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Kohane was terrified of others.
People were scary, after all. Did that random man eye her on the streets because she looked easy? Were her classmates laughing because of a funny video or because she'd dropped her lunchbox? Were her friends really her friends or did they just pity her?
Her anxiety often threatened to swallow her even in situations where she was perfectly safe. It crept through her head, whispering in plaintive tones about how they were surely tired of her. Who wouldn't be, with how pathetic and useless she was? She was incapable of doing anything without help, and she couldn't even order food without stammering or tripping over her words. She had no talents or dreams whatsoever, either. If only she'd been born as someone else...
Once, when she was little, her friends had decided to climb a tree. They scaled it easily enough and went higher and higher as she stood below them, shuffling her feet. Every inch of her body wanted to join them, to pull herself up the branches, which were surely sturdy enough to hold her as they'd done so successfully with her friends. It looked so fun and exhilarating, after all--to be that close to the sky yet know you were somehow still perfectly safe. But her mind refused to believe she would be safe, worrying over the pain she'd feel if she fell or the embarrassment she'd go through if she couldn't even climb back down. She stood paralyzed at the bottom of the tree, legs refusing to move no matter how hard she wished otherwise.
She never made it up there. Her fears got the better of her, so she just stayed at the bottom of the tree and watched them climb. Their reassurances that she didn't have anything to worry about only did so much to ease her sadness as she walked back home, heart heavy with the shackles her anxiety had created.
Again and again without fail it happened again. Whether it was trying to pet the neighbors' dog (but what if it bit her?) or playing tag with her friends (her little legs refused to keep up regardless of how hard she pushed them) it never went well. Either her fears would take over and she would back out of whatever fun idea was thrown at her or she simply wasn't enough for whatever it is. She could barely even stutter out the answer to a question without her teacher deciding she didn't know it and moving on. No matter how many times her friends patted her back and murmured their condolences, it always felt fake.
By the time she was entering middle school she was already miserable. She could hardly look anyone in the eye without panicking, and whenever someone addressed her she felt herself freeze up with fear. It was just as well that all her friends had gone to different schools--how could she face them like this anyway? Surely it'd hurt if the person you'd cared about for years couldn't even treat you like their friend, right?
The days passed slowly by her. Wincing every time her parents asked her how school was going or whether she'd made any friends, even going as far as to change the subject where she could, she desperately dragged herself around like some kind of puppet. She still had no dreams or hopes of any sort, and every time she heard someone discussing theirs--eyes shining as they talked about whatever they were passionate about--it felt like a knife repeatedly jabbing into her chest. Even the easiest jobs were far out of her reach due to her unwillingness to interact properly with human beings. She would never amount to anything, and compared to all her classmates with their beautiful dreams she was practically a walking zombie.
Then one day, on one insignificant school day, some random Friday--a classmate praised her painting.
It had been art class, and she had reluctantly attended as it was mandatory. She was adding the final touches to her project--just a beach, nothing fancy--when the girl at her side abruptly said, "Azusawa, that ocean's so pretty! It's like I can see the waves moving!"
Kohane nearly dropped her paintbrush. Her painting? Was there another Azusawa in the class? Possibly painting a beach as well?
After taking a moment to gather her confidence (how did one communicate with humans again???) she managed to whisper, "Thank you. Um...yours is, too."
The girl beamed, turning back to her own painting again. "No problem. Thanks!"
Kohane bobbed her head slightly, quickly focusing on her painting again. She could feel a wobbly smile growing on her face as she replayed the moment over and over again in her head. She thinks it...looks nice.
Something I drew...she thinks it looks nice.
Even though hers is so much better, she still thought mine was pretty?
She went home that day practically skipping. The moment continued to repeat in her head, and she giggled to herself every time she remembered her classmate's smile. She thought it was pretty.
I wonder if...
As soon as she was home, she hurried to her room and pulled out her school-assigned drawing pad, grabbing a pencil from her desk. She pulled a random forest photo off of the internet and quickly sketched it out, carefully penciling in the details of the trees. After 30 minutes had gone by she took a moment to stare at it, biting her lip. It doesn't look anything like the reference.
I got too excited...the painting today was just a fluke.
Maybe she was just being nice.
Why did I think I was some kind of artist just because of what she said?
Her parents traded worried glances when she came down for dinner, visibly more downcast than she had been upon arriving home. "Is everything alright, Kohane?" her father ventured eventually. "You seemed like you were in a good mood earlier...did something happen?"
"...No, everything's fine," she mumbled, setting her fork down on her plate. "I'm sorry for worrying you. May I be excused?"
"Of course," her mother replied after a meaningful look in her father's direction. "But please remember that we're always here to talk, alright? If something's bothering you, please let us know."
"Alright. Thank you."
