Chapter Text
The first time Akito noticed the mark on his chest was in the summer of his fifth year. While bathing him, his mother‘s fingers gently brushed over that location, and the movement suddenly stopped. Her gaze fell on that dark red, irregular-shaped mark, like an old scar faded by time, or like some ancient rune. His mother didn‘t say anything, just silently dressed him, and never mentioned it again. But Akito remembered the look in his mother‘s eyes that moment,it wasn‘t fear, nor was it sadness, but something more complex, like seeing something distant and unattainable.
As he grew older, the mark also grew. It wasn‘t a simple pigment deposition, but presented a strange texture: the center was a clear circular depression, with fine lines radiating from the surroundings, as if it had been pierced from behind by something sharp. There was no medical explanation, and doctors could only classify it as a “rare congenital skin abnormality.”
Akito himself rarely looked at it. But every time he accidentally caught a glimpse of it in the mirror, he would feel an indescribable throbbing,not pain, but a kind of emptiness, as if something extremely important had been pulled out of his body, leaving a hole that could never be filled.
He often dreamed of a forest. Not the kind of well-trimmed parkland at the edge of the city, but an ancient, deep, vine-wreathed primeval forest. In his dreams, he was always running, with something chasing behind him and something calling ahead. He never saw the faces of those pursuers clearly, nor did he ever reach the source of that call. But every time he woke up, a dull pain would come from the position of his heart, as if something had awakened there, and then died there.
At the age of twelve, Akito picked up a paintbrush for the first time. It wasn‘t a dramatic moment,no angel descended, no epiphany occurred. It was just that in art class, the teacher asked everyone to draw “their favorite thing.” Other children drew pets, game consoles, candy, but Akito inexplicably drew a portrait.
In the painting was a person he didn‘t know. Blue hair, silver eyes, soft profile features, a faint smile at the corners of his mouth. After he finished painting, he was stunned, because he completely didn‘t remember having seen this person before, much less why he had drawn him. The teacher came over, looked at the painting, and was silent for a long time. “You drew very well,” she said, “but who is this person?”
Akito opened his mouth, but found he couldn‘t answer. After school that day, he remained alone in the classroom, staring at that painting for a long time. The eyes of the person in the painting seemed to be looking back at him, with a kind of tenderness and sadness that crossed time and space.
Akito suddenly felt his eyes grow hot, and an inexplicable emotion welled up in his heart,it wasn‘t sadness, nor was it joy, but something deeper, like some forgotten vow, some unfulfilled promise. He tore off the painting, took it home, and stuck it to the headboard of his bed.
From that day on, he began to paint. At first just copying, then gradually acquiring his own style. He discovered that he had an unusually acute ability to capture portraits of people, especially the eyes,he could always draw that look as if the soul were about to spill out of the paper. But he never managed to draw his own face well, and every time he tried, the self in the painting was always vague and empty, like an unfinished outline.
During high school, Akito had already determined his path. He applied to the art university‘s painting department and was admitted with excellent grades. Although his parents were worried about the difficulties of the art path, seeing that rare certainty in his eyes, they ultimately chose to support him.
In his second year of university, while choosing his research topic, Akito was browsing through art history materials in the library when he happened to see a name:Shinonome Akito. It wasn‘t himself. Although it sounded the same, it was a person from hundreds of years ago.
According to art history textbooks, Shinonome Akito, a late Middle Ages painter, and Aoyagi Touya, a writer, were also known as “the Twin Walls.” They created numerous works that have been passed down throughout their lives, and their lives and relationships remain important topics in art history research to this day.
Akito stared at that name, feeling a wave of dizziness. He continued reading, seeing more details: Shinonome Akito was good at portraiture, especially famous for a portrait called “Moonlight”; Aoyagi Touya created multiple collections of stories, among which “Mirai” was regarded as a classic by later generations. The two knew each other since childhood, lived together, and co-created, but mysteriously disappeared in their prime, their later years and death remains a mystery to this day. Akito closed the book, the mark on his chest faintly aching.
He made a decision to study “Shinonome Akito and Aoyagi Touya” as a research topic, and personally went to the museum that recorded everything about them for a field trip.
He didn‘t know what he was looking for. Maybe an answer, maybe some unspeakable sense of belonging. He just had a vague feeling that something was waiting for him ahead, and he had to go.