Based on a certain art in the mishimmie
http://shimmie.katawa-shoujo.com/post/v ... ch=shizune
(This story will take some liberal moves considering the KS universe. Bear with me)
Index
Prologue -Forgotten Memories-
Question Arcs
Resonance -Hakamichi no Tegami-
Memento -Ikezawa no Tegami-
Echoes -Satou no Tegami-
Cloudland -Tezuka no Tegami-
The Road Home -Ibarazaki no Tegami-
Answer Arcs
-Coming Soon-
Sensou no Tegami
Cloudland
People say that a painting is worth more than a thousand words. They believe it, the critics do, and so are the men and women who're keen on asking me these questions about 'inspiration', 'motivation', and 'ideas' every so often when my paintings are published in a gallery. They say it is rare for them to find such talent and freshness in an abstract painting in this modern day and age; especially if it was painted by someone who is armless. Is it wrong for me to paint without arms? Van Gogh painted without his left ear but nobody complained, so I don't think it's wrong for me to paint without arms--I don't believe there's a law that forbids me to do so, as far as I can remember from my college courses anyway. Wow, when I think about it again, it kinda' sound like an insult telling me that 'I can't paint because I have no arm'. Anyway, should I believe that a painting is worth more than a thousand words? I don't know, you tell me whether or not I should believe it. If they are really worth more than a thousand words, then we'd be speaking in rainbows. How do you speak rainbows anyway?
I paint because I want to.
Inspirations? They're everywhere. Motivations? Because I want to. Simple, nothing too complicated or abstract for most people; clouds alone are enough--they're interesting, drifting along without care in the world like snails. I wonder if they actually taste like snails sometimes. Why do I assume they taste like snails? They look like one when bundled together, floating high up in the sky moving ever so slowly; doesn't it remind you of one? Speaking of which, that cloud I always follow had vanished for sometime...I wonder where it went...?
"Mrs. Tezuka, can we please have your attention?"
Oh, right. I was in the middle of an interview with these people from the newly-appointed 'Federation'. Recently, they called and asked me about the 'bundle of Hisao' I have collected through the years of conflict. If you are wondering what these 'bundles' are, they are letters from my late-husband who perished at the frontline a year ago--bless his soul. Surprising enough, the next thing they asked me was whether or not I am 'the'--emphasize on 'the'--Rin Tezuka who painted the now-famous 'Sendai'. I was known as 'Tezuka: the Armless Painter' or the 'Miracle Artist'; funny since I've read somewhere that there were others like me before who drew pretty well--if not better. I gave a 'yes', and the next thing I knew they sent a representative to escort me to the new 'Federal Headquarters' for this interview--they did mentioned I would be compensated, so I don't mind. Sometimes I don't understand my own paintings--'Sendai' is one of them, and reasons may vary through different perspective or a certain point of view. Critics and art historians who commented on it often reflect upon my mental state at the time, since it was painted a few weeks after I received the news of his death, while others commented on my disapproval of the war. It did become something big, something they describe as the '21st century Guernica'.
Mind you, I based it on a photograph Miki gave me, the mess my daughter made in the kitchen, and the breakfast Emi fixed for me. I still remember them--it was toast and egg with peas. Peas are bad though, they're hard to keep in the fork.
"Mrs. Tezuka!"
"Oh! Right, right...yes?"
"Could you please maintain your focus? We are under a tight deadline, and the last thing we need are your incessant ramblings about 'clouds' or 'bundles'!"
"But," I need to shift my chair a little, it's asymmetrical to the stage. That's bad. Being asymmetrical is just bad. "I thought you were looking for my 'bundles of Hisao'."
The 'shadowmen'--as I like to call them for their shady-ish responses--exchanged glances before starting idle talk; some of them seemed to be too preoccupied with their notepad. I like these guys, they're funny for trying to give an impression of something they are not to be. It's almost like I'm in a convention full of those people from some random spy flick doing all that secret-stuff they're good at doing, and I somehow stumbled upon them and am now held captive for holding something they wanted. Wow, it'll be really cool if it went like that...
too bad it's just an interview.
"Mrs. Tezuka, we would like to have your cooperation once again if you don't mind."
"Ok, where should I start?"
"Please start describing with as much detail as possible of your history with those...'bundles'."
"How far?"
The 'shadowman' sighed. "As far as you see fit, Mrs. Tezuka."
