Just another one-shot compilation thread (new story 11/18)

[Scissorlips]

Hi everybody. Back before I started working on longer things, short little vignette stories were my bread and butter. They're still a lot of fun to bang out sometimes, and since I don't want to clutter the board with threads for each of them, I decided to turn one of my older threads into a depository of sorts. I know the title is kind of boring, but it was either that or "Scissorlips' Super Short Story Surplus Store (Sorry)", and I thought I would save you the alliteration.
Apologies if you've read some of these before (such as on pastebin), I want to update this thread with new stories as well as older ones that I never really had a chance to get people's thoughts on. Expect a short little story to be posted every few days or so, at least for a while.
And yes, I'm still writing Suzu. In between updates I spend a lot of time brainstorming on where to go next, as well as how to tie things into the larger picture. Doing little one-shots helps me sharpen my skills in the meantime, and they're fun, so there.

Read whatever interests you if you'd like, comment on whatever interests you if you'd like. Don't feel as if you're being rude by skipping over anything, you're allowed to have discriminating tastes.

Table of contents:
Blackout (everyone) (this post)
Fortunate Fool (Takashi / Molly)
Please Just Take These Photos From My Hands (Hisao)
Run (Emi)
Out Loud (Shizune)
Soldier (Kenji)
Slow Dancing In A Burning Room (Lilly)
I Remember (Hanako / Molly)
Three Hanako Stories
No More Pirates (Emi)
Grey Room (Rin)
What You've Done (?)
Men of Snow (Misha)




Blackout (everyone)
This is an idea I've been throwing around for a while, ever since during replaying I saw Kenji mention the power going out at Yamaku once. Naturally he assumed it was because the feminists were conducting a raid, but I was left wondering what everyone else would do in a situation like that. I also really like the idea of the characters passing the winter holidays in their own ways, the Christmas season before Hisao arrives. So, partially inspired by the Midwinter artbook, this little thing happened.


The teacher sits at his desk and runs one hand through his unkempt black hair. It's a cold winter evening, even after years of teaching here he still finds himself stuck in one of the most poorly insulated rooms on the floor. Should have brought a thicker coat.

Mutou sighs, staring at the stack of papers spread out across his desk, red marker in his other hand. They say that red is too negative a color to be grading things with these days, it has some psychological effect on the students. While interesting and definitely warranting further study, there's not much that he can do about it since black is no good and the budget committee has no interest in providing him with any other colors. Or a space heater, for that matter.

Mutou sighs again, his gaze drifting to one of the drawers of his desk, second from the right and locked. A long drink from the flask tucked away inside would probably go a long way towards warming him up and surviving the ordeal ahead. He weighs his options. Certainly one drink couldn't hurt anything and at this hour, the entire floor is practically deserted anyway.

Just as he fishes a ring of keys from his coat pocket however, there's a loud clicking noise, and the entire room is plunged into darkness. A power outage? Mutou groans. There's all sorts of procedures and policies that just immediately went into effect, now he's going to have to begin rounding up any students still in the main building, and...

Instead of getting up though, he stubbornly takes the keys in both hands, feeling in the dark for the right one from memory. A few determined stabs at the lock later and the drawer is open. Mutou reaches in and takes out the cool metal flask that glints in the tiny traces of moonlight that manage to filter through the falling snow outside. He's going to need this.



“What's wrong, Hanako?” The blonde girl pauses, her arm linked with the other girl beside her.

“Th-the lights all j-just went out.” Her companion shivers a little in the cold air, drawing her thick winter coat tighter.

“Oh, there must be a problem with the power. It's happened before I believe, I'm sure there's a generator on campus somewhere.”

“I-it's all dark, Lilly. I can't s-see anything.” Hanako glances around the snow-covered grounds, empty but for the odd pair of students who now exist only as moving shades of gray amid the shadows.

“Well then.” Lilly turns towards her friend, a warm, gentle smile on her serene face. “You're in the best of company, aren't you?”

Hanako takes in her words for a moment, but then her face begins to light up. Her expression goes unseen by the girl next to her, but it carries through in her brightening voice. “You're r-right, I am.”

