27Art Pamphlet
By Lord Raa
Disclaim-me-do: This idea shamelessly steals from someone else's story premise. I'd apologise but that would imply 1) I care, 2) I'm capable of remorse and 3) I'm deserving of forgiveness.
This is a rewrite of the story known as "Art Attack" and is slightly more serious in tone.
Part 1
Tsuruko Aoyama was a confident woman. She was beautiful, she was intelligent and she was a skilled swordswoman. She was also from a wealthy family of high status.
Despite these advantages, she was also aware that there were people who didn't have it nearly a tenth as good as the Aoyama family. Having seen this first hand had brought some humility to her and her family.
However, being in the upper echelons of Japanese society meant that some of their peers would often indulge in a spot of "conspicuous consumption", with expensive foreign cars and publicity about their private art collections. While the Aoyamas would not call themselves social activists, they rarely displayed their wealth in such a garish manner.
But that was going to change, thanks to an encounter with an oafish young man from Tokyo.
Normally, she wouldn't care that Nobuyuki Miura had just come into possession of an original Orateki sketch. Such things were very rare, and subsequently had great value.
Nor did she care that Miura was boasting about how the sketch had cost millions of yen. Not that Nobuyuki Miura was incapable of not boasting about anything he or his family had done.
The fact that Miura had declared that his private investigation team had uncovered some details about the elusive Orateki didn't even bother Tsuruko that much, though she could understand why an artist would want to remain out of the public eye.
No, what had made Tsuruko Aoyama care about this recent purchase was when Nobuyuki Miura had shown her the sketch, it looked oddly familiar.
'Where have I seen those rocks before…?' the swordswoman pondered.
The sketch was of an arm outstretched, reaching up as to request help out of a hot spring.
It was then that she realised that there was another familiar aspect to the scene – an automatic handgun partially obscured by an apron lay on the ground nearby.
'If that was a sword, it'd be something Motoko-han would do in case she encountered any perverts while she was bathing. Hang on, didn't she say that her friend at the teahouse has a gun…' Tsuruko's jaw dropped open. 'No, it can't be! Could it?'
"Ah, I see you're impressed with my network of art dealers, Aoyama-san," Miura smirked.
"Indeed, Miura-san. Though, if it is a true Orateki, how did you acquire this? I was under the impression that he did his best to control the distribution of his work."
"You can't possibly expect me to reveal such things, Aoyama-san," the odious man scoffed. "One does not ask a chef about the recipe for their signature dish."
"My apologies, but you must understand the scepticism that the emergence of such a sketch would cause," Tsuruko conceded.
"You make it sound like the availability of his work strictly controlled to maintain high prices, Aoyama-san. That said, it did take several months of hard work to get this."
Keitaro was putting his tools away after a minor repair job on an outdoor tap when he saw Kitsune talking with Motoko and Naru.
"What's up," he asked as he noticed that they were looking over an article in a newspaper.
"There was this sketch that was sold for 6.5 million yen," Kitsune explained. "I don't know if you know much about art, but according to this article, that's a lot for a pencil sketch!"
"Wow, 6.5 million yen for a sketch…" Keitaro whistled. "Kinda makes me wish I was better at drawing."
"For that kind of money, I'd be selling one every month," Kitsune added. "Think of how easy your life could be with that kind of regular income!"
"Perhaps, Mitsune-sempai, but part of the reason why this sketch went for so much is because it's from a reclusive artist called 'Orateki,'" Motoko countered. "It says that he doesn't produce much, which is part of the reason why his sketches are worth so much."
Keitaro blinked. "What was that artist's name?"
"Orateki," Kitsune repeated. "What's up, Keitaro? You know him or something?"
"Err, definitely 'or something', Kitsune. Can I see the sketch that was sold?" the ronin asked, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.
"Yeah," Naru said, handing the paper over.
