"There are far, far better things
Ahead than any we leave behind"
IT'S SOON, ENTIRELY SO, for me to make such a quick judgement on a man I've just met . . . Especially one who holds my life in his hands-
(Metaphorically.)
(Literally.)
-while he flips through my sketchpad with blond hair askew and brows furrowed. There's an unkpet appearing mustache, grey, sitting atop his upperlip that he grooms after every turn of the page before looking my way. Violet eyes skeptic and the hair continuously stands on the back of my neck with every tsk that leaves his lips. The entire show of Chairman Suoh-Sama look at my work with an almost bored expression makes me want to vomit on the spot . . . Curl into myself with my book snatched away and tucked into my stomach before another hum sends me hurtling into some depression I'd never experienced before.
(My proctor said Suoh-Sama approved of my work,
that it earned me a place here,
what happened?)
"Fujimoto, Kai." he finally says after what seemed like an eternity that could drain me whole. "You art is different from what I've last seen."
"Is it?" my pad is closed, his fingers drum on it's beaten cover, and I wonder if having a tattered book goes against the prestige code here. "I thought I've drawn the same as always."
"And how is that?" he quizzes folded his hands beneath his chin.
"With my eyes closed it almost seems." I say before I could stop it, and the look on his face sends me reeling a bit. There's a deep crease in his forehead, intimidating all the way structed in a strong classy way.-
(He reads purple to me.)
(Powerful yet enchanting.)
( . . . As anyone should be to find themselves as Chairman of such an institution.)
-"I mean . . . I like to draw when I feel most inspired and intune." I start in attempts to recover. "Whether it's by something I see, hear, taste, smell, touch . . . There's always something it takes from me that I willingly leave behind . . . And in return, I draw what was given to me. Blindly."
"What is given to you Fujimoto-Chan?" he asks, and it's almost like he's interested.
"Feeling." I say quickly. "A feeling of security. That what I draw can not be lost, unless I chose to let it go."
He nods at me then.
(It's thoughtful.)
(Or at least I hope.)
"That's quite a theory." he guts opening my pad once more. He flips, twice, three times, and hums.-
(This time, it doesn't scare me.)
-"There aren't nearly as many artist as you with such a mentality for the beauty of art as a whole. When asked, they give simple answers, ones that are so vague and not nearly as thoughtfully ambigious as your's . . .
" . . . It's a trait that I felt was a wonderful asset to my school." he continues sliding the pad to my hands. "Though you are a commoner, you posses a passion for what you do that I haven't seen in even the finest of the industry . . . I like to think that it's the fact that you've come from so little, that you do your best to be greater-
(That isn't true at all.)
(But I nod.)
-I can't say that I regret admitting you to Ouran on the art's scholarship, but to be fair, I've seemed have given quite a few commoners fair chances here." oh, I should've known this was coming. "Fujimoto, Katsumi and Fujimoto, Kazumi are your brothers, nee?"
"Nee." I comply almost afraid to tell the blatant truth.
"They are on a sports scholarship, as I assume you know . . . And it can easily be detained if they even do so little a foul against a rival school. Fujioka, Haruhi . . . I see you'll came in tow, and just as easily her position can be seen a simple mistake in the system." I don't like the look in his eye-
(Dark Purple.)
-"Do you miss them? Our moms I mean," Haruhi pulls me from my thoughts, frighteningly so, through bites of a dark chocolate chunk cookie Akiko sparred after she and I left our interviews with Chairman Suoh-Sama. "I do."
"So do I," I say, and for more reasons that the gluttonous grin given to by our school's first in chaarge as he flipped aimlessly through my sketchpad. Loose lipped threats spilled the whole time. "Especially now y'know, everything is just so-"
"New?" Haruhi tries, a crmb loyally placed on her chin, but the word is too small.
"No." I shake my head, that's not the word. It coldn't be. "Foreign."
Yes.
"Yeah." Haruhi agress through a mouthful of semi sweetened mush and rosy cheeks. 'I really miss her . . . Her advice," her voice dips; her glasses fog, but she adjusts her glasses and shrugs. "There's just things she's done that Dad never can."
