Chapter 2
"Winning numerous national amateur competitions with her paintings, Kaiou Michiru captured the interest of the art world from a young age. Despite many offers of mentorship being made to the young artist, she stunned critics and artists everywhere when she announced she would attend the prestigious Mugen University, which did not have an art program at the time. When asked about her decision in later interviews, Kaiou only smiled mysteriously.
Although many wondered if Kaiou had given up on her art, she came out with a new exhibit at the end of her first year, featuring the first of her iconic and fondly nicknamed 'Four Muses.'"
- “The Life of Kaiou Michiru: A Biography” by Arimura Yuko
For every memory that Hotaru did not have of her mother, she had countless other memories with her loved ones. Her grandpa and dad had done their best to make sure that she had grown up loved and when her stepmother had entered the picture, she was just as attentive to Hotaru.
And yet, even with all of those happy memories, from star gazing at night with her parents to having picnics outdoor near the conservatory and chasing butterflies…
There was still a hole in Hotaru’s heart that could not be filled.
She loved her family as much as they loved her but she wanted, no, needed to know who her mother was.
It was this visceral need that gave Hotaru the courage to embark on a cross country road trip and it was why she found herself at Shirakaba University now.
Hotaru stepped into the athletics building, feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland. Even at her own university, she had never had a reason to step foot in the athletics department as a world history student, nor had she wanted to with her aversion to sports of any nature.
There weren’t many people in the halls, most likely due to it being summer break, and Hotaru felt thankful for this small boon. It took her more time than it would have if there had been people around to ask for directions, but Hotaru eventually found herself standing in front of an office door with the nameplate “Elza Grey.”
All of a sudden, Hotaru felt fear grip her, the reality of her situation suddenly overwhelming her, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. Willing her mother’s famed confidence to enter her, Hotaru knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
She entered and her eyes couldn’t help but look around at the newly revealed room. The office was cluttered with items in a way that suggested the office was not often used, but there was also an abundance of loose photographs stuck to the walls. Many of them featured track students and there were at least two pictures that looked as if they had been taken at the Olympics.
Having satisfied her curiosity, Hotaru now looked at the woman sitting in the center of the room.
The paintings Hotaru had spent so many afternoons poring over were all from different angles, never showing the whole face or body. It felt strange to see the woman as a whole after being intimately familiar with only parts of her.
She recognised the slant of her chin, the strong blue of her eyes, the curve of her ear. But time had also made its mark on the woman; her hair was no longer the bright magenta that streaked the canvases, but a natural dark brown with streaks of grey, and her still golden skin boasted more laugh lines and wrinkles, signifying a lifetime of sunlight and happiness.
Hotaru blinked out of her reverie as she made eye contact with the woman who looked at her with a mild sort of confusion, and she bowed in greeting.
“My name is Kaiou Hotaru. We spoke on the phone last week.”
“Oh yes,” A spark of recognition lit in Elza’s eyes and she looked over Hotaru with renewed interest, “Michiru’s daughter.”
The label filled Hotaru with an inexplicable sort of joy, making her flush. She tried her best to retain her composure, demurely saying, “I’m sure my call took you by surprise.”
“I hadn’t thought about Michiru in years,” Elsa chuckled in amused agreement before turning solemn, “I was sorry to hear she had passed so young.”
Hotaru nodded, accepting the words she’d grown used to hearing for most of her life from adults who more often than not only knew her mother as an artist and not as a person. But Hotaru wanted to focus on her mother’s life, not her death, and so close to a woman who could finally give her some answers, Hotaru could not contain herself anymore, “Could you tell me about her?”
Her earnest request seemed to take the older woman by surprise but Elza looked at her and her eyes softened.
“Of course.”
It was a sunny morning and Elza reveled in the sunlight as she ran around the campus. This was her favourite time of day.
The grounds were fairly empty this early in the morning with the exception of some haggard students who looked as if they had spent the entire night studying and were just now going back to their dorms.