-------------
'Bundles. Came in symmetrical rectangular size, brown in color, some dyed with coffee stains, some smudged with water, and some were stamped by military officials. All filled with love. They're unique, personal, sometimes mushy, but I like the way he wrote them with thought and care--that's when Hisao is at his 'Hisao-est' when he is not beside me. I wouldn't exactly describe them as letters, more like drabbles of someone with a heart condition who was accidentally drafted and was praying to be sent home after the military realized this mistake; of course, that wouldn't happen after the government was kind enough to treat his heart condition permanently with a cure and a little touch of modern science--although I still think there are some problem in his pants, too bad they didn't treat that. Couldn't blame him. I could blame modern science though.
...maybe I should.
Hisao was my lighthouse, my port in the storm, and my lamppost. 'Lamppost', you ask? When it's dark, you tend to hang around a lamppost, so that's a pretty legitimate explanation. We were married on February 29th 2040--awesome leap year, settled in Inawashiro in Fukushima--awesome lake view, and had a daughter on May 5th 2041--awesome life. I spent my time painting--don't get me started on 'why'--and checking Rei's crib. Cooking was out of the question; we had Hisao to handle that or Emi if she dropped by once in awhile. I tried it once. It tasted like paint mixed with fermented yoghurt and cheese. That's bad. Hisao liked it though, so there might be something wrong with his taste buds. I didn't mind his reaction, but I am not doing it again--cooking, I mean. No kitchen jokes for me.
Then came his departure.
I can still picture the events of that day, down to what he had for breakfast, what I was doing, and the officers that came--one of them has a face that reminded me of Kerotan frog dolls. They came in, greeted us formally, offered Hisao and me a chance to 'start a-new', flashed the contract, then told Hisao that he had no other choice but to accept the offer. I wouldn't say they were exactly generous, but they were kind enough to have offered him the heart augmentation so he could function normally. Normally as 'within the requirements of the military'. The military is okay, they are there to protect us. But serving in one under a short leash is bad. Being a dog of the military is bad. Hisao didn't really have much of a choice, so he complied and left for his augmentation and training on January 25th of 2042. I made a painting, and if the scholars were saying it was based on my emotions at the time they were partially correct--the rest were based on Rei's diaper and some cloud observations. I should give Emi some credit too for that accidental spill. Now that I remember, that cloud was still around back then, only further than usual.'
"So since then, your friend Emi--Ms. Ibarazaki in our records--acted as your assistant?"
I gave a quick nod. "She couldn't visit 80--maybe 90 percent of the time though. Emi is 'Emi-est' when she is busy running around chasing kids around the track."
"What exactly is her profession...? Our database says..."
"Coach. She's a coach," I think that is her job the last time she took me along. I could see her working as a waitress though, those uniforms are cute. "And that's where Miki snuggled in."
-------------
'Miki Miura. A graduate of Yamaku High, freelance reporter, Emi's close friend, and my other source of inspiration and contact to the outside world. Quite an interesting individual--feisty too. When Emi isn't around and Hisao is busy out there solving problems, Miki often drops by carrying news--sometimes big enough to fill an elephant for a day. She brings photos, notes, and often her own stories of the home front ranging from local to national; often it became the next topic or inspiration for my painting. Speaking of which, is it right to call the enemy 'problems'? They're probably just doing what they were told to do.
Whatever.
She is an interesting character. Despite having lost her left hand, she gets along pretty well around the house when I'm busy working on the paintings. What? I'm not supposed to be impressed considering...
...
oh, right...
Anyway, her cooking is sub-par though, so I always tell her to keep a safe distance from the kitchen and order to take-away Chinese food. That is not a kitchen joke. Well, I don't think it is anyway. Aside from that, Miki would always bring me some materials I could use for my next painting. More often than not, I would ask her to bring home a couple photos of the clouds, the city, the sea, and some trees--trees are good, they're green and fresh. Dandelions are better though, since they can fly. Still, I don't get why she keeps making that 'face' every time I ask her for it.
At least I don't think there's anything wrong with a few pictures of clouds, trees, and water.
By mid-2043, I have collected a substantial amount of letters by Hisao earning it the name 'Bundles of Hisao'. Rei was two years old at this point and was often laughing at that weird flower Emi brought with her to 'spice up the living room'. Rei was right though, the flower did look funny--kinda' reminded me of Yuuko at some point when the head went up and down or swung from left to right. Interesting. But on the otherhand, Emi had stopped visiting when she was needed to be the 'supervisor' of a field trip up north to Hokkaido--she won't be returning until late 2046 though. I guess the field trip earned her an 'extended leave'. But because of this, Miki became my 'un'-official guardian and caretaker--it used to be Hisao, but his letters stopped coming.'
