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“Leave me the FUCK alone!”
Hn. Kento winced. Hearing Sai swear was
like watching a care bear hold up a convenient store.
Brr.
“Sai, let me in.” It wasn’t referring to
physical admittance; the doorknob was hanging limply from its wooden socket.
Sai pissed wasn’t elegant, but it was effective.
“Why?”
Kento sighed, his gaze going heavenward.
“Because you know you want somebody.”
There was a reluctant sniff. The bed creaked,
and the door was wrenched open from within, Sai glaring balefully with
puffy reddened eyes, cheeks streaked with tears that he hadn’t bothered
to scrub away, too miserable to care who saw him.
“WHAT.” He demanded, venomously.
Kento, not sure how to reply, hovered uncertainly.
“It uh.. didn’t go well?”
If Sai’s expression was enough to leave
welts, his words would have brought blood. “Oh, NO.” He bit the syllables
off as though keeping them in his mouth was revolting. “It was just lovely,
THANK you SO much for asking. They proclaimed me the next Rembrant. I’m
bawling my eyes out because I would rather have been the next WaterhouseOFCOURSEITDIDN’TGOWELL!!”
Kento folded his arms and waited for Sai’s
breathing to slow down, not budging an inch. “Done?”
“Not by half,” Sai snapped, but his shoulders
slumped. “Come in anyway.”
“Better,” Kento stepped inside, shutting
the mangled door behind him as best he could. “Now, tell me what happened.”
Sai sat down primly on his bed, tossing his hair
to get it out of his eyes, and, head high, announced in a professional
tone: “My style is naive and incompetent, I appear to have absorbed nothing
from my drawing classes, I have no skill in rendering the human body, my
technique of drawing eyes- not that it is developed enough to be a technique-
is schematic and flat, my subject matter is childish and not even pop art,
if I wish to continue in the major then I will have to retake drawing ONE
AND two, I am a mediocre apprentice in the field, not even considered an
artist, to put it simply, I suck. So pardon me if I’m a TRIFLE disappointed
by their reaction, hnn?” Sai’s lip quavered slightly, turning away. “Now
will you let me be miserable?”
“They,” Kento said thoughtfully, “Are either
full of shit or blind.”
“Oh, well that’s very helpful Kento, but
it doesn’t do much for me right now. They’re experts, they’re artists-“
“They’re assholes.” Kento was unmoved.
“A bunch of self-important prigs who can’t sell their own stuff, So they
belittle students to feel better about themselves. And you’ve always been
too proud to be a tin idol suck up, which is the only other option people
like that will let their students have.” His square, brown hand squeezed
Sai’s shoulder firmly. “You are GOOD, Sai. You’ve got talent.”
“No I don’t,” Sai grumbled, mostly to himself.
He added a grim mumbling about damn Technicolor soup cans being “art” when
his stuff was just garbage.
“Don’t let me EVER hear you say that again,”
Kento threatened, with dark sincerity. Sai did not respond.
“Where’s your sketchbook?”
Sai scrubbed at his eyes with one hand,
leaving a smear of graphite on one cheek. ‘Kento-“
“Where is it, Sai?”
Sai hung his head, and for a moment Kento
was truly afraid that Sai had destroyed his treasured drawings. “In my
bag,” he surrendered finally.
Kento walked over and retrieved the book
from the leather satchel, flung in a defeated pile next to the desk. The
book was a black hardbound volume, decorated with various stickies. The
others were fond of picking up things that they thought would strike the
soft-haired warrior’s fancy, Rowen and surprisingly Sage were the worst
culprits: Holographic stars and planets, lightning bolts in a rainbow array
of shimmer, blue glittery dolphins, metallic oriental fans, and a smattering
of Evangellion and Final Fantasy VII. More sticker was showing than cover,
by this point.
Sai turned away from the sight of his sketchbook
in Kento’s hands, as though it were the personal effects of his true love.
Kento flipped through the images until he found the one he wanted, setting
it open on the desk, facing them. Sai kept black lashes lowered, spiky
and wet with tears against his skin.
“Look at that.”
“I’ve seen it before.”
“No you haven’t. Pretend you haven’t.”
“What is this supposed to prove, Kento?”
“Everything.”
Sai exhaled in exasperation and stared
grimly at the sketch. He’d had to do this in front of THEM, that horrible
firing squad of reviewers that juggled his future so jadedly in their hands.
“It is trendy and kitchy and overdone and poorly rendered and OW! What
was that for?” He rubbed his bruised shoulder.
“For telling me what THEY think about it.
I couldn’t care LESS what they think. What do you think?”
Sai pouted and turned back to the drawing,
thinking about when he’d done it. It was a rough pen drawing, with the
barest splashes of color to random bits of armor on the five figures that
really seemed to be one entity, their lines flowing into each other. The
sunrise/sunset that they gazed into puddled on the white page like spilled
blood, the tension or hope or apprehension held in the set of their shoulders,
or the tilt of their heads.
“It’s sad. It’s hopeful. It’s a memory,
it’s a future…” His voce faded in exasperation. “I don’t know what
it is.” Sai turned away.