She had hours of track practice ahead of her today but there was a simple pleasure in having a nice run around a campus that had yet to wake up. Her mind untroubled and blank during her run, it took Elza a second to see the paper floating in the air before her.
She fell to a stop, leaning down to pick up the paper and looking around for its owner.
And there in the distance was a woman, rising from her position nestled in between the legs of a statue to run after the papers floating away from her.
Her steps were light and graceful as she plucked the papers from the air, the sunlight bathing her in a warm glow as if she were a dancer on the stage. Mesmerised by the sight of vivid turquoise hair streaming in the wind, it took Elza a second to realize that the mystery woman was now approaching her with her gaze focused on the paper the runner held.
Elza smiled at her, handing the paper as she said, “You’re fast. Do you run?”
“No,” the woman said, and her voice was every bit as beautiful as her appearance was, “But I’ll walk with you.”
Her boldness was unexpected and refreshing and Elza couldn’t contain a wide smile from spreading on her face.
“Elza,” she introduced herself forwardly and as she had suspected, the woman showed no signs of apprehension at her lack of formality.
“Michiru.”
The two walked in a companionable silence, enjoying the solitude of the mostly empty campus. Elza couldn’t help herself, sneaking glances at the beautiful woman at her side, her eyes drawn to the small ribbon tied into the aqua tresses. It was an unexpectedly cute addition to an otherwise elegant appearance and the incongruence was strangely endearing.
“So you’re an artist?” Elza asked, nodding at the sketchbook in the woman’s arms, “I didn’t know our university had an art department.”
“It doesn’t,” Michiru said smoothly.
“Oh, then what do you study?” Elza asked curiously.
“Art.”
Her confusion was all too clearly written on her face as Michiru laughed.
“Art students are a nightmare,” Michiru offered demurely in lieu of an actual explanation, “I’d hate to be surrounded by others like me.”
“I don’t know, you don’t seem so bad,” Elza said, hoping she’d read the other woman correctly and that her flirty response wouldn’t cause her to run off.
Michiru stopped walking and turned to examine Elza with an unreadable expression until she smiled mysteriously, as if liking what she saw. She pulled a key out and Elza confusedly accepted it.
“Meet me at the rooftop of the Takeuchi Observatory tonight,” she said and without waiting for an answer, Michiru left her.
Her mind had been occupied all throughout practice and the rest of the day. “Night” was such a general term and Elsa puzzled over it before deciding that she would go to the roof as soon as the sun set, no matter if it made her look desperate (there’d never been a question as to whether she would go).
A buzz of anticipation filled her as she took the stairs to the roof, two at a time, and she paused only momentarily before using the key to open the door that said “AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY.”
To her immense relief (for a small part of her had wondered if she had imagined the woman and their encounter), Elza found Michiru waiting for her. The artist was still in the same outfit she’d been in that morning, her skirt and long hair swaying in the chilly wind that she seemed not to notice.
At the sound of the door opening, Michiru turned from her position leaning against the guardrails. There was no sign of surprise or warmth in her eyes, only a calculating light in them that made Elza wonder if perhaps she had made a mistake.
“I want to paint you,” Michiru declared suddenly, startling the runner.
“Me?”
“Will you let me paint you?” Michiru continued, “You’ll have final say over whether I can exhibit the paintings or not.”
Of all the scenarios Elza had imagined happening, this certainly was not one she had predicted. But she had never been the kind of person who shied away from new experiences and Elza simply shrugged, “Depends on how much time it takes. What would I have to do?”
“Nothing.”
“I may not know much about art but even I know you have to model for paintings,” Elza said in disbelief.
“I’m very good at what I do,” the artist said mysteriously.
“Sure I guess,” Elza finally said, seeing no reason to refuse if it wouldn’t take too much time away from her sport. At this, Michiru smiled for the first time that night, a look of triumph on her face.
