Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Mafuyu’s art exhibit opened on a Sunday.

The attendance was more impressive than would be expected of a high school artist. Mafuyu should be out there thanking the guests and building connections with others in the field, but she found herself standing in the corner, hoping that nobody would see her.

Was this normal behaviour for an artist?

She forced herself to come out of hiding when Akito came by with his singing buddy, Aoyagi Touya, and Mafuyu’s fellow second-year class representative at Kamiyama High school, Tenma Tsukasa. Apparently, Tsukasa was Touya’s childhood friend and mentor, and he decided to tag along when he heard about the event from Touya.

“Ha ha ha, and of course I also came to support you, my dear comrade Mafuyu! I see that you have put together a very marvelous exhibit! You deserve every bit of praise for all your amazing work!” Tsukasa’s voice boomed throughout the exhibition hall, prompting Mafuyu’s smile to become even more rigid than what it had already been a moment ago. Akito could not tell whether Mafuyu was embarrassed, or if she was even capable of feeling embarrassed for that matter. But he was certainly feeling the second-hand embarrassment just by standing next to Tsukasa, so he gave Touya a displeased stare in hopes that he’d do something to keep their overly loud senpai contained.

“Tsukasa-senpai, I am sure Asahina-senpai is quite busy today. Let us not occupy more of her time. I saw an interesting piece near the entrance of the exhibit – do you mind coming with me to take a look?” Touya suggested.

“Of course, of course! I must therefore bid you farewell for now, Mafuyu. I shall deliver a more detailed critique of your work when I see you around at school!”

Akito’s annoyed glare followed Tsukasa until he disappeared into the crowd. “Since when are you on first name basis with that weirdo?” he then asked his sister.

Mafuyu chuckled. “I think Tenma-san prefers using others’ given names in order to build a friendlier relationship with them. You should not make fun of him for his good intentions – he is your senpai after all.”

Akito rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, it isn’t like I’d call him a weirdo to his face. You really be even more of a nag than mom! By the way, I think I’ve seen Yukihira-sensei when I came in – did Pops also stop by?”

Yukihira Saneatsu was their father’s close friend and fellow artist. Known for his sharp eyes for good art and extraordinary teaching methods, his studio became the go-to place for students studying to apply for the prestigious Tokyo Arts University. Saying that it was better for Mafuyu to learn from an unbiased teacher, her father had sent her to Yukihira’s studio since she was in elementary school. But while Yukihira-sensei has grown increasingly fond of Mafuyu’s genius compositions and unique colour use, her father has become more and more critical of her choice to keep painting.

“You have the talent to become a world-class painter, but is that really what you want?”

“No,” Mafuyu uttered painfully when a foreign pressure filled her chest. She could not understand why she was feeling like this. “I don’t think Father would come.”

Akito’s brows furrowed at Mafuyu’s strange expression. It was probably not just his imagination that there was something seriously wrong with his sister. “Are you okay? You don’t look so well.”

“I am fine.”

Luckily for Mafuyu, a commotion near the entrance distracted Akito’s attention – a middle-aged lady was dragging whom looked to be her teenage daughter by the hand, forcing her to enter the exhibition hall.

“Okay, okay, I’ll come with you! You’re making me look like a petulant child!” the girl said as she shook off her mother’s hand. The girl’s attire was fashionable but a bit too casual for the occasion – it was clear that she did not want to be here, and she stuck out like a sore thumb for that reason.

Having gotten what she wanted, the woman conceded and followed her daughter closely instead. Akito noticed how the woman’s appearance coincidentally resembled his sister’s – they had the same silken violet hair and a striking beauty in their facial features. However, the woman’s personality might as well be Mafuyu’s polar opposite; her dominating presence could be felt by every stranger within the vicinity. Akito had to marvel at how even those who looked alike could be so different in nature. Then again, he and Mafuyu were siblings, and they were nothing alike either.

………………

“You see how skillful the artist is at depicting texture? It is the same oil on canvas, but the strength depicted in the rock cliff contrasts so strongly with the delicate flower petals in the sky. Look at the detail in those petals. You can see their translucent quality under the bright light. If you can be a tenth as good as her, I would not oppose your career choice.” Mrs. Asahina gave Ena an earful while they observed the first painting they had come across in the exhibit.

