Water's movement fascinates me. It's one of the first things that made me want to know how to visually represent things. Not even in a particular way, but just in general. I always remember that detail because it's what's always made me existential when I'm sketching a landscape with water as a part of it. It's one of the reasons why when I moved to Tokyo, I specifically tried to pull for somewhere near a bridge or at least a river in general. While my request hadn't totally fallen on deaf ears, though, the one I got provided with was a little mundane. I'd begun to value the mundane a bit more recently, to be fair to the bridge, but it continuously felt like things in the area were just now changing after I'd moved in. It really destroyed what little grip I had on the area.
That was to say, I have practically no grip on the area other than knowing Japanese, which I grew up speaking. I'd been entirely raised in America up until this point, though, and returned to my parents' home country for a higher education that won't cost me mountains of money I'll likely never get in the first place. Then it's no less than two weeks after my first term in college and suddenly the Japanese government is announcing interspecies recognition, followed about a week later by another announcement, a stipend-incentivized cultural exchange program where people can introduce members of a different species to human society. It seemed like every time daytime rolled around, there was more developing news on the negotiations.
It wasn't daytime now, though, although it technically is morning. 3 AM is hardly what anyone thinks of as daytime, but it's quiet and dark and gives me a more interesting scene to practice with than what you can get when the sun is out, at least in my opinion. I still wish I got a say in when I was up this early. I'd given up on sleeping, and I'm not about to go back and try again already. I don't have class today and if I planned my time right, I may even be able to sleep through class the day after tomorrow. I take one last loose contour down for the water with my lighter pencil and then, after exchanging that for the darker option I brought, move on to the bridge, putting the prospect of time out of my mind again.
Time flows differently when you're absorbed in something like this, so before long, the sky was beginning to ease out of its darkest colors. Not that I noticed at first, but as soon as a voice grabs my attention and lifts it away, it's the first change in my surroundings I catch. The second one is the fact that, despite not really registering what was said at all, the voice definitely came from my next-door neighbor.
He's about as average as you can get for a neighbor who's your same age. From his short brown hair and dull, dark eyes, he looks like the epitome of nothing special, although I say that in the nicest way possible. The thing that made him recognizable was the look in his eye like he was excited to run into me. That's an expression he wore every time he saw me, or seemingly most people for that matter. "Hey, Earth to Koruto! Up here, man!" He waves to me, slowly approaching at a modest walking pace.
"Hey, Buji-san, it's, uhh... Weird to see you out this early?" I greet back with a lack of confidence in my voice.
"Ah, drop the honorifics! But nah, yeah, it's a bit weird, I just-"
"He got smashed last night and still wound up passing out before 10 O'clock!" a shrill feminine voice behind him calls, butting in with a snarky, tomboyish presence like it's an embarrassing secret. Maybe it even would've been if this were someone else, but Buji comes off as almost incapable of being flustered by the idea of someone laughing at his failure. I'd hardly say that's a bad thing either, though. In fact, I think that's something I envy.
A sharp-toothed smile peeks out from behind his back, belonging to a dark face with piercing slit eyes planted firmly in the middle of jet black sclera. She also sported quite the amount of spikes, most of it belonging to her pale red hair, but two seemingly being traditional demon horns with a color similar to scorched wood. Those horns were likely the only thing putting her above 5 feet tall, too. Judging by that and the admittedly tiny wings on her back fluttering about as she laughs, she was one of the Devil species that had been accepted for that exchange program. I wasn't even aware they were viable for homestay stuff, but if anyone was gonna handle one, I guess Buji isn't the worst person they could have chosen.
"Aww, yeah, kinda, but I'm at least hangover free!" Buji tries to counter.
"Yeah, after chugging water like you've been in the desert the whole week," the demon girl snickers. "You're such a lightweight, Bu-Chi!"
I can't say I'm the most adept when I wind up defaulting to a third wheel, so I idly look at my sketchbook page, maybe 80% finished. "Oh, yeah, sorry!" Buji speaks as he realizes they've abandoned the track I was on. "This is Mimi, she's a Lesser Devil!"
Mimi grins and puts up two enthusiastic peace signs. "The one and only!"
"Well, it's... nice to meet you," I put out.
"Hehehehe~ I bet!" she retorts, giving me a wink.
Judging by the instinctive response Buji puts out, I'm guessing I've become red in the face. "Come on, leave him alone, he's probably running on no sleep here!"
"You're not wrong," I confirm, looking back up to the sky, the slow color shift of which had only gotten more noticeable.