One of Elza’s defining traits was her openness, never afraid to speak her mind even if it got her in trouble more often than not. And so she spoke plainly, “I was hoping this night would go in a different direction.”
Michiru walked closer to the runner then, her eyes glimmering with an indecipherable light. Her hand went to stroke Elza’s cheek, bringing the runner down so they were at eye level.
“It still can,” she whispered, giving Elza enough time to pull away if she wanted (but she didn’t because her fate had been decided the moment the artist had first spoken to her). And then Michiru’s lips captured hers in a passionate kiss.
Elza hadn’t known what to expect after both her agreement to be painted and that first night they’d shared, but Michiru had no such uncertainty and she easily inserted herself into the runner’s busy schedule.
They shared no classes or extracurriculars but Michiru was by Elza’s side often enough that Elsa found herself missing the artist when she was not there.
True to Michiru’s word, Elza did not once consciously model for the artist, although a sketchbook was never far from her hands.
It took a week after their first meeting for Elza’s impatience to make itself known.
“What are we?”
Michiru didn’t bother looking up from her sketchbook, “What do you mean?”
Elza propped herself up on her elbows, no longer content to be laying on the grass and enjoying one of her rare free weekends.
“Are we dating?” Elza asked directly. She already cared deeply for the artist but she wanted to clearly define their relationship before she let herself fall further.
“Sure,” Michiru said easily, her hand still moving rapidly against the page, and Elza felt as if she could burst with joy. She got up and threw her arms around the artist, picking her up from where she sat leisurely on the fountain and twirling her around, unable to contain her happiness.
Michiru made a small noise of indignant protest at the sudden movement but it was swallowed into a kiss.
After thoroughly indulging Elza’s affections, Michiru calmly demanded she be put down and the runner sheepishly obliged. But nothing could dampen her mood, not now that she and Michiru were officially dating.
Although Michiru had been to her meets before, Elza was unspeakably nervous for the first meet that the artist would attend as Elza’s girlfriend. It wasn’t a particularly important race and yet nervous energy thrummed throughout her body as if it was.
During the warm up period, her eyes flickered over to the stands where the spectators stood, the majority of them shouting words of encouragement for the runner they were here to support.
It took no time at all for Elza to spot the bright turquoise hair of her girlfriend, but even without the benefit of her hair, she felt as if Michiru would stand out in any crowd due to her sheer presence. The artist stood still in the middle of a bustling audience, and for once, her sketchbook was nowhere near to be found. Michiru’s eyes were focused solely on Elza, their blue startlingly piercing even from a distance.
Contrary to what she had thought, Elza found herself even more anxious after having seen her girlfriend and she shook her head, trying desperately to get her mind back on the race at hand.
When she raised her head, her mind was clear now, in the zone where the only things that existed in the world were her and the finish line.
It was only after crossing the final finish line that Elza regained her senses, beaming widely as she realised she had come first in all of her events. Her eyes instinctively gravitated back towards the spectator stand but Michiru was not there and Elza felt a slight sting of disappointment.
Once the last few ceremonial events ended and the race wrapped up, Elza headed towards the locker room, using a towel to wipe some of her sweat off.
She was exhausted but in the best sort of way, and it took her a while to notice the artist leaning against the locker room door, waiting for her.
“Wher-“ Elza began only to be cut off by Michiru’s lips crushing against hers and she melted into the embrace, immediately pulling her waist closer.
Michiru graced her with a rare smile once she pulled back, seeming not to care that Elza was covered in sweat.
“Congratulations,” she murmured quietly with a glint in her eyes that promised great things to come. She lightly pulled Elza’s hand, implying she follow her, and Elza followed her all too willingly.
The following months seemed to go by in a blur of practices and classes. After that first week, Michiru became an elusive presence in the runner’s life, sometimes disappearing for days on end, presumably to work on projects or study for exams. Elza couldn’t begrudge the artist for that, not when she herself was busy juggling her running and schoolwork.