“I know that much, Mom,” Ena snapped back. She did not want to be here, but her mother always had her way at the end of the day. Once her mother had brought home the tickets for the exhibit, there was no turning back. If Ena had refused to come, her allowance would be cut, her internet would be cut, she’d be grounded till she begged for forgiveness, after which she’d be put through some insane studying program at a cram school as punishment – Ena had learned that the hard way once upon a time.

But now that Ena had come, she would try to learn what she could from the amazing works in front of her. She scoffed at Mrs. Asahina’s shallow critique of the painting they were observing. The expert treatment of texture was just basic skill – what made Shinonome Mafuyu’s art stand out from the rest was the way she created worlds with her brush, worlds that sucked her audience in with a single gaze. The landscape piece they were looking at did not have a specific focus point, but the pale colours of the distant mountains building upon each other into the solid and majestic hues of the foreground cliffs gave a vast depth to the canvas, making it seem like the sakura petals were dancing wildly in an infinite space. In contrast, the painting next to it had a very strong focus on the brightly coloured emperor butterfly in the middle of the thick woods. The butterfly’s fragility was palpable when compared to the hard trunks of the towering redwoods surrounding it, but why did it seem so strong, so captivating? Using two drastically different composition styles, Mafuyu created two different worlds, each as hypnotizing as the other. But Ena couldn’t help but notice that all of Mafuyu’s worlds looked a bit lonely – was this an accurate critique or was it merely a projection of Ena’s depressed feelings?

“Mrs. Asahina, long time no see!” someone greeted Ena’s mother from behind. Ena did not wait for her mother’s response before she used the opportunity to escape towards the back of the exhibit. Even if she must come to this place where each painting seemed to exist to chide her lack of talents, she would rather wallow in self-pity alone than have her mother rub salt into her wound along the way.

A painting caught Ena’s eyes, prompting her to stop in front of it. While the other paintings were also not cheerful in the least, this one stood out for its blatant display of emotional turmoil. It was of the silhouette of a girl bent over a desk, and the only light source on the canvas came from a cold blue laptop screen on said desk. The line art was uneven and the colours on the girl were so muddied that they almost blended into the darkness around her, yet the imperfections conveyed not poor technique but a deep, hollow pain that seemed to warp Ena’s very perception.

The painting was titled “Self”.

Tears welled up from Ena’s eyes and fell silently.

“I wanted to paint this too!” she exclaimed a bit too loudly to herself. A girl standing in the corner had heard what she had said and walked slowly towards her.

Hahaha…the girl even looked a bit like Ena’s mother. How funny. It was like that bitch just couldn’t stop following her, laughing at her.

The girl did not introduce herself. “Why?” she asked Ena out of the blue.

“What do you mean why?” Ena snapped back in an even ruder tone. The girl remained unfazed.

“You said you wanted to paint this.”

“I did! Heh, you probably think I’m lying. I’m not. I did paint something like this in middle school – my own silhouette bent over a sink, with the lighting coming from a fluorescent tube above the mirror. And guess what my teacher said? He didn’t know why my lines were crooked. Said my colours were so muddy that it flattened the depth and made it hard to find focus on the image. I once thought he said that just to be a jerk, but now I get it…the same concept but a skillful execution would lead to a masterpiece like this. This is what true depression looks like – the agony of not having what you have always desired, the frustration of trying and trying only to still fail. But that shouldn’t have anything to do with the artist, right? She has everything already – what more does she want? What gives her the right to say that this pain belongs to her? This is what my self looks like, not hers!”

“Ena, can’t you behave yourself for a single moment?” Mrs. Asahina finally caught up to her daughter after hurriedly ending her conversation with her friend. She had always known that Ena was a bit rude, but angrily ranting at a stranger was a new low even for her. “I apologize for my daughter’s unacceptable behaviour. Please forgive us,” she said while bowing deeply before pulling Ena away from the other girl. Ena scowled at her.

“You don’t even know what happened. Don’t apologize on my behalf!” Ena pried off Mrs. Asahina’s grasp and ran for the door.

………………

By the time Akito ran over to Mafuyu’s side, that crazy stranger who had been ranting at her was already gone.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” he grumbled before turning towards his sister. “She didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

Mafuyu shook her head. She wanted to smile, but this time she could not even muster the strength to put up a pretense.

“Just another person one-sidedly deciding how I ought to feel,” she muttered.

That night, Yuki disappeared from Nightcord.