Rin: Hisao's Gift (a short story)
Posted: Tue Sep 17, 2013 1:00 am
[WARNING: If you have not completed the “Good Ending” Path for Rin Tezuka, I HIGHLY recommend you do so BEFORE reading this short story. - CM]
Rin: Hisao’s Gift
By cosmicmustache
[Based on the Rin Tezuka path of the Four Leaf Studios’ visual novel “Katawa Shoujo”]
Rin sat still before the blank canvas in the natural lighting of her atelier. Sunlight, tempered by forming clouds, highlighted her Auburn hair with a glimmer on the occasional silver strand that had begun to appear not long ago--not that she’d noticed.
She was focused inward. On Hisao. This painting was for him. She wanted to capture how she saw him. She thought it would make him happy, even if he still wouldn’t be able to understand. Her foot moved over in a smooth, fluid motion, grasping a broad brush from the floor and laboring it with bright yellow paint for the back ground. Slow broad strokes filled out an asymmetric oval upon the canvas. This was followed soon by horizontal highlights made with a light green Hisao had first revealed to her as he’d helped her with a mural soon after they’d first met. It hadn’t been the meaning-of-life green she’d wanted then, but it was now a core part of her palette, just as he was a part of her. It could be found in all of her paintings, and the world of art critics now commonly referred to it as “Tezuka Green”--though, Rin thought wryly, it should really be “Nakai Green.”
Time passed without notice and without interruption in Rin’s retreat. The only changes were the colorful progress on the canvas and the dimming of light as clouds outside continued to darken. Unlike so many of her other paintings, when she was finished, she knew it, just as she knew Hisao. It had all come together just as she dreamed, and she smiled lightly as she thought of sharing this with him.
Rin dropped her used brushes, bristles first, into a clear jar of brush cleaner, watching the paint swirl and flow in dancing waves of color until it all became a uniform brackish brown. She then recapped her paints, because Hisao always stressed the need to be tidy when done. She was ready--it was ready.
“Hisao!” she called out, her voice echoing about the atelier and on into the empty hallway leading to the main part of their home. She listened a bit, but there was no answer or sound in response.
Hopping up from her chair, Rin stretched her lean form side to side to get the kinks out of her back and then stood up and down on her tip toes to stretch her feet and legs. Sighing she walked out of the atelier and into the main part of the house to look for Hisao.
She passed first through the kitchen, clean and neat except for a few empty takeout boxes and soda cans resting, forgotten, on the counter. A glass bowl of fresh oranges at the center of the kitchen’s island caught her eye. Their color popped out in contrast to the dark granite counter beneath them. She was hungry, but that could wait.
Rin entered the large, open living room where many of her paintings, some new and others from as far back as the days at Yamaku, were on display upon the white walls. Hisao had insisted they keep many of her works that probably would have sold very well. She was grateful for that, as she never liked losing track of her memories, and she felt a lightness in her chest knowing he treasured them as much as she. They didn’t need to sell them anyhow as her career had launched her to enough recognition to support them well – her painting, him managing the business side of things.
The lights in the main part of the house were off, but they’d had their home designed with numerous skylights that normally lit the main rooms with fresh, natural sunlight--the better to accentuate her paintings. Today, however, grey clouds cast a melancholy, bluish tint on everything, toning down the normally bright colors and fading stark lines.
She knew all of these paintings – these memories – by heart, and now she came to a stop in front of one of the older ones. It was the one she’d been painting that day in Art Club, skulls highlighted in vibrant, living yellow – each exposing itself to the world. It was the time he’d sat and just watched her, which, she thought, crinkling her nose a bit, still didn’t make sense as she hadn’t been sleeping; or at least she didn’t remember being asleep. But the painting told her that she hadn’t minded Hisao watching her. She had found comfort in being open and exposed to him, like the skulls in the painting. It had probably been the first time she’d actually used a thought to ponder the idea of him being “not a friend”--like he was now. It was the first time she thought someone might actually be able to see inside of her.
