Chapter Text
Asahina Ena hated her mother.
“Get down here, Ena! I’m not done with you yet!”
And there goes her mother screaming again. Ena kept her door locked, but she was sure her mother would barge in at any moment – the control freak had a master key for every room in their unnecessarily big house. Before her mother could do that, Ena plugged in her earbuds and played her favourite song from the Vocaloid producer, OWN. For short moments, she experienced some reprieve from the stress of being a daughter within the Asahina household, retreating to a world filled solely with harsh synthetic notes echoing between desolate beats…
BAM!
“What did I say about locking yourself in your bedroom?” her mother came crashing in as predicted. “We’re not done our conversation yet. You’re sixteen, not six. Is this the extent of your communication skills?”
Ena ignored her initially but could not do so for much longer, as her mother pulled out the noise-cancelling earbuds from Ena’s ears.
“Listen, Young Lady. This is not how you act around your mother.”
“And you are acting awfully like a mother now, huh?” Ena snapped back.
“What did you say!???”
Oh, Ena could smell the rant coming. Blah blah blah you have no idea how much your father and I have sacrificed for you. You are a lazy little brat who wastes your time doodling – what are you going to do with your life? You’ll end up flipping burgers at MOS, yadeedadeeda. Ena has heard her say this crap over and over countless times already. What’s new?
“Look at this,” her mother said, tossing a piece of paper onto Ena’s table. Well, that was something new indeed. Ena refused to look however – such was her defiance. No matter. Her mother kept speaking, obviously not asking for her permission. “You want to draw as a living? Then reach this level. The painter putting on this exhibit is the same age as you.”
Who was this bitch her mother was talking about? That was what went through her mind when Ena finally snatched up the piece of paper, a flyer for an exhibit at the art gallery. “In my father’s footsteps – Shinonome Mafuyu”, the text read. The beautiful cursive stood out from a backdrop of greys and muted greens, a painting of a girl trudging in snow that was already dinted by the prints of shoes larger than her own. The painting was done in a style that combined the meticulousness of classic European traditions with East Asian ink wash techniques. Ena would best describe it as similar to the works of Giuseppe Castiglione but with a contemporary twist. It was frustratingly breathtaking, reminding Ena of what she wanted to become but could never reach. She crumpled the flyer into a ball and threw it against her wall.
“You know who her father is? Shinonome Shinei. One of, if not THE most famous painter in this country alive. Of course she is good! She’s born with talent and a dad to nourish it. And I? Whatever shred of talent I have would’ve been thoroughly trampled by YOU!”
For a moment, Mrs. Asahina was silent. It was tempting to celebrate the victory, but her mother’s reddening eyes made Ena feel bad about herself. Okay, she might’ve gone just a tad too far. But what she said was true! Partially. It was true that her mother had been anything but supportive of her…even if she was right that Ena was talentless…and likely wouldn’t succeed…
“Do what you want,” Mrs. Asahina said quietly, took steps out of the room, and then shut the door softly…TOO softly. Yeah, yeah, she was the mature one. Ena was the brat throwing a hissy fit. Ena already knew that.
She put her earbuds back on, numbing herself with OWN’s melodies. If only she could be as amazing as OWN, then her mother wouldn’t be so disappointed, right?
………………
“Have you heard of OWN?” Enanan was speaking excitedly on their Nightcord chat. As her net “friend” ranted about the Vocaloid producer, Shinonome Mafuyu sank further into her chair. What a droning conversation. Mafuyu cared not one bit about the subject. What was OWN’s music good for when it served not its original purpose? Why should Mafuyu care about whether Enanan enjoyed the pieces? They weren’t written for her anyway.
“What about you, Yuki? What do you think?”
Ah, right. Enanan had asked for all of them to listen to OWN’s song, the one Mafuyu had crapped out on a whim last week after attending her brother’s live. Her mother might like using Mafuyu as an example for lecturing Akito on his less-than-stellar school grades, but in reality, it was Mafuyu who was deeply jealous of her younger sibling. Akito’s goal in life had always been crystal clear. When he used to play soccer, he aimed for the best. The moment he realized that he didn’t have enough enthusiasm to reach the top, he stopped playing, pursuing music instead. At first, Mafuyu thought that he had done it out of rebelliousness – Mafuyu had been the one to suggest the challenge, and while their siblings relationship was cordial, Akito hated losing to Mafuyu on anything. But no matter how many tribulations Akito had to fight through since that decision, he pulled himself along, eyes fixed on the future. That was what Mafuyu got from Akito’s music when she listened to BAD DOGS sing. And when Mafuyu attempted the same thing? Enanan might praise OWN’s music as deep and raw, but ultimately it was a load of worthless garbage, directionless and uninspirational.
“It is quite amazing, isn’t it? Thanks for the suggestion, Enanan,” Mafuyu answered.
She wouldn’t tell her net “friend” the truth though. They weren’t real friends anyway.
“Mafuyu, you still up?” came a voice from the door. It was her brother. Mafuyu immediately muted the Nightcord chat, minimized the window, and went to answer the door. Akito stood there in his usual awkward way, both hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “It’s getting late. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Thanks for worrying about me. I will be done in a bit.”
“I’m not…worried. It’s just…mom would be worried, right? And lately, you’ve been looking so exhausted.”
“I am fine.”
Akito scowled at Mafuyu’s insistence, clearly in disbelief. He made an intentionally loud sigh.
“What efs. If you don’t wanna talk about it, I won’t ask.” He turned around and raised a hand to signal his exit. “Anyway, goodnight. I’ll take the bike down at seven if you want a ride.”
Maybe it wasn’t a matter of Enanan being “not a real friend”. Mafuyu would not tell her own brother the truth either.
The truth that she was completely empty inside.
Not to her brother, not to her parents, not to anybody.
"If you don’t like art, you should just quit."
Her father’s words echoed through her mind. He must’ve known. Maybe Akito too. But so what? Without her pretense, Shinonome Mafuyu was nobody.
“If I do not like anything, then should I just quit…life?” Mafuyu muttered the question into the air.