I Will Inspire Your Insipid Days - Volume 1 Chapter 4.6

Part 2 “Feeling”

The door to my room, which I always opened as if it were second nature, felt unexpectedly heavy this time.

In this case… I should probably be the one to apologize. After all, I’m the one who caused confusion for Natsume-san.

It was the first time I had seen her so disturbed. Even when tracing back through my memories, I had never encountered such a scene.

With resolve, I opened the door.

“…I’m back.”

There was no response.

The lights were on, but there was no sign of anyone. However, the arrangement of the clothes thrown on the floor had changed.

Some art supplies were missing… which means.

“…The rooftop?”

All the insights I’ve gained while living with Natsume-san blend together, leading me straight to the correct conclusion.

She has a vague sense of time.

There’s no consistency in when she sleeps or wakes up.

Yet, she prefers routine.

Even if her wake-up times vary, her actions afterward are predictable.

She always asks me for coffee upon waking, heads straight to the vanity for makeup after hydrating, and then locks eyes with her tablet at the desk. From there, she immerses herself in drawing, and once her concentration breaks, she relaxes and stares at the ceiling. Then, without any warning, she might strip off her clothes for a shower, or dive into bed for a deep sleep.

Among those routine and impulsive actions, I realized one was “going to the rooftop” during times when no other dorm residents were around.

I darted out of the room, taking the stairs of the student dorm.

With a different pace and conviction than the day I first encountered her.

Though summer was supposed to be approaching, the nights were still chilly. Coming from a region with high humidity, I found the occasional dry, cool breeze that flowed through the air refreshing.

Eventually, I arrived at the spot where she indeed stood.

“…I knew you’d be here.”

She was staring down at the ground, fixated on something. She didn’t hear my voice.

Taking one step at a time closer, Natsume-san still didn’t notice me.

What could she be seeing?

I never cared before, nor thought I needed to.

But staying that way won’t lead to any progress.

To break free from the situation I’ve been placed in, I have to discard “resignation” and “stagnation.”

So, I spoke up.

“I was wrong.”

Natsume-san jerked as if shocked by electricity,

“W-what?”

As if she had seen a ghost, she recoiled.

I understood well that she was weak to unexpected situations.

Without waiting for a response, I continued with my apology.

“I prematurely drew conclusions without properly confronting Natsume-san, bearing it all alone. There must have been norms and intentions unique to Natsume-san, yet I refused to dialogue. So, I’m sorry.”

“Out of nowhere, what’s with that? I got really scared. Seriously freaked out.”

Her voice carried no lies. Of course, she can’t lie.

“Let’s talk. Not just about me, but I want to hear about Natsume-san too.”

“I can’t understand without an explanation.”

“Why Natsume-san started drawing. Why she began posting her works online. Why she chose me. I’ve been in the dark about it all, so I want to clarify… I think it’s necessary ritual for me to become Natsume-san’s paintbrush.”

“Ritual?”

“Maybe that was a bit exaggerated.”

“I’ve always said I don’t understand metaphors.”

Complaining, yet Natsume-san’s cheeks softened.

This is what dialogue and mutual understanding are supposed to be.

“But, Yokaze, you don’t listen to others.”

“Natsume-san’s saying that?”

“But this time, you need to listen, right?”

The conversation proceeded one-sidedly. Conversations with Natsume-san were always like misaligned buttons, never quite matching up. But there were no lies there. Raw honesty was present.

“Let’s start then. Komachi said I’m terrible at explaining, so I’ll just go through everything chronologically for now.”

Natsume-san began to narrate haltingly.

“Originally, it wasn’t that I wanted to draw. I had no other choice. Well, probably, it’s still the same now.”

Looking up at the sky, she spoke. Her usual rapid pace and impersonal tone didn’t betray any emotion.

“At first, it was a minor sense of discomfort. Not fitting in with those around me, unable to laugh when other children laughed, not understanding the rules of play, not grasping what others were thinking. Those discomforts gradually accumulated, resulting in me spending more time indoors than out.”

She added that this was during her elementary school years.

“Even as I moved up to higher grades, the discomfort didn’t disappear, and eventually, I was called out by teachers repeatedly. Don’t be late, don’t walk around during class, listen to others, be friendly with your friends. Each time, I’d ask back, ‘Who are my friends?’ The teacher would always answer, ‘All your classmates.’ Strange, right? It’s impossible to be friends with all classmates.”

By the time she was in upper elementary, it seems the persona of Tachibana Natsume I knew was starting to form.

“Eventually, even my parent was called in. Though, I only have my father, and he seemed bothered, probably stressed by having to leave work for meetings. ‘Natsume, do you not want to go to school?’ he directly asked me one day. That felt… really comforting to me. Before I knew it, I stopped attending school. I didn’t go at all during fifth or sixth grade. Didn’t even attend the graduation ceremony. I still can’t study. I knew my nature too well; I can’t devote resources to things I’m not interested in, and my father was very lax. He never said anything about me staying home and drawing all the time. Even now, he doesn’t say anything.”

