synergetic | Watercolors

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flayn goes to rikkai

Watercolors

Flayn received a shock in art class that day.

Kudou-sensei was a bit unconventional (she thought; she hadn't spent much time in classrooms, including his), but he spent most of the two weeks she'd been there giving vague assignments and letting them do what they would, only commenting on technique or seemingly random details that caught his attention.

Today, he looked around and said thoughtfully, "It's been a while since we had a class period set aside for your end-of-trimester group projects. Work on that today. I spilled coffee on my lesson plan."

Someone behind Flayn contemplated that it wasn't coffee, necessarily, and while Flayn was rather impressed by their clairvoyance, her hand shot up because she was more concerned by end-of-trimesters and not knowing what the project was, necessarily.

Kudou-sensei's eyebrows raised, and he didn't even bother calling on her.

"That's right, Von Aegir-san, you weren't here when I assigned projects... though you should've been, I assigned projects in pairs because my class list was an even number, and it only has been since you arrived..."

He glanced around the room; nobody had moved yet and he stuck the paintbrush he'd been gesturing with earlier into his mouth while he flipped through a notebook.

"Luckily we had that one group of three..." He scanned down the list. "Noguchi-san, Yukimura-kun, aaaand Konishi-san."

He stuck the paintbrush behind his ear, and smiled. "Yukimura-kun, besides being one of the best high school tennis players in the country, you count among your talents both painting and passing your classes despite being prevented from coming to class. What do you think we should do?"

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Yukimura's sketch more fully fills the page, but has less detail than Flayn's at present. He's roughed in the proportions and shape, placed the major features. It may be starting to become apparent that he isn't drawing Marui; Marui doesn't have this much hair.

He smiles gently. "Waste isn't a matter of who you practice with. It's how you use the time. Let me have a few days to plan something. I can't promise anything during normal practice hours, but I'm sure I can find a few volunteers to stay late with us one day as an opposing team."

He almost wants to voluntell Sanada to be the male opponent, partly because they're rivals and partly because he doesn't think Sanada will be able to bring himself to play hard against an opponent like Flayn, and that's something he can exploit. Yes, maybe Sanada and Fujimiya-san. That would be a good challenge for everyone.

Of course, there was the matter of Flayn's highly... invested parent to consider, too.

"--Ah, unless that creates a schedule problem for you...?"

"Oh, I will make very sure it does not," she said, not darkly, but firmly, not leaving any room for questions.

With a sigh, she glanced back at Yukimura's drawing, tilting her head a little bit to try and see it all a little more clearly.

"How do you make a flat line look so three dimensional...?" she trailed off, not really ready to draw a conclusion about who he was drawing but... speculating.

Yukimura rather likes that confidence in her tone. It speaks of an inner strength beneath her flowery disposition. How many has she taken off-guard with that sort of gentle fierceness, he wonders?

"I see. I'm glad to hear it."

One of the first rules of art is to draw what you see. This isn't intuitive; the instinct is to draw from memory. Yukimura is well familiar with this rule by now, and has simply applied it with barely a thought; a conversational partner seated across from him is a natural subject. Of course, the fact he finds Flayn cute, engaging, and easy to like doesn't hurt, either. But the goal is to practice sketching a live model.

"Ah, this? Well, I think it's bit like a symphony. One line alone can't create dimension, but when many of them together create a shape, the illusion becomes more possible." He pauses to survey Flayn's progress.

"Is this your first art class?"

"I am afraid it is," she said, and it didn't come to her quite so naturally as tennis. "The circumstances of my education thus far did not... leave me much opportunity for things beyond the core curriculum," she admitted. Her body was a limitation, and so were Father's credentials; he could teach mathematics and especially language arts well, could manage science and social studies, but that was already a lot!

"I feel a little behind, the same way I do with music and sports..."

Yukimura feels a swell of empathy from her explanation. Kudou-sensei brushed over the subject a few minutes ago, just how readily he could relate to complications that led to missing pieces of a standard education.

