An Eloquent Portrait
Mizuhoshi Iori, a teacher at Jindai High School, had long, disheveled hair and unkempt stubble. He looked more like a musician than a teacher, and the brush in his hand moved with an almost explosive passion.
He stood before a linen canvas stained in various colors: there were cloud-like whites and pale blues, tranquil moonlight indigos... Though the painting was comprised primarily of cool colors, it had a curious warmth and radiance.
It was a painting of a woman, and it was very striking, but...
“It’s no use,” Mizuhoshi muttered. “No use at all. Worthless, worthless, worthless, worthless...” he went on and on, “...worthless, worthless, worthless, worthless, worthless... worthlessssss!” And with this last scream, he cast his brush and pallet onto the nearby glass table. The glass broke, spilling linseed oil. “Ahh... Why?!” he wailed dramatically. “Why can’t I get it right?! This... This miserable painting! My spinal cord has been severed! My soul is vomiting! It’s like a ladder soaked in sewage that should be cast aside!”
Crash! Mizuhoshi Iori slammed his canvas against the wall and pushed over a nearby plaster model, which tumbled around the art room. The easel fell to the ground with a crash. Masks, which were used as teaching materials, fell from the shelves and broke.
“Ah... Whyyy?! Why can I not capture the smallest fragment of her beauty, and in doing so grant it eternal protection from the ravages of the world...” Here, he embarked on a bitter rant which ended with, “...so easily?! Why am I so incompetent? Am I a meaningless decoration, a mere empty globe? In other words... it has to be more... like... ah, but she’s more like this!!!” He continued to ramble as his madness raged on.
Incidentally, this incident was taking place during school hours, so Mizuhoshi was neglecting his waiting students to hole up in the supply room like this. It was a reflection of his desperation to finish the picture. The picture of that woman... So dear, so heartbreaking. He would die if he didn’t finish it! It was the only way to complete his soul, to quell the raging passion inside him. Who would have thought such a thing could prove so difficult?! It was in this manner that he kept muttering strange, complicated things as he continued his destructive rampage around the small and dimly lit room.
Smash! One of the boys from the art room next door crashed in, apparently having heard the commotion. “Sir, where is the enemy?!” he cried out, a pistol in one hand. It was Sagara Sousuke from Class 2-4. He had a sullen face in a tight frown, and perhaps because he was on high alert, the furrow on his brow was especially deep.
Mizuhoshi fixed his bloodshot eyes on Sousuke. “E-Enemy?!”
“Yes,” Sousuke replied tersely. “Where is the enemy?!”
“Enemy... Yes, the enemy is... Right here! This room itself is my enemy!” Mizuhoshi threw his arms to the sides.
Sousuke began turning his gun in all directions. “Where, exactly?”
“Don’t you see? Here!”
“But where?”
“Here! Right here!” Mizuhoshi was barking at the ceiling now.
“Above us?!” Reacting to his body language, Sousuke pointed his gun at the ceiling. Blam! Blamblamblamblam! He fired off five rounds directly above. As the small bullets tore into the ceiling, there was some kind of metallic sound. For a moment, the two of them fell silent and stood there, smoke trailing from the muzzle of the gun. While Mizuhoshi stared, Sousuke continued to glare at the holes in the ceiling. And then...
“Sousuke!” Chidori Kaname, a female student, came running into the room to land a hard jump-kick against Sousuke’s back. She had long black hair, rolled-up sleeves, and a fine-point brush gripped in one hand.
Sousuke, who had toppled forward in the wake of her kick, placed his hands on the floor and looked back up at her. “What are you doing, Chidori?” he asked.
“Shut up!” she bellowed. “And stop shooting at everything all the time!”
But instead, he ignored Kaname’s admonishments and peered up at her earnestly. “Stay back,” he implored. “There’s a chance that the assassins targeting Mr. Mizuhoshi are hiding in the ceiling—”
“Assassins? In the ceiling? What in the world are you... Ah, yeek!” Kaname wiped off the cold droplet that had just fallen on the back of her neck, and then looked up at the ceiling. “Wait, what?”