The picture wasn't the clearest, but it contained enough detail for Keitaro's heart to start racing. 'It's mine…'
"Is something wrong, Keitaro? You're looking pale," Kitsune commented as sweat emerged on his brow.
"I… I think I'll have a lie down," the ronin said, his voice trembling. As he slowly made his way to his room, his mind raced over to where he'd last seen that particular sketch and when he'd drawn it.
'That was done years ago, that's Haruka-san in the hot springs… If she found out that I'd drawn her while she was in bathing, she'd kill me! But who could've found that sketch?'
In the Aoyama home, Tsuruko was thinking long about what she suspected about the identity of the artist Orateki. It was something that her parents had noticed.
"Is something wrong, Tsuruko?"
"I… I think I have a dilemma, Mother."
"Deciding whether or not to go to Tokyo to tease your sister?" Mr. Aoyama asked, his voice disapproving, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
"No, it's something… It's hard to say. I don't think it's my business, so I'm reluctant to get involved, but…"
"But what, Tsuruko?" the patriarch asked, the twinkle disappearing from his eye.
"I… It's something I think we should discuss in private, Father."
"Very well, meet me and your mother in my study after dinner tonight."
Akira Aoyama sat behind his desk finishing some paperwork on local planning permission when his wife and eldest daughter knocked on the door.
"Enter."
"Father," Tsuruko said nervously as she took a seat.
Akira placed the pen in its holder as his wife, Tsukiko, closed the door. "Now, Tsuruko, please tell me what's gotten you so troubled."
"I… I take it you've heard of the young artist known only as Orateki?"
"Indeed, that bore Nobuyuki Miura was gushing about how he'd spent several million yen tracking down one of his sketches. What about him?"
Tsukiko mentioned that she wasn't familiar with the name and asked to see some of his work on the computer. As she researched the artist, her daughter continued.
"I… I think I might have some ideas about his identity."
Tsukiko read out part of his biography. "The origins of Orateki are shrouded in mystery, innuendo and bald-faced lies. The artist rarely puts his work up for sale, and never gives interviews. His work includes landscapes, portraits and still life, mostly in the medium of pencil sketches, however he has been known to try acrylics and oils."
"So, it's clear he values his privacy and is either controlling the price of his artwork by restricting supply or is wracked with confidence issues to the point where he thinks he's not good enough to sell. I can see why you might be conflicted, Tsuruko," Akira sympathised. "You're curious about this, but you don't want to upset him."
"Yes, Father," Tsuruko nodded. She took a deep breath. "I think I know where I can find him."
"The private lives of artists is not something you would normally concern yourself with, Tsuruko," the patriarch mused. "What is so different about Orateki?"
"He's rated as one of Japan's greatest artists," Mrs. Aoyama read from the computer screen. "Apparently, the Emperor himself declared Orateki to be a national treasure and felt saddened at his retirement at such an early age."
Akira blinked. "Oh, now I see your dilemma: Respect the artist's wishes and keep his anonymity or help enrich the cultural heritage of the country?"
"Yes, Father. I don't like the idea of interfering with a stranger's personal life, but I can't help but feel that less understanding people might try to exploit him."
"Perhaps… Perhaps you could investigate, subtly, of course, and if your suspicions are correct, you could arrange some kind of protection for him?"
Keitaro was not in a good mood. The thought that one of his sketches had been sold for so much money filled him with loathing, like he was a fraud who'd conned people out of their money.
He wasn't an artist, he was just a doodler. A mediocre doodler at that, and certainly not someone who deserved to be paid for their work.
The only upside to this fiasco that he could see was that he hadn't profited from the sale and couldn't be asked to reimburse the buyer when they realised what they'd been tricked into buying.
That realisation had cheered him up slightly, but that left the question of who had found the sketch?
Keitaro was sure that it was an older sketch, one from when he'd still been in elementary school. The fact that he hadn't seen it since the summer he drew it suggested that it had to have been found before he moved in.