"That's unfortunate. Don't worry; I'll help you catch up."

Setting his own sketch pad down, he moves around to the seat next to her where he can act more as a tutor. He scoots his chair a little closer.

"Let's start a new sketch. Pick something in the room to draw-- something you can comfortably look at from where you're sitting. Drawing from memory is difficult; our brains have a lot of misconceptions about how things should look. It's better to draw from a reference."

Yukimura's abrupt change to the seating arrangement draws a few looks from around the class. Youji notices Konishi frowning, but correlation isn't cause, and the teacher merely notes it for further consideration, before going back to convincing a pair of boys that, yes, art has its place among the timeless girl-impressing arts like sports and acoustic guitar in the middle of a public space where no one is paying attention.

But Flayn spares Yukimura a brief, welcoming smile, before doing as he asks. There isn't much in the room she hasn't seen before, but she tries to see it with fresh, attentive eyes.

"Kudou-sensei is moving too much," she mused in a soft voice, unconsciously still inclined to people over objects, but-- "Oh, that would make anyone else a poor subject too, would it not?"

She finally settles on the bookshelf, nudging her chair just a bit closer to Yukimura's so that her view of it is slightly more direct and frontal.

"It is mostly straight lines," she said brightly. "I am not quite ready for something more challenging..."

Quickly, she puts in a straight line for the top shelf, before pausing, wondering if she ought to try to get the base shape down first, or if she should start adding the books and then go straight down the paper.

It's not that Yukimura isn't smart enough to understand the kinds of rumors that his move could stir. It's just. Not something he's interested in. If someone had something to say or ask, it should be directed to the person in question. Yukimura would happily clarify his intent for anyone who asked. He trusts the same to apply to Flayn.

In any case, even if he were thinking about the potential misunderstanding in the making, would it be such a bad thing? It wasn't even entirely untrue. Flayn intrigued him.

"You may surprise yourself," he suggests with a smile as she scoots in even closer. "I like drawing curves more. Hair is my favorite part of a portrait-- especially drawing big, soft curls like yours. They're pretty."

From there, he coaches her through basic guidelines for drawing as she works: fill the space, watch your subject rather than your hand, keep your movements loose, and get a rough sketch of major shapes before refining with adjustments and detail.

The word 'pretty' sits a bit oddly in her ears. Her face warms up when she hears it, because it's not exactly a new word, but the way it's being used... about her... she follows an urge to pull her hair back behind her shoulders and out of the way, smiling guiltily at how much she likes that little bit of praise.

But he's still helping and she's trying to pay close attention!

"This is not something you do just because you happened to be assigned to this class," she observed. "You probably could teach this class as well as Kudou-sensei, could you not?"

(Youji steps out the door so they won't hear him laugh.)

The feeling her reaction gives him feels like a drug. How cute! Flayn is clearly pleased but ducks the compliment with exactly the sort of demure grace that's socially expected. Yukimura loves seeing it, and he loves that he's the reason for it. That's probably dangerous for Flayn.

He in turn smiles with embarrassment and holds his hand up in protest.

"No, that would be impossible...! I've just taken several classes before. But it's true that art is one of my hobbies. I enjoy painting in watercolor."

Noguchi, who is drawing about as much pleasure from watching Yukimura with his new partner as Konishi, feels a twist in her stomach. Yukimura really didn't waste any time turning on the charm with the outsider, did he? Was he so glad to be done with them? It hurts. It hurts in a way that makes her hate Flayn a little, just for the proof of inadequacy that her sunny presence has so brutally bestowed upon them.

"Are you just good at everything, then?"

She says it without whining, without feeling sorry for herself, and Konishi rolls her eyes. It must be fake. She must be fake. And thinking she's untouchable, since her dad is the new headmaster.

But Flayn's only paying attention to her partner.

"Were they all school classes, or were some private? Oh, may I see some of your paintings? What do you like to paint most?"

No blind spots.

