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"It's your fault!"
The beer bottle shatters on the wall next to his head and he can't move, paralyzed with fear. He can feel a small bit of blood trickle down the side of his face as he stares into his mother's eyes, twisted with rage.
He hurriedly pulls his art project for the day - a mask made of assorted fabric bits - over his head, eyes widened in terror and confusion. "Is this... better?"
His mother stops, placing the bottle on the ground. "...yeah. Yeah, that's better."
Am I... ugly?
He stares at his hands, smooth and unblemished, evident of a lack of work and effort. I must be... ugly.
He tries out the word, slipping it over himself like a second skin. Ugly. I'm... ugly.
At least he has a name now. A name for what's wrong with him. A name for why his mother won't love him.
If I'm so ugly... maybe it would be better if nobody saw me.
Maybe it would be better if I just disappeared.
He's walking down the street when the word pierces his mind, forcing him to a stop.
"Beautiful."
Like the naive coward he is, he spins around, hoping to verify that yes, they are talking about someone else. Crush his hopes back into a little pile of dirt that's just as ugly as he is.
But no.
That boy - the strange boy with the long hair - that boy is staring at him.
"Beautiful," he repeats, and Jataro honestly has no idea what's going on.
"Me?" he asks, pointing at himself hesitantly.
"Yes."
The boy moves closer, expression unreadable behind the mask that covers the lower half of his face. For an instant, Jataro can almost see him wreathed in thorns and standing amidst a pile of artifacts, and in the next, it's gone.
He's only a year or two older than Jataro, if he had to guess. Certainly old enough to be delusional.
Still.
"Me...?" Jataro asks, still utterly befuddled. "No... you're wrong! My face is so ugly that if anyone looks at it... their eyeballs will melt off!"
The other boy tilts his head, apparently unfazed. "So?"
That throws Jataro for a loop, and it takes him a moment to reclaim his train of thought. "So... I'm ugly!"
"No, you're not."
Honestly, this boy is delusional.
He doesn't notice when the boy starts to speak again, but the words immediately pierce into his soul once he does.
"All of humanity is beautiful. And you're human. You have feelings, relationships, free will... you are human. So you are beautiful."
The boy places a hand on his head and offers him a look of... studying? Confusion? Reassurance? "You are beautiful."
Jataro's so dumbfounded that he doesn't even notice when the boy walks away, and has to race after him to find out more. "Wait...! Who are you!"
The boy turns, and for a second, Jataro can see those roses and thorns again, silhouetting his form amidst a blood-red garden. "Korekiyo Shinguji. I'm going to be the Ultimate Anthropologist."
Jataro clenches his fist in determination, a newfound purpose coursing through his veins. "Well...! I'm Jataro Kemuri! And I'm going to be the Ultimate Artist! So I'm going to make beautiful art for you to study it!"
The boy dips his head in assent, a smirk playing across his face. "I look forwards to it, Jataro Kemuri."
He closes his eyes and imprints the words into his memory, forcing himself to remember every inch of it. The diction, pitch, pattern, everything. He will remember it, even if the boy is crazy. Even if he never manages to make art enough for the other boy to see and study... he'll still treasure the words.
You are beautiful.