"We live in a city where people are capable of mastering all the arts, but they are not masters of themselves, they are lost in their own abundance—they lack projects and are adrift, that's why they do not build anything, even though their possibilities, their powers, are enormous. To live is to feel forced to exercise freedom, to decide what we are going to be in this world… however, when a life ceases the struggle to be itself, when society stops listening to its own voice and begins to be able to live only in service to the State… can we still talk about human beings?"
Touma Kouzaburou observed his colleague, who was sitting in an armchair near him. He crossed one leg over the other in both an elegant and simple manner, while gently stroking the page of an Ortega y Gasset book with his index finger. He dressed formally as he usually did when teaching art classes at the Ousou Academy, hiding his youth under that yellow vest with black buttons, and the purple tie that worn over his impeccable white shirt. He was a highly respected teacher, not only by the students but also by other teachers.
Touma let out a smile, staring at the amber eyes which seemed to glow with inaccessible thoughts. When Makishima Shougo suddenly closed his book, he swept around with his gaze. The library at the Ousou Academy was empty as usual at almost any time of the day. He found it regrettable that, in those days, there were very few or even no people who dared to enter that sanctuary, to at least enjoy its almost maternal warmth and the thoughtful silence it offered.
Fewer and fewer people were interested in reading, and some even limited themselves to do so through the use of technology, with digital media, but it was not the same as holding a book in your own hands, feeling the softness of the pages under your fingers and the smell that they emanated, or turning the page with a dismay that whipped the mind for one thousandth of a second. On a screen everything happened too fast, the brain processed less information. He looked at professor Touma again, prolonging the silence for a few moments.
"How's the inspiration going?"
Makishima touched the front of the book gently, as his amber eyes rose cunningly to his colleague's browns. He lifted his head a few inches, revealing his white hair behind. Touma watched him engrossed until he smiled wryly again, which further exposed the mole under his left eye, the one that always ended up attracting the attention of most people he came across, especially students. He rubbed his hands maliciously and sat down in the chair opposite his colleague with some vigor, his legs slightly apart.
"Very well. It's a shame my knowledge in chemistry is mediocre."
Makishima's eyes glittered for a fleeting second, and curiosity flooded every inch of his face. A sly smile transformed his expression, but it disappeared so quickly that Touma could barely notice it.
"I know a student who's an expert in that field."
Although Makishima sounded firm and confident in his words, Touma squinted at him as he settled into the chair, restless as a teenager surprised by his parents. He wondered which student he was really talking about, and if it had any use for him. He considered it deeply, because whenever his colleague recommended something, it ended up being important. He was not one of the people who wasted time with words, and he concluded that he had someone interesting for him.
"She may be very good at chemistry, but that doesn't guarantee she's going to be familiar with my pieces…"
Makishima watched him for a few seconds in an enigmatic tranquility, until he finally curled his lips into a thin smile. Touma arched one eyebrow, completely absorbed in his expression of victory and pride, which he was already familiar with but that in those moments reflected something else. He was sure of himself and managed to denote it not only in his behavior, but especially in his gaze.
"I'm sure she'll love them."
Touma connected with his eyes and remained absolutely silent for a few seconds, until he decided to trust his words fully, moved by the evident faith he had in this student. Makishima Shougo did not usually have such high expectations for someone, especially if it was a mere teenager, which is why his growing curiosity tore him apart inside. He wanted to meet that person, find out what made her special, that gave her so much value as an individual.
"Tell me then. Who's this student you're so proud of?"
"What would you like to do when you complete your studies and leave the academy?" Ouryou Rikako asked with her back turned, and her hands on either side of her body.
The few clouds in the sky allowed both Yashiro and Rikako to enjoy the warm embrace that the sun offered. They were away from the other students, so that they could hear one another without interruption. Yashiro was sitting at the fountain in the courtyard contemplating every detail of the falling water, listening to the sound it produced, letting herself be carried away by its beautiful calm.
She reached out to the liquid and gently passed through it, half-closing her eyes. Rikako, on the other hand, frowned slightly when she looked at her. Sitting there on the stone, with one leg over the other and her arm outstretched, she looked like an old-fashioned painting. Yashiro caught the stupefaction in her face and smiled cocking her head, almost mockingly, but her partner, in those instances, could recognize the bitterness in her voice and face.