Sousuke and Mizuhoshi did the same thing.
Water was leaking in through the bullet holes in the ceiling, as well as from gaps in the plasterboard. There was a brief, confused pause... and then the next second, a ceiling panel collapsed with a bang, showering water down on them. The word ‘downpour’ didn’t even cover it—it was practically a waterfall. Sousuke’s bullets had pierced a water pipe.
“Bwuf!” cried Sousuke as a falling piece of ceiling plaster hit him in the head, knocking him out. Kaname also screamed and threw herself to the floor. The two of them, clinging to each other, were swept to the side of the room like a piece of waste dragged down in a flushed toilet.
“Ahh...” Meanwhile, Mizuhoshi just stood there, battered by the torrent. “That’s right... Wash it all away. Wash away the dark clouds that conceal her from my heart... Wash it all away...” he whispered, his eyes deep with their madness, but neither Sousuke nor Kaname were in a position to hear him.
Twenty minutes later, after class, inside the otherwise empty girls’ changing room...
“Achoo! Ugh, dammit...” Kaname let out a sneeze curiously reminiscent of an old man as she stripped off the blouse that was clinging to her skin. She hung it on her locker door, along with the rest of her soaked clothing.
Her legs were shining wet from the water, and her skin was visible through her white panties. It was the kind of scene that would knock any man out cold on the spot. Fortunately, the only ones here at the moment were Kaname and her teacher, Kagurazaka Eri.
“Here, use this to wipe off,” said Eri, handing Kaname a bath towel.
“Oh, thanks,” Kaname responded, using it to start wiping down her hair.
Eri gazed blankly at her as she did. “Sorry about all this, Chidori-san,” she said. “Making you watch over him all the time...”
“It’s okay. I’m pretty used to it by now.”
“Really? As long as you’re happy...”
“I mean, I’m not exactly happy...” said Kaname, trailing off awkwardly.
“Hah...” Eri sighed, clearly not even listening.
Kagurazaka Eri was an English teacher, and the homeroom teacher for Kaname’s class. She was in her mid-twenties, wore her hair in a short bob cut, and was dressed in a beige suit. She had an attractive face and an overly serious look about her.
In truth, Eri took her job very seriously. Any time Sousuke raised trouble, she’d join Kaname in scolding him and crying to the heavens, O Lord, was placing him in my class a trial you want me to face?! I will do my best to endure it! Actually, if possible, couldn’t you give me a slightly different trial? This one’s a little much for me. Surely, it’s important to practice moderation in all things! and that sort of thing.
And yet, she’d seemed strangely listless lately. She seemed to spend most of the day in a daze, spacing out even during English class. For instance, yesterday, she’d written some extremely violent rap lyrics on the blackboard and asked Chidori to translate them.
Um... I’m a genuine thug. Kill the police. Kill all white people. My so-and-so is awesome, yeah... The moment Kaname had translated it faithfully, Ms. Kagurazaka had turned deathly pale and asked her what she’d just said.
At any rate, she was acting strangely.
Kaname, growing curious, inquired as she put on a fresh tracksuit. “Ma’am. Are you worried about something?”
“Er?”
“You’ve seemed pretty distracted lately. You can talk to me about it if you want,” she added casually.
Eri went silent for a while. Then, suddenly, her eyes filled with tears.
“Ma’am?”
“I... I’m sorry... You’re my student. You shouldn’t have to be worrying about me... although it makes me very happy to know that you do...”
“Huh?”
“But I really can’t. This is something I have to fix on my own. I wouldn’t be much of a professional if I asked a student for help in solving my problems. But... but, oh! No, I just can’t tell you!”
Eri was clearly tormented, making exaggerated gestures like a Takarazuka actress.