She could feel their gazes on her back as she washed her dish clean after one plate and headed back upstairs, where she changed and dropped face first onto her bed. Pathetic.
I get excited after one girl says something, then feel sad when I inevitably can't do it again. What am I even doing?
Even if I were to get better at it, it'd just be the same as everything else. I'll just end up giving up before I even get anywhere with it.
...Maybe I should just disappear.
A small rap at the door abruptly broke her out of her thoughts. Shaking her head to try and dispel the hazy feeling hanging over her, she sat upright and took a deep breath. "Hello?"
Her father cleared his throat from the other side. "Kohane, can we come in?"
"...Sure."
Her parents opened the door and peeked inside her room, both looking concerned. "I know we said you could talk to us if you felt bad, but...well, we're worried about you, baby girl," her mother said gently. "Can you tell us what's bothering you?"
...Oh.
I'm so selfish.
They care so much, but...
Before she knew it Kohane was flinging herself into her father's arms, breaking down and sobbing as they both patted her back. She was unable to say everything that was weighing down on her, but they got the general idea--she was struggling with feeling left behind, as well as that she couldn't even talk to anyone without acting meek. She wanted to dream the way others did so badly--she wanted to live.
She was tired of feeling like she was already dead.
"How about this?" her father suggested after ten minutes of listening to her cry. "Your classmate complimented your painting today, right? Why don't you give art a try?"
"B-But I tried again and it was t--"
"Of course it wouldn't be good. You know just the minimum of art," her mother reminded her, wiping some of her tears away. "If you put some time and effort in, however, I'm sure you'll master it eventually. Think of how fun it'll be to spend time learning something new."
"I guess you're right," she sniffled.
"Why don't you start looking at some online tutorials? We can buy you anything you need."
"...Okay. I-I'll try."
Maybe she wasn't dead just yet.
After that fateful night, Kohane decided once and for all to pick up the pen and learn to draw. It was a long and painful process (she'd come close to giving up many times) but as she hung canvas after canvas of colorful paint on the walls of her bedroom, she began to feel alive at last. So this was what she had been missing out on along...having something to work for was truly amazing.
Her parents were happy for her, but eventually their praise wasn't enough to keep painting. She felt slightly guilty about it, but she ended up taking a snapshot of her favorite picture and creating an account to post it on. It wasn't very popular, but every like that she got filled her with a sense of euphoria that was hard to dispel. It didn't take long before she was posting photos of everything she painted, relishing in the comments and likes though they were few and far between. The photos of her snake that she'd started posting on a separate account were somehow way more popular, however, earning her ten times more attention from others online. Though it stung slightly (was a cute animal really better than something she'd poured her heart and soul into?) she couldn't stop posting both, determined to keep chasing down that euphoria no matter what it cost.
One day she'd been scrolling through YouTube, trying her hardest to keep from breaking down into tears (a girl at school had hinted at how annoying she was, trying to get attention through her drawings, and the insult had cut deeper than she thought it would've) and happened to stumble onto a short video with a black screen. Curious, she'd clicked on it and had been caught off guard when music began to play. The tune went straight to her heart, somehow sad yet comforting at the same time, and she listened to it with a feeling of awe. Someone had really made this?
The channel was shockingly small considering the amount of videos it had. The artist--a person going by the simple moniker of "Aki"--had apparently been around for a year or so, but they didn't have many followers. Kohane listened to the song that had caught her attention over and over again, marveling at how touching it was. There was one thing that bothered her, though--such a beautiful song should've had equally beautiful art in the thumbnail. The plain black screen clearly wasn't working, so not enough people were listening to it despite the Hatsune Miku" caption. It really was a shame...
Almost before she knew it she was drawing, furiously swiping across her tablet screen with her stylus. Before long some kind of picture had emerged, and although she almost didn't understand what exactly she was trying to convey it felt right. All the wonderful, complex and melancholic feelings the song had made her feel...she'd somehow managed to express them.
She didn't hesitate to post it, feeling an odd sense of trepidation as she did. It felt like she was posting more than just a picture--it was as if she was sharing a bit of her soul, too.
I hope this reaches someone.
Someone, anyone. I hope they feel the same sensation that I did.
If it can lead them towards this person...
Then maybe we can share in that joy together.
...Right?
A couple days later, she'd almost forgotten she posted the drawing.
Kohane was riding the train home from school, burying her frustrations from the day in Aki's music (it was so addictive. It was as if the writer was taking parts of their own heart and turning them into music--it was painful yet soothing to hear at the same time) when the ping of a notification interrupted her listening party. Startled, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the screen, surprised to see a private DM from an account she'd never seen before. What do they want? Is someone accusing me of tracing again? she thought uneasily as she opened the message and cautiously read through it.
Huh...?
They want to use my art for a video of Aki's song?