Lilly gives her a reassuring nod, then turns her head in the direction of the hill that leads down away from the Yamaku campus and towards the small town below. They had been planning on passing the evening shopping for necessities, but that might not be an option now.

“Are there still lights on in town?”

“I think so, I c-can see a few.” Hanako squints into the darkness, hoping her eyes aren't failing her.

Lilly ponders for a few moments. It would be a shame to have to cancel their plans, but the only thing colder than an unheated dormitory would be the long walk to the store and back, and it would be a shame to get there only to find it closed. Besides, there are sure to be other students who may need the help of someone who knows their way around the school in the dark.

“Why don't we head back, Hanako.” She says at last. “I'm sure the staff will have some kind of plan in place.”

“O-okay Lilly.” Together, they turn away from the school gates and begin trekking through the snow.



The little noise of irritation that sounds in the suddenly dark room probably has a matching frown to go with it, but no one will ever know now.

“That's just great!” The girl stands up to her full height, not that the gesture would impress her companion if it were visible.

“Is it night time already?” The other girl yawns slowly, having no means to stifle it and no real desire to anyway.

“Rin, you're not a bird, you're not supposed to get tired just because it's dark.”

The response is probably a shrug. It usually is. The little girl with the metal legs sighs, and then roots around in the darkness for a solid surface to set down the duster in her hand.

“Well we can't clean this room of yours in the dark.” Emi says. New Year's is coming up soon, and they had decided that the easiest thing would be to get Rin's room sorted out first. It had taken them hours to go through the papers, painting materials and other things Rin had squirreled away, but just when they were finally down to dusting and sweeping, fate had to step in and say no.

“If I was a bird, I would have flown south for the winter anyway.” Rin says sagely.

“Do they do that on this side of the ocean? Never mind, it doesn't matter.” Emi makes her way to her friend's closet from memory--thump, bang, she resolves to work harder at memorizing things once the lights come back on. When she does finally reach it though, she searches blindly for Rin's wool coat. Fate has decided that there is to be no more cleaning done tonight, so who is she to argue?

“Come on Rin,” she says upon finally finding the heavy jacket. “Let's go build a snowman.”

“I wonder if snowmen taste like clouds but colder?”

Emi walks back towards the voice in the dark and throws the coat around her friend's shoulders.

“Time to find out!” She says.



“Emergency! Emergency! There's an emergency going on!” The boy speeds through the dark halls of the boys' dormitory, screaming all the way. They had laughed at him when he said he'd memorized the entire floorplan of the building, but who's laughing now?

Well, no one actually, because this is serious business and nowhere near a laughing matter. Kenji stops and bangs on every door, shouting barely coherent warnings and instructions, most of which sound borrowed from an advisory pamphlet about earthquakes.

“Do you have a cell phone?” He yells into one of the doors on the second floor.

“I don't... maybe?” Judging from the squeaky tone, it's a first year on the other side. Good, good, they're the ones who need his help the most right now.

“That's your first mistake! And if you don't want it to be your last one, then you need to listen to me right now!” His words are met with silence, obviously an invitation to continue. The poor kid on the other side is probably paralyzed with fear. Good, he should be.

“The feminists will be here any minute! And if you don't want them to be able to track your every move, you need to open your phone's battery panel and eat your SIM card!”

“Eat my what?”

“You heard me soldier! It's the little thing in the back! Pull it out and swallow it right now, or you'll be rotting in a cell waiting to be brainwashed this time tomorrow!”

“I'm just going to go to bed, please go away Setou.” Damn, this one knows his name. They must have got to him. In fact, he could be an undercover agent right now! Kenji hastily retreats from the compromised door. Actually, this entire wing could be tainted. He decides that the only safe option is to return to his room and barricade himself against the impending attack.

Huh. This is actually kind of nice. Everyone else who's still up and about, their eyes must be worth about as much as his always are. It would be interesting to go out and talk to them, see how they like it. But no, the raid is going to be happening any minute, he can feel it in his bones.

Kenji stops when he reaches his door, and squints at the barely, barely discernible outline of the room across from his. They had driven away all the other students from this hallway, the feminists. Maybe one day someone new will arrive, someone he can trust. Someone smart enough to eat a SIM card if he knew his life depended on it.

