Nomiya POV

[spirizu]

Well, themocaw already did it, but I wanted to see if I could lend a little bit of humanity to everyone's favourite nemesis.

Let me know how I got on. (Couldn't think of a title).

_________________________________________________________________

I should have handled that better.

Shinichi Nomiya, fifty-one years old and overweight, had a preoccupied air as he walked to the 22nd Corner. Nevertheless, he found the time to ask himself before entering, as he always did:

I wonder if it really is the 22nd corner? I should ask Sae sometime.

So far, he never had.

Inside, canvases remained proudly hung along the walls, monuments to human creativity and spirit, none more so than the one which was absent, sold to a very wealthy collector.

She could do so well. Why doesn’t she see it?

Turning from the near wall to face the room fully, Nomiya saw Sae standing at the far end of the gallery, engrossed in the portfolio she’d had printed for the opening. She must have been preoccupied too, to fail to notice his arrival.

Nomiya walked closer.

“Sae?”

“Oh! Shinichi. Thank you for coming by. How did everything go?”

“Not … so well. I ran into Hisao earlier and … couldn’t contain myself.”

A small, sweet, sympathetic smile.

“The artistic temperament again? Well, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t know. I just … do you know what I’d give to have her talent? A painting already sold, and she’s barely eighteen? How often in a lifetime do you encounter a prodigy like that?”

“ ’How often in a lifetime do you get to mentor a prodigy like that?’, you mean”.

The slight, bespectacled woman, older than her appearance would indicate, stood before Nomiya, her eyes fixed fully upon him.

Why fight it? She’s right.

The grey-haired man exhaled, long and loud.

“Am I such a bad person, Sae? First, I wanted to be a great artist but I knew I would never achieve it. Then, I wanted to be a great artist’s best friend but that … couldn’t be. So, I decided to teach. And I wanted to be the best art teacher there could be. And I’m doing a pretty crappy job of that, too.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Shinichi. Your passion got the better of you. Rin’s been through plenty of difficulties in life: this one will probably barely even register. One slip doesn’t define you as a teacher.”

“I just wish the students saw me differently. I collected assignments from 3-4 last week and one of them consisted of a blank canvas with nothing but the words NoMIYa is a PAdoFYL scrawled across it.”

“Oh dear. Who was it?”

“I don’t know. The asthmatic girl, I think. The point is, if you saw the affection they have for Miyagi, or the respect they have for Mutou … that’s what being a teacher should be. Not this … this …”

Nomiya’s voice faltered as he gestured at his overweight, middle-aged, rumpled-suited, rainbow-tied frame, and fell to a whisper.

“This.”

“Shinichi, you can’t blame yourself. You’re a victim of circumstance. You weathered that storm better than most. It was eight years ago. None of the current students even remember.”

He remembered.
__________________________________________

That day had been a drizzly Tuesday as he’d walked to the staffroom for lunch. A busy morning of Post-Impressionism always served to give him a monstrous appetite. As he walked by his locker, he noticed an envelope, embossed with the Yamaku seal, protruding. Glancing at it in surprise, he took it with him to a seat in the corner and opened it.

To: Shinichi Nomiya

Re: Complaint of Gross Misconduct

Kindly attend at the Governors’ Office next Friday at 15.00 for resolution of the above complaint. We expect your full co-operation in this matter.

Signed,

T. Matsubo
Board of Governors.

With no further information to go on, he waited the week out anxiously until Friday and showed up at the Governors’ Office at 3 on the dot. Any complaint deemed serious enough to warrant calling an extraordinary meeting of the Yamaku Board of Governors was not one to tarry over.

He waited outside, the tight black knot in his stomach growing heavier with every passing second and looking every inch the naughty schoolboy waiting to discover his punishment, until the secretary poked her head around the door.

“Mr Nomiya? Please, come right in.”

He entered the large, airy, oak-panelled office, imitation Edo watercolours hanging on the walls and was introduced to the six gentlemen (and two ladies) seated around the teak table in the centre of the room. Once the secretary had completed the formalities, and Nomiya had been placed at the centre of the table, the President of the Board of Governors addressed him directly.

“As you know, Mr Nomiya, we’ve received a complaint against you from a student. Do you know a Setsu Manamoto?”

Nomiya racked his memory for a moment, trying to locate the vaguely familiar-sounding name.

Ah yes.