Rin moved on a few steps stopping in front of the only work in the house that wasn’t hers. It was the pen sketch Hisao had drawn of her his first time at the art club. Rin smiled a bit mischievously and thought, “Hisao, you REALLY need more practice.” It was pretty bad, but she recognized it was important. This one was his memory just as the others were hers. The picture she’d drawn of Hisao as part of the same project hung just above.
“So sad,” she declared to the empty room as she took in the memory again.
Movement suddenly caught Rin’s wide, green eyes. Clouds. Gray clouds slipping across a dim sky, reflected against the large panes of glass lining the back wall of their home. Her imagination and attention captured, she followed them over to the broad windows and looked out.
It was an overcast day, but that was okay. It gave the back yard and the woods beyond the house a gently, wistful look – very melancholy. The trees moved back and forth gently in the growing breeze of approaching weather. It looked as if they were waving to her. She nodded back and grinned slightly, even as she captured a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass -- noting with a short-lived surprise that her face had started to grow lines around the mouth and eyes. “When did they get there?” It was an observation quickly dismissed, though, as she returned to looking at the trees.
“I need to go say ‘hi’ to them,” she muttered. First, though, she really needed to show Hisao the painting.
“Hisao!” she called out again, and again her voice echoed down empty hallways and into vacant rooms.
Rin frowned slightly as a sad thought came to her. She couldn’t quite grasp the thought though, as it fluttered around other thoughts, so she just shrugged and headed further into the house, moving lazily toward the bedroom.
Leaning her head into the doorway Rin let out a slow, cheerful “Hellooooo” followed soon by an exasperated “hmph” as she found Hisao wasn’t in this room either. She noticed that her side of the bed – her side of the room - had become a bit messy again, much in contrast to Hisao’s side which always seemed tidy and clean these days. The contrast was interesting enough that she spent a moment trying to decide if she could capture it in her painting? The effort didn’t last too long.
“Hmm, Emi is not going to be happy with this mess,” she whispered to the indifferent room.
“Emi?!” she thought with a start and then a smirk, “Now why would I think of her?” It had been a long time since she’d needed Emi to take care of her. Hisao had been her constant companion since high school, ever since that day with the Dandelions. She smiled at this--a memory that never left her.
Sighing, Rin thought to herself, “I’ll show him the painting later--after dinner maybe. For now, I need to go walk.”
Leaving the empty bedroom behind, Rin moved once again into the silent living room, past the walls of painted memories, and on to the back door.
With practiced ease she pulled on a sweatshirt that hung by the door for her regular walks into the woods. She always felt the need to go there, rain or shine, at least once each day. Sometimes Hisao would go with her, but recently she seemed to find herself going on these treks alone.
Rin slipped on her sandals and went out the back door, then down the steps that took her to the start of a worn dirt path that meandered into the woods.
Entering she reveled briefly in the solemn sadness of the trees and the dim light that danced, diffused, between leaves and onto the brown earth. But a thought kept revealing itself as the shadows took her in. “I wish Hisao was with me.”
The path was solid and familiar beneath her sandals as she made her way. The wind had picked up and continued to blow the branches above and around her to and fro as she greeted a familiar tree here and there. The sky also continued to grow darker, and soon she heard the patter of singular rain drops tapping on the canopy above. The occasional drop would find its way between the multitudes of greenery to land with a ‘plop’ on the ground around her. Rain didn’t bother her, however, and she continued on her way.
She reached the hill in the woods and began the climb upward. It wasn’t a particularly steep climb, but she leaned forward slightly as the path crept upward toward a break at the top.
As Rin broke through the trees into the clearing at the crest, the rain picked up into a cold, sad, steady, drizzle that gave her pause. She was very sad here for some reason – something more than the rain. Something……Hisao.
Rin looked out into the clearing. The hilltop before her rolled down lazily into wild meadows and was covered with young Dandelions. Buds, waiting to burst open into yellow flora, swung gently atop their thin, green stalks, bowing sharply whenever raindrops found them.