Until then, though, he decides that he has to make do with what he has. The sound of a myriad of locks being undone echoes through the dark hall, followed by the slamming of a door. He's safe now.



“Shicchan please, I can't--” She hears the flapping of the Student Council President's hands, but has no hope of discerning meaning in the sheer darkness. The extinguishing of the lights had been followed by a heated series of sharp chopping sounds, and Misha is sure that one or more of the objects on Shizune's desk had been knocked over in the process, but there will be time to deal with that later. Shizune stomps over to one of the windows in the Student Council room, where she stands in the grainy moonlight, looking furious. She repeats her last flurry of gestures, but Misha cringes. It's like reading a book in a moving car at night, the thought gives her a headache.

[I can't see what you're saying.] She signs back.

[What?]

[I can't--oh, right.] Misha moves to stand next to her best friend, almost shoulder to shoulder in the limited lighting. She could probably use one of the other windows for signing purposes, but she's just fine right here. Shizune frowns in irritation, obviously annoyed at the sudden and completely unscheduled interruption in their Student Council work.

[This is unacceptable. The backup generator should have kicked in by now. We can't afford a delay like this.]

[It's a power outage, Shiichan!] Misha replies, eager to soften her friend's mood. [Maybe we can find some candles and tell some stories! Or we could go back to the dorms and see how you look with drills!] She grins.

Shizune almost relents for a moment, the prospect of using the blackout as an excuse to goof off more alluring than it was at first glance. But then she shakes her head.

[We need to find out what's going on first. Then maybe we can come back to the paperwork later.]

Misha nods, later is good. Today's work was just crunching some budget reports, Mutou keeps requesting more pens, Shizune keeps denying said requests. To be honest Misha isn't even sure if that's something the Student Council should have control over or if it wound up in their inbox by accident, but that's no reason to miss out on having a little fun.

Together, they walk out of the room. The few steps it takes to reach the hallway are ingrained into both of their memories, but once they get outside, the two almost crash into eachother. Misha laughs, she can hear the sound of Shizune's flustered signing but it's no use, the hallway is completely dark.

With no other real option, Misha reaches forward and grabs Shizune's still shifting hand. The Student Council President freezes at her touch, probably making something between a pouting and embarrassed expression, but Misha is grateful for the excuse not to care. Slowly, silently, she begins leading her friend through the dark, their joined hands the only form of communication possible at the moment.



She was flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine before the power died. Out of complete stubbornness, she continues to turn the pages for a few more moments, in total darkness. Saki reaches over to the table next to her bed and retrieves a handheld booklight, flipping it on. The soft glow illuminates the annoyed expression on her face. She resumes reading.



“Suzu, did you see that? The lights went out.”

“...Suzu?”

“Ah, hell.”



Mutou holds the flashlight high above his head, feeling old and underpaid. The teachers have begun rounding up any of the students still in the main building, they'll be taking them to the gymnasium where they can set up portable heaters until the generator is online. He just has to make a few more rounds to pick up any stragglers, then it's off to the dorms to get any students who don't want to brave the cold.

As he makes his way down the main staircase, a figure is slowly walking upwards. Mutou stops, but the other person doesn't. He recognizes the girl, anyone with long, braided silver hair and red eyes like hers would be difficult to forget. It's a shame that the same couldn't be said for her name. Those have never been his specialty.

“Where are you going, Miss Ka... Kata...”

Rika finally stops. “Katayama, sir. And I'm going to the roof.”

“Why?” She looks like she's bundled up enough to be making a trip to the north pole, layers upon layers expanding her figure to comical proportions.

“You normally can't see things as well with all the lights on.”

“What kind of things?” She doesn't seem to be planning any mischief, but her intentions are well and truly lost on him. Rika shrugs.

“Stars if they're there. Snowflakes if they're not. They're all unique, you know.”

“Aren't you a little overdressed?” He can make out no less than three scarves in the glow of his flashlight. Rika chews her lip for a moment.

“Maybe. I'll be out there for a while though.” She resumes climbing the stairs.

