“Oh, Miyako – come here for a moment!”

I spun on my heel and peeked around the thin walls of my father’s studio. It was a plain room that looked out onto the garden, which in itself was a serene view. The space was dominated with various surfaces design to help him with his painting. Easels, tables, drawers full of supplies. Canvases lay on every spare inch of floor and wall, some in states of creation, others already complete and ready to be sold on.

It was rare that he spoke with me. He’d say hello and goodbye, and humour us with whatever we talked about during dinner. But he never asked me to talk one on one, not even after I became a celebrity for twisting an arm or two. I stepped inside and found him kneeling on a blue pillow.

“Come over here.” I knelt down next to him and awaited his judgement.

“What do you want me for?”

He smiled and rubbed his hair, “Ah, well. Your old man was curious about how things have been going at school.”

“Nothing unusual, aside from people asking to take pictures with me. I’m the schools number-one landmark now.”

He laughed and patted his knee with a hand, “Making waves, are you? I was something of a troublemaker back in school myself.”

“…I can’t imagine that.” The man of the house was anything but rebellious. Could striving for a career in art be considered rebellious these days?

“This was a long time ago; I had a lot of growing up to do you see. We got into fights over nothing important, skipped class, the usual mischief. My father went mad. He tried to steer me straight, but kids don’t like listening much to their parents.”

“Are you trying to give me a life lesson?”

“Oh no, you and Reina are as well behaved as an old man can hope for. In fact, Reina worries me sometimes with how little she… strikes out.”

“Strikes out?”

“You know, you begged and begged for that guitar for your birthday – and eventually me and your mother caved. It was left under the bed within a week, it’s something that all children do.”

“I got into it eventually,” I objected.

He nodded, “But you don’t remember all of the things that you begged for that you didn’t use! I’m sure that there are dozens of other things in your wardrobe that you thought you couldn’t be without but haven’t ever used. It’s human nature.”

“And Reina?”

“She’s too economical. Even when she was younger, she never asked for anything. She just accepted what we gave her. It felt like we were telling her what to do. And you know that I want you two to achieve whatever you want to achieve. I started to think that I was doing something wrong. I still feel like that sometimes.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Reina does what Reina wants. She’s just a quiet person. She dragged me off to help her clean up the old shrine the other day.”

The laughed again, “She does love that place. And you went along with her?”

“I wasn’t going to say no.”

He turned back to one of the blank canvas, “Do you mind if I sketch you?”

“No.”

He pulled out a pencil and began to eagerly sketch my outline, “Did you know that spontaneous art is the most effective? When you feel like you’re at a roadblock, letting your mind run wild is the way to break through.” The pencil flew at blinding speed, and before I knew it, there I was, rendered in the rough touch of my father’s art.

“They want me to write some of our own music. I don’t know if I want to.”

“Hm. You could just make something inoffensive to tide them over.”

“Would you draw anything inoffensive if they told you to?”

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, “No.”

“So I’m not going to either. I’m going to do it properly or not at all.”

“That sounds more like my daughter.” He pulled out another grade of pencil and began to choose his favourite lines. I watched him work with interest. He was a real professional. He sold these paintings to hotels and businesses around the country. On a good day he’d find a private buyer who wanted to decorate their home with one of his pieces. A picture of myself would obviously not be on a hotel wall any time soon.

“Give me some inspiration, what should I write about?”

“I’m no musician Miyako. Although both are creative endeavours. And even then, there’s a world of difference between painting a landscape for a hotel and something that I actually want to make.”

“And what do you want to make?”

“Hm. Things I want to make? It could be anything. Sometimes I feel like throwing paint at the canvas and seeing what happens. Or like now, I want to draw a portrait of my daughter…”

Who isn’t really your daughter at all.

“…That’s a question you can only answer yourself. I’m sure that if you think about it, there are a million things you want to put into words that you can’t right now. So why not put them into a song? I’m sure it will be lovely.”

“Thanks. I’ll try.”

“When are you going to invite your mother and I to one of your shows? She’s been dying to see you play.”

“She won’t like it – we’re totally different to what she listens to!”

“She won’t mind, Mom is a modern lady as well.”

Stretching the definition of modern there. Especially when she lives in a traditional house like this and wears nothing but traditional clothes. I climbed up from off my knees and shrugged, “I’ll tell you when I know more about where we’re playing next. Matoi is keeping his lips tight for some reason,” When I’d pressed Matoi for details earlier he told me not to worry about it, asshole.

He nodded, “Good luck!” I bowed and slid the door shut.

In the corridor I nearly bumped into Reina. She was wearing her uniform still. “You’re back early.”

“Oh, good afternoon Miyako. Were you speaking with Father?”

“Yeah, he was curious about what we’ve been up to recently.”

“He didn’t ask about the fight?”

I followed her through into the dining room, “I think he knows well enough to leave that incident alone now. My temporary time in the spotlight is probably over.”

“I am surprised that you did not receive the customary scolding from both Mother and Father.” Reina sat down at the table and pulled out one of her schoolbooks.

“Already back to work?”

“There are a few matters that I must attend to.”

I slipped out of the room and into my bedroom, pulling out one of the thick notebooks that was hidden under my bed. I flipped through the pages. Dozens of poorly written ideas for melodies and song lyrics had been sprawled onto the crumpled pages over the years. I’d never tried to put them together. I pulled out a pen and walked back to the dining room. Reina was surprised to see me after leaving her.

“Oh, homework?”

“That’s tomorrow me’s problem. I need to do this for the band.” I put my head down and immediately curled up at the sight of some of the things younger me had written, “Man, this stuff sucks!”

Reina smiled, “Do your best.”