There, atop the hill, among the Dandelions, stood a single, squared-off gray stone.
Rin stood quietly staring at the stone, watching raindrops tap on it, darkening it as they collected and flowed down the sides in streaks. She walked over to the stone slowly, an emptiness in her growing with each step. She’d known the stone was here. It had appeared suddenly one day some time ago. Still, it gave her a shock each time she saw it - as if each time was the first time.
As she stopped before it, Rin bowed her head to look at the stone now dark with rain. A gust of wind pushed against her--tousling her ragged, red hair, caressing her cheeks, and pressing rain drops, like cold kisses, against her pale face. They mixed with the tears that now appeared there as well.
“Hisao,” read the single inscription on the stone, and Rin mouthed his name silently. The only other decoration on the stone were two intertwined Dandelions painted beneath the name, their flowering, yellow heads facing each other.
Rin’s large, green eyes stared vacantly at the stone for a bit.
“I made a painting of you,” she whispered. “I think you’ll like it.”
“I did it today.”
“You can see it after dinner.”
Rin remained there for some time, the rain continuing to drizzle down on the artist and the stone, soaking both but neither noticing.
“Rin,” a voice called out from the wooded path.
“Hisao?!” Rin’s mind thought briefly in confusion before it transposed the sudden sound into recognition.
“Rin!” came the call, closer this time. Definitely a woman’s voice.
Rin turned slowly toward the path and the voice and saw a short, blond woman, mouth and green eyes smiling and her bright, yellow rain coat dripping as she climbed up the hill. There was a barely noticeable but unnatural movement to her slight form as artificial legs sought purchase on the wet path.
“Hello Emi,” said Rin, her voice still quiet and somber. She turned back toward the stone as Emi reached her. “I painted a picture for Hisao. I’m going to show it to him after dinner.”
Emi stopped next to Rin, a wistful look replacing her normally cheerful expression. She turned her head to join Rin in looking at the stone monument on the hill.
“Oh Rin,” she said quietly, “I miss Hisao too.”
The words sat on the air for a moment, untouched, until the wind carried them off, leaving silence between the two women.
“He has a bad heart,” was Rin’s only, eventual reply--then more silence.
Letting out a deep, sad breath, Emi placed an arm around Rin’s cold, wet shoulders and gave a quick hug.
“Come on, “she said, adding a measure of deliberate cheer to her voice, “let’s get you back to the house, you need to change.”
Rin looked at the stone a bit more, then muttered in a voice only the stone could hear, “I already changed, I don’t want to change anymore.”
Rin then turned her head toward a waiting Emi and nodded once, slowly. Emi, her arm still around Rin’s shoulders and a smile back on her face, led Rin away from the stone, the hill, and the Dandelions, back through the solemn, waiting trees, and into the artist’s empty home.
----------------------------------------------------
Author’s notes: Like so many other people, I found my thoughts captured by Katawa Shoujo (KS). When I see comments such as “KS changed my life” or “It made me want to be a better person,” I can empathize completely.
The basic idea for this short story came to me instantly and unexpectedly as I sat at my desk at work. I’d completed the Rin path for the first time a few days earlier, and the experience had stayed with me in my musings and day dreams. I spent the next two hours capturing and fleshing out what had jumped into my mind – missing a teleconference and a meeting in the process. (I work at a government job, so I’m pretty sure they weren’t too important.) When I was done with that initial capture, I went out to the woods behind my building and cried. It was probably the most emotional writing experience I’d ever had.
I’ve spent about four weeks since then working on refinements – sometimes setting it aside for a few days to “rest,” and always a bit reluctant to read it again.
I originally intended to keep this story as a personal thing – especially since so many others seem to have moved on from KS. Eventually I was convinced to share it with the KS community. I’ll admit I kind of hate myself for the story in a “how could I even think that” sort of way. It makes my chest tight every time I read it – even after so many times. I hope it gave you that same feeling because it means that Rin still has meaning for you. I don’t know though, perhaps it only works for me since I already have the visuals in my head?