"Maam, if we could stop you for a second..."
I twitched my eyebrow. The 'Shadowman' continued, "So it is true that you used his name in the survey made by the 'old world' government considering the 'guardian and caretaker' for the crippled--no offense. How is that..."
"His physical presence is unnecessary," I straighten my back and sit upright. "Just as arms are not necessary for my paintings, so is his physical presence in our life. His letters alone signify that he is 'here' with me and my daughter watching over us as the official guardian and caretaker of the Nakai family--Tezuka, if you use my surname. His thoughts, feelings, and love are conveyed through his writing, and that weighs greater than the presence of a thousand Hisaos."
...actually, a thousand Hisaos wouldn't be too bad. It might get troublesome when all of them started having heart-flutters. That is bad.
"I see...then Mrs. Tezuka, please continue."
His letters stopped coming. I painted for a week after the official news came home; I guess the critics and professors weren't too far off from their guesswork when I think about it. In that time, I produced three paintings--the first few which were granted 'titles' or 'names' amongst hundreds I've created so far. Attachment, maybe? 'Frontline', 'The Lost', and 'Tears' were my first few anti-war paintings--later on, 'Insecurity' and 'Sendai' followed suite which often garnered praise from many and enough criticism from government officials for its lack of patriotism. Patriotism itself is subjective in this matter; I think it is anyway. Is it patriotic to die for your country whose objectives were as murky as clam chowder or as random as clouds? Clouds are random. They're interesting because of that. Politics are random, but that doesn't make it interesting.
...
Scratch that, they're not as random as clouds since they're not as interesting as one.
Maybe my mind was clouded, or it could be because of how I felt at the time reading the official announcement over and over again--that was a mistake solely on my behalf. But in that time, I created three paintings: 'Frontline, 'The Lost', and 'Tears'. I based 'Frontline' on one of Hisao's memorable letters concerning his experience on the Korean Front--a first for me. It was a simple painting of a man on his knees clutching a picture of his family which was waiting for him back home--as simple as it is, people still interpret it differently and often cited its 'dark colors' and 'mysterious figure'. Oh well, artists are never meant to be understood anyway. There was a time when I was looking for our photo album in our attic; it was dark, uncertain, and perked with the feeling of lost--especially if that flashlight you're carrying in your mouth fell to the floor and shattered to pieces. Add a little codeine in the formula after you bump your head earlier that day, and you have what 'The Lost' is based off. Nothing more nothing less. The Critics and professors can say otherwise for its dark contrast and color, but it is what it is--I made it after all. 'Tears' is personal--it is the only painting I created with my daughter, Rei, helping me by my side. I won't go into details on it. Whatever I said it is won't reach any of them--colleagues, professors, critics. None. For it to be as I created it to be, I rather not hear anything related to 'it'.
Now that I think about it, that cloud I used to follow dissipated into rain on that day too.
"So where does Miki Miura fit in this?"
"I thought we're talking about my 'bundle of Hisao'."
"If it is related to the subject, Mrs. Tezuka, it's best if we hear it."
"I don't see why it is related to the subject."
The 'Shadowmen' murmured to one another, sighed, and tapped their pencils and pens to their notepads. I don't see anything wrong with my comment, but I don't like where this is going. "Mrs. Tezuka, based on your responses we think that you are a close acquaintance of Ms. Miura. IF she has anything to do with you and your family's lives during the war, please tell us."
"More specifically," interrupts one of the 'Shadowmen' sitting obscured in the back, his glasses glinting with the reflection of the stage light. Really cool. Really mysterious. "What she has to do with your last painting--the 'Sendai'. We would be most interested to hear it from the artist herself."
So I shrug, I guess they have a point. Maybe.
-------------
Within that one week of self-isolation and painting, Miki Miura would often visit and keep the house in a livable condition; more often than not she would take care of Rei or pop my bubble every time she intruded into my room with my daughter cradled on her arms. Every so often she would leave Rei in the room with me and give me the slap-in-the-face reminder that I am a mother as well as an artist. I should thank her for that. Anyway, she would often carry with her a handful of news from the homefront--sometimes with bonus pictures and photos from her reflex camera too. Of the photos she brought home, two caught my interest--the aftermath of Saitama on May 24th 2044 and the Ground Zero of Sendai on June 3rd 2044.