“Just be careful!” Mutou calls after her, a little annoyed at not being the one to decide that the conversation is over. She's not in his class, and he doesn't really know her well enough to judge, but she seems like she'll be all right. He continues on his way, even more determined to empty the flask in his pocket when he finally gets home tonight.



“Where did you learn how to make a snowman like that?” Emi asks as the group crunches through the snow.

“It j-just looked right th-that way.”

“It needed a hat.” Rin adds flatly. Lacking the means to help shape their masterpiece, she had been confined mostly to the creative side of things. The others had tried to make use of her input as much as possible, but there were only so many ways to make a snowman look “colder”, or to make the entire thing resemble trying to catch a piece of toast in your mouth as it left the toaster. Something about being as snowman-like as possible before the spring arrives and melts you. Either way, Emi and Hanako had done their best, while Lilly was content to listen and laugh along with them. The night was starting to wear on though, and it was only getting chillier outside. At one of the faculty's request, they had finished their work of art (the bright sun of a new day would reveal the true measure of their success) and decided to join the others at the gymnasium.

As they approach the doors, a pair of silhouettes emerge from the darkness, still barely more than inky smudges in the shards of moonlight. They appear to be holding hands, but as they draw closer, one gently breaks free. The blurry outline of a pair of hands moving back and forth greets them. The other one speaks up in a booming voice.

“Well, if it isn't--wait, who is that?” Misha calls, her translation somewhere halfway between Shizune's thoughts and her own as usual.

“Hello Misha.” Lilly steps forward, figuratively and literally. “I take it you're not alone on a night like this?”

Misha squints hard at her companion, trying her best to make out Shizune's signing.

“Wahaha!” She replies after a few strained moments. “This Student Council still bakes despite losing some of its less noodle members. Or... or something like that.” Misha trails off, sounding deflated.

“It's dark.” She whines.

“Well there's sure to be some battery powered lights inside, why don't you come in with us?”

“Wahaha! As if we needed your permission to--come on Shicchan, it's dark and cold and let's just go inside.”

Another figure strides through the shadows past both groups.

“See you suckers inside.” Miki says, the body of another student, fast asleep, slung over one shoulder. She kicks the door open in one fluid motion and steps inside. Dim light pours out from the gym, and the voices of the other students drift towards them.

“L-let's go in.” Hanako says, her breaths visible in the form of puffs of steam.

“Best plan I've heard all day.” Emi's hand is gripping the end of the scarf wrapped around Rin's neck. She gives it a tug, and the two walk forward out of the snow. Emi's prosthetic feet, clad in thick winter boots for stability, thump on the concrete floor of the gym. She forgets to shake off the snow that clings to them, but no one in the group is really going to blame her.

“Let's go, Shicchan~!” Misha proclaims as she signs. One does about as much good as the other for Shizune in the darkness, but she clearly understood the message. Shizune glances pointedly at the pair of Lilly and Hanako for a moment, and then gestures for them to follow her inside.

“This is going to be fun~!” A warm wave of heat hits them as they step out of the cold night air. Misha turns to Hanako, grinning widely. “Do you know any good stories?” She asks.

Hanako, still arm in arm with Lilly, looks like she's going to faint from the sheer volume of the question, but she manages to smile, a blush creeping into her face.

“A f-few.” She says.

Together, they walk towards the growing roar of friendly voices and the welcome glow of portable heaters.




“Blackout” is a song by Chris Garneau.

[The O.H.L.]

The girls were cute. Kenji was hilarious (as always). Mutou was Mutou. Everything was as it should be.
I love how you included all the girls into the story, and even referenced another fic or two.
Great stuff, keep at it. You're great.

[Ascended Flutist]

Hearthwarming.

See what I did there?

But yes, it's a really sweet bonding moment between the gurls. I liked it a lot.

[Unforgiven]

I liked it. And that is all I got to say

[# 2]

This made me smile.

[crushinator]

This was a fun read. Always a pleasure, Scissorlips.

I fear for how Yuuko handled the blackout.

[nemz]

...I want to hear Hanako's stories.

[lolawesome]

LOL Kenji

how I love thee in crazy mode

[Brogurt]

even referenced another fic or two.

I'm certain that this escaped me. Care to elaborate?

[The O.H.L.]