The fact that he wasn't missing any of his recent sketches meant that the girls didn't know he was Orateki yet, either. That was a big relief to him, the last thing he needed was to be accused of using his artistic talents to ogle naked women.
It was now that Keitaro was glad that he could lock the cupboard where he kept his art supplies. It was just a decision on whether or not he should destroy what he had or keep it, like he'd promised his grandmother.
It was yet another promise that seemed to be causing him trouble.
The next day, Keitaro wasn't feeling much better than when he'd discovered that a sketch had been sold. He had managed to eat some breakfast, but only at the insistence of Shinobu.
He didn't like upsetting the young girl; it was something that felt as wrong as profiting from his doodles.
The other girls also told him to take it easy that day. They'd seen how unwell he looked the night before.
It was good advice, as while rushing around would have distracted him from his current troubles, it would have made him sicker, causing him to miss more study time.
When the doorbell rang, he tentatively made his way to answer it, only to be beaten to the door by Motoko.
"Ah, hello, Motoko-han," the tall woman greeted with a smile.
"A-Aneue? What are you doing here?" Motoko asked, clearly flustered by the surprise visit.
Tsuruko looked disheartened. "Oh, am I not allowed to visit my sister?"
"I… it's not that, Aneue, I just…"
"Motoko, who's this?" Keitaro asked.
"Keitaro, this is my sister, Tsuruko. Aneue, this is Keitaro," Motoko said, unsure of her sister's motives for an unannounced visit.
"So, you're Keitaro?" the elder Aoyama asked, appraising the young man before her. 'Glasses suggest that he reads or does a lot of close-in work. His hands aren't that calloused, so he's not likely to be a manual labourer. I guess he could be him.'
"Err, yes, I'm Keitaro Urashima. Pleased to meet you, Aoyama-san," Keitaro bowed politely.
"So, what do you do around here, Urashima-san?"
"I'm the manager of the Hinata Sou, Aoyama-san. And please, call me 'Keitaro'."
"Very well, Keitaro-san, but only if you call me 'Tsuruko'."
"If you insist, Tsuruko-san," Keitaro bowed politely once again. "Would you like something to drink or eat?"
"Some tea would be nice," Tsuruko smiled genuinely. 'Well, he doesn't seem like the monster Motoko-han protested about.'
As Keitaro left to make some tea, Motoko turned to her sister. "Aneue, why are you here? Tell me the truth."
"I'm here on important business, Motoko-han," Tsuruko said as she allowed her sister to close the door.
"W-what kind of important business?"
"The kind where someone could be in danger if my suspicions are right."
"D-danger? What kind of danger?"
Tsuruko finally removed her shoes. "It's complicated. I take it you read in the news about the picture Nobuyuki Miura recently bought?"
"The Orateki sketch? What about it?"
Tsuruko's response was cut off by the return of Keitaro.
"Please, follow me, Tsuruko-san."
Now that Tsuruko was sitting next to her sister, Keitaro could see the family resemblance. It made the reclusive artist realise that Motoko was destined to become a beautiful woman. 'Not that she's not cute now.'
"So, Tsuruko-san, what brings you to the Hinata Sou?"
"It's complicated," the elder Aoyama answered. "I can't go into too many details at the moment, but I am looking for someone."
"I'm not sure what I can do to help, but you're welcome to stay here," Keitaro said as he poured three cups of tea and handed them out.
"Your offer is most gracious, Keitaro-san."
Motoko nodded in thanks as she took her cup of tea. "Who are you looking for, Aneue?"
"This is one of the things that complicates matters. I'm not entirely sure who I'm looking for, but I do know it's a man."
Keitaro blinked. "There are millions of men in the Tokyo metropolitan area, so you'll have to narrow it down a bit."
"I do have some clues as to the man's identity, but the man's a cautious, secretive person. I'll have to be careful about who I speak to so he doesn't get scared and go into hiding," Tsuruko clarified.
"That does complicate matters, Aneue. I don't suppose you can tell us why you're looking for this man?"
