Chapter Text
Every now and again, Mika accepts an invitation to give a short guest lecture at the local arts university. He isn’t sure why he always say yes. The university doesn’t pay him, although it’s not like he needs the money. He’s built a career around being able to work at his own pace, so he often forgets to arrange the content of the lecture until the morning it’s due to be given. Still, he pulls it together each time and always ends up with enough things to say to fill fifty minutes, even if he has to scribble them out on the back of a receipt during the taxi ride over. What really gets to him is the short time where students – and professors, because sometimes they want to hear from him too – are allowed to ask questions. It’s both anxiety-inducing and cringeworthy to listen to egocentric nineteen year olds come out with meaningless yet overly complex questions about his art, or worse, confront him with their own interpretations.
“So I guess what I’m trying to ask is, would it be accurate to say that this work was heavily influenced by themes of longing and absence?”
Mika glances up at the projector, where a low-resolution image of one of his least favorite works is displayed against a smeared whiteboard. The painting is of a young girl in motion against a dark background, pigtails coming undone as she spins. In her hands are the paws of a teddy bear, the rest of its body lost.
“Er,” Mika says. “I don’t think that’s accurate at all, if I’m bein’ totally honest with ya. I mean, it’s fine if ya see it that way, but I didn’t have any of that in mind. It’s more about holdin’ onto somethin’ after it gets ripped away from ya, as I was sayin’ about ten minutes ago. Longin’ and absence are too passive. It’s an active sorta loss, more like livin’ in the aftermath of a theft.” He smiles sheepishly. “If that makes any sense at all.”
The student flushes bright red and quickly sits down. His friend giggles at him.
“Alright, alright, I think that’s enough for now,” a professor says. “Thank you once again to Kagehira for coming in today.”
He stands up and shakes Mika’s hands to a smattering of applause. Most of the students file out quickly, ready to rush to their next class, but a few idle awkwardly in the aisles and eye Mika while they wait for him to finish talking to the group of faculty that’s gathered around him. Mika pointedly avoids eye contact with everyone except the professor who invited him, who seems to be the only person in the room capable of speaking to him normally.
“Impressive as always, Kagehira,” he says with a congenial smile. “Thank you for stopping by. You do so much for this institution.” Most of the other faculty nod along.
“Aw, thanks,” Mika says. “I like visitin’. It’s cool to see what the next generation of artists is gettin’ up to.”
The professor laughs heartily. “You sound wise beyond your years! You’re not much older than they are. To us, you’re part of their generation,” he says.
Mika chuckles along even though he disagrees. He may only be in his mid-20s, but he feels as if he’s lived an entire lifetime between when he sold his first painting and today.
“Well, I never got to come to a place like this,” he says. “I wanna give some of the students the support I didn’t get, y’know?”
“And it’s much appreciated.”
Another professor, a younger woman wearing tortoiseshell glasses and a vibrant long skirt, pipes up. “There’s a student showcase happening in my department today,” she says. “Fashion design graduates - well, soon-to-be graduates. I know it’s not your medium of choice, but would you like to walk around?”
Mika turns to her, grateful that the conversation has been diverted from a stream of uncomfortable praise. “I’d love to,” he says. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, stunned, before nodding eagerly.
“Right - right! Yes, they’d love that. Thank you,” she says. “Shall I lead you downstairs?”
The hall is rammed with people when they arrive, so much so that Mika is almost tempted to back out altogether. Despite the staggering amount of attention he’s commanded in the past few years, he’s never been good in crowds. The professor who asked him to come has been bouncing with glee the entire way over, so he doesn’t feel too awkward sticking beside her.
“There are prospective employers here today, so our students have brought out their strongest work,” she explains as they begin down a row of tables and mannequins. Mika raises an eyebrow at a pair of cyan pants so distressed that the seams are literally held together by a thread. “Comme des Garçons hired an intern from this course last year, so I think there’s a lot of nervous energy.”
“Wow,” he says. “Sounds intense.”
“We’ve limited everyone to five pieces, although some have dodged the restriction by adding jewelry, accessories, that sort of thing,” she continues. “And I personally believe fashion doesn’t need to play by any rules, so I love it. Um, but don’t mention that to the head of department.”