We're at a window now, having passed a long line of lockers and blush tinted rays of sun. Yeah, I want to say, and I taste the word on my tongue as Haruhi clutches her supplies with an expression almost unreadable - I blame the glare on her lenses. Her stature, slightly slumped, she looks smaller in her already too big for her outfit, and it's comforting -
(At least some things don't change.)
- "I wish she was here." Haruhi wears a dimpled frown. "I wish they both were." she continues, exhaling in an obnoxiously loud huff. " . . . Do you think we'd even be here if they weren't gone?"
"Be where?" I ask tentatively, because I feel like I've had enough emotional turmoul for one morning.. Honestly. "Standing dramatically in at a comically upper class picture perfect window?" I pitch this sarcastically, hoping for at least one of those hums of laughter Haruhi, sometimes, produces. " . . . Or, here at Ouran?"
"At Ouran," she all but bubbles out, and I'll suffice with telling myself that it's all cookie, and not choke dup tears. "What if our moms never left Kai? Would I really want to be like her if she was there all along? Would our Dads be so invested in work that our brothers decided slamming a ball on the pavement was the only way to be seen? Would you-"
"Speaking of those two," I start shortly, becuse this inquistive tear down has to come to an end. "Have you seen them? Or at least one?"
"Not since this morning, no." She answers glumly, finally turning away from the falling petals from one of the many campus cherry blossoms to face me. The action was both consoling and unsettling, but I'll take what's given.
(Even if it's her eyes dancing across my face.)
"What about Akiko?" mentally, I cross my finggers that these questions would fire up a swift topic change. "Besides her giving us sweets, any classes together?"
'Just lunch." Haruhi answers animatedly, and suirms. "That and history, and it's only because she didn't do so well last year."
"I thought she wasn't allowed to not do so well, any year." I wave my hand dismissively. "Academic scholar and all?"
"Maybe Ouran has some lenancy to those attatched to that Tamaki guy." Haruhi tuts. "Akiko did say he's the Chairman's son . . . He must have a bunch of leeway around here."
"I like to think he has it harder." it's pessismistic, sure, but "Imagine that expectation he has to meet with his Dad being the one who makes all the decisions around here? And he's running a club? Who's to say Chairman Suoh-Sama even approves?"
"Even if he doesn't approve," Haruhi starts. "It must be popualr."
"Anything is popular if it weens off of attention," I droon.
"Rich people." Is what Haruhi says, and we just leave it at that.
. . . I lose Haruhi not long after. She began complaining about the library's all being loud, full of people, and not what she needs to study. Apparently having AP everything as a first year isn't ideal, but even I knew that. She'd ventured off into a music room, that I distinctly remember Akiko saying her club was in, and I was quickly left alone.
The halls seemed smaller with each step I took on my own. Longer with every breathe I exhaled.
(I wanted to hide.)
Hiyah!*
Hyuh!*
There's a couple stomps that follow, even some clangs, and I'd never been more curios.
I clutch my sketchpad to my chest, tighter than I ever have before, when I look through the cracked door. Mats are lined on the floor, navy blue, with pale bare feet slapping against them. I can see staffs against the wall adjacent to where I stand, boys that look far older than me, huddled about in a circle. What they're wearing doens't look like traditional Karate attire, and I'm honestly not sure what I'd stumbled into.
There's dark eyes that catch mine for a quick second. Stark deep pools of brown, leaning closer to ebony, and then they're gone-
"Hi!" my sketchpad drops from the hands, and I scramble to catch my breath. "Are you going to come and watch?"
Guess so, I think, watching tiny hands grab my pad. It's been sprawled open, charcoal smudged portraits of people who've come and gone, on full display.
(I feel small.)
It's all so blurry. Whoever spoke, their voices now muffled, flipping through something so dear to me. One page after the next. One face after the next. Mom. Dad. Kazumi. Katsumi. Haruhi.
"You must be the new art scholar!" the voice exclaims, and it's just as loud and thunderous as the gong across the room. "Fujimoto Kai, nee?"
"I'm Haninozuka Mistukuni!" he cheers continuing, not giving me a chance to confirm. "Why do you draw people?"
No one's ever asked me that before.
(No one's ever cared.)
"It's uhm," my fingers are itching to grab it back. Close it. Leave. " . . . It's harder to loose people when they're on paper."
"Hmm," another page is turned. "Who's this?"
I look up then. A blush thumb is jabbing at the Downtown Toyko reflection in Lily's right eye.