It was after two weeks had passed, the longest span Michiru had disappeared for, that she appeared one day, asking Elza to follow her to an art gallery. It was with more than a little relief that Elza followed her; she’d been worried at the long absence, wondering perhaps if she had done something to anger the artist.
But that worry disappeared as Elza walked around the gallery in wonder. There were numerous paintings adorning the walls, each one framed and positioned precisely, ready to be shown to the public.
Elza did not know much about art, only the bits and pieces she’d learned while dating Michiru, and perhaps she was biased as the subject of the paintings, but they were utterly captivating.
None of the paintings showed her entire face or body, all drawn from different angles, but somehow in these small glimpses, Michiru had managed to capture her essence, bold splashes of colour bringing life to an otherwise still gallery.
That night on the roof, Michiru had said she was very good at what she did and she had not lied.
“So?” Michiru asked briskly and Elza turned to look at her in awe.
“They’re amazing,” she breathed.
The praise fell flat on Michiru who seemed to grow annoyed, “Can I use them? Will you let me display them?”
“Yes,” Elza said immediately, “Of course.”
She walked over to Michiru, wrapping her arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head.
“They’re amazing,” Elza repeated before correcting herself, “You’re amazing.”
Michiru smoothly disentangled herself from the embrace, making her way out of the gallery, and Elza jogged after her.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked in concern and the artist stared at her coldly.
“Nothing,” Michiru said, that frosty annoyance creeping into her visage again as if she didn’t know why Elza was speaking to her in the first place.
Elza didn’t know what to do with the sudden tone shift; it was as if she was speaking to a stranger and not her girlfriend of almost a year now.
“Do you want to go get coffee?” Elsa asked hesitantly.
“Why?” The artist asked, “We’re over.”
“What?” Elza exclaimed in disbelief, “Are you breaking up with me?”
“Yes,” Michiru stated matter-of-factly before walking away.
But Elza could not accept this and she ran after Michiru once more.
“I don’t understand, where is this coming from? Wait-“ Elza said desperately, grabbing Michiru’s arm in an attempt to stop her so they could have an actual conversation.
Michiru whirled around, ripping her arm away from Elza’s grasp, and the iciness in her eyes was replaced by an acute anger that Elza had never seen on the artist’s face.
“We’re over,” Michiru hissed, anger contorting her beautiful features, “I've finished painting you and now I no longer need you.”
The words struck Elza speechless and she could only watch as Michiru turned and walked away, her head held high.
“That day, I realised that I had never known Michiru. Not really,” Elza mused thoughtfully on her past memories, able to be pensive and unaffected now that years had passed, “I think that was the most honest she’d been with me.”
“But the paintings were so personal… I thought no matter how good of an artist she was, she must have felt something akin to love for me in order to have captured me so perfectly… I tried once more to talk to her but she refused and I finally got the message,” Elza said with resignation, “I never saw her again.”
Hotaru sat frozen in her chair, struggling to grasp this new perspective of her mother: a woman who had seemed to care nothing for others’ emotions. She’d fantasised about her mother so many times but she’d never once thought that she could have been a bad person.
But this was a one-sided account; perhaps Elza wasn’t telling her something crucial, something that would explain why her mother had broken up so callously with a woman who’d loved her. And yet there was a part of her that wholeheartedly believed in what Elza had just told her.
“I see,” Hotaru finally spoke, “Thank you for telling me.”
As if now remembering that Hotaru was Michiru’s daughter daughter, Elza started guiltily, “Yeah yeah. It was no trouble.”
After exchanging polite farewells, Hotaru quietly gathered herself and made her way out, only to pause at the door.
“Did my mother ever speak of someone named Haruka?” She asked.
After a moment of thought, Elza answered with a questioning look “No, I don’t think so.”
Hotaru bowed quickly in thanks and once the door closed, she ran out of the building and out of the university, her mind brimming with even more questions than she'd started with.