"I like to imagine it's real water and not a hologram," she explained, staring blankly at the object, and moving her hand away so that the image would not be interfered with. When she finally seemed to notice her partner's presence, she answered the question by looking into her eyes. "That's a question not everyone has the luxury of asking these days. Some don't even care to do it anymore… for what, if the Sibyl System recommends professions according to talents?"
Rikako stared at her in a deep way, trying to reach her thoughts, which flowed freely and were so beyond her grasp. The silver eyes seemed dreamy, yet strangely sad, as if they were endlessly searching for the answer to something they had no access to. Her tone was nostalgic, so peaceful that she needed to sharpen her ears in order to hear it; she seemed to be talking to herself, but she was actually testing her attention like a faint piano playing in the distance, whose melody was eventually appreciated by those who listened to it carefully.
"I would like to continue my father's work," Rikako said.
The young woman's words caught the attention of Yashiro, who studied her for a long time in silence. Her father, Ouryou Roichi, had been a highly regarded artist. She had the pleasure of enjoying some of his works on the web and found them somewhat mesmerizing. Especially the one depicting a head with its hands around, as if it were immersed in sorrow or hatred, among the naked body of a woman and with flowers and plants on the sides of the painting. Rikako's room, in fact, was a clear demonstration of his legacy.
It was admirable to her that in a world like the one they lived in, there were still people who chose their future professions without taking into account the recommendations that the Sibyl System offered. There was no longer a place for artists in that city, since art had no rational meaning whatsoever, and yet Ouryou Rikako belonged to that tiny sample of people who chose to pursue what they were passionate about, even sometimes knowing that they were not good at it.
"How is he?" Yashiro asked cautiously.
Rikako looked up at the sky as if analyzing her next words, until she finally decided to sit down next to her. She had a sweet but barely noticeable scent imbued in her clothing that Rikako liked, bringing a smile to her face for a moment. Their hands were resting on the stone seat, and Rikako could not help but wonder how her skin would feel, what Yashiro's reaction would be to sensing the touch of someone outside herself.
She actually wanted to check it out, but she managed to calm down her impulses whenever she was by her side and respected the limits imposed. She had always achieved everything she desired, she was even capable of forcing the feelings or intentions of others in such a way that only she benefited, but Yashiro was probably the only one she was willing to respect.
If she was surprised by the obvious interest regarding her father, she did not show it. Yashiro examined her features, finding it extremely complex to know what she was thinking about. Still, she could glimpse anger and resentment burning within her, those she tried so hard to hide, especially when she was in the presence of other students, or even teachers. She preferred to close her eyes and hold her breath, and Yashiro recognized the feeling she was going through.
The feeling of being locked up and not able to escape, of being in a cage and not able to open the wings to take flight. Her eyes widened slowly and Yashiro glanced sidelong at her partner, wondering what color her hue would have in those moments. She could feel a darkness looming within her, like a storm after days of full sun. What shocked her most, however, was the fact that instead of being curious, she was afraid.
And in an act that she did not even recognize as her own, she placed one of her hands on Rikako's shoulder, very gently. There were not many students in the courtyard, and somehow, she could sense that she felt more comfortable under her touch, that her entire body relaxed. It took a few seconds for the youngest to gather the strength to speak.
"My father suffers from Stress Deficiency Syndrome. It's a disease called serenity—a way of dying that people have wished for. He began to obsessively worry about his mental health, carrying out different treatments, and ended up becoming so dependent that it could even be considered an addiction…"
Yashiro imagined her father in a bed with his eyes half-open, but lost in nothingness itself. She could feel the hatred gnawing away at Rikako's insides like a poison slowly spreading. She wondered whether she would be able to control it, or end up succumbing to it instead. She looked down for a few seconds, thinking of all the other people who would find themselves in the same situation as her father, or perhaps even worse. She drew a picture of herself in that conflict, and openly shared her partner's feeling.
"I understand… whereas in the past stress was considered an energizer that motivates living, today excessive care leads to serious side effects. How ironic, isn't it? I even risk saying that much of the unexplained deaths from heart failure are due to that…"
Rikako remained silent, gazing into another dimension. She was not an easy girl to surprise, so Yashiro's idea that her father might die did not daze her at all. If she were another student, she would be more careful with her words, but it was not necessary in her presence. Perhaps deep down she was anticipating it, but she was still unable to assimilate it into reality.