Kaname finished changing, and after staring at her blankly for a moment, finally snapped back to her senses. “Oh, really? I’ll be going, then.”
She was about to leave the locker room when Eri seized her sleeve. “Wait, Chidori-san.”
“What is it? You said you can’t talk about it, right?”
“I can’t, but... but I just... I really...”
“Tell me fast, then,” said Kaname. “I need to get to the convenience store to buy underwear.”
“Ah... please don’t say that,” begged Eri, tormented by her guilt. “Here, you can use mine...”
“Um, I’d rather not!” Kaname turned bright red as she saw Eri hesitantly reaching for the hem of her skirt. “Are you crazy?! Of all the grossest, stupidest... where is this coming from?!”
“P-Please don’t yell at me...” said Eri, who was completely panicking.
Kaname had never seen her so upset. It was hard to tell who was the student and who was the teacher at this point. “What in the world is going on?” she asked. “I’m starting to think this doesn’t have anything to do with Sousuke at all... Please, just tell me.”
“Ah... Well, it’s an... interpersonal... work issue,” Eri hedged.
“Interpersonal, huh?”
“Well... it’s about Mr. Mizuhoshi, the art teacher.” Hesitantly, she explained the situation: Kagurazaka Eri and Mizuhoshi Iori were colleagues and nothing more. They taught different subjects and managed homeroom for different grades. They only saw each other once or twice a day.
But then, last month, they’d been put in charge of arranging a farewell party for the retiring earth science teacher. Mizuhoshi hadn’t done that kind of thing before, but Eri had looked after him and the farewell party went smoothly. The experience had brought them much closer than ever before.
And then, last Sunday, Mizuhoshi had invited her to dinner and a movie to thank her for her help. Eri had accepted happily.
“It had been so long since I last thought about what to wear like that. It was wonderful...” For a moment, Eri’s voice became lilting and joyful.
Kaname couldn’t hide her surprise as she looked on. To think that the half-mad Mr. Mizuhoshi and the extremely earnest Kagurazaka Eri could go on a real date! “Ahh... I guess even teachers are human, huh?”
“What?” gulped Eri.
“Well, you like him, right?” asked Kaname.
“W-Well... I wouldn’t go that far. But it’s sort of, well... I do think he’s a very fine man...” Eri was dissembling now, and had none of the air of a teacher about her.
“That’s okay. So... what exactly is the problem?” asked Kaname.
Eri’s face clouded over slightly. “That day was... wonderful. But since then, Mr. Mizuhoshi has been extremely distant with me.”
“Ahh.”
“He’ll say hello when we see each other, but then he’ll leave immediately. It’s like... It’s like he’s avoiding me.” Eri was completely downcast.
Kaname remembered how Mr. Mizuhoshi had spent most of their class holed up in the art supply room. It didn’t seem like it could be related, but... “Did you do something to freak him out? Did you try to push international Jewish conspiracy theories or admit to dancing at Juliana’s Tokyo?”
“Of course not!” Eri declared hotly. “I’m not a complete freak! But... dozing off during the movie, and eating four servings of sirloin steak... was probably a mistake...”
“Yeah, that would make someone mad,” Kaname agreed, and slumped over.
Eri looked once again like she was going to cry. “Ah... I knew it.”
“Yeah,” said Kaname, “I’d have stopped at three servings.”
“You’re right. That would be standard...”
“Yes, that would be standard.”
They both nodded in firm agreement.
“So... he’s probably completely disillusioned with me,” Eri concluded, growing even more despondent. “He thinks I’m a selfish, gluttonous woman. It’s all over...”
Kaname, unable to bear it, tried to cheer her up. “Really, I don’t think it’s that bad. It’s possible he’s not even really avoiding you!”
“Really? I hope you’re right...”
“I’ll try to do a little digging,” Kaname suggested nervously. “Surreptitiously. About Mr. Mizuhoshi.”