"You ever hear back on your application?" my neighbor asks, confidently assuming I'd put one in.
"I don't think I'm eligible," I say, looking back at him. "I was born in the US and I'm here on a visa."
"Don't you have native Japanese parents, though?" he adds, the confidence starting to waver. "That's gotta count for something."
"Yeah, but I'm still technically not a citizen," I clarify. "I still had to get a visa and apply to get accepted into the country... I had to get recommended for a visa by someone at the college, in fact. They needed a professional to approve me for having a reason to be here."
"That sucks," Mimi articulates. "But I'm sure those stupid government cronies will loosen the restrictions sooner or later. Then you can have aaaaaall the monster pussy you want!"
"Mimi!" Buji blurts. "The guy's studying to be an artist. If anything, I think he might just need the money!"
"Eh, I start working at a local art supply store tomorrow morning, it'll be fine," I pass off. I wasn't totally sure I'd say that new job was going to make things 'fine', but it will at least give me more money to my name here than whatever my parents were willing to part with over an international bank transaction. Most of that money had to go to either tuition or rent, otherwise they'd get testy with me. Yeah, they're those kinds of parents.
"Well, regardless, good luck, Koruto! We believe in you!" He gives me a goofy thumbs-up before his gaze shifts to Mimi, who's suddenly feigning innocence. Unfortunately for her, that only really works if someone's addressed you as suspicious in context, so it really just explains what she's thinking to both of us. "Well... I believe in you, at least."
"Either way, I appreciate the vote of confidence in general." I close my sketchbook.
"We should let you get back home, though. You look like you're about to keel over!" he added.
I nod and slowly stand up from the bench I'd been parked on. "Yeah, I can feel it coming on, too." Fatigue was finally starting to catch up with me, even if it was starting distantly. I'd had these bouts of insomnia often enough now that I was starting to understand the feeling of my mind finally giving up on staying awake. "I'll... see you around, I guess."
"Next time, then!" He gives me one last wave with that same confident smile before he starts walking on over the bridge's civilian sidewalk, Mimi quickly in tow as soon as she finishes giving me a smug look as if she were bringing my adult manhood into question without even using words.
I decided to leave my thoughts after I came to the conclusion that, eligible for it or not, I don't envy Buji dealing with that girl all the time now, and then swiftly made my way back up the street to the residence my parents were helping me rent. Things began to get more and more heavy in my body as I got through the front door, so I quickly abandoned the plan of going all the way up the stairs and flopping into my proper bed. The alternative option, falling asleep on the cheap futon I put in my makeshift studio and focus room, was less comfortable but there was less room to hurt myself along the way and that's all I had the capacity to care about until I was already lying down. When I do finally lie down, all the thoughts in my head are immediately flushed out as my consciousness slips away for a while. Had I any energy left in my head, I'd think of how close I just was to sleeping face-first on the floor.
My mind snaps to alertness again at around 9:30, definitely no later. I wasn't sure what the time was exactly when I passed out, but it couldn't have been later than 4 AM. It wasn't healthy to run on 4 and a half hours of sleep, but I at least have the luxury of a possible nap in the afternoon after I get more done on my current project. Rolling off my futon and standing up, I make my way over to a drawing desk I had managed to get rather cheap in the area. It's set up about eight paces away from the regular work desk that was left in this room when I got here. It doesn't make for a luxurious workstation, but that doesn't matter, at least in the current term. My current classes really only need a quiet place to draw in general, and arguably that's just my preferred environment.
The drawing that's clipped stably to the board is one that I was getting stumped on. The assignment is vague and it was frustrating to try and work out what to do, but apparently the only guideline I really needed to follow was I needed to depict something 'indicative of a different culture of the world's way of life'. I'd started my first attempt with old Japanese religious iconography, but it didn't make for a great way to fill a whole page. My second attempt drew on more archaic cave painting stuff, but that also didn't give me the spark to go on. The third attempt I started to drag my pencil around is... I'm not even sure. I drew a simple figure out of ovals in the hopes it might give me an idea, but it didn't, so I drew another one next to it in a simple pose.