Yukimura thinks ruefully of that motto at Flayn's question. It was an absolute lie. He had plenty of them. What he struggled with was being comfortable enough to let others see that. That said, modesty was still the proper answer.

"There are plenty of things I'm not good at," he said, without naming anything specific. In particular, he saw a few things when he looked at her where he definitely paled in comparison. "Tennis is just the one thing I refuse to let be among them."

Reaching across the table for his pad, he pulled it over and flipped back through the last few pages. A couple of the pages were quick sketches and montages of photo clippings-- possibly ideas for future works-- and then there was a landscape of a flower garden overlooking the ocean that looked finished. Pink and purple flowers sprinkled the grassy area in the foreground. A dirt path cut through the garden to a white chair with a view of the water in the background. The opposite page held a photo cutout of the same image.

"This is my most recent one. I most enjoy landscapes of nature, especially water and flowers. I take a lot of inspiration from the French impressionist movement. Renoir and Monet are among my favorite artists."

Oh, how lovely to be so immersed in something like this... enough to know names, and categories, and such things. How much work it must be! Just a little bit of his interest seems to glow all about him, but not ostentatiously.

"I can see what you mean about not trusting things to memory," she said. "There is so much here! I didn't think boys liked flowers very much, but you are so careful over each one, I am a bit awed."

There were indeed several items in the painting, so it's interesting that Flayn's focus settled on the flowers. Yukimura's ears catch an opportunity in her reply to turn the conversation to a subject where they might have more common ground.

"You like flowers?" He asks. Most girls did, of course.

"Well, yes, to look at," she said. "Sometimes I would get them as gifts, and they brighten everything up! Hospitals are so dreary, and I felt starved for life and color."

Again, she only talks in statements of fact, without feeling sorry for herself. It is, after all, in the past now.

Yukimura's smile fades somewhat as he listens. His stomach twists from his own memories of that dreadful extended stay during his junior high years. It saddens him to think someone as kind and sweet-natured as Flayn had been similarly trapped there.

"...You really do," he says, though he isn't quite able to keep the pain of the memory from his voice like she seems to manage. "It starts to feel more like a prison than a place for healing, doesn't it."

It's a dangerous line of thought. Yukimura doesn't want to be the reason this conversation becomes heavy. He also doesn't want to shut her down. What would someone like Marui say in this kind of situation?

He smiles weakly. "Sorry. I killed the mood a little."

Probably not that. ~~(About those 'things he is not good at'...)~~

"They really could do with more flowers in those rooms. But maybe the staff have enough on their plates taking care of the people in them. They probably aren't eager for one more thing that needs attention."

She blinks in utter confusion.

"No, I'm sorry! I am the one who brought it up!"

Flayn wants dearly to take the weight off what had always seemed to her an easy smile. But things never are so easy as they seem, are they? She senses he still has a shadow within him.

Very gently, she lays her hand over his nearest one, and gives it a brief squeeze.

"Maybe they are not, and I suppose that's understandable, but I admire how now you can just bring yourself everything that blooms right in your sketchbook! You will never have that problem again, not ever."

Now see what you've done, Seiichi? She thinks she's the one that needs to apologize.

He has barely a moment to berate himself, however, before her hand covers his and the room fills with whispers. For that one singular moment, the sudden intimacy of their contact is deeply uncomfortable, and he can barely take in what she's saying for all the blood rushing through his ears.

But her hand is warm and soon his cheeks are too, and he's not sure if he's more shocked or impressed by her boldness, even in the innocent context she intends it in. But it's sort of amazing she had the confidence and comfort with herself to just... do it. And for him, after he was so self-centered as to get wrapped up in his own bad memories when it was her story.

What is this strange, tingly feeling in his chest all of the sudden?

...What did she just say? He's pretty sure he just missed it. This is mortifying.

He smiles and takes a wild stab with a reply that seems safe, and there's pleasure across his face even as his insides feel like they're full of bees.

"Thank you, Von Aegir-san. Let's get back to our sketches, okay?"

Quickly, she withdraws her hand, needing it now.