Her teacher’s eyes went wide. “What... really?”
“Sure. Not like I have anything better to do,” Kaname told her with a smile.
Sousuke and Mizuhoshi were silently but diligently mopping up the water in the art storage room. Listlessly, they soaked up their rags, wrung them into buckets, then repeated the process, over and over again.
“Sousuke,” Mr. Mizuhoshi said at last, around the time the floor was just starting to look clean.
“What is it?” Sousuke responded as he kept wiping. He had changed into his combat uniform.
“What do you think of that painting?” he asked, pointing to an oil painting on the wall.
It wasn’t the one he’d been working on during class. This painting was older; a landscape of a quiet forest morning, bathed in faint mist, with a beautiful balance of grays and misty greens. It was the kind of painting that really drew a viewer into the scene.
“This one?” Sousuke walked up to the oil painting and inspected it carefully. He poked at the wooden frame and peered at its reverse side. “I don’t think it would provide much of a shield in an emergency,” he concluded. “Mere cloth can’t block even a .22-caliber bullet.”
Here, Mr. Mizuhoshi was speechless.
“Have you considered weaving the backside with super aramid fibers and ceramic plates?” Sousuke suggested. “That would let you stop up to 5.56mm rounds.”
“Actually, I meant... What do you think of the painting itself?”
At this, Sousuke examined the picture itself, as if only just realizing it was there. He gazed at the landscape for about thirty seconds. “It’s a forest,” he observed.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“It looks like a very safe forest,” Sousuke went on. “No dangerous animals, like venomous snakes or leeches. No sign of landmines or any other traps. But the underbrush in the back is concerning.” Sousuke pointed at a spot on the picture, which he viewed as a perfect position to place a skilled sniper.
Sousuke’s interpretation caused Mizuhoshi to sag. “I see... Concerning in its incompetence, I’m sure,” he said, completely misinterpreting his student. “What a shame.”
“Don’t be despondent, sir,” Sousuke advised him. “It would be a difficult thing for any amateur to notice.”
Any time the two of them got together, they always seemed to talk past each other.
“I painted this when I was a student. I was rather proud of it. But if that’s all you have to say about it... I think it’s a sign that I really have no talent. There’s no way I can finish the painting I’m working on now...” Mizuhoshi sighed.
Sousuke then turned his attention to the painting in question, which was sitting on the easel. It was covered in a dust-proof sheet, so he couldn’t see what it depicted. “What kind of painting is it?” he asked, even as he made to remove the cover.
“No! Please don’t look,” Mizuhoshi begged him.
“Why not?”
Mizuhoshi seemed flustered for some reason. He said, “B-Because it’s unfinished, and I don’t like to show people unfinished work. I just... well, maybe I’ll get right to the point. This painting... it’s provided a temporary reinvigoration of the radical form that exists within me. Yes, it’s like the master-slave relationship between myself and nature has vanished, and I am instead at all times subject to the magnanimity of a small god... Those are the words of Soseki, but that’s what this work means to me. Do you understand?”
“I do not,” Sousuke responded immediately, feeling greasy sweat rise on his temples.
“Hmm... yet as I explain this to you, I feel the drive to create grow within me once more. Yes, like the first faint light in the eastern sky...” Mizuhoshi’s eyes narrowed as he gazed off into the distance.
“That sounds pleasant,” Sousuke observed.
“It is. All right, I think I’m going to give it another try...”
“Will you allow me to help you? I do bear responsibility for interrupting your work,” Sousuke said earnestly.
Mizuhoshi waved him off with a smile. “If you want to help, let me be alone. I wish to concentrate.”
“Understood. I shall endeavor to make sure you remain alone. Goodbye.” Sousuke saluted, then left the room.
As she walked down the hall towards the art supply room, Kaname began to feel a bit of regret. She had offered to investigate on a whim, but now that she thought through the implications...
“Guh,” she mumbled. “I’m so not great at dealing with Mr. Mizuhoshi...”
