Work Text:
Yusuke stares at the names on the list. Many he hasn’t heard from in years, and he’s not sure what their reaction will be when he reaches out to them. They might not even be in Japan anymore.
But, if nothing else, he owes them this. He owes these pupils their paintings back.
He wishes the process was faster, but it’s not like Madarame took notes on which paintings he stole from whom, so the first thing Yusuke does is catalogue them and try to remember the faces and names of each pupil who worked on them.
It’s not hard so much as it requires him to delve into things he wants to forget. Times he abandoned his fellow pupils to side with Madarame.
He probably doesn’t even deserve to call himself one of them. From the moment Madarame really started taking in pupils, it was obvious Yusuke was different. At first, it was simply that he was so much younger and undisciplined. The older pupils humored him when he joined them in the art room, asked about what he was doing at school, and helped him with homework, but he’d never even been able to comprehend what made them seek out Madarame.
Art had simply been his life, he’d never really had the option for anything else.
Perhaps that’s why he remembered the breathless joy with which the other pupils would talk about paintings, about what they were doing and why they wanted to be artists.
One of the paintings he’s going through shows a rooftop garden, and he remembers the girl who made it. She was the daughter of Korean immigrants and breathlessly recounted her parents' stories of Seoul. A lot of her paintings were what she imagined the city where her parents had lived to be like.
Yusuke asked her if she’d ever want to visit Korea someday, and she thought about it and laughed.
“I guess, but at this point it can’t live up to my imagination.”
She was always excited to talk with Yusuke about art, about how Japan influenced Korea and vice versa.
And then one day, she was gone. Her bed was empty, and Madarame had simply said she decided to pursue her studies elsewhere.
Yusuke found an old phone number for her from the school, but there’s a man on the other end.
“Hello, I’m looking for Soomin Yoo?”
“Who is this?”
“I’m Yusuke Kitagawa, I'm looking to return a piece of art to her.”
“She’s dead.”
Yusuke says he’s sorry, but the words feel hollow, even to him. There are so many questions he doesn't deserve to ask. “Are you aware of any family she had?”
“I’m her brother.”
“I have one of her paintings, I’d like to return it to you. Of Seoul.”
The line goes quiet, and Yusuke wonders if he hung up, but then.
“Our mom would love that, thanks. You’re at that shack outside Shibuya?”
“Yes.”
“...Thanks kid, I’m happy to have it.”
“There’s no need for thanks, I’m just trying to finally do the right thing.”