Fool's Love

How is his shoulder?How are the bones?How sunken are the eye sockets?

"Yamagishi, you—"

During class, the boy sitting in front of me suddenly turned around and asked me while lying on the back of the chair.The classroom was noisy, and I couldn't hear what he was saying clearly.I leaned my head forward and asked, "What did you say?"

"I mean, have you figured out which department to join?"

The man with the same hairstyle as Sato Takeru in "General Love" is called Morita Takumi, and he is always full of energy.

We have a good relationship.Once before, when he helped the teacher carry homework papers to the classroom, his hands shook, and the homework papers were scattered all over the floor.

I helped him pick up the scattered papers.He's talked to me a lot since then.

"I have not decided yet."

"Of course it's the art department?" He tapped his little finger on the back of the chair, occasionally rubbing against the edge of my desk.

I calmly knocked the closed textbook with the paper on the table twice until it was in order.

"I'd rather go to the manga research department than the art department." I replied in a nonchalant tone while putting the book back in my bag.

"Slow research!" Morita yelled, "Our school seems to have a manga research department. Yamagishi, do you know how to draw manga?"

"Not to the point of "knowing", I'm just a person who likes anime. "

"I like it too! Are you watching anime this season? Like me, I especially like the type of reincarnation in another world..."

Morita was about to chatter, but the class bell rang.The teacher has come into the classroom with the lesson plan under his arm.

This is an English class.I hate English because my accent sounds weird.I once tried to get rid of the habit of speaking English in katakana, and ended up with a flat, unusual and non-standard pronunciation.

When the teacher stood on the podium and began to speak sentence patterns, my eyelids were almost out of control.

I turned my gaze out the window, trying to draw something soothing from the view.

If the entrance of the teaching building under the window is compared to a faucet, it is now continuously pouring out poly dragon balls.

There are classes in physical education.The students in tracksuits with white tops spread out to form a beautiful random scatter plot, which is quite interesting to look at.While thinking about the choice of clubs, I thought about how to spend the weekend.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck me.

a figure.I knew who it was—he was always in my head all the time.

The beautiful hair that looks lighter in the sun is really impressive, and I can recognize it at a glance even if it is a few floors away.

Masumi was wearing a tracksuit, with two slender legs sticking out from under the black shorts, the proportions were very beautiful.

He walked among the crowd, leaning slightly to one side from time to time, as if he was talking to someone, his generous and comfortable posture was as dazzling as the sun.

I sat in the classroom watching him.The light from the artificial light source on the top is like the heavy snow in the deep winter of Hokkaido, which is thickly accumulated on the top of my head and shoulders.

I watched in silence, and soon couldn't sit still.I took out a blank manuscript paper from my schoolbag, and took this opportunity to draw a portrait of him.

——It is very important to start with the shape first.I can't see his face clearly now, so I can only rely on my memory to restore it. The only thing that can be drawn in a standard way is the general shape.

How is his shoulder?How are the bones?How sunken are the eye sockets?

My teeth dented the plastic barrel of the mechanical pencil while chasing memories.

This is much more difficult than rose painting. My disadvantage lies in the resemblance in spirit rather than appearance.I wanted to draw him standing upright, wearing a tracksuit and holding a basketball in both hands, and his expression was the expression he would show from time to time when we met last time, with one eye slightly squinted as if he had an eye disease.

My gaze flicked back and forth between the paper and the window.Masumi's figure disappeared soon after entering the indoor gymnasium, so I focused on the paper in front of me again.

I planned to draw for about [-] minutes, and the get out of class bell rang not long after I wrote the pen.

This is a self-entertaining, unfinished painting.It's scribbled enough, but the atmosphere is in place.

When looking at other people's paintings, I often feel that it is better to deliberately create some imperfect white space, so I tried to do so.

On the manuscript paper, Masumi, made of graphite with metallic luster, looked at me with a smile that was not a smile, and one eye was slightly squinted, as if with some contempt, or maybe it was fascinated by the too dazzling sunlight.

I looked out the window as the bell rang for the end of get out of class. Not long after, Masumi in sportswear walked across the playground to the teaching building.

At this time, if I go downstairs and follow him quietly, I can know which class he is in, and maybe I can take the only relationship between me and him that I know the surname a step further.

But I didn't do that.There is no other reason. I have a guilty conscience and a guilty conscience. Besides, communicating with people is not my strong point.

What I worry about is that after finally making up my mind to try to establish contact with Masumi, I find that this person is completely different from what I imagined.

Or maybe it wasn't there yet—I spoke to him, and my voice stammered out of nervousness, ruining my image with him—and we never spoke again.This is also one of the possibilities where the two lines intersect.

Endure a whole day of restlessness and boredom.After school, I rode my bicycle out of the school gate.

Which club should I join?It doesn't matter because I'm not a gregarious person.

The stone road is uneven, so I steer the bicycle carefully.On the way home, I passed a stone bridge. I stopped the car, went to the bridge and looked down. There was clear flowing water underneath.

That day, my dinner was home-cooked vegetarian curry.Because my parents are always busy at the Chinese restaurant "Wanghexuan" during this period of time.

Over time, finding something to eat to fill my stomach has become an essential skill for me.

Then I started waiting for people.Miss Mimi will come back from Tokyo every Friday, but this week she seems to have a party.

I sat at the table and played with my mobile phone for a while, but I didn't wait, so I went to the kitchen to clean up the bowls and spoons.

At this point, half an hour has passed since I finished my curry.My patience was exhausted, so I simply went back to my room on the second floor and read the comics on the bookshelf.

My sister came back around ten past nine.I can hear it through the door on the second floor, because she always moves a lot habitually and rushes around, as if Tokyo is a set of tight clothes that do not meet the size for her. Once she