Summary: Hagu contemplates feminism.


Hagu and the Male Gaze


It occurred to Hagu that she knew instinctively why she would not work out with Morita. Early on, it had to do with the way he saw her.

The agony of sitting still, motionless like a Venus de Milo on a pedestal, waiting for him to take whatever photo of her… Koropokkur might be the nickname that stuck, but real Koropokkurs had the right to move when they felt like it.

Her hands, tightening on that overly large leaf, might as well have been cut off. She might as well be made of marble for all that he wanted from her.

Takemoto was just the same, but in reverse. He watched her work, his breathing coming out in small gasps, not letting his existence disturb whatever brilliance he saw in her. She wasn't happy to be viewed through the rose-colored lens known as genius, because it only made her self-conscious. Nothing broke her concentration more than the need to ponder if her work would be received and misunderstood with fulsome praise.

And that's why she loved Shu-chan best. He just didn't look. He listened. And he made all things possible.