I Will Inspire Your Insipid Days - Volume 1 Chapter 4.1

Part 1 “Performing”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuu”

While I was sipping tea and reading, a monstrous groan arose from the bed, sounding more like someone suffering from nausea than having a nightmare.

Approaching the bed to check just in case, I saw Natsume-san wrapped in her futon, only her face exposed, twitching her eyelids while emitting a rumbling sound.

“Natsume-san, are you okay? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?”

“…”

Lately, Natsume-san has been immersing herself in painting even later than before.

Maybe she’s busy with work.

Feeling it wasn’t my place to pry, I simply observed without intervening.

There was no response to my call. It seems she wasn’t awake. Is she asleep?

“Do you want something to drink?”

“…Hot water.”

“You were awake…”

I left the room and headed to the utility room. After boiling water in the kettle and filling a thermos, I returned to the room where Natsume-san, now sitting on the bed and rubbing her eyes, was waiting.

“You should have stayed lying down. You haven’t been sleeping much, have you?”

“There’s never a day I can sleep.”

“I still don’t know the right answer to respond with.”

“There’s no right answer. Somehow, Yokaze always takes care of me. That’s why I waited.”

It seemed to be her way of showing manners.

Sighing, I poured the hot water into a cup. Drinking a glass of water before bed or after waking up is said to be good for health, but with Natsume-san’s sleep cycle being so erratic, it’s a mystery if health tips apply to her.

“Thanks…”

Taking the cup with both hands, Natsume-san sipped it and muttered “hot” with a faint voice. Her slurping reminded me vaguely of a squirrel stuffing its cheeks with nuts.

“Sleeping pills.”

“Hm?”

“Maybe I forgot to take them…?”

Hearing Natsume-san’s murmur, I glanced at the pillcase on the desk.

She uses different medications for daytime and before bed. Though I’m not familiar with the specifics, there are two types: capsules and tablets, distinguishable by appearance alone.

Checking the contents again, I reassured Natsume-san.

“Don’t worry. You’ve taken them.”

“If Yokaze says so, there must be no mistake. So, why can’t I sleep?”

“Let’s not enter a self-inquiry phase ignoring my existence.”

“Well, focusing on something makes sleepiness fly away, so it can’t be helped.”

“Don’t self-answer naturally.”

Being fully trusted somehow makes me more worried.

Apparently, having the habit of taking medication can lead to unconsciously taking it or forgetting after convincing oneself it was taken. By the way, last night when I was about to go to bed, Natsume-san was silently drawing something on her tablet at the desk.

I wonder when she finally slept. I think the cause of her poor awakening lies there.

“Hey, Yokaze.”

As I pondered aimlessly, Natsume-san called out in a thin voice.

“How does it feel?”

There are too many women around me with ambiguous subjects.

“I need a bit more context to respond.”

“How does it feel to remember everything you see?”

Frankly, I don’t know how to express it.

“…There’s no way I can answer that. For me, this is normal.”

Each scene I’ve experienced is organized in my mind like an album, and I refer to them as needed. It’s hard to put this feeling into words.

“Conversely, how do you feel when you draw, Natsume-san?”

“Hmm, maybe I draw because I want to remember what I’ve seen.”

“That makes my response even harder…”

I thought that would be the end of our conversation, but, contrary to my expectations, Natsume-san continued speaking.

“But, I… I want to make people happy with my paintings. That’s all.”

“That’s so unexpected, I’m confused.”

As far as I know, “Natsume’s” works are ominous, grotesque, like sludge accumulated in the world slapped directly onto canvas.

There are many works that seem like the culmination of the world’s calamities.

Like the tangible form of the harshness of life and the suffocation felt in human society.

That the creator wishes for others’ happiness was beyond my imagination.

“It’s just a different method… My existence isn’t needed in others’ lives. I don’t want to lead anyone. ‘Compared to what this guy sees, I’m better off,’ if they can feel relatively happy, that’s enough for me.”