Talking to Mr. Mizuhoshi was exhausting for her. He was always rattling off complicated art and literature terms, and he used so many roundabout expressions that it was impossible to tell what he was ever talking about. “Still, Ms. Kagurazaka does mean a lot to me. I’ll just have to suck it up,” she told herself.
Kagurazaka Eri was clumsy and careless and inflexible, but Kaname and the other students had their reasons for trusting her, like the actions she’d taken during their canceled field trip. Eri’s insistence that she cared about her students was more than mere lip service.
As Kaname reached the art supply room, she found Sousuke standing in front of the door, arms folded. He was in his combat uniform, shoulders back like a soldier.
“Sousuke,” she said politely. “Is the room all cleaned up?”
Sousuke nodded in response. “Affirmative. Mr. Mizuhoshi wishes to focus on his painting once more. Thus, he wants to be alone to concentrate.”
“Oh, okay,” said Kaname. “I’ll just be a minute.” Then she tried to enter the supply room, but Sousuke stopped her. “What now?” she asked.
“The teacher is busy,” he told her seriously. “I can’t let you enter.”
“I have to talk to him right now. Could you please let me through?”
“Regrettably, I cannot.”
“C’mon, I just want to ask him a question! Let me through!” Kaname insisted, puffing out her cheeks.
After a moment’s thought, Sousuke said, “In that case, tell me your business. I’ll convey it to Mr Mizuhoshi myself.”
“Huh? Sheesh...” But in that moment, Kaname remembered that Sousuke was relatively friendly with Mr. Mizuhoshi—certainly compared to her, at least. It might be easier to get the truth out of him if Sousuke spoke to him personally. With that thought in mind, Kaname nodded firmly. “Okay... could you ask him this for me?”
“Very well. What is it?”
Kaname laid out the general situation, making sure to leave Eri’s name out of it.
“Hmm,” said Sousuke.
“What would he think about someone who, on a first date, ate a little more than usual?” Kaname concluded. “I think he’ll probably say he wouldn’t mind, or that he appreciates a good appetite, but try to ask him surreptitiously.”
“Understood. Wait here.” Sousuke nodded and disappeared into the supply room.
As Sousuke entered the room, he saw that Mizuhoshi was engaged in his painting.
“Sir,” he said.
“Yes?” the teacher responded as he mussed up his long, disheveled hair.
“What are your feelings regarding gluttonous women?”
“Excuse me?”
“Gluttonous women. Imagine you’re watching a woman eat two pounds of rare steak. What would your opinion of her be?” Sousuke’s tone was surreptitious as he picked up a carving and surreptitiously regarded it—truly unparalleled surreptitiousness.
“I don’t understand... That’s rather vulgar,” Mizuhoshi responded quietly.
“Vulgar?” Sousuke questioned.
“Yes. I believe a class hierarchy exists, even in our animal instincts. To assume that the common sense of the apex and the civilized can always apply to that is...” he went on and on, “...but...” he went on and on, “...you see. Because even the mating of flies...” he went on and on, “...and it’s all part of the beauty and structure of nature. What really matters is the nobility inherent to its existence.”
“I see. Thank you for your help.” Sousuke returned to the hall.
“Ah... That was fast,” said Kaname, who had been waiting in the hall. Then, without any particular show of enthusiasm, she asked, “Well? What did he say?”
“Ah,” Sousuke replied. “He said it was vulgar.”
“Oh...”
“He said a great deal more than that, but that word sums it up. Something about flies... Something about the mating of flies being more beautiful than such a woman?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me...”
Sousuke frowned as he saw Kaname standing there, her arms folded and her expression serious. “Is there an issue?”
“Well... No, I guess it’s fine. Thanks anyway.” And with that, Kaname turned to leave.
How am I going to explain this to her? Kaname wondered, racking her brain as she stood outside the teachers’ office.