Anyhow, enjoy. I welcome your comments and inputs.
Blessings! - CM
Rin: Hisao’s Gift
By cosmicmustache
[Based on the Rin Tezuka path of the Four Leaf Studios’ visual novel “Katawa Shoujo”]
Rin sat still before the blank canvas in the natural lighting of her atelier. Sunlight, tempered by forming clouds, highlighted her Auburn hair with a glimmer on the occasional silver strand that had begun to appear not long ago--not that she’d noticed.
She was focused inward. On Hisao. This painting was for him. She wanted to capture how she saw him. She thought it would make him happy, even if he still wouldn’t be able to understand. Her foot moved over in a smooth, fluid motion, grasping a broad brush from the floor and laboring it with bright yellow paint for the back ground. Slow broad strokes filled out an asymmetric oval upon the canvas. This was followed soon by horizontal highlights made with a light green Hisao had first revealed to her as he’d helped her with a mural soon after they’d first met. It hadn’t been the meaning-of-life green she’d wanted then, but it was now a core part of her palette, just as he was a part of her. It could be found in all of her paintings, and the world of art critics now commonly referred to it as “Tezuka Green”--though, Rin thought wryly, it should really be “Nakai Green.”
Time passed without notice and without interruption in Rin’s retreat. The only changes were the colorful progress on the canvas and the dimming of light as clouds outside continued to darken. Unlike so many of her other paintings, when she was finished, she knew it, just as she knew Hisao. It had all come together just as she dreamed, and she smiled lightly as she thought of sharing this with him.
Rin dropped her used brushes, bristles first, into a clear jar of brush cleaner, watching the paint swirl and flow in dancing waves of color until it all became a uniform brackish brown. She then recapped her paints, because Hisao always stressed the need to be tidy when done. She was ready--it was ready.
“Hisao!” she called out, her voice echoing about the atelier and on into the empty hallway leading to the main part of their home. She listened a bit, but there was no answer or sound in response.
Hopping up from her chair, Rin stretched her lean form side to side to get the kinks out of her back and then stood up and down on her tip toes to stretch her feet and legs. Sighing she walked out of the atelier and into the main part of the house to look for Hisao.
She passed first through the kitchen, clean and neat except for a few empty takeout boxes and soda cans resting, forgotten, on the counter. A glass bowl of fresh oranges at the center of the kitchen’s island caught her eye. Their color popped out in contrast to the dark granite counter beneath them. She was hungry, but that could wait.
Rin entered the large, open living room where many of her paintings, some new and others from as far back as the days at Yamaku, were on display upon the white walls. Hisao had insisted they keep many of her works that probably would have sold very well. She was grateful for that, as she never liked losing track of her memories, and she felt a lightness in her chest knowing he treasured them as much as she. They didn’t need to sell them anyhow as her career had launched her to enough recognition to support them well – her painting, him managing the business side of things.
The lights in the main part of the house were off, but they’d had their home designed with numerous skylights that normally lit the main rooms with fresh, natural sunlight--the better to accentuate her paintings. Today, however, grey clouds cast a melancholy, bluish tint on everything, toning down the normally bright colors and fading stark lines.
She knew all of these paintings – these memories – by heart, and now she came to a stop in front of one of the older ones. It was the one she’d been painting that day in Art Club, skulls highlighted in vibrant, living yellow – each exposing itself to the world. It was the time he’d sat and just watched her, which, she thought, crinkling her nose a bit, still didn’t make sense as she hadn’t been sleeping; or at least she didn’t remember being asleep. But the painting told her that she hadn’t minded Hisao watching her. She had found comfort in being open and exposed to him, like the skulls in the painting. It had probably been the first time she’d actually used a thought to ponder the idea of him being “not a friend”--like he was now. It was the first time she thought someone might actually be able to see inside of her.