How Rika goes up to the roof, which has never been actual canon. Rikabro is the one to set her personality like that.
There might be another one, but I'm too tired to go back and check.

[Scissorlips]

How Rika goes up to the roof, which has never been actual canon. Rikabro is the one to set her personality like that.
There might be another one, but I'm too tired to go back and check.

I thought it was only fair to try to include Saki and Rika since I wanted to have Suzu and Miki make a short appearance, so I asked Rikabro what he thought she would do in that situation. I hope she came off as authentic, since his is pretty much as close to a "canon" Rika as they come. To give other credits where they're due, the "eating your SIM card" thing is a reference to Four Lions, a movie about a group of blundering, would-be terrorists in London. Not to get political at all but it's both very funny and a somber look at extremism at the same time, and I would recommend it. Also, Mutou having trouble with people's names is something I'm pretty sure that's referenced in the game a few times, but I like to throw it around here and there to play off the joke that some of the side characters are rather obscure and the majority of fans have no idea who they are.

@Flutist: did it make your heartthrum? (;

Thank you everyone for the warm feedback. It felt pretty good do a clean little one-shot again, maybe I'll try to balance doing little stories like this now and then while continuing with larger things.

[The O.H.L.]

Oh, I thought I recognised the SIM card thing. Decided against Kenji using master hand disguises to throw the feminists off though?

[Scissorlips]

Fortunate Fool (Takashi / Molly)
Partially inspired by this picture.


“God damnit!” are the first words out of his mouth as he storms into the room. Here we go.

“Now what?” I watch him for a moment, then move to return to my playing, then change my mind. His tinnitus and all.

“That painting I was working on, you know, the watercolor?” Takashi holds his hands in the air in distress. Here we go, another evening of art club drama. Then again, it's not like there isn't something always going on with the music club, too. The practice room is completely empty right now though, save for me and my violin. And, well, him too, now.

“The one that our trip to the river gave you the idea for?” I smile at the memory. The sky had been a sheet of pure blue that day, and the way it reflected off the water, beautiful, just beautiful. I had been inspired for days after that date, and he could say the same. Apparently, that story is about to have a less happy ending, though.

“Yeah.” Takashi frowns venomously, pacing around the empty band room. He has to keep stopping to make sure he doesn't bump into a music stand or the elevated parts of the carpeted floor, each time, he looks more and more upset by distractions that are keeping him from being upset. I sigh.

“So what happened?” I ask, stealing a peek at the sheet of music in front of me to memorize where I was at before returning my attention to the boy who looks like he's about to explode. And even worse than that, he looks like he doesn't want to explode, what he wants to do is cry. But that's something he won't let even me see, so instead he just puts everything he has into being angry instead of being hurt. But I can tell he is, he's so complicated sometimes.

Artists, right? Impossible.

“I've been working on it all week, it looked so great Molls, it was so great! I had it all finished up, put the final touches on and everything. And just as the art club meeting is wrapping up, I call over to the teacher.” Takashi's voice almost falters a few times, and he tries harder and harder to keep his rage going. He waves his hands up and down, I'm not sure if he's trying to paint in the air or claw at it. I decide to just wait for him to continue, and he does.

“So I called Nomiya over, but before he even got there, he takes one look at Tezuka.” Ohh, Tezuka again. I give my violin the tiniest tweak and Takashi shoots me a look.

“Molls.” He snaps. But instead of actually being angry at me, it's really a plea for me to listen in disguise. God, it just can't be simple with him. He's like a jigsaw puzzle that glares at you when you start to take too long with solving it.

Fortunately for him, I like puzzles. “Sorry, keep going.” I reply. Takashi takes a seat, looking pensive, then stands up again.

“Right, so he sees Tezuka, and she's just started stabbing at some blank canvas. Like, it's nothing Molls, it was nothing! Just some freaking swirls or something, god damn, I don't know.” He's starting to look a little woozy. Takashi sits down again, looking like he wants to kick the chair in front of him but refrains for fear of missing.

“And then what?”