Suddenly she heard a voice from behind her. “Chidori-san?”
“Eek!” She leaped into the air and spun around, only to find Eri, who was holding some printouts for class, standing there.
“What’s got you so spooked?” Eri asked. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m fine. I...”
As Kaname struggled to think of what to say, Eri looked at her with upturned eyes. “How... How did it go?”
“Ah... How did it go? Well...” Kaname hesitated for a moment, then decided she should probably just be honest. “I’m not sure how to put this. It sounds like... Mr. Mizuhoshi prefers women with small appetites. I’m afraid you didn’t really make... a high-class impression.”
Eri didn’t react at first. Then, about five seconds later, she suddenly dropped the printouts in a mess, swayed on her feet and slumped against the wall.
“M-Ma’am?!” cried Kaname.
“I... I’m fine. I’m fine, Chidori-san,” Eri said reassuringly. “Just a moment of vertigo... For a moment, up was down, I could no longer recognize my place in space and time, and I felt like all my blood was replaced with industrial waste... you know the feeling?”
“That sounds pretty serious, ma’am.”
“I’m fine. I’m just fine. Absolutely fine...” But despite her protestations, Eri had begun to hiccup and sob. She was pretty clearly in a bad way.
Kaname struggled with what to say next. “Um, but... I didn’t actually mention your name, so maybe he was speaking generally?” she hazarded. “It might not be so bad.”
“Ah, but... eh... really?” Eri looked up.
“Really. After all, they say that love is blind! No matter how careless and gluttonous and relatively flat-chested you might be... maybe Mr. Mizuhoshi doesn’t care about that!” Kaname said brightly. “He might be okay with anything as long as it’s from you.”
“Y-You think?” Eri’s cheeks turned pink, forgetting how bad she’d felt originally.
“I do! I’m going to ask him directly how he feels about you,” Kaname promised.
“W-Well... I don’t know if I want that.”
“But you won’t be satisfied until I do, right?” she insisted. “Let’s get the whole thing cleared up so you can sleep soundly tonight. If it’s bad, you can drink yourself to sleep. I think it’s really the best choice.”
“Ah... but...”
Kaname put a finger to her chin. “In that case... okay. I’ll make an excuse. I’ll say we’re making plans for a student council bulletin. We did star charts to see how teachers paired up, and it said you and Mr. Mizuhoshi were a perfect couple. I’ll tell him that and see how he feels. That wouldn’t be too suspicious, right? Right?!”
Eri let out a small breath and nodded firmly. “I see. In that case... all right.”
“Okay, sure thing! See ya!” Kaname headed for the art supply room once more.
As she arrived, she could see Sousuke still standing guard in front of the door.
“I guess I still can’t go in?”
“Correct. I’m sorry, but the room will be off limits for some time,” Sousuke responded, back straightened in an at-rest posture.
“Okay... would you ask for me one more time? This time...” Kaname explained the situation.
“Understood. You want me to ask him how he feels about Ms. Kagurazaka?”
“Yes. Please do.”
“Wait here.” Sousuke disappeared behind the door.
Inside, Mizuhoshi was still desperately engaged with the unfinished painting. Sousuke spoke up, feeling a bit awkward. “Sir.”
“Oh... what is it?”
“I have a minor question for you. What do you think of Ms. Kagurazaka?”
“What?” Mizuhoshi’s hand stopped on the easel, and he peered over the canvas at Sousuke. “Wh-Why would you ask me that?”
“The student council used a highly reliable method of astrological charting and received an intriguing result. It said the two of you were perfect for each other. I wish to request your comment.”
“Wh-What did Ms. Kagurazaka say?”
“We haven’t asked her yet.”
Mizuhoshi frowned for a minute, then finally, sluggishly, opened his mouth. “That fortune... can’t be true. We’re not a good match at all.”
“Not a good match?” Sousuke echoed.