"Unfortunately not, Motoko-han. As I said, this man is very cautious, he's been in hiding for years."
"Years?" Motoko repeated. "But you might never find him!"
"I know," Tsuruko sighed.
"I apologise for being a bad host, Tsuruko-san, but I there's something I need to do right now. And not only that, but I don't even have a spare room ready for you at the moment. I will make one up for you tomorrow, though," Keitaro insisted. He let out a sigh. "I feel like I'm the worst host in Japan."
"Oh no, Keitaro-san, it's me who should be apologising. I'm the one who appeared on your doorstep unannounced with a task that would make all but the most patient of Buddhist monks weep with despair. I will share a room with Motoko-han for the duration of my stay," Tsuruko said, bowing deeply. "I am grateful for your assistance in my search."
"I accept your apology, Tsuruko-san."
When Keitaro left to attend to his task, Tsuruko turned to her sister. "Motoko-han, there's something I need to talk to you about. In private."
"We can talk in my room, Aneue."
In Motoko's room, Tsuruko casually glanced around, looking at the decor. As expected, it was clean, but there was a distinct, almost Spartan lack of personalisation.
"I see you're keeping your mind free from the distractions of pop idols and pretty boy celebrities, Motoko-han. I must say that I was slightly less disciplined on such things when I was your age."
"Thank you, Aneue. What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Orateki," the older sister answered.
"You're trying to find Orateki?" Motoko asked in disbelief. "He doesn't want to be found! Aside from that sketch Miura bought, he hasn't released anything in over five years! Why don't you tell me the real reason, Aneue?"
"I have, Motoko-han."
The younger sister let out a small chuckle. "Fine, we'll pretend that you are looking for Orateki. Why him? Why now? Why not something easier, like dark matter?"
Tsuruko was surprised, but not upset by her sister's sarcasm. She took a deep breath before answering. "Because I think I recognised part of the sketch that Miura bought. And if I can track him down, I can ask him why he sold the sketch now."
"I won't tell anyone who you're looking for, but I still think is a fool's errand, Aneue."
"Thank you, Motoko-han."
Later that evening, Kitsune suggested to Tsuruko that she take a dip in the bath with her. While the ash-blonde was giving the pretence of friendship, she really wanted some embarrassing information on Motoko.
As the two voluptuous women stepped out to the pool of hot water, Tsuruko scanned the area for anything that looked familiar. The problem was that it felt too familiar – it seemed that there was a standard template for hot springs and the Hinata Sou conformed to it.
"Come on in, Tsuruko, the water's fine," Kitsune said as she slipped into the water up to her neck.
The swordswoman stepped into the water and smiled. "This is better than fine, Mitsune-san."
"Please, I told you to call me Kitsune."
"Very well, Kitsune," Tsuruko smiled as she relaxed in the hot mineral water. After savouring the sensation for a moment, she looked at her bathing companion. "So, what is it about Motoko-han that you want to know?"
"Well, since you asked…" Kitsune smiled as she rubbed the back of her head. "I was always curious as to why she moved out here. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have met her, but she never really told us the whole story."
"There was some… friction at home. Motoko-han didn't react too well to my husband. He was a good man, please don't misunderstand, but looking back, it seems that Motoko felt he'd stolen me from her. Little sisters can be possessive like that."
"I guess so," the ash-blonde shrugged.
"I think the final straw for Motoko-han was when she accidentally walked in on us being intimate."
Kitsune let out a small laugh at the mental image of the prudish Motoko accidentally walking in on a couple having sex.
"Yes, so she did try to impose a ban on sex, but when she tried to make the demand our father just gave her a look that told her that she had more chance of drinking the sea of Japan dry," Tsuruko recounted, a smile gracing her own lips. "However, since it was clear that she was unhappy, our father decided it would be best if Motoko-han was allowed some more freedom."
"So that's why she came here," the short-haired woman nodded.
"It's why she came to Tokyo. We arranged for her to come to the Hinata Sou because of the hot springs you have here."