Manamoto had left Yamaku several months previously, to general relief. An abusive mother had poured bleach into her left eye as a child, but her care worker had seen some potential in her, so the Prefecture had sponsored her to attend Yamaku. Her residual anger and failure to apply herself had, however, taxed the bounds of even Yamaku’s relaxed ethos and, following an “incident” in which the girl who roomed beside her had been attacked with a knife while preparing dinner one evening, it was thought best to remove her from the Academy. Nomiya had attempted to teach her Art, but not often.

“Yes? What of her?”

“We received a report from her care worker. She’s alleging you … sexually assaulted her.”

Nomiya went pale. Lacking any immediate response, he slumped his head down upon his arms.

“Do you have anything to say, Nomiya?”

“I never … she didn’t … No. I didn’t.”

“Very well. We’ll take that into account.”

The President eyed him, not unkindly.

“Look, Shinichi, we all know she’s a troubled girl. There are witnesses who say you were in the art club with them when the alleged assault took place. Frankly, none of us here believe a word she’s saying. But we have to follow procedures, you understand? I’m sure it will all blow over.”

Nomiya nodded numbly. Two weeks later, the Board of Governors issued its report. The complaint was dismissed in its entirety. Nomiya was cleared. It had, as the President had promised, all blown over.

But not before someone had leaked it to the local newspaper, which had named him prominently on its front page.

The rest of that year was something he’d like to forget.
_______________________________________

“That was a tough time, Sae. Maybe if I had a wife, it would have been different, but when you’re unmarried, these slurs stick faster than most. And they never, ever go away.”

“I know, Shinichi, I know. But your friends were there for you. They still are.”

“Friends? You were there for me, you mean.”

A momentary pause.

“Yes. And I still am.”

Nomiya looked at her, her slight smile, soft brown eyes and mousy hair and, as he so often had before, in reality and in dreams, loved her for them.

“Thanks, Sae. I know. I’d better get going.”

“Okay, Shinichi. But will you do one thing for me?”

Of course. Anything.

“Sure, Sae. What is it?”

“Apologise to Rin. Apologise to Hisao, if you feel you should. But forgive yourself. And, come tomorrow, go back in to Yamaku and be the best damn Nomiya you can be!”

He smiled limply down at her.

“I’ll do my best.”

______________________________________

Back at his empty apartment, the middle-aged man emptied some beans into a pan. Dinner would be light tonight.

He wished he could lie to himself and pretend that Sae’s talk had made him feel better, but he was no longer capable of self-deception. They had had many, many talks like this down through the years, but they never seemed to stick with him.

Not too many years left teaching now. Why don’t I just leave? Wander Okinawa painting landscapes? It’s not like I have a family to support.

The usual questions, followed by the usual answer.

I can’t leave Sae.

He’d loved her for many years, since the very beginning. He’d never told her, but he knew she knew. He also knew she would never feel that way about him. And that was okay. Mad, passionate romance was for the young, after all. At his age, companionship was a much more viable option. Better by far to just stay at Yamaku, try to encourage students, try not to let his “artistic temperament” get the better of him and just wait until they kicked him out. Then, maybe, Sae would want to go to Okinawa with him. Or anywhere.

Slapping his knees forcefully as if resolving some great internal conflict, Nomiya exhaled and rose from his single chair. There was nothing else for it.

However he felt inside, come morning he was going to dress in his rumpled suit, put on his rainbow tie, see if he could apologise to Nakai and Tezuka and go about Yamaku being the best damn Nomiya he could be.

For Sae.

[nemz]

But not before someone had leaked it to the local newspaper, which had named him prominently on its front page.

See, that right there is something that is seriously wrong. With these sorts of allegations people forget entirely any notion of presumed innocence, instead putting the accused immediately on the defensive to justify every aspect of their lives . Meanwhile the alleged victims are almost always safe in anonymity even in cases where a claim is later recanted.

Nomiya really isn't a bad guy, he just gets carried away. He also isn't privy to Rin's reasons for reluctance nor does he get a chance to see evidence of her breakdown in progress. Perhaps Rin really isn't capable of explaining these issues to him, but I don't see that she made any attempt to do so either. Because of this his angry reaction is justifiable.

[Total Destruction]

What s/he said.

This is good. Like, really good. Forums have been nailing it out the friggin' park today with killer fictions.

It's really cool to see a Nomiya that's not balls-out crazy and more than a little too comfortable with deviance. Just a regular, albeit weird, dude with regular, albeit TERRIBLE, problems. That's a stigma that can't be lived down short of identity swapping or divine intervention.



We approve.