“Yes. I... Whenever I look at her, I feel like needles are stabbing me in the heart. It’s not mere admiration of her beauty. It’s something else... something far stronger, more deathly terrifying. Monstrous. Primitive. Yes, I find her primitive. The struggle between Eros and Thanatos she inspires within me...” he went on and on, “...beyond the neurotic paradox that, to borrow the words of Sigmund Freud...” and on and on he went.
Sousuke listened, trying to work out if Mizuhoshi even liked her or hated her. It was completely beyond him, but he used the best of his reason and sensitivity to commit Mr. Mizuhoshi’s words to memory.
“...And that’s more or less how I feel,” Mizuhoshi concluded. “Is that acceptable?”
It wasn’t, really. It was rare for Sousuke to feel completely taken aback by anything, but he spoke up weakly with his fingertips pressed to his temples, “Yes, that is... acceptable, I believe. Thank you.”
The sight of Sousuke, grimacing and trailing sweat as he exited the room, had Kaname immediately nervous. “What did he say?”
“Hmm. I’m not certain how to explain.” Sousuke folded his arms, gave a slight groan, then shook his head rapidly as if to clear it. “It appears that when Mr. Mizuhoshi looks at Ms. Kagurazaka’s face, it inspires thoughts of death.”
“Huh?”
“He appears to see her as a monster,” Sousuke clarified. “Extremely primitive... eros... something like that. Erotic? Like a prostitute. He sees her as a person tormented by neurosis... and a poor match for him? I think it was... something like that.” His voice shrank at the very end.
“Does that mean he hates her?”
“It certainly didn’t sound... positive.”
“Geh... I guess you’re right,” Kaname agreed reluctantly.
“I didn’t understand everything he said, but Mr. Mizuhoshi said that Ms. Kagurazaka is monstrous, primitive, erotic, neurotic, and that looking at her makes him sick,” said Sousuke, still trying to make sense of it all.
“I feel like that can’t be quite right, but...” Just then, Kaname heard a small sob behind her. She whipped around. “M-Ma’am?!”
Kagurazaka Eri was standing right there. Her expression was that of a lost child, and her eyes were swollen and red.
“H-How long have you been there?” Kaname asked.
“Since you said he hated me.”
“Geh...”
“I reconsidered what we discussed, so I came down to stop you,” Eri whispered, her tone almost dire.
“Um... look, I’m not exactly sure that’s what he said...”
“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I’m always speaking so high-mindedly in front of you students, but I suppose I was just a foolish, pathetic woman all along. Completely ignorant of the world, a glutton, and still a virgin too. I just... I just...”
As Eri entered a spiral of self-destruction, Kaname tried desperately to reassure her. “That’s not true. Don’t torture yourself, ma’am.”
“She’s right, ma’am. And for primitive peoples, it was important to eat as much as they could when they could,” said Sousuke. “Don’t chastise yourself.”
“You shut up!” Kaname screamed, and Sousuke ducked his head, cowed. Eri began to back away unsteadily.
It was just then that the door to the art supply room flew open, and Mizuhoshi charged out. “What’s all this noise?! I am trying to concentrate— Eh?” Mizuhoshi stopped in the middle of his scolding. He’d just noticed that Eri was there. He saw that she was crying and fell silent. “M-Ms. Kagurazaka. What’s the matter?” Confused, he looked at Sousuke and Kaname.
They looked at each other, then looked away. Kaname began whistling, and Sousuke began disassembling his gun for maintenance.
“Mr. Mizuhoshi... I really must apologize,” Eri said in a pained voice, turning her back to him.
“What?”
“I should have been tactful and refused, but I accepted your invitation to dinner... It was far too presumptuous of me,” she said.
“Wh-What are you talking about? I don’t—”
“Don’t bother! It’s all fine. I know I’m a plain and boring woman. But... But...” After that preface, Eri turned around, probably glaring at Mizuhoshi with tear-stained eyes. “Primitive, neurotic, like a prostitute?!” she blurted out. “It’s all too hurtful! I never thought you were the kind of man to say such cruel things! I’ve completely lost respect for you!”
