Chapter Text
Ena never knew what to expect from Akiyama Mizuki. The girl was nothing if not a bundle of surprises and spontaneity.
Whether it was coming up with random ideas for activities or hangouts, revealing previously unknown skills or talents, or her near boundless creativity with her fashion and video editing. Mizuki just seemed to have the uncanny ability to keep Ena off balance, catching her off guard when she least expected it, defying her expectations at every turn.
It was, quite frankly, infuriating.
But what always surprised Ena more than anything, was the depth and complexity hidden behind her blinding smile, and those bright, sparking pink eyes. She always acted so frustratingly peppy and glib, always joking and laughing and teasing, like she hadn’t a care in the world, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
In truth, it was all an act, a carefully curated mask that she wore, a glamour of ribbons, frills and lies, designed to distance between herself and others. As well as to keep her separated from the world around her, keeping everyone at arm’s length…
Everyone except for Ena that is. Not to mention the rest of Nightcord at 25:00.
They all knew her. Knew her pain. They even knew her secret... That precious, fragile, beautiful truth, and all that it brought with it…
All of the fear and insecurities that shackled her, mind, body and soul.
The weight of staring eyes and cruel words that constantly burdened her.
The scars born from a life of rejection, isolation and betrayal, some still bleeding.
The pretty, smiling mask that she wore, just to exist and breath in a world that seemed determined to cut her down and trample her heart.
And the pain, hidden just behind her eyes. A silent scream. The hidden cries of a girl who had long since lost the will to fight, but who continued on regardless, broken, but still chasing hope.
Ever since that day in the alley, where they cried and confessed and swore to stay together, and after all it took to get there, all the running, chasing and screaming, Ena finally felt like she truly knew Mizuki. Ena adored her more than anything, respected her more than she would ever admit, and hated her infinitely less than their constant bickering would suggest.
Ena knew Mizuki. Ena loved Mizuki.
Yet still, the girl somehow kept finding new way to surprise her…
“Ena! Teach me how to paint!”
And to piss her off…
“Huh?!” Ena tilted her head, glaring at her incredulously.
“Teach me how to paint!” Mizuki repeated with a wry smile. “Oh, great artist Shinonome!”
Ena glared at her even more intensely, trying to discern the trick or trap behind the ridiculous, out of nowhere request. Something like this was the last thing she expected Mizuki to blurt out during their little dinner date.
“Why the hell should I?”
“Come oooooooooon!” Mizuki whined like a petulant child, kicking her feet under the table.
“Go take an art class if you want to learn how to paint. Teaching you sounds like a pain.” Ena shot back, fully expecting her to drop it.
Instead, Mizuki pouted, giving Ena her biggest, glossiest puppy dog eyes. “But I want you to teach me.” She whimpered adorably. “Pwease…”
Ena’s eyebrow twitched, her mind at war with itself. On the one hand, Mizuki was being her typical annoying self, making Ena want to reject her outright. On the other hand, Ena couldn’t deny that she was genuinely, frustratingly adorable, staring at her with those wide, glistening eyes, a slight quiver in her lower lip. Quite frankly, she hated how much it was affecting her, how badly she wanted to give into the plea.
But Ena wouldn’t go down that easily. “Why do you even wanna know how to paint? I thought fashion was more your thing?”
“I mean, it is, but…”
“And you’re already good at drawing, right? Not to mention sewing, embroidery, knitting, and everything that goes into your video editing! Don’t you have enough artistic hobbies?”
“I can also do felting, crochet, a little bit of animation… Oh! And I recently learnt how to make a pretty good Beef Stroganoff!” Mizuki added with a smirk.
“Beef Stroga- What?” Ena shook her head. “Not the point! Why do you wanna learn to paint when you can already do all of that?”
Mizuki tilted her head to the side as she considered the question, before finally answering. “Why not?”
“That’s not a good reason.” Ena groaned, resisting the urge to strangle the girl sat across from her. “Are you trying to replace me as Niigo’s artist of something?”
Mizuki gasped, clutching her chest as if she were clutching her pearls. “I would never!” she exclaimed, closing her eyes and placing a hand upon her head, striking a dramatic pose. “As if anyone could ever replace our dear, beloved Enanan! The only artist in the entire world who can capture K’s music with her wonderful art! Perish the thought!”
“Uhuh.” Ena stared at her blankly. “Then why?”
“Fun?” Mizuki shrugged, dropping the theatrics.
Ena stared at her intently, causing her to wither slightly under her piercing gaze.