Mika pauses at a table manned by a tall girl dressed in top-to-toe light blue lolita. She’s so absorbed in a conversation with an older couple that she doesn’t notice Mika, which suits him just fine. He examines her rows of cotton candy colored chokers and bracelets with half-hearted interest.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” the professor says over his shoulder. He shrugs before he can think better of it.
“On a technical level, yeah, but -” He notices the girl looking at him with terror. “Erm, but they’re great.” He lifts his head and waves at her. She coughs and averts her gaze. The professor hurries him along.
“Have you ever considered working with clothing?” she asks. He shakes his head.
“I’ve got no sense for what looks nice in that department, I’m afraid,” Mika says. His eye is briefly caught by a suit decorated with hundreds of multicolored sequins before he gestures down at his own clothing. He never thinks twice about what he wears, so his wardrobe is mostly made up of basics to avoid accidental clashes. “All plain and borin’. There’s styles that I like, y’know, goth things and some streetwear stuff, but I never know where to start.”
The professor nods. “Of course, of course. It isn’t for everyone.”
They reach one end of the hall and begin down the second row. Mika has started to notice students stopping and staring at him as he passes by. Some of them brush off their jackets or adjust their mannequins. Others visibly wilt when he walks by without stopping. He feels bad about it, but very few of their designs appeal enough to him to make him want to stop. He’s just about to cook up a convincing lie so that he can leave when something finally arrests his attention.
A young man is standing beside a single mannequin, his arms crossed, his expression sour. His own outfit, sharp black trousers and a light blue floral shirt, is unassuming but refined. The people on either side of him have attracted small crowds, but no one has dared to speak to him. Mika can’t understand why. Everything about him - the beautiful long jacket hanging on the mannequin, his tousled pink hair, the gentle downward quirk of his lip - makes Mika desperate to know more. He beelines toward him, leaving the professor in the dust.
The man doesn’t seem surprised to see Mika screeching to a halt in front of him. He looks him up and down with a pointed glare as if assessing whether Mika is even worth speaking to. The gift of his attention is enough to make Mika feel giddy.
“Hi,” Mika says breathlessly.
“Hello,” the man replies. He stares at Mika, waiting for more. Mika is all too happy to indulge him.
“Tell me about your work,” he says.
“Hm,” the man says. He gestures toward his mannequin and shakes his head. “It’s not worth looking at. I was told that I would be penalized if I didn’t bring something.”
“But - but it’s stunnin’,” Mika says. He steps closer to the coat and studies it closely. The delicate hand embroidered roses along the collar and placket had been the thing to catch his eye from afar, but up close, it’s the gold details along the rich purple lining that impress him the most. Every inch of the piece appears to have been crafted with the utmost attention to detail down to the smallest ruffles and buckles.
“It’s obviously unfinished,” the man snaps. “Any fool could tell that at a single glance.”
The student to his right, now unoccupied, lets out a startled gasp. “Itsuki, what are you doing?” they hiss. “That’s Kagehira Mika!”
Mika expects him to turn red and begin apologizing profusely, but ‘Itsuki’ doesn’t bat an eyelid. He sniffs disdainfully and conspicuously turns his gaze away, as if there might be something far more interesting just over Mika’s shoulder.
“Well, if this is what the great Kagehira Mika considers appealing, then perhaps he isn’t everything he’s cracked up to be,” he says.
Mika swears he can feel his heart skip a beat. He’s become so used to the backhanded faux-niceties of his usual criticism that it’s refreshing to hear an insult, especially from someone so clearly worth admiring. “What’s your name?” he says.
“Are you planning on referring me to my department for disciplinary action?” Itsuki says.
“Nah, no way,” Mika says. He folds his arms over his chest in a mirror image of Itsuki’s posture and draws himself up to full height. His irises are lavender, a lovely light shade that Mika thinks he could replicate in watercolor. “I’m not that sorta person. I’m askin’ because I like your work.”
Itsuki raises his eyebrow, but to Mika’s delight, he finally relents. “Hm. My full name is Itsuki Shu,” he says.