"That's Lily," I stammer. "Makoto Lily, I met her a few months ago at the Library downtonw."
"And him?" he presses on the folded crease that cut off the part in Akio's hair.
"Li Akio," I strain.
"Where are they now?" the sketchpad is finally back in my grasp, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The question is stinging in my ears, and I can feel heat fanning my faces from the inside out.
"Where are they now?" it was a question I always had, and never asked. I didn't know how to answer. I didn't know. Parroting just seemed like an easy way out. Maybe he'll leave it alone. Leave me alone.
"Can you draw me?" I slam the book shut, startled by hands on my waist, jumping back quickly. " . . . Nee, sorry Kai-Chain." he sounds sheepishly, and I can see his hands behind his back. Left foot fidgeting-
"It's okay." he didn't do anything wrong. "Maybe some other time? I have art club and-"
"Silly Kai-chan, art club is closed today." he says this through a giggle that's so light, so comforting, and I shift slightly. "You can stay here, with me and Takashi!"
"Takashi?" I say the name softly, almost like a taste of some forbidden fruit, and those dark eyes from before find me again. " . . . Who's that?"
Dark eyes has hair like a crow's feathers, framing his face and strong jaw. Shoulders firm, with an agile grip on a staff. Feet plantied meticulously, with moments to the rest of the room when he turns away, that reminds me of Navy Blue.
"Him." Mitsukuni says, and it felt like a teasing short cut of, You're staring. "You can meet him if you want Kai-Chan,"
"Oh," I consider it for a moment, and clutch my book a bit tighter. "Uh-"
"Takashi! Over here!" Mistukuni cheers, and my lungs feels as tight as my grip when Takashi makes a curt nod at the people surrounding him, bows, and heads our way. I quickly glance at Mistukuni's face, anxious to see who can be so melicious.
I'm surprised to find such a cherub like face. Blonde hair with bright hazel eyes, and-
"Mistukuni," Takashi greets, as if I'm not there.
"This is Fujimoto Kai," Mistukuni says, as if everyone is suppossed to know. The smallest smile tickles my mouth. "The new art scholar."
Takashi hums at that, and turns his gaze to me. His eyes are even darker up close, but sparking with interest. His eye brow is quirked a bit, the right corner of his mouth tilted just so.
"W-would you like to uh," I tap the lower left corner of my book. Once, twice . . . "See my skecthpad?"
His shoulders move a little, like a miniscule sigh of relief, "Yeah."
He turns pages in such a different manner.
(Slowly. Calculating. Studying. Remembering.)
"You like art Takashi?" He brushes a hand over a drawing of Mom. A messy scribble of her side profile from my anxious wait outside of Chairman Suoh's office. I know ther's a couple charcoal finger prints, and I'm suddenly self conscious.
"I can teach you?" I don't know why I'm talking.
(Why I'm asking.)
(Why I'm offering.)
- But he turns some more. Staring at a charcoal blur of Kazumi drinking some of Katsumi tea. Gazing at a oil painted smear of Dad on the phone. Mezmeried by a water color of the last time Mom smiled . . .
"Water color." I decide, and it sounds more choked up than I imagined. "I can teach you water color. You like it don't you?"
He looks at me with both eye brows raised this time, and a slight scrunch to his nose. My book is closed so gently, like he's scared to break it, like he knows how much it means to me, before handing it back.
"Yeah," his voice is so smooth. "I do."
He leaves after that, but he still feels so close.
(I don't know what that means.)
(I don't know who to tell.)
"You like Takashi." Mistukuni says, and this time I'm okay with him not letting me answer.
(I don't have to.)
"Kai-Chain?" his voice wavers, sheepishly yet again, and he's making this grabby hands at me to sit. My bag doesn't feel so heavy when I put it down, and I rummage for a number 3 graphite. "You'll draw me, right?"
I smile a little.
(And do.)
. . . Takashi finds Mistukuni asleep with his head against my shoulder once the others leave. Mistukuni tells me that Takahi's a Kendo champion, and I'm not sure I paid much attention to the sport. I skecthed the roughest portrait to date, of Mistukuni holding his bunny, Usa-Chan, and redirected my attention to draw Takashi in the most graceful stance I'd ever seen.