“And then,” he rolls his eyes, batting at the air with one hand. “Nomiya just says 'I'll be right with you, Maeda”, and goes over to hover and coo and squawk over her shoulder as she paints. 'Ooh, very good Tezuka', 'I can see it falling into place, Tezuka'. God damn it!” He's back to being angry again. Takashi decides to go for it and aims a kick at the chair, and yes, he misses.

He scowls bitterly, one hand reaching up to rest on his bandaged right ear. It throws him off, his tinnitus. We've all had ringing in our ears before, but for him, it's almost always there, and sometimes it gets so bad, so loud, I know it's painful, even if he won't tell me. He just gets mad, and he grips with it. I think that's what really makes his paintings great sometimes. You know, that whole 'struggling with something that you can't really overcome' thing? Like, it hurts. And he hurts, but he doesn't want to hurt, and he doesn't want people to know that he does either. But he does want them to know, or else, why would he paint like that? They really are beautiful sometimes. I've seen Tezuka's work and they're something else, that's for sure, but Takashi's paintings are so full of raw emotion when he wants them to be. As a musician, I can appreciate them, even if he has to explain them to me sometimes.

I gently lay down my violin in its case, before getting up to move to the seat next to him.

“And then the club period ended...” I say, trying to prod him along.

“And then the period ended, and Nomiya never even took a look. He just didn't care. Because I'm not Tezuka, because I'm not his 'star pupil'.” He spits the last two words, but he's not glaring anymore, he looks absolutely miserable.

“Where's the painting now? I want to see it.” I smile at him, but he glances at me and his expression turns even worse.

“I, uh.” He looks away, suddenly embarrassed. “I might have...”

“You didn't!” I cry, standing up.

“I tore it up. Sorry, Molls.” He stares at the floor, unable to meet my gaze.

“Takashi, you jerk!” That picture was in part to commemorate our date at the river! It was a reminder of him actually doing something romantic for once, the way he'd put out the canvas and asked me to hold still, the way he'd looked at me, as if he wanted to immortalize the sight... it had been such a great day. And now he's gone and ruined that, just because he was jealous of Rin Tezuka.

“That painting was special to us! To me!” Nobody's ever bothered to paint a picture of me before. I had really wanted to see it, when it was done. I've been looking forward to it all week!

Takashi's rage has completely seeped out of him now. He continues looking at the floor, upset with himself, upset with his teacher, upset with his perceived lack of talent compared to Nomiya's favorite. It can't be just one thing with him, it has to be all muddled together like this. His paintings are wonderful, but when it comes to him actually dealing with things like this in real life, his efforts always come out like swirls of paints that just blur into an ugly brown.

“Look, Molls, I'm really sorry. I was just, I was angry, and I worked so damn hard on that painting and he wouldn't even look at it! All he cared about was her. He only has eyes for Tezuka.”

“You worked so hard, and now I can't look at it even though I want to.” I pout. I wish he didn't do things like this, destroying your own work doesn't accomplish anything.

“I know, I know...” He glances up at me for a quick moment before looking away again. Even when he acts stupidly, like now, I still like those eyes. The spark behind them, the tiny glimmer of ongoing pain from his condition and the determination it gives him to throw himself into his art.

“Takashi.” I gently sit down on his legs, and he has no choice but to turn those eyes on me now. As pig-headed as he can be sometimes, I still really like him, even if my friends give me crap for it. But they don't see the part of him that I do. I don't think anyone else does, which is why he keeps coming back, why he always apologizes for his outbursts. He really likes me too, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

“I don't care about Tezuka, or Nomiya. I want to see the things you paint.” I say softly. He gives me that look, the one that everyone else thinks is just another glare, but I know better. He wants to believe the things I'm saying but at the same time he doesn't, because he doesn't want to get attached to just another person that he'll end up driving away.

Artists. So complicated. Well, here's something that's not quite so complex.

“I don't care if the art teacher only has eyes for Tezuka. I only have eyes for you.” I say, and then lean in to kiss him on the lips. He resists for only a fraction of a second before giving in.

When we pull apart, he looks pissed again, but I can tell he's just embarrassed. It's cute. And it's dumb, which is kind of cute too. Back to being complicated.

“Okay. Okay.” Takashi says after a few moments, nodding to himself. That creative gleam is back in his eyes. “I'll make you another one.”