I gave up last night when trying to put down a backdrop didn't help in the slightest and, I had to admit, I find myself experiencing the exact same issue now as I did then. I didn't actually have any ideas. I have two blank, vague figures standing in front of a blank 3D block for a wall. It isn't that I don't know anything I could use, but none of it is sticking with me and, as I try desperately to curb my frustrations by adding completely random lines, it only makes it all look more and more like the efforts of someone who had no idea what they were fucking doing. Eventually, I stop trying to add to it altogether and proceed in doing the only thing that comes to mind at that moment
I grab my sharpest pencil on the desk, paying no mind to its type, and I start stabbing furiously at the page. Mostly I concentrate my rage on the figures, but regardless of where I tried to put my anger on the page, the lead point on the pencil immediately shatters upon first impact. It still puts a small tear in the page, as well as a sharp marking at that tear's middle, so I keep going anyway and just get it out of my system. That may or may not have taken around five minutes, but I do feel better after I'm done, at least, and that let it finally dawn on me that I need to calm down.
The creative portion of my brain wasn't keen on giving me anything better to work with any time soon, so I just get up and drag ass to the kitchen instead. If I'm not going to get any decent sleep or get any work done, the least I could do for myself is actually eat breakfast for once. I can't say I'm all that good a cook outside the absolute basics, but I'm good enough at following directions that I can put together your basic eggs-and-bacon breakfast without burning anything violently. The only issue is that Japan doesn't really have the same Bacon. They pronounce the word the same way, it's the same meat, but it's sold differently. I don't think I'll ever forget that now, in fact, I spent quite a bit expecting it to be the same and, at least to me, it isn't.
That all doesn't stop me from plugging my phone into its kitchen speaker and hitting shuffle on one of my three playlists before cracking open three eggs into a pan and working them around swiftly. I don't really love the traditional fried egg stuff as much as most people do, especially in this country, but scrambling them is just as easy, arguably. It takes a few minutes on its own, though, and I have to get out a separate pan to fry off some sausage I haven't touched in a few days. I'm already having more eggs than usual, so I decide to just finish off the package of the sausage with it. It'd be pretty stupid for a visual arts major to let food go to waste, after all.
I use the spare moment as those cool off to fill my kettle with water and shift it to the spot over the fire as I get out my usual morning tea mug. I'm one of those people who can't do coffee. Not because of the taste, but the extra caffeine in comparison to most traditional teas always gives me sharp headaches and makes me dizzy. A simple mug of green tea was always just enough to wake me up with minimal damage.
The persisting issue, though, was that I had to wait for the damn kettle to boil, so after dishing my food, or rather pouring the sausages into the scrambled egg pan, I grab the remote to the tiny box television and flip it on. As the picture flicks onto the screen, I pause the music on my phone so I can see what comes up. I at least learn from my phone's clock that it's become exactly 10 AM, so likely I'd be getting whatever first new developments the day's had in terms of news.
The local newscast is in the middle of a story that is, in fact, related to interspecies relations on a national level. "With that, the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, as well as the Ministries of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism and of Economy, Trade and Industry made recommendations for how to safely approach incorporating this into current systems," the firm-faced anchorwoman speaks without any wavering in her delivery. "As such, starting tomorrow, Extraspecies people, so long as their particular races have been approved for common entry, may enter Japan without a visa under the reasoning of performances and other events."
The shot cuts to recent footage clips of some of Tokyo's biggest venues, recent meaning today. "Promptly after this announcement, dozens of acts including Extraspecies performers have already set up dates with local venues of all sizes, despite the concerns of security having yet to be properly discussed," she continues.
I draw a sigh and roll my eyes. "At least their temperaments are softening." It was constantly on my mind how many small aggravations were continuing with all these negotiations and, honestly, that's one of the reasons I get anxious over the news on all of this, but it's also why I'm still compelled to keep watching for it. Like a bizarre form of societal rubbernecking.
My consideration is broken again by a firm chiming at my door. It only dawns on me then that my kettle is basically boiling now, too, and I'm just kind of standing in the middle of my kitchen, half-eaten breakfast in hand as I ponder my tastes in information media. I set my plate down and scoot towards the door just in time to see the shadow beyond the door's window impatiently poke at the doorbell again. "Gimmie a moment!" I call out, rushing back and turning off my stove. I pour out my tea into my mug and cover its top with a coaster to let it steep and then make a rush for the door. Not before they can ring it a third time, but that's as much as they can put out before I manage to get to the door's handle and wrench it open.
The woman in my doorway wore a business jacket and a pencil skirt varying from charcoal black to a shinier, deeper black, only second to the sunglasses she had perching firmly on her nose. She also has the whole nine yards in her accompanying clothing, with a neatly bleached white undershirt and traditional necktie emerging along her upper torso. Despite the expensive and formal outfit, from the black stockings to the heels, all those accessories, the watch and sunglasses, they all seem to be the cheapest kind you could legally sell in Japan. It'd almost ruin the look altogether if she didn't have the long, straight black hair and steely brown eyes to back it all up, as well as even the figure, but I luckily have no time to get stuck on that when my eyes shift slightly to the left.