“Sorry, let’s pause for a moment.”

“What?”

I posed a question to Natsume-san, who seemed dissatisfied.

“The crucial ‘why I started drawing’ is missing, making it hard to follow. There must have been more, right? Reading books, or… what else is there?”

“Don’t force it, Yokaze. You wouldn’t understand children’s entertainment, right?”

“That may be true, but…”

“In my case, it just so happened that my father was an art dealer. Our home was filled with paintings, and art supplies were readily available, so I just started messing with them.”

“Art dealer?”

Unfamiliar with the term, I inadvertently echoed back.

Without changing her expression, Natsume-san explained in her own words.

“He dealt with buying and selling paintings, and also managed galleries. You’ve been to a gallery with Komachi, right? I talked about my father, didn’t I? Yeah, I did.”

“You definitely did not! This is all news to me!”

“If you say I didn’t, then I guess I didn’t. If Yokaze says so.”

And the story continues──Natsume-san started again.

I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue and listened intently.

“Even after entering middle school, my father remained uninvolved, but he happened to see a painting I did and one day asked, ‘Did you draw this? What did you see when you drew it?’ I didn’t understand what he meant, so I answered, ‘I just drew what I saw.’ Then, after a moment of silence, he said, ‘I’ll buy you a tablet. Tell me whatever equipment you want.’ And before I knew it, a middle school girl surrounded by electronic devices, skipping school to continue drawing, was born.”

“A peculiar parent-child relationship… isn’t it?”

I’m not sure where the universality lies.

“Right. I seriously think so. I only communicate with my father about business matters. Oh, by the way, it was my father who advised me to post my illustrations online. What is it? More like a business partner than a parent-child relationship, with a mutual interest agreement as a prerequisite for its establishment. He handles the financial dealings for the illustration jobs I accept. Well, he’s my guardian, so naturally. In return, I have full access to my bank account. The tuition is also paid from there.”

In a monotone voice, Natsume-san continued to share her personal story.

I was ready to listen to the end. I knew she was bad at explaining.

“Maybe, from a normal person’s perspective, it seems like a distorted parent-child relationship… but I can’t even imagine having that kind of interaction with a parent.”

“Honestly, if it weren’t for that father, I think I would have broken down long ago. Well, maybe I’m still broken. I occasionally attend online clinics, can’t sleep without sleeping pills, when deadlines approach and I need to concentrate on drawing, I have to skip taking my medication because of side effects, I often vomit food. But, I’m glad I didn’t have a parent who forced me to ‘be normal’──though that makes me think about various things.”

Her suggestive words prompted me to ask, “About what?”

It felt like the question was being steered.

“I can only draw. Other kids go to school as a matter of course, make friends, fall in love, grow up, and live their lives as if it’s all natural. I skipped all that, staying home and constantly drawing. My environment allowed it, but society doesn’t guarantee the same acceptance. I won’t say I want to die lightly, and I actually don’t think that way, but paradoxically speaking, ‘drawing’ is the only way I know how to live. And for me, trying to live, that’s just a risk. Having only one way to live is scary. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“…But you’re already accepted by society as ‘Natsume’, right?”

Natsume-san glanced at me and shook her head.

“If for some reason I can’t draw anymore, ‘Natsume’ will be forgotten. Without being etched into history, it will vanish into memory. Times change, and there’s no guarantee that the world will always accept what I see. I don’t think so because I know I’m bugged. It’s hard to imagine a society that will always tolerate bugs. That’s why──I came here. To Shumonzaka Girls’ Academy. To be a high school student.”

Then, turning her body towards me, she continued.

“Creating something with friends──that’s just like a normal high school student, isn’t it?”

Surely, that was Natsume-san’s true intention. She only speaks her mind.

The scenes I’ve collected thus far rapidly connected in my mind.

I felt like I grasped… just a little, a very little, understanding of her.

Natsume-san, awkward at living, was probably thinking only about one goal.

Becoming a high school student while turning her back on the system of school, trying to talk closely with me and Komachi-san despite her fear of crowded places and the outside world,

And forcefully trying to exhibit at the Hohaku Festival with me and Komachi-san.

It was all connected within her.

Based on a scale incomprehensible to others.

“…So, there was a reason for everything.”

Knowing this, I’m prepared to accept Natsume-san’s intentions.

Because──just like her, I’m equally bad at living.

“Shall we go back to the room and talk?”

At my suggestion, Natsume-san nodded slightly.

Hugging the unfinished canvas, she walked towards me.

As our gazes intersected, I sensed intuitively.

If I understand why Natsume-san chose me──I might be able to become her paintbrush.