“…Why did you start drawing?”

I feel like I’ve asked before, or maybe not. Probably because there wasn’t a productive exchange, I might have erased it from my memory. I only remember what I’ve properly seen.

After a moment of silence, Natsume-san spoke again with the same strained voice.

“I’m probably feeling the same way Yokaze felt just now. Maybe not?”

“I can’t say for sure if you’re asking me, but I guess so.”

Putting feelings into words is truly difficult.

“For now, I’ve handled most of the commissions from clients, so when I wake up, I only need to think about the Hohaku Festival piece… I hope there are no retakes.”

“Retake? Like, redoing?”

“It depends. Sometimes it’s minor adjustments, other times it’s a complete redo.”

Suddenly curious, I asked.

“When clients aren’t familiar with art, on what basis do they request changes from Natsume-san? I think it’s difficult for amateurs to offer opinions to professionals.”

“I think so too. People who treat it as a business might say ‘the client’s opinion is first’ or ‘in the end, almost everyone who sees the illustration is an amateur, so it’s logical to cater to the amateur’s perspective.’ I’ve seen people say that, but it’s impossible for me. I’m too particular.”

Impossible, huh.

I wonder how she manages her work every time… But then again, I don’t recall ever seeing Natsume-san in a voice call with someone. While I’m at school during the day when ordinary people work, and work-related communications would presumably happen then, it still seems infrequent. Hence, I’ve never seen her in a dispute related to work.

“Without outright saying ‘Got a problem with my work?’ it becomes ‘This is already complete, where should I correct it?’ Actually, there have been many commissions that ended up back at square one because of that.”

“Talking with Natsume-san feels like being shown a glimpse of the adult world.”

“Like a documentary of a child lost in the adult world.”

“I don’t quite get it…”

“It’s fine if it doesn’t get across.”

“…Truly, how do we manage to communicate?”

“I wonder if we do. I’ve never thought we did… sleepy…”

Natsume-san collapses onto the bed and stretches an arm out from under the blanket.

“Watch it for me.”

She points towards the desk.

“I’ve sketched a rough stage design… just the concept…”

“…I wish you’d explained it with words that make more sense.”

“It’s just a concept after all. If it’s just drawing, projecting it is enough, but we actually have to create the stage, so from now on, we’ll solidify the details… Goodnight…”

No further response came. I doubted she had fallen asleep instantly, but upon closer inspection, it seems she was wearing earplugs. She mentioned something about having auditory hypersensitivity before…

Reluctant to wake her, I decided to check out the so-called concept sketch.

In the center of the drawing paper, a large bird was soaring.

“…Is that a bird?”

A giant bird enveloped in flames, spreading its wide wings as if flying towards me, was depicted. Behind it, drawn in the background, was perhaps a birdcage.

The dynamically spread wings, too large to fit within the frame, seemed to radiate a dazzling aura. The monochrome illustration even felt as if it was imbued with color.

Yet, there was one inconsistency.

“…And where am I in this?”

There’s no human in the picture.

Even if I wanted to ask for clarification, there was no sign of Natsume-san resuming her activities.

──How exactly does she see me?

I recall Natsume-san once saying she “draws as she sees.” It must be true. But I’m not “Natsume,” so I can’t surmise how she views me. Since recipients can’t unify their interpretation, it makes sense that “Natsume’s” works are highly valued… If that’s the case.

If Natsume-san is drawing as she sees, then perhaps there’s no need to seek explanations?

Surely, the answer would only be “It’s Yokaze through and through.”

To connect her world and materialize it in a form different from painting as a paintbrush,

What exactly should I do?

Still unable to find an answer, today I head to the classroom again. In a space where every student is desperately trying to create something, I am thrown in empty-handed.

I thought passion wasn’t necessary.

Can I──stand on the same ground as them?

I’m scared.

Terrifyingly──my heart aches.

Leaving the frightened me behind, Natsume-san continues to create something today as well.