Briefly, her eyes flick around the room, sensing the disturbance, and feeling the weight of self-consciousness start to close in, without being exactly sure why... But she swallows a little nervously, resolving to let it go, or at least think about it later, possibly with help.

Looking over the pencil strokes she's managed so far, however, isn't really satisfying or intriguing anymore, and, impulsively, she flips to the next blank page.

"A-actually, can I try a new one? The flowers from your photograph?"

Yukimura notices that movement of her eyes around the room, taking in the attention she's drawn to them. The questions of intent would have arisen regardless of who it was, but he can't help suspecting it wouldn't normally be stirring up this kind of whispering.

It's not her fault. None of it is. She's just trying to be a supportive friend. It makes him... just a little bit angry on her behalf, that now she's left thinking she's somehow made a mistake. He picks at the tape securing the photo to his sketchbook until it's loose enough to remove without tearing the page, then holds it out in offering.

"Don't pay any mind to it," he reassures quietly. "Everyone loves something to talk about."

"Oh, of course," Flayn murmurs, deliberately softer than before so as not to disturb their audience. She lays the picture down at the top of her sketchbook, before slowly, gently, nudging her chair back a ways. She'd only moved to see the bookcase, after all. There's no need to stay there, and invite more disruption.

She's almost afraid to do more than concentrate on her own work.

Gone is the bright, happy girl full of enthusiasm for his company. He can't blame her. By all measures, going quiet, scooting away, and focusing on work was the smart thing to do. Even so, he can't deny just a tiny bit of heartache and frustration watching her restore the distance that had been between them, and interpreting it as much psychologically as he does physically.

That was it, then, huh? It was over depressingly fast. Just when he was thinking maybe...

He turns his own sketchbook to a new page, abandoning the portrait he'd started in favor of a still life of the cabinet by the window. Light filters in from outside, reminding everyone of the warm, sunny day they're missing while trapped inside doing schoolwork.

The minutes pass by. And as he sits there, having withdrawn back into his own artwork and solitude, he glances at Flayn out of the corner of his eye, and it occurs to him that he's being disgustingly self-absorbed again. Here he is, so tangled up in being sad over her withdrawal because of what it meant for him that he's given barely any consideration to what she must be experiencing right now as the new person. She hadn't been at all prepared for that gesture to draw the attention that it did, had she? Is she afraid for her prospects at other friendships now?

For a moment, he's reminded of Jackal, and of the experiences he's shared of being a foreigner trying to live and integrate into such an insular society. Rikkaidai was thankfully more inclusive than most places, but that didn't necessarily make it easy, only easier. And he's reminded of Nami's assessment of Flayn as reported to her father that day he told them about the mixed doubles opportunity.

"She's a pure-hearted fighter that wants friends and common interests to share with them... Most likely, Marui-kun was only kind enough to see her loneliness..."

What is he doing...?

His anger turns towards himself, and he tears a blank page from his pad, scribbling a note down at the bottom and spending the remainder of the class drawing on it.

When the bell rings, he folds the paper in half twice, creases it against the table, and discreetly slides it halfway under Flayn's sketch pad as he stands. He smiles politely.

"I'll see you later, Von Aegir-san."

On unfolding the note, Flayn will find an intricate drawing of a rose that he's added some yellow coloring to in the shaded areas. The note at the bottom reads:

Come to the rooftop of the south wing for lunch tomorrow. There's something I want to show you.

Flayn says what she thinks is a very polite good-bye, but she spots the note as soon as she starts packing her book bag.

And she doesn't have the patience to wait. It must be from Yukimura, and he was so sneaky! The surprise and anticipation neatly obliterates her earlier melancholy, and she almost rips the note unfolding it as quickly as she does.

The picture of the rose makes her gasp, and Konishi looks up, giving Noguchi a nudge.

"Someone sure is full of herself," she said, as they walked past a confused Flayn.

No matter. She re-folded the picture with a smile, already looking forward to tomorrow.

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Watercolors

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