Rin moved on a few steps stopping in front of the only work in the house that wasn’t hers. It was the pen sketch Hisao had drawn of her his first time at the art club. Rin smiled a bit mischievously and thought, “Hisao, you REALLY need more practice.” It was pretty bad, but she recognized it was important. This one was his memory just as the others were hers. The picture she’d drawn of Hisao as part of the same project hung just above.
“So sad,” she declared to the empty room as she took in the memory again.
Movement suddenly caught Rin’s wide, green eyes. Clouds. Gray clouds slipping across a dim sky, reflected against the large panes of glass lining the back wall of their home. Her imagination and attention captured, she followed them over to the broad windows and looked out.
It was an overcast day, but that was okay. It gave the back yard and the woods beyond the house a gently, wistful look – very melancholy. The trees moved back and forth gently in the growing breeze of approaching weather. It looked as if they were waving to her. She nodded back and grinned slightly, even as she captured a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass -- noting with a short-lived surprise that her face had started to grow lines around the mouth and eyes. “When did they get there?” It was an observation quickly dismissed, though, as she returned to looking at the trees.
“I need to go say ‘hi’ to them,” she muttered. First, though, she really needed to show Hisao the painting.
“Hisao!” she called out again, and again her voice echoed down empty hallways and into vacant rooms.
Rin frowned slightly as a sad thought came to her. She couldn’t quite grasp the thought though, as it fluttered around other thoughts, so she just shrugged and headed further into the house, moving lazily toward the bedroom.
Leaning her head into the doorway Rin let out a slow, cheerful “Hellooooo” followed soon by an exasperated “hmph” as she found Hisao wasn’t in this room either. She noticed that her side of the bed – her side of the room - had become a bit messy again, much in contrast to Hisao’s side which always seemed tidy and clean these days. The contrast was interesting enough that she spent a moment trying to decide if she could capture it in her painting? The effort didn’t last too long.
“Hmm, Emi is not going to be happy with this mess,” she whispered to the indifferent room.
“Emi?!” she thought with a start and then a smirk, “Now why would I think of her?” It had been a long time since she’d needed Emi to take care of her. Hisao had been her constant companion since high school, ever since that day with the Dandelions. She smiled at this--a memory that never left her.
Sighing, Rin thought to herself, “I’ll show him the painting later--after dinner maybe. For now, I need to go walk.”
Leaving the empty bedroom behind, Rin moved once again into the silent living room, past the walls of painted memories, and on to the back door.
With practiced ease she pulled on a sweatshirt that hung by the door for her regular walks into the woods. She always felt the need to go there, rain or shine, at least once each day. Sometimes Hisao would go with her, but recently she seemed to find herself going on these treks alone.
Rin slipped on her sandals and went out the back door, then down the steps that took her to the start of a worn dirt path that meandered into the woods.
Entering she reveled briefly in the solemn sadness of the trees and the dim light that danced, diffused, between leaves and onto the brown earth. But a thought kept revealing itself as the shadows took her in. “I wish Hisao was with me.”
The path was solid and familiar beneath her sandals as she made her way. The wind had picked up and continued to blow the branches above and around her to and fro as she greeted a familiar tree here and there. The sky also continued to grow darker, and soon she heard the patter of singular rain drops tapping on the canopy above. The occasional drop would find its way between the multitudes of greenery to land with a ‘plop’ on the ground around her. Rain didn’t bother her, however, and she continued on her way.
She reached the hill in the woods and began the climb upward. It wasn’t a particularly steep climb, but she leaned forward slightly as the path crept upward toward a break at the top.
As Rin broke through the trees into the clearing at the crest, the rain picked up into a cold, sad, steady, drizzle that gave her pause. She was very sad here for some reason – something more than the rain. Something……Hisao.
Rin looked out into the clearing. The hilltop before her rolled down lazily into wild meadows and was covered with young Dandelions. Buds, waiting to burst open into yellow flora, swung gently atop their thin, green stalks, bowing sharply whenever raindrops found them.
There, atop the hill, among the Dandelions, stood a single, squared-off gray stone.