“Very nice to meet ya.” Mika extends his hand to Shu. After a moment of hesitation, Shu shakes it.
“A pleasure,” he says. Mika’s heart aches at the words, his deep-seated hunger to learn more going unsatiated by his curt remarks.
“Why don’t ya have more stuff out?” Mika says. “Are ya insecure about your work? You shouldn’t be. If your other clothes are even half as good as this, I’d wanna see them fillin’ the whole hall.”
Shu’s scowl deepens “An unfortunate assumption,” he says. “I have no such insecurities - quite the opposite. I haven’t had enough time to devote myself to my craft this semester. Therefore, nothing I’ve made lives up to my personal standards. None of it is suitable for display.”
“So time’s your problem?” Mika says. He looks back toward the coat again. If this is what Shu has made without enough time, then Mika can’t even begin to imagine what he might do with more hours at his disposal. An idea so outrageous that he isn’t sure if he can voice it aloud begins to take shape in his head.
“Isn’t it everyone’s?” Shu says. His eyes shine with wistfulness. A shot of adrenaline courses through Mika and his heart rate accelerates to the point of discomfort. It’s unbelievable, what he wants to say; it’s impulsive, it’s thoughtless, and it would raise every red flag. Above all, though, it’s selfish, because his desire to see more of what Shu can create has become unbearably urgent.
He says it anyway.
“Let me help ya,” he says. Shu cocks his head.
“What do you mean?”
It isn’t an immediate rejection. Mika’s excitement grows. “I mean exactly what I said,” he says. “If you’re short on time, then I want ya to have as much of it as ya can. I can support you a little, y’know, whatever ya might need after your graduation.”
“I don’t understand,” Shu says. Mika detects a hint of trepidation in his voice and scrambles to explain himself.
“Nothin’ weird! I just think your work is incredible and think it would be a real shame for ya to be constrained.” An apt comparison strikes him as he speaks. “It’s like how artists durin’ the Renaissance used to have patrons, y’know?
The confusion melts from Shu’s expression and is briefly replaced by a soft smile before he returns to his default hard stare. Mika prays it won’t be the last time he ever sees him do that.
“I see,” Shu says. He rests a hand on his hip and studies Mika with a newfound appreciation. “Why are you waiting until I graduate?”
It’s Mika’s turn to look confused. “Huh?”
“If you have this much faith in my ability, then why not begin now?” Shu says. “I don’t graduate for another month. I made this in four days, so imagine what I could accomplish in four weeks. Do you really want to waste more time?”
Mika’s mouth drops open. His tendency toward impulsivity has never taken him this far before, and though he was hoping Shu would accept at least a moderated version of his offer, he wasn’t expecting to be met with even more enthusiasm for the plan than he has. Even he hardly knows what he’d meant by his suggestion, but Shu seems to have a clearer idea than he does.
“You’re right. I don’t want ya to waste another second,” he says. “So - so what would you be lookin’ for? What would make your life easier?”
Shu smirks. “To be blunt,” he says. “Funding. My parents used to supply me with more than enough to meet my financial needs, but they’ve cut me off. I can hardly be expected to produce my best work after that.”
“Oh,” Mika says. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
To Mika’s surprise, Shu bursts out laughing. “Kakaka! Don’t be,” he says. “I had no intention of continuing to depend on them after university.”
Mika laughs uneasily. “Well, I won’t keep stickin’ my nose in your business,” he says. “So it’s just a little help with money? I can do that.”
“I know you can,” Shu says. Mika wonders if he should be scandalized by Shu’s boldness, though he supposes Shu should also be scandalized by his.
As he’s thinking of his next reply, he notices that the area around them has gone eerily quiet. He finally takes his eyes off Shu and realizes that both the professor who invited him to give a lecture and the one who brought him down here are watching him, as is every single student whose display is in earshot. Shu, now red-faced, also seems to have crashed back down to Earth.