Another girl, with much less professional confidence in her appearance on all fronts and a suitcase's handle loosely in her hand, is nervously stealing a glance up at me. I didn't realize how much I was missing, though, until it hits me that her eyes are vertically slit. My own eyes glance downwards and take in the portion of her body that appears totally human, like a gorgeous adult woman in her best years in your standard cute, trendy top-and-jacket combo. and then past that, I take in the part where that portion of her body shifts to scales right along her waistline beneath her dress. Out from its opening extends a massive length of bright red-scaled snake tail. There didn't seem to be any more intricacies to it, but it's a little bit daunting to process this all in a few short moments. Looking back up to her face, a nervous grimace creeps in and she looks to the side, revealing the additional scales on her cheeks, as well as her flowing trail of hair, sporting the same color as her scales and flowing freely off her shoulders and down her back.
At that moment, my ability to really say anything intelligent slips away, abandoning me entirely and leaving me looking thoroughly confused about how to address this situation. Luckily, or unluckily depending on your worldview, the woman in front raises a file folder, clearly packed with quite a bit of info, and asks "Is this the residence of..." she looks at the folder quickly. "Kurusu Kimihito-san?"
"... Wh-... Who?" I ask, even more confused now, by some miracle.
"Does anyone named Kimihito live here? Are you Kurusu-san's brother or something?" She rephrases.
I blink a couple of times blankly, looking back to the accompanying girl and blinking a few more times, then back to the agent woman. "... No? I... My name is Koruto. Koruto Masuda? I don't even think I know anyone named 'Kurusu', actually. I..." I trail off trying to rack my brain for memory on if that was the guy who was renting this house before me or something. It could have been; my parents did most of the paperwork for getting this place rented out so I didn't see the name myself. "I... He could've been someone renting this place before, but he sure doesn't live here now." I'm quickly beginning to sound more and more nervous with every sentence I manage to put out.
The woman pulls one of the front pages out of the file folder and looks it over for a moment, furrowing her brow. She suddenly falls back to a casual smile, though, and firmly slides the file back into its place. "This is definitely the right address, though!"
"... Wha-" I stumble. My confusion reaches a peak and, at this point, I simply start trying to ask for information in general. "I... that's... Does that even matter? I'm... I'm not- The person you're looking for-... What... What is this about?"
"I'm here to drop off your interspecies homestay!" she says, smiling at me but followed closely by her eyebrows curling inwards, making it take on a more sinister visual tone.
"You're... gonna keep pushing until I hear you out, aren't you?" I sigh. The girl behind this government agent woman seems to look away; she's probably thinking it's specifically her somehow, but honestly, I'm just awful with confronting issues, especially when my insomnia is out of control and I'm running on empty. Not to mention, it just upsets me in a special way when people won't work with me unless I go their way.
"Yeah," the woman in front of me says, almost like she's really not that concerned about hiding it.
I take a deep breath and step back from the doorway to let them in. "Alright," I concede. "I'm... sorry about being difficult, I just... get nervous with sudden government stuff and I'm running on really little sleep right now... Come in, let's sit down." It was all just hitting me right now how much of an ass I had to have sounded like this entire time, standing in the doorway trying to tell these two to get lost, but if they were gonna come in, I'd rather let them know the truth of why I could be a little impulsively irritable right now.
The homestay girl looks down and seems to mutter an apology, but it comes out very quietly, so I can't quite tell how formally she's wording it. The woman who lead her here, on the other hand, doesn't speak another word before stepping in and waltzing right past me. Lucky for her, the kitchen is right through a wide-open family-style dining room and from the doorway so it's very visible.
As the nervous demi-human slithers her way over my doorway and inside to follow, I look up to her and try to give her some amount of a reassuring smile. She seems unconvinced, but I decide not to push it further, at least for now. I was still only vaguely aware of what the hell was going on. Instead, I close the door behind her and make my way toward the first door on the left. She follows behind slowly and hesitantly, but when I gesture towards the kitchen, she gives me a nod before we get moving again. With some shred of subtlety, I start lagging a bit behind her so I can hide letting out an aggressively persistent yawn. However this winds up ending, I am absolutely going to take a nap afterward.
A/N: I noticed this series has a criminally low number of stories in its section
So I decided to contribute in the worst possible way. You're welcome.