Mizuki chuckled sheepishly. “Haha… Well, maybe that’s not the only reason…”
There it is. “Well?”
Mizuki shuffled nervously in place, fiddling with the frilled collar of her shirt, suddenly looking downright bashful.
The fire in Ena cooled almost instantly. “Come on, just spit it out already.” she added softly, with no bite or venom in her words.
For a moment, Mizuki seemed lost in thought, trying to piece together what she wanted to say. When she started speaking, Ena could tell immediately that she was being serious. There was no more mischievous glint in her eyes, no teasing tone in her voice.
“I do really love making clothes and cute accessories, and there is a lot you can express through fashion, both in what you wear and what you make for others. But ultimately, clothing is designed to be worn, to be shown off to the world. It’s a projection, a front… a façade.”
Ena sat and listened in supportive silence. From the quiet tone of Mizuki’s voice, it was clear that she was being genuine and vulnerable, which was a rare miracle, even after all they’d been through.
Mizuki continued. “There’s so many things that you can’t express with clothing. Feelings that you can’t or don’t want to show off or attach to yourself, that are too big or messy or complicated to put into a simple design, or that are just too ugly to be worn. But you still NEED to express them, to get them out somehow, put them into something, almost like a-”
“A silent scream.” Ena finished.
“Ohoh! Like the first proper painting you did for Niigo?” Mizuki asked, a sly smile in her face. “I can’t believe you remember that. Don’t tell me you’re getting all nostalgic on me?”
“Yeah…” Ena sighed. She hadn’t missed the moment Mizuki’s mask went back on, how effortlessly she slipped back into that casual, teasing tone. But she didn’t call attention to it. “That’s exactly what I was thinking of.” Though the truth was that she was only ever thinking of the girl in front of her.”
“I-I’m asking way too much of you, aren’t I?” Mizuki murmured awkwardly, noticing the slight sorrow in Ena’s tone. “You’re probably suuuuuper busy with all sorts of important stuff, right?”
And there it was, the instant back peddling, right on cue. The moment when she realized she might have crossed a line or pushed too hard and panicked, immediately offering Ena an out. It would be annoying as hell if it wasn’t so damned considerate. That was just like her…
“Fine, I’ll teach you.” Ena said with a deep sigh. Her impassive voice did nothing to hide her fond smile. “You’d probably just make a mess if I left you all on your own.”
“R-Really?” Mizuki’s face immediately brightened. Her relieved smile almost blinding. “Yay! Yipee! This is gonna be awesome!” she cheered.
Ena couldn’t help but smile alongside her. Mizuki really did have the most beautiful smile in the world. One she wanted to see more of and protect above all else… But that didn’t mean she was going to let her get ahead of herself.
“Don’t get too excited…” She said with a menacing grin. “If we’re doing this, we’re going to take it seriously. I won’t be taking it easy on you or letting you slack off, got it?”
Surprisingly, while Mizuki’s posture immediately straightened, she didn’t seem the least bit perturbed or dissuaded. “Y-Yeah! Of course!”
“I’m a pretty harsh teacher you know? So don’t come crying to me if my training is too much to handle.”
“Of course, Sensei Ena!” Mizuki’s beaming didn’t so much as flicker. If anything, her smile widened as she bowed her head. “Consider me clay in your hands! Mold me as you see fit! I promise I won’t let you down!”
Ena immediately broke out into laughter. “You’re ridiculous!”
“Don’t act like you aren’t also excited.” Mizuki winked, her smirk turning unbearable smug. “I saw you blushing.”
“I-I did not! Shut up!”
“Hehehe.”
After some back and forth, Ena eventually agreed to host the painting lessons in her own room. Mizuki insisted that it was for convenience, since Ena already had everything they’d need, and it would save her having to lug her supplies across town. But Ena was convinced that she was just using it as an excuse to hang out and spend time at her place, not that she had any complaints.
On the day of their first schedules session, Mizuki turned up on Ena’s doorstep, practically vibrating with excitement. She was dressed in denim overalls with a pastel pink undershirt, her hair tied back in a more practical ponytail, though the exaggerated, bright red bow made it more of a statement.
Mizuki cheerfully referred to it as her “artist fit,” excitedly asking Ena what she thought and not budging until she got an answer.
Normally, Ena might have been annoyed or teased her, if not for the fact that she looked frustratingly adorable. Honestly, it pissed her off sometimes, how effortlessly pretty she looked, but worse was the fact that she knew it.
In the end, she scoffed out an “it’s fine,” before turning to hide how red her face was.