The younger professor is the first to break the tension. She marches up to Shu and points an accusatory finger at him. “In all my years of teaching at this university, I’ve never seen such disgraceful behavior,” she begins. “Kagehira is our guest, and to see you insulting him and harassing him for money -”
Shu’s lower lip trembles. Mika’s eyes widen. “Um, he isn’t harassin’ me!” he says. He can’t deny the insults, although he can’t say that he minds them.
The other professor places a hand on Mika’s shoulder. “There’s no need to leap to his defense,” he says. Mika shakes his head.
“No, no, ya don’t understand,” he says. “I was the one who offered to support his studies. He was just bein’ honest about what he needed.”
The admission is out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Somehow, even though he knows he should, he can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed about it. The professors exchange an astonished glance and divert their attention from Shu. “What do you mean?” the older one asks.
“Erm - Well, his work, it’s gorgeous,” Mika says with a gesture toward Shu’s coat. “I don’t know much about fashion, but I like to think I’ve got an eye fer beautiful art. And, I mean, you can’t deny this piece’s beauty, right? So, uh, I just wanted to see what, like, he’ll… do next…”
Mika trails off into silence. He’d forgotten that he’d have to explain his proposal to other people. He’d forgotten about a lot of norms, practicalities, and niceties when he suggested it, actually. He feels a small pang of regret until he notices Shu’s lavender eyes shining in his direction.
“... Right,” the younger professor says with a raised eyebrow. “So, like a mentorship?”
“Yeah! Yeah, like a mentorship,” Mika says, nodding rapidly. “I don’t think he’ll need my help for long. I mean, look at this!”
The older professor looks between Shu, Mika, and the coat. He doesn’t appear convinced. The younger professor smiles half-heartedly in Shu’s direction.
“Well, it seems you’ve gotten quite lucky, Itsuki,” she says through gritted teeth. Under her breath, she mutters, “Out of all my students…”
Mika scowls. Shu regards her comment with indifference.
“I must take my leave now,” the older professor says. “Kagehira, are you sure you’re alright?”
“Absolutely,” Mika says flatly. “Thanks for your concern.”
The professors bid them farewell and walk away, although the younger one glances over her shoulder a few times. Mika breathes a sigh of relief and turns back to Shu.
“It’s messed up that they talk to ya like that,” he says. Shu shrugs.
“It’s not the first time I’ve made a scene in the department,” he says. He’s quiet for a few moments, turning over the events of the past half hour in his head. Before Mika can fill the silence, a flash of inspiration lights up his features. “Kagehira, as welcome as your offer is, I can’t accept it yet.”
“Why not?” Mika says, sounding far more like a petulant child than he intended to.
“What have I done to deserve it?” Shu says. “I want to prove myself to you. Give me two weeks - non, ten days! I’ll make something truly impressive for you.”
Mika frowns. “Didn’t you say you wanted to start now?”
Shu casts a furtive glance toward the professors now leaving the hall. “I think it would be prudent for you to have evidence that your decision is sound,” he says. “I’m not sure how they feel about your generous offer.”
Though insecure in many other facets of life, Mika has never been one to doubt his creative decisions. Investing in Shu would be, to his mind, simply another in the long string of good choices that had brought him to where he was today.
“If you’re worried about it, then go right ahead,” Mika says. “ But ya don’t have to do it on my account.”
Shu lets down his defensive posture and opens up his phone, a much older model than Mika’s. He seems to struggle with opening the notes app. When he finally gets a new document open, he offers it to Mika.
“I take it we’ll need some means of instant communication,” Shu says. “I don’t use this very often, so forgive me for any intermittent replies.”
“Not a problem,” Mika says as he taps his phone number into one of the blank boxes. He puts in his full name beside it, followed by an emoticon of a teddy bear. “It’s healthy not bein’ on your phone all the time. Wish I didn’t need mine so much.”
“I concur.”
Mika grins and runs a hand through his already-messy hair. “I gotta head out soon. I’ve got a couple meetings this afternoon. But, um, I’ll stop by and see ya later in the week, okay? In the meantime, just… text me if ya need anything.”
Shu’s smirk grows into a full, honest smile that makes Mika’s heart flutter. “Your faith in me has not been misplaced,” he says. “I won’t let you down, Kagehira.”