“Really?” I stand up, feeling a genuine smile on my face. He smiles back, winces for a second, reaches for his ear, then stops. It comes and goes. Some times are worse than others.

“Yeah.” He picks back up where he left off. “I'll do it right now, come on.” He gets up and rolls his shoulders, suddenly full of energy. It's good to see.

“Bring the violin.” He says.



“Takashi, I don't-”

“Hold still.” He peers at me from the other side of the easel, brow knit in concentration. The sun is starting to set, bathing the art room in a deep orange glow. It's beautiful, but I can only stand like this for so long. Before, he just made me wait long enough to capture the general image and he would finish it later, now it seems like he wants to catch every detail and freeze it in time.

I guess I should be flattered. No, I am. And it's not like I'm not used to holding my violin for so long either, but when I'm performing or practicing I can still move. In fact, that's the general idea. This is a lot more uncomfortable.

“Takashi...”

“Almost got it...”

It's another five full minutes before he speaks again.

“There, okay.”

I let out a deep sigh, letting my arms drop to my sides and relaxing my posture. “Can I look?” I ask.

“If you want.” He scowls at the canvas as he stands, still deep in thought. I slowly set down my violin and walk over to stand next to him.

Before us is a whirlwind splash of colors and light, vivid, wavy lines make out the room that we're in. A girl stands in the center of the picture, her eyes closed and her head inclined towards the violin she cradles in one arm. I'm glad he was able to imagine that detail, if he had made me shut my eyes for that long I probably would have fallen over.

“Do you like it?” He asks, staring straight ahead as if afraid to look at me.

“It's beautiful.” And I mean it. If it's anything like the first one, then the world really is worse for its loss.

“It's all yours.” He says, glancing at me and smiling before returning his gaze to the painting.

“Ahh...! You mean it?” I ask, unable to keep a grin from spreading across my face.

“Yeah.”

“You don't want to show it to Nomiya first?”

Takashi shrugs, before turning to me with narrowed eyes and a wry grin, an interesting combination that looks right at home on his face. “Who cares, he wouldn't be able to appreciate my genius anyway.”

He's such an idiot sometimes, and he still manages to make me smile like I'm one too. “Thank you, Takashi. I mean it.” I give him a hug, and he glances around the room, making his angry, embarrassed face again. Afterwards, he sits back down in his chair again, staring at the painting.

“Hey Molls.” He grasps his chin in one hand, looking thoughtful. “Can you play me a song?”

“Hmm?” I still have my violin. But... “What about your ear?”

“Just a little one. A quiet one, maybe.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, then looks away.

“I trust you.” He says, and then glares straight ahead, as if daring me to prove to him that he shouldn't.

So very complicated. But it really is a beautiful painting. And it's a good feeling, connecting with him like this. Even when he's a jerk sometimes, even when he does stupid things. I like the overall package, tinnitus and all.

“Okay.” I retrieve my violin, before taking a much needed seat across from him. Frowning, but eyes still sparkling, Takashi gently puts the finished painting aside, and reaches for a fresh canvas.

I play for him, and he continues to paint, until the sun goes down and we retreat with the last dying rays of light.




"Fortunate Fool" is a song by Jack Johnson.

[nemz]

Nice little fic here... Takashi as something other than a complete ass-hat!

If Takashi was thinking straight he'd realize that the torn up painting could be transformed into something really powerful... say, paint a canvas in black and angry swirls, then glue the ripped pieces of the other painting over the top so that the edges aren't aligned quite right, maybe only attached at the center so the ripped edges can be curled slightly outwards and give it an interesting three dimentional aspect.

If you want to be an artist, real emotion like that shouldn't be wasted.

[Total Destruction]

Nice little fic here... Takashi as something other than a complete ass-hat!

This.

If Takashi was thinking straight he'd realize that the torn up painting could be transformed into something really powerful... say, paint a canvas in black and angry swirls, then glue the ripped pieces of the other painting over the top so that the edges aren't aligned quite right, maybe only attached at the center so the ripped edges can be curled slightly outwards and give it an interesting three dimentional aspect.

If you want to be an artist, real emotion like that shouldn't be wasted.

THIS.