From there, the lessons continued as Ena expected, with the two of them blasting through the basics in a matter of days. Mizuki already knew how to draw well enough, so her sketching and linework were as exemplary as Ena had predicted, and annoyingly cleaner than her own, and the girl had an uncanny eye for colour theory.
Despite her earlier threats, Ena’s style of teaching was soft, gentle and encouraging, as she knew all too well how it felt to have your efforts torn down and scrutinized. She guided more than she critiqued, offered suggestions rather than blunt rejection, and ensured that Mizuki could see the good in her attempts rather than just the flaws failures. Though she couldn’t resist the odd bit of teasing. That was part of their dynamic after all.
Unsurprisingly, Mizuki flourished with water colours, and Ena couldn’t help but think that the soft, pastels and light, airy style suited her quite well. Part of her fully expected Mizuki to be satisfied with that, that she’d be happy enough to have been taught the basics, but she insisted that they keep going.
Acrylics and Oil painting were where she properly started to flounder. Her attempts at mixing colours constantly resulted in hideous shades, her layering was messy, and her compositions lacked any real depth or contrast.
Watching her fail made Ena happier than she would have liked to admit. Not only was it strangely satisfying to see her actually struggle and mess up for once, but her growing frustration was also oddly cute, in a way she couldn’t quite express in words...
The little noises she’d make when she messed up, the way her face scrunched up in annoyance, the way she’d stamp her feet and whine that something was impossible… It was a side of her that Ena rarely got to see, and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.
As the sessions continued, Ena thought back on her own experiences of learning how to paint. All the sleepless nights spent slaving away at a canvas. Trying and failing over and over again, getting stuck on the simplest concepts, making the same stupid mistakes repeatedly, and almost quitting in frustration before starting from scratch.
To make art was to suffer. But it was nice to not be the one suffering for once. To watch someone going through the same torturous process and to struggle like she had.
But unlike Ena, Mizuki didn’t have that same all-consuming desire to be an artist. Nor did she possess the same level of sheer stubborness, and spite for those who constantly told her that she’d never achieve her dream, who tried to hold her back.
As such, Ena fully expected Mizuki to give in the moment things started getting hard, just as she had thought about doing countless times during her own journey. But again, Mizuki managed to surprise her.
While she frequently got frustrated and demoralized by her failures, the girl didn’t give up, taking each stumble as a challenge and taking it head on. Her attitude shifted over the course of their lessons, becoming more focused and serious, their usual banter and teasing growing less frequent as she out her all into practicing and following Ena’s guidance.
Sometimes, Ena would watch her as she diligently worked, so focused on the canvas infront of her that she didn’t seem to notice that she was being observed. In those moments, Mizuki’s expression was so different from usual, her gaze steeled, her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a flat line, with barely any trace of emotion present.
Ena wondered if she was how she looked when she was working on her music videos, during all those late-night grinds and hectic last-minute pushes. During those times when passion and creativity warred with exhaustion and fatigue, until concepts like time and the sunrise stopped existing, and only the slog of work remained.
She could almost imagine it. Mizuki sat at her desk, in the dark, illuminated only by the glow of her computer screen, editing away like her life depended on it, unable to sit still or tear her eyes away until it was done. Yet even in such a state, she’d probably still find a way to look adorable, and unlike the rest of their group, she’d probably still have energy and enthusiasm to spare by the end of it.
It made Ena strangely happy to see her trying so hard. Perhaps she found it it heartening to see her fight and struggle instead of running away or hiding. But at the same time, it bothered her as she just couldn’t get a fix on why Mizuki was trying so hard, what exactly it was that she was trying to achieve or prove. She should have given up a while ago, but she just kept at it, working with a fervour that Ena rarely saw from her.
But what bothered Ena the most was how quickly her efforts were paying off. She was improving at a frankly alarming rate, both in regards to her fundamentals and the finer skills. She was picking up techniques that Ena had only learned late into her career as an artist, overcoming flaws and mistakes that had stumped Ena for months in just a few sessions.
It was far from effortless on her part, but at the same time, her growth was frighteningly fast, far more so than Ena could have predicted.
If Ena were more arrogant, she might have attributed it to her incredible teaching. If she were being petty, she’d make the excuse that Mizuki was just starting from a stronger foundation than she had. But a voice in her head proffered an alternative explanation, a single word that may well have been poison to Ena, which she recoiled from on instinct...
Talent.
That thought didn’t sit right with her, twisting her stomach in knots. But worse was the flare of jealousy that accompanied it. That subtle, subconscious resentment that she sometimes felt for her peers, and most often for her father.