Saitama, the first case of attack on the home island, happened on May 22nd 2044 when official reporters whom Miki was in contact with reported that the baddies launched a firestorm missile and fire-bombed the city. I knew a friend over in Saitama, a novelist that goes by the name 'Ikezawa', very timid but can get really scary if you step on her foot--metaphorically speaking. I haven't heard from her since, so I assume she didn't survive.
...
I know I shouldn't make jokes about fire concerning her, but I can't help it. Sometimes.
Miki's photograph was taken two days after the bombing, and by then there were reporters and Home Guard units said to have wandered around--I heard there were scavengers too. I'd love to get in touch with one of them sometime, maybe they found something interesting. For the most part, the city was off-limits to most so she never managed to capture a lot aside from the refugees that survived--that is what I based 'Insecurity' on. Miki told me she couldn't get into the center of the city either since the Home Guard told her of the danger of collapsing rubble and whatnot.
Sendai was different.
Maybe it was rotten luck, but I also knew a friend in Sendai who worked as an English teacher. Not to mention she was blind, so I would have had to clap my hands for her--if I had had any. Unlike Saitama, Miki was on-the-scene when it happened. She said she was on her way for an errand with her--Satou, the 'English teacher'--when it happened. She told me that, with the instinct of a field reporter, she decided to drive through into the ruins and took a few photos--a number of particularly interesting photos of the 'Ground Zero' reached me two days later. It was interesting, almost abstract. Almost.
Within a few kilometers from the center of the explosion there were 'shadow imprints' left by whatever was standing there when the blast happened. Take a few more kilometers, and there were statues--Miki said they were carbon statues of what used-to-be persons. She said it looked brittle, so she refused to meddle with it any further. These 'statues' similarly left 'shadow imprints'--but what was more interesting were the shadows itself. Whatever was behind these charred statue were physically unscathed, pristine, left without a scratch from the blast. Miki took a few photos of them--a really-really good example of one is a living cat found behind a badly charred low-wall. Maybe it was saved by the shadow? Not sure. Still, that was just part of what I based 'Sendai' on, it's not even up to the more interesting part.
The most interesting part is when you took that walk from there to the border of the city.
I based most of 'Sendai' on Miki's story of when she walked out of Sendai--the city--backed with a few photographs, a cold medicine, and some cloud gazing. There were survivors, a lot of them with some of them wandering the streets aimlessly after the incident. Miki took a lot of photos of these, and what's interesting is that these survivors aren't necessarily 'survivors'. Their eyes were white, they walked incoherently and asymmetrically, and they all moaned like cows--only less intelligent than the beefy counterpart judging from what Miki told me.
"They were zombies."
The 'Shadowmen' chuckled. "Zombies, Mrs. Tezuka? The distorted humanoid figure on the left of your painting are supposed to be 'zombies'?"
"Yes." And it's not a 'distorted humanoid figure'. It's a zombie.
Again, they chuckled. "Mrs. Tezuka, with all due respect, Sendai was similarly firebombed and..."
"That is what the officials said a few days later. Miki believed that damage on such a scale is incomparable to firebombings. I don't know if I should believe her. Maybe I should."
There's a sudden chill across the hall. The 'Shadowmen' fall silent--I think I might have let the cat out of the bag; not that there are any cats in bags to begin with I believe. Metaphors are fun. "Mrs. Tezuka, what makes you believe there were 'zombies' in Sendai?"
"I've seen Miki's photos. Her cross-reference work of the Dresden firebombing with the attack on Sendai, the photos of the statues, as well as her explanation won me over. What happened in Sendai is
not the result of a firebombing. It's something else."
"I see..." the 'Shadowmen' began to murmur, their heads trained on the figure seated with at the back. With a swift motion and a nod, they return their attention back to me. "Where can we find her? How can we get in contact with her?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Try checking Tokyo, her office is there I believe. Never been there though."
Have you ever felt that strange feeling about butterflies and kangaroos inside you? Butterflies are always good. If there's a butterfly in your chest, you feel like you can fly and everything will be fine. Kangaroos were bad. They punch, kick, and knock your gut silly; it gives you that 'wrong-ness' feeling like something bad is going to happen. I'm having kangaroos right now, and I really-really want this to end soon.
"...do you mind if we finish this quickly? I'm having kangaroos right now."
"Is there anything else you wish to tell us considering Ms. Miura?"
"Other than she took that photograph of Satou being led by one of her students to a military truck, gave her that 'five second of fame', and became famous as the one who took the photo that 'Won the Federation'? Nope."