"That seems weird that she's only here because your family wanted cheap visits to a hot springs," Kitsune mused.
"And why did you pick the Hinata Sou, Kitsune? Cheap access to hot springs? Or perhaps you moved in when you discovered that the manager is a single young man?"
"I was here before Keitaro took over, I'll have you know," Kitsune corrected.
"I was just teasing," Tsuruko smiled reassuringly. She let out a sigh as the hot water relaxed her. "In all honesty though, I'm glad that she's made some friends. She's a nice person, but some of the boys where we grew up were rather… how can I put this?"
"Horrible, entitled rich kids?" the ash-blonde suggested.
"Well, I was trying to be polite, but you are quite correct with your assessment, Kitsune."
"Is something wrong, Senpai?" Shinobu asked as she noticed that Keitaro was still out of sorts.
"I'm not feeling very well, Shinobu-chan."
"Is there anything I can do?" the young girl asked, a blush forming on her delicate cheeks.
"No, I just… I'm under a bit of stress, so I apologise if I'm a little unsociable or short-tempered. Hopefully, it'll be sorted soon," Keitaro replied with a forced smile.
The ronin left before he could see the look of concern on Shinobu's face.
'I should speak with Haruka-san about Senpai...'
Haruka Urashima answered the phone as she finished counting the day's takings.
"Hello?"
"¬H-Haruka-san?¬"
"Shinobu-chan?"
"¬Y-yes. There's… I…¬" the young girl stammered nervously.
"What's up, Shinobu-chan?" the smoker asked as she left a float in the till. "Take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong."
"¬Senpai seems a bit unwell. It's not a cold or anything like that.¬"
Haruka blinked in surprise. Keitaro was rarely ill, and Shinobu knew enough to know a cold when she saw one. "What do you mean? Is Keitaro throwing up?"
"¬No, but he doesn't have much of an appetite. He looks really tired. He said something about stress, but I don't know what do, Haruka-san. Can you come up and talk to him?¬"
Haruka sighed. She was tired, but Keitaro was family and he seemed to need some help.
Keitaro often displayed a "happy-go-lucky" attitude, but those who knew about his secret knew that he was often plagued by self-doubt and withdrew from social situations.
"OK, Shinobu-chan, I'll be up in a bit."
"¬Thank you, Haruka-san.¬"
A short while later, Haruka knocked on the door to Keitaro's room. When there wasn't a reply, she knocked again and announced that she was coming in.
Slowly opening the door to allow Keitaro the chance to hide anything that he didn't want anyone to see, the smoker was surprised that Keitaro was lying on his bed.
'Shinobu's right, he doesn't look great,' she mused. "Keitaro, I'm coming in, is that OK?"
"I suppose so," the ronin muttered, knowing that he probably had very little say in the matter.
Haruka shut the door behind her and sat down on the bed next to her cousin. "Are you alright, Keitaro?"
"No."
"What's the matter?"
"Don't want to talk about it."
The smoker frowned before mentioning why she was here.
"Shinobu-chan was worried about me?"
"Yes, Keitaro. When she phoned me up, she mentioned something about stress."
"It's nothing," Keitaro insisted weakly.
Haruka had decided that she'd had enough of Keitaro's attitude and pulled him into a more upright position by his ear. "Keitaro, you tell me what's bothering you. Now."
"Ow, Haruka!" the artistic young man whined. "Fine. I had some bad news today."
"About what?"
"An Orateki sketch was sold recently. This one was a 'new' sketch, never seen before."
"Orateki?" Haruka blinked. "What? A new sketch? When did you put this up for sale?"
"I didn't," Keitaro replied morosely. "It's one I did years ago."
This changed things considerably. Keitaro had often felt that his sketches weren't good enough for other people to see, but that was often because of what he considered to be his limited success with his paintings.
Not that the sketches that had been seen by art critics had been panned in any meaningful fashion.