It was a feeling that she had mostly learned to control and repress, and one she was fighting fiercely now, pushing it down until the bitter voice fell silent. It felt pathetic, feeling jealous for her beloved friend when she should only have felt proud of her, especially since she was the one who agreed to teach her.
What sort of horrible teacher would resent her own student for improving?
What sort of petty, shallow person would get upset at someone for being good at something, especially when they were trying their best?
What sort of girlfriend wouldn’t be happy to see her partner flourish and succeed? (Not that they were officially dating, or had put a label on anything, and it was probably just Ena being stupid and presumptuous as always)
Not Ena. She wouldn’t be that person. She wouldn’t allow it.
So, she choked down her own insecurities, forced a smile and kept doing her best to teach. Afterall, it wasn’t like this would go on forever. Eventually, Mizuki would get bored or quit, and they’d go back to the way things were, as if nothing ever happened. It didn’t bother Ena… Not even a little bit…
Finally, the day came for Mizuki’s first proper test, constructed by Ena to both gauge her progress, and to see if she could put what she’d learned into practice.
It totally had nothing to do with the fact that she had an art competition coming up in a few weeks and wanted to take a break from their lessons to focus on it… Definitely not… It was entirely for Mizuki’s benefit, no other reason.
The structure was the same as those Ena’s art teacher gave her, a set time frame in order to complete a full painting on a given prompt, typically either a specific subject or a more abstract concept.
In this case, the prompt Ena decided on was…
“Cute.”
“Eh?” Mizuki tilted her head to the side. “Just cute? That’s it?”
Ena nodded. “That’s it.”
“So, I just… Paint something cute?” Mizuki asked, glaring at her suspiciously.
“No. Your prompt is the concept of cute. What it represents and means to you.”
Mizuki blinked at her slowly, still obviously not quite comprehending. “So… I can’t just paint something cute?”
Ena sighed deeply. “You can paint whatever you want, but you’re trying to capture the concept, not just paint something that you think is cute. You wanna capture the feeling of it, it’s essence.”
Mizuki’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re saying I shouldn’t paint you?”
“Like I said, you can paint whatever you-” Ena’s face suddenly flushed bright red, her words faltering as she finally processed what Mizuki had said. “Wait, why would you-”
“Oops, look at the time, I’ve gotta run.” Mizuki said quickly, scooping up the canvas and art supplies Ena had agreed to lend her before rushing to the door.
“Hey, get back here!” Ena snapped, grabbing and throwing a pillow at her, which she elegantly dodged with a wink.
“Missed me, missed me, now you’ve gotta-”
The second pillow came flying much faster and harder, with Mizuki barely managing to duck out of the way, before scuttling out the room, only to peak back in and stick out her tongue.
“Better luck next time Enanan.” Mizuki smirked, giving another wink before dashing down the stairs, her voice getting further and further away. “See you in two weeks!”
“If you’re lucky!” Ena shouted after her. Her scowl almost immediately settling into a fond smile as she heard the front door open and close. “Dumbass…”
Mizuki walked down the street with a spring in her step, giggling to herself as she thought back to Ena’s flustered, adorable pouting.
She really loved spending time with Ena. She loved their teasing that often bordered on flirting. But more than anything, Mizuki loved Ena.
(As a friend, of course. Totally platonically. She definitely wasn’t head over heels for her. And she certainly didn’t suggest this whole painting thing as an excuse to spend more time with her, or just to learn more about her and engage with her interests. Nor did she ever think about using art to express her true feelings for Ena, which she barely had the courage to acknowledge, much less put into words. Nope, definitely not, couldn’t be her.)
Placing a hand on her chest, Mizuki slowed her breathing, trying to steady her rapidly beating heart. In her desperately effort to push the image of Ena’s beautiful, grumpy, eminently smoochable face out of her mind, she turned her thoughts elsewhere.
To the prompt Ena gave her. The challenge that she was issued. Her words replayed in Mizuki's mind.
“Your prompt is the concept of cute. What it represents and means for you.”
“You wanna capture the feeling of it, it’s essence.”
But what did that mean? Mizuki has a good eye for what looked cute and what didn’t. She knew what it meant to be and dress cute. And she certainly knew the challenges of pursuing cuteness, all too well.
But was that all there is or was there something deeper? Was cuteness a shining ideal to be chased, or just a sparkling illusion born of personal perception and expectation? When you stripped away the bows and frills, what was really left? Was it real? Did it matter? Did she?
Mizuki shook that last thought from her head.
“What cute means to me, huh?”