“Wait—” In that moment, Sousuke and Kaname were sure they saw the word Shock! appear over Mr. Mizuhoshi’s head.
“Never talk to me again! Now, if you’ll excuse me...” Eri wiped away her tears and strode away.
Mizuhoshi was left behind, staring emptily at the ceiling.
“Um... Sir?”
There was no response. After a moment, he turned slowly to Sousuke, and said, “Do... you have a lighter?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Could I borrow it?” Mizuhoshi took Sousuke’s Zippo and wandered listlessly back into the art supply room. He walked further inside and held the lighter up to the painting he’d been working on just then.
“What?!” Kaname turned pale and ran in to stop him.
“Don’t try to stop me, Chidori-kun!” Mizuhoshi cried out.
“What are you doing?! You’re going to start a fire!”
“Yes, let it all burn! This filthy painting... this filthy world! It’s all... it’s all... gaaah!” Mizuhoshi let out a primal scream, tears streaming from his eyes.
Sousuke wrenched his arm behind his back as Kaname snatched the lighter.
“What’s the matter with you?! You don’t even like Ms. Kaguraza—” Kaname started to say, and then suddenly stopped. She had seen Mizuhoshi’s painting for the first time. “I-Is this...”
“I see.” At the sight of the picture, even the normally dimwitted Sousuke understood everything.
Eri was lying in a bed in the nurse’s office, crying.
“Um, Senpai. Are you all right?” the nurse, Nishino Kozue, asked in concern. The two of them had known each other since high school, where they were one year apart in the brass band club—in this very school, in fact.
Eri sniffled. “I don’t think I am,” she said. “I’m just so pathetic...”
“I don’t know what’s going on... but ever since high school, you’ve been quick to make assumptions,” said the nurse.
“Just leave me alone,” Eri mumbled. “You’ve always had plenty of guys. You’d never understand my pain. Sob...”
Just then...
“Excuse us...”
“Is Ms. Kagurazaka here?” Kaname and Sousuke asked as they opened the door to the empty nurse’s office.
Nishino Kozue turned to Eri, her gaze inquisitive.
“Tell them I’m not here,” she insisted.
“Yes, she’s here,” Kozue called, turning back to the door.
“Hey!”
Kozue smiled and disappeared behind the curtain. Kaname and Sousuke entered in her place.
“Hey. Are you sulking again?” Kaname asked.
With her face buried in the pillow and covered in a sheet, Eri really did look like a sulking child. “I’m... I’m fine. I just want to stew in my misery. Please go.”
“I can’t do that. We bear some of the responsibility for what’s happened.” With that, Sousuke produced a painting from behind his back, and the smell of not-quite-dried oil paint stung her nose.
“Ah...” said Eri. The painting was an incomplete portrait. Standing in front of a building somewhere in town—probably a meetup spot—was a young woman, looking at her watch as she anxiously waited for someone. It was clearly meant to be her.
The woman in the painting looked worried, yet excited. The gaze of the onlooker—the painter himself—seemed full of warm affection, despite the painting being mainly made up of blues, greens, and grays. It was truly a mysterious painting.
“Mr. Mizuhoshi has been working on this painting in a furor the last few days,” Sousuke told her.
“He said the reason he’s been short with you is because he’s been trying to hang on to this image of you from your date,” Kaname added.
Eri said nothing. She just gazed at the painting, a flush entering her cheeks. It had all been a misunderstanding. She didn’t need an explanation. The moment she saw it, everything became clear.
“I think I was too hard on Mr. Mizuhoshi. He’s actually just really bad at expressing himself,” Kaname said with a smile.
“Yes...” Eri said, her face turning red to the ears. “That’s why I love him.”
〈An Eloquent Portrait — The End〉
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login