But, as had been explained to Haruka, 'you can't tell some people' and her cousin still laboured under the impression that he was a mediocre doodler that got lucky once.
She hugged Keitaro. "It'll be alright, Keitaro. We'll find out who sold the sketch and beat the money out of them."
"And give it back to the buyer?"
"Why would we do that?"
"Because they were tricked into paying 6.5 million yen for it," Keitaro admitted.
The smoker sighed. "Keitaro, do you know what market forces are?"
"Yes, I am aware of the basics of supply and demand, Haruka. What of them?"
"Just because I don't have any sketches for sale, it doesn't mean that anything I do will sell. Your stuff sells because it's good. It goes for a high price because it's rare," Haruka explained. "No-one will hear about your secret from me. That's a promise."
"Thank you, Haruka-san," Keitaro smiled.
After leaving her cousin to rest, Haruka sought out Shinobu to put her mind at ease.
"Is Senpai going to be OK, Haruka-san?"
"He will be, Shinobu-chan. He's just feeling a little run down, that's all," the smoker replied with a smile. She glanced at the newspaper and saw that there was an article on a recent sale of artwork. "Wait, is this today's newspaper?"
"Yes, Haruka-san. I was reading about that Orateki sketch," Shinobu said, missing the look of concern on Haruka's face. "Naru-sempai mentioned it to me earlier."
"Hmm," Haruka nodded as she scanned the article for details. "It doesn't say who unearthed it, just who bought it and how much they paid for it."
"Yes," the Lolita chef nodded. "Orateki-sensei is so mysterious, no-one knows anything about him. He could be living next door to Motoko-sempai's family for all we know."
"That's true," the smoker nodded absently. She looked at the picture of the sketch that had been printed. 'That's definitely one of Keitaro's.'
The following day, Keitaro was feeling a little better. There wasn't a lot he could do about the sale of his sketch, but the promise of righteous justice on the person who'd stolen and sold it made things better.
As he made his way to the breakfast table, he caught sight of Tsuruko practising with her younger sister.
Thoughts of capturing Tsuruko's beauty entered Keitaro's head as he watched the Aoyamas spar. After she knocked Motoko to the ground he shook his head. 'No, I'll never be able to do her justice. I should stick to landscapes and still-life.'
"Out of the way, Keitaro!" Kaolla Su shouted as she pushed the hapless young man to one side. "It's breakfast time!"
"Oh, sorry, Su-chan," Keitaro apologised. He quickly followed the young princess to the dining area, hoping that no-one had seen him looking at Tsuruko and got the wrong idea.
At the table, it was noticed that Keitaro was still not his usual cheerful self. The residents exchanged looks and it was Kitsune who decided to help lighten the mood.
"So, Keitaro," she drawled. "How much do you reckon you could get for a sketch of me?"
"What?" the ronin asked, surprised but the question.
"Well, I know that you like to draw. I'm not saying we'd get Orateki prices, but surely it would be worth a few yen?"
Keitaro laughed nervously. "I…"
"What about it, Keitaro? Wanna draw me like one of your French girls?" the ash-blonde asked, striking a pose that drew attention to her impressive chest.
"W-what?"
"Kitsune, you shouldn't be like at the breakfast table," Naru chided. She didn't approve of her friend's flirtatious behaviour, but it was nice to see Keitaro brought out of his funk.
"You're right, Naru," Kitsune conceded. "We'll discuss a modelling contract later. What's the going rate for a nude model?"
'Kitsune knows that's not what I meant!' Naru seethed. She shot a glance at Keitaro, who seemed to be willing the earth to open up and swallow him. 'That's not his usual embarrassment at Kitsune's teasing… Something's different…'
Motoko also noticed this difference in Keitaro's body language. 'Maybe Haruka-san had some bad news for Keitaro? He said he's not feeling very well…'
The young Aoyama's eyes widened as her reading of the situation reached its logical conclusion. 'Keitaro's seriously ill!'
To be continued…