"Then you may leave, Mrs. Tezuka. Keep in mind, we will be in touch," The 'Shadowman' said, signaling the guards to come forth. "Do you need escorts?"
I have enough kangaroos inside me right now, I don't need another. "I'm fine. Emi should be waiting outside to pick me up."
"But we insist."
"Thanks, but nope. Besides, I got 'wings' to take me there."
Flapping my two stumps, I leave the trained eyes of the 'Shadowmen'. Exit, stage right.
-------------
There is a certain feeling of butterflies that surrounds me as I leave the building--like that time when I confessed to Hisao that I loved him back in high school, or that time when he put that engagement ring on my toe, or that time when we walked to the altar--minus the bouquet. Bouquets are bad for good reasons. I feel relieved, assured, and free. There are somethings that are best left unknown for the good of others, and my short stay with the 'Shadowmen' is probably something like that. Need to keep a mental note to try and ignore their future calls--otherwise my kangaroos will start kicking again, and I might end up somewhere at the bottom of the lake. Their last responses were worrying, almost sinister in their way of asking for Miki's details. I better warn Miki too, or she might end up hanging upside down from the top of the Tokyo Tower. More importantly, I should really stop thinking about this--my butterflies keep flying away. That's bad. Sending butterflies away is bad for health.
"Riiiiin!"
"Ah," My train of thoughts crashes. Again. "Emi."
As we agreed upon earlier, she has taken care of Rei until my interview with the Federal Officers was over--or until they were bored with my explanations. Unlike the 'Emi' thirty five years ago, she had her legs augmented and she now stands as normal as an 'Emi' could be. Couldn't tell the difference. I don't think there was much of a difference to begin with anyway since Emi is 'Emi'. Probably from our year of Yamaku alumni, she is the only one who managed to purchase an augmentation operation--Hisao and that blind boy in my old art class didn't count; the government gave it to them for the military. So nope, don't count.
"So," Ah. She crashed it again. "How did it go?"
"I'm hungry."
"I guess it went well..." she chuckles. "Rei is pretty impatient too."
The little girl who is clinging tightly to Emi immediately rushes forward with gusto, crashing into my legs and hugging it tightly with her little arms. Really, sometimes I believe Emi's 'Emiest' has rubbed off on my girl--her energy is pretty amazing for her size. Emi's size isn't a joke either. So, I crouch to level my head with my daughter's, only to be met with her ever so energetic hug and squeal of excitement. Life is wonderful.
"I'm hugging you mama!"
I rest my head on her shoulder. "I'm hugging you, Rei."
If she keeps this up until she turns twelve, I might have heart attacks too. Sorry Hisao, I had to make heart attack jokes about you sometimes.
Hisao is gone, left this world without a trace due to a war we never meant to partake in. Yet here, in the very soul of my little girl rests his legacy of what he was before: a father, a husband, and a lover. That alone is enough for me.
"Speaking of which, Rin," I blink once, shifting my attention to the somewhat-impatient Emi. "I have been wondering...where'd you come up with the name 'Rei'?"
"Where?"
"Well, no offense," I stood up straight. The little girl on my right raise her hand and held on to the knot tied on my shirt. "But I found it a little...simple? It's not uncreative--well, it is--but it sounds so...well, simple."
"Blame Hisao."
"Why?"
"I was thinking of naming her Reisen considering the situation when she was born.
"Reisen?"
"Cold War, literally. Hisao objected though, he thought it was too weird."
"I wouldn't say otherwise..."
We started walking, the three of us. "So, we made a compromise. 'Rei' came up as the winner."
The clouds in the sky clear away, and the wind gives us a cold slap on the cheek as the three of us start a new life together in this old, dying world.
...
Hey, that cloud I used to follow has returned...
Fin - Tezuka no Tegami
Author's Note
If you are questioning about continuity on each chapter, then I'll explain it right here. There are no continuity on each of the chapter
unless mentioned. HOWEVER, there are plot points, background, setting, and characters I will keep in constant consistency that will reveal about the 'War, 'Federation', 'Greymen', 'NOVA', and others that link to it.
There will be a rewrite of 'Hakamichi no Tegami' sometime next week. But anyway, this is Rin's arc. Last but not least will be Emi's.
I have to admit, trying to keep Rin as a character is difficult. R&R!
After Emi, it's a straight run to the Answer Arc. Stay tuned!
Editing credit goes to Mirage_GSM. I owe you again