She wondered what her reaction would be if she saw her father die, abandoning all those fantastic ideas that had made him a successful artist. She could not help but imagine her continuing her father's artworks, perfecting them in her own style, for it was after such moments that human beings progressed most. The question was whether she would manage to cross the bridge without falling off during the journey.
"I admire everything he has done, but what I can't forgive him is that he abandons his work," Rikako declared with an almost palpable seriousness and determination, as if she were proclaiming war from within.
Yashiro analyzed that posture, eager to discover what Rikako was capable of. So young, but her willingness to change and improve herself was worthy of admiration. There were so many students in the academy, and yet few, like Ouryou Rikako, dared to look beyond, to seek the answers to their questions without waiting for the answers of others; in a world where there was a universal father who offered absolutely everything, few dared to abandon his warm and imposing arms, to grow by their own free will as unique individuals and entities.
When a bird remains caged for so long with food and water in abundance, with the confidence that it will always be safe and in the company of an owner who does not stop caressing it, even if he opens the door for it to regain freedom, the bird will stay inside the cage, because it has already forgotten how to fly, how to be free.
Some others may dare to leave, but it will only be a matter of time before they return with the others, afraid of the new world. The latter may even let themselves be killed by predators when they realize that they are alone outside the cage, out in the open, as if they were no longer part of their species, and therefore of no other.
Rikako, on the other hand, was capable of spreading her wings and see the world with her own eyes, from the vast sky. Her father's absence, however, was like a thorn in her side; while she wished to fly, he remained lying in the great cage. She was all alone and felt that her father had been killed in life by the system, until he was absorbed by the society that he so desired to enlighten with his ideas. Yashiro wanted to lift her up, to encourage her to take the leap of faith, until she could spread her wings and let the wind carry her away. And she longed to be present to watch her flight. She wondered who would fly higher.
"Then you shall take his place," Yashiro approved in a soft voice.
They spent a long time in complete silence, exchanging glances. None of them seemed to realize how close they were to one other, but they did not care either, for it was not at all unpleasant for them. Yashiro softened her expression with an almost sweet smile and placed her hand back on the stone seat, still puzzled by that gesture which she could not suppress.
"You didn't answer my question," Rikako whispered, stretching backwards and holding her legs together delicately and elegantly.
Yashiro squinted with a certain sneer, as if she were fully enjoying her controlled impatience. She was in the habit of changing the subject in such a wise and discreet way that many did not even notice it and were carried away by the flow of her words, including herself. Rikako, however, knew her well enough not to be so easily swept away by her waters.
To Rikako she was a diamond whose brilliance dazzled others, though she was unaware of it. When she saw that some students dared to hug her in greeting, she felt only disgust. Yashiro was capable of enlightening everyone, but that did not mean that she would show everything she was, and less to mere passing faces she came across. If she herself had difficulty entering her thoughts, the others could barely hear the sound that the shocking waves of her mind produced.
"Are you perhaps worried about me leaving the academy?" Yashiro asked in an amused tone.
It was her last year at the Ousou Academy and as soon as she finished saying those words, Ouryou Rikako's face was illuminated by a weak smile. Yashiro had to blink and narrow her eyes, for that gesture was so unusual and foreign to her, that for a moment she believed it was a mere distortion of her mind. However, Rikako remained unmoved by her own reaction, as if she were unable to perceive her surroundings, and the reigning silence somehow raced her heart.
Yashiro found herself truly shocked, and the strange regret embraced her with a strong shudder that ran down her entire back. The worry that had bothered her before, grew even stronger in her mind like a dagger. For some strange reason she felt a greater responsibility in her presence, and imagining herself outside that establishment made her wonder what would become of Rikako's life onward. What would become of her existence, even outside the Ousou Academy. Though the smile that hung on her lips filled her with hope, she still remembered in great detail the darkness that covered her in mere seconds.
"I'll tell you when I find it," continued Yashiro, with a palpable honesty in her voice. "I hope you can find meaning in your works… I'm sure your father would be proud of you."