"S'it over?" Mistukuni mumbles rubbing sleep from his eye with a fist, and I nod my head jabbing my thumb in Takahi's direction. He's got two bags on his shoulder, with a textbook in his hand.
"Yeah." Takashi says.
I never knew one word could say so much.
Mistunkuni rises, sleepily so, finds a way to clammer on to Takashi's back, and is back asleep soon after.
It's unlike me, to ever tear a page from my book, but I do. The drawing of Mistukuni is folded neatly, and I make sure to put it inside of Takashi's bag before they get too far. He gives me this smile, would've missed it if I'd blinked, then hums.
I see them wander off to that Music Room where Haruhi indignantly entered, and for the first time since my 8th birthday, I felt statically alone.
. . . Akiko finds me at the bus stop, and I'm sure she was with some friends moments ago. She's in the midst of laughter when she stops by my side, red stained on her cheeks, and a piece of raspberry between her teetth.
"Sorry, I'm late." everyone is. "I was at the club today, and oh boy," she laughs a little more. "You wouldn't believe who I saw in there."
I oprn my mouth to ask who, and can hardly get it out when Haruhi stumbles from around the same corner. She looks absolutely irritated, glasses no where to be seen, and a boy's uniform hugging her in such a comfortable way that I'm too shocked to be confused.
"Haruhi?"
"Oh, how'd you know?"
"How'd I know what?"
"That Haruhi was in the club Silly," Akiko says. It sounds so simple, but I can't piece it together if I tried.
"What?" Haruhi reaches me after some tall blond pats her shoulder, and whispers something in her that I can't place, then goes off into a limo. " . . . What club?"
There's a pair of twins how exit moments later, tangled in one another, and I can feel my fingers digging at my thigh wondering where Kazumi and Katsumi could possibly be.
"Haruhi!" Akiko cheers, "I saved you a couple sweets from the club. Hani didn't even notice!"
Hani?
A guy with glasses and a book is the next to walk out. He looks our way, his eyes from Haruhi, then me. I could see him nod, swallow, then click a pen before scribbling something in that book.
He must be that Kyoya Ootori guy Akiko told us about.
"Thanks," Haruhi adjusts her bag a couple times, and squints at the bus stop's schedule. "Can I have a muffin?"
Akiko nods excitedly, hands it over, and opens her mouth in my direction-
"Kai-Chan!" it's Mistukuni who says this. Hurrying from around the corner, hugging my legs so tight I almost buckle. "Thank you for drawing me!" the drawing is a little smudged, the lines faint, but you can tell it's him. "You should draw Usa-Chan next, okay!"
I can hear Akiko makes some disgruntled sound, and Takashi is so close that I could hardly register when we came over. He slids a piece of paper in my palm, I clutch it tight, and he pats my shoulder so soft I could faint.
(He and Mistukuni are so different.)
"Kai." he says my name firmly, and meets my eye.
(I read it as, same time same place, then nod.)
It seemed to do the trick, because he smiled so obviously, and I can't stop myself from doing the same.
"You know them?!" Akiko and Haruhi ask this in tune, and it rings.
(Akiko doesn't sound happy.)
(Haruhi doesn't either.)
"The bus is here." I say trying to find a way out, and it works for a moment.
Akiko gets on the bus as soon as the door opens, while Kazumi and Katsumi yell for it to wait.
Their rounding a different corner, uniform's messily hanging off their body that's almost indecicent, and Haruhi looks at me with an expression that I could hardly read.
. . . When we're home, Kazumi decides we have Sushi for dinner, and Kastumi goes off to buy Nori since we'd run out. Haruhi sprawls out her notebooks in the living room, and I cram into the longue chair with a few supplies in the cup holder.
Kazumi doesn't say anything, just meddles on his phone.
Haruhi spares me a couple glances, but scratches the date into another sheet instead of speaking.
And I wipe some residue from a fresh page, ready to draw.
There's a navy blue pencil in my hand, and for once, something a little foreign isn't so bad.
NOTE: Hi reader, here's the second chapter of Thantophobia. I know I've been gone for so so long, but I hope this update makes up for it. Do you like anything about this chapter, hate anything? Do you have any questions? Any feedback? Any thoughts on Kai's encounter with Mistukuni and Takashi? Any ideas on what'll happen next? Let me know!