want to go home. Let me pack up in peace."

"Furuichi-san, they're not yours anymore. They were all bought ten minutes before the gallery closed."

The silvernette's mind stopped. His lungs fought for air. His stare went blank and he stood perfectly still. "Someone...bought...them?"

"Yes, Furuichi- san."

Furuichi's mouth moved mechanically as if someone else was speaking through him. "Who?"

"I did."

The man that emerged from the shadows in a well-tailored, definitely expensive suit, didn't look like he belonged in such attire. His dark, unkempt hair brushed his pressed collar, his dark eyes looked hungry, but he didn't seem skinny. The smug smile that spread across his lips made Furuichi want to punch him more than thank him. "Who are you?"

"Oga Tatsumi. At your service." The man bowed so low that Furuichi blushed and fussed for the man to come back up immediately. "Could you give us a moment?" Aoi blushed as well when the suited man addressed her, she hastily took her leave, visibly torn between stopping Furuichi from taking the paintings and wanting to leave because she was nervous to be around the handsome man. He is handsome, I'll give him that. Furuichi felt the need to smooth down his hair, but squashed it. "The famed Furuichi Takayuki, I presume?"

"Yes. Pleasure to meet you."

Furuichi outstretched a hand in an awkward greeting.

"The pleasure is all mine," Oga kissed the hand inside his, "I assure you."

Furuichi flinched, but refused to pull away. The silvernette didn't know what kind of game this guy was playing, but he wouldn't lose. "Yes, well, I guess I should thank you for purchasing my work."

"About them. I wanted to ask you about the peculiar colors-"

"Why would you buy them if you hated the colors? What's the point of buying something if you're going to complain about it!"

Oga took in Furuichi's wide eyes trying desperately to dry out incoming tears. "If you want your money back, go and get it. I don't care." Furuichi hated hearing his voice break, but what was this guy's deal? Why come to the artist to whine about his color preferences after buying his works of art? "I was going to ask you if you're color blind actually."

"What?"

Furuichi's body set on fire. Was that meant to be a cruel joke? Why would his darkest secret be let out here, right now, and by this asshole? "My older sister is colorblind too. And I noticed the similar choices of colors that she would make. Anyway, I'd love to get to know you better, but over dinner. Do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?"

Furuichi's mechanical man moved his mouth for him again. "...I have work in the morning. So, I need to sleep soon."

Oga stared at Furuichi as if he said the dumbest thing in the world. Thinking back on it, Furuichi did feel lame saying it. "Call in. Scratch that. Tell them you're quitting."

"What?"

"I'll buy you dinner. I'll buy all of your paintings. I will buy you clothes and give you a stable home. All you have to say is yes."

Aoi came out of her hiding place behind a nearby wall and shook her head yes violently. She mouthed, "Say yes you damned fool! Say yes!"

"...Yes?"

"Great. Take my coat, you must be freezing."

The warmth and the pleasant scent wafting from it felt like a dream. Furuichi parked his ass in the limo as his paintings were carefully piled in the trunk. Oga gave him a bottle of water and some expensive snacks to munch on before asking where they should have their first date. Furuichi was miles away wondering if this was real.

The next morning Furuichi woke up sans back ache and in the arms of one of the richest Japanese men in the whole country.