Rin stood quietly staring at the stone, watching raindrops tap on it, darkening it as they collected and flowed down the sides in streaks. She walked over to the stone slowly, an emptiness in her growing with each step. She’d known the stone was here. It had appeared suddenly one day some time ago. Still, it gave her a shock each time she saw it - as if each time was the first time.
As she stopped before it, Rin bowed her head to look at the stone now dark with rain. A gust of wind pushed against her--tousling her ragged, red hair, caressing her cheeks, and pressing rain drops, like cold kisses, against her pale face. They mixed with the tears that now appeared there as well.
“Hisao,” read the single inscription on the stone, and Rin mouthed his name silently. The only other decoration on the stone were two intertwined Dandelions painted beneath the name, their flowering, yellow heads facing each other.
Rin’s large, green eyes stared vacantly at the stone for a bit.
“I made a painting of you,” she whispered. “I think you’ll like it.”
“I did it today.”
“You can see it after dinner.”
Rin remained there for some time, the rain continuing to drizzle down on the artist and the stone, soaking both but neither noticing.
“Rin,” a voice called out from the wooded path.
“Hisao?!” Rin’s mind thought briefly in confusion before it transposed the sudden sound into recognition.
“Rin!” came the call, closer this time. Definitely a woman’s voice.
Rin turned slowly toward the path and the voice and saw a short, blond woman, mouth and green eyes smiling and her bright, yellow rain coat dripping as she climbed up the hill. There was a barely noticeable but unnatural movement to her slight form as artificial legs sought purchase on the wet path.
“Hello Emi,” said Rin, her voice still quiet and somber. She turned back toward the stone as Emi reached her. “I painted a picture for Hisao. I’m going to show it to him after dinner.”
Emi stopped next to Rin, a wistful look replacing her normally cheerful expression. She turned her head to join Rin in looking at the stone monument on the hill.
“Oh Rin,” she said quietly, “I miss Hisao too.”
The words sat on the air for a moment, untouched, until the wind carried them off, leaving silence between the two women.
“He has a bad heart,” was Rin’s only, eventual reply--then more silence.
Letting out a deep, sad breath, Emi placed an arm around Rin’s cold, wet shoulders and gave a quick hug.
“Come on, “she said, adding a measure of deliberate cheer to her voice, “let’s get you back to the house, you need to change.”
Rin looked at the stone a bit more, then muttered in a voice only the stone could hear, “I already changed, I don’t want to change anymore.”
Rin then turned her head toward a waiting Emi and nodded once, slowly. Emi, her arm still around Rin’s shoulders and a smile back on her face, led Rin away from the stone, the hill, and the Dandelions, back through the solemn, waiting trees, and into the artist’s empty home.
----------------------------------------------------
Author’s notes: Like so many other people, I found my thoughts captured by Katawa Shoujo (KS). When I see comments such as “KS changed my life” or “It made me want to be a better person,” I can empathize completely.
The basic idea for this short story came to me instantly and unexpectedly as I sat at my desk at work. I’d completed the Rin path for the first time a few days earlier, and the experience had stayed with me in my musings and day dreams. I spent the next two hours capturing and fleshing out what had jumped into my mind – missing a teleconference and a meeting in the process. (I work at a government job, so I’m pretty sure they weren’t too important.) When I was done with that initial capture, I went out to the woods behind my building and cried. It was probably the most emotional writing experience I’d ever had.
I’ve spent about four weeks since then working on refinements – sometimes setting it aside for a few days to “rest,” and always a bit reluctant to read it again.
I originally intended to keep this story as a personal thing – especially since so many others seem to have moved on from KS. Eventually I was convinced to share it with the KS community. I’ll admit I kind of hate myself for the story in a “how could I even think that” sort of way. It makes my chest tight every time I read it – even after so many times. I hope it gave you that same feeling because it means that Rin still has meaning for you. I don’t know though, perhaps it only works for me since I already have the visuals in my head?
Anyhow, enjoy. I welcome your comments and inputs.
Blessings! - CM