“I do.” Kento let one arm encircle Sai’s
shoulders. “It’s your soul, Sai. Your bravery. I don’t have the strength
to hang up my very being, to offer it on paper for the acceptance or ridicule
of others. But you do. You do it every day.” Kento lifted the book, laying
it carefully in Sai’s lap. “I know what this is.”
Sai frowned down tat the book, then up
at Kento. His eyes asked the ‘what’, even if his voice did not.
“It’s beautiful.”
Sai was quiet a long moment, staring down
at the sketch. A tear splashed onto the page, but thankfully the master
of Torrent had the good sense to use waterproof ink. He turned his head
suddenly, his eyes huge and shining before he flung his arms gratefully
around Kento. “Thank you, love. But it’s not what they want-“
“I don’t care, Sai,” Kento cradled Sai
against him, liking the way the other boy’s slender form fit neatly into
his embrace. “You’re what I want, and this is your art. It’s YOU, Sai,
and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. “
“Is it safe in he’a?” Rowen poked a wary
blue head into the room.
Sai lifted his head from Kento’s shoulder,
offering a watery smile. “Yeah.. I haven’t blown up anything by now, So
I’m not likely to.”
Rowen grinned, and stepped fully in the
room. “Hey, what kinda bullshit are they tellin’ ya, huh? “
“Nothing he should believe.” Kento said
to Sai firmly, and Sai nodded half-heartedly.
“But what should I do?” Sai frowned.
Kento shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,
Sai. It’s easier to save the world than it is to deal with arrogant beaurocracy.”
Rowen was thoughtful; one hand on his chin
in that pose that usually implied a plot in the works. “You trust me, Sai?”
Sai nodded without hesitation. “Of course.
But what-“
“Hang in the’a… I think I know somebody
who can help ya out…” Rowen walked over and gathered the open book from
Sai’s lap, kneeling down on the floor and smiling up at Sai. “So- didja
wanna super wave smash ‘em?”
Sai laughed in that unique way that comes
just after tears. “Yes!” He cocked his head slightly as Rowen carefully
closed the book and tucked it under one arm.
“Don’ worry.” Rowen grinned. “I won’t let
nuthin’ happen to it.”
Four days later Sai was regarding his cereal
warily. It had been Ryou’s turn for breakfast and he preferred a bowl of
Rowen’s lucky charms to eggs that could double as hockey pucks. Sai prodded
a greenish marshmellow, contemplating as he did that it looked nothing
like mount Everest as the box claimed it was supposed to, and the leaning
tower of Pisa resembled something he’d rather not be reminded of at breakfast.
He snickered suddenly, the orange marshmellow bit making him think absurdly
of Kento, and was pondering the amusing prospects of Samurai Trooper Breakfast
Cereal when Rowen walked in the room, fully dressed, wide awake and grinning
triumphantly.
Sai’s eyes darted to the clock- 9:45. “Good
heavens, Why are you awake? Are you sick?”
“Nope… and he’a’s ya book back.” His sketchbook
was placed next to his bowl. A long white envelope was on top of the cover,
Sai’s name romanized and typed neatly on the front of it.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Sai pulled out the single sheet of paper
in the envelope, his face going slack with shock as he read what was addressed
to him. His spoon clattered to the table, unnoticed.
“Rowen- is this some twisted sort of a joke?”
Rowen looked hurt. “Of course not.”
“But… this is a REQUEST from one of the
most prestigious anime companies in Japan… they have artists literally
KILLING themselves to get jobs there, and they’re ASKING me to work for
them? “ Sai peered at the letterhead, still suspicious.
“I got connections.” Rowen smiled mysteriously.
“C’mon! They wanna hire you NOW, ya can tell the school to shove it!”
“They’d hire me without a degree?” Sai
stammered. “But-“
“Listen, I know some people, okay? And
don’t think I got ya this coza that. I took ‘em ya book- I knew that if
REAL artists saw what ya weh doin’, ya wouldn’t have to deal with those
pricks anymore.” Rowen folded his arms and assumed an expression usually
reserved for whipping ass in a game of go.
“Rowen- I-I don’t know what to say. “
“Say you’ll take it.” Rowen grinned. “Don’
show me up, now.”
Rowen found himself the victim of an enthusiastic
hug. “Thank you, Rowen!”
“Faget it. Besides, if ya happy, I don’t
got my stomach doin’ loop-de-loops just cos ya spazzin.”
“Brat,” Sai responded, with affection,
and then sat down with a thud, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m not sure,
Rowen- I-“
“Shaddap!” Rowen ruffled Sai’s hair. “Jus’
DO it, okay? Ya know ya wanna.”
“That phrase has gotten me into considerable
trouble on frequent occasion.” Sai darted up, nearly toppling his chair.
“Wait’ll I tell Kento! “
“Hey- are you eatin’ my cereal?”
“oops.”
Ryo wasn’t too surprised that the kitchen
was empty by the time he got breakfast fixed, he was used to cooking for
himself. He chewed thoughtfully (for some reason it took more chewing when
he cooked as opposed to Sai) and picked up the paper lying on the table.
“Hnn…Somebody’s gonna hire Sai, I guess.”
He squinted at the logo, thinking it oddly familiar. “ Wonder who
this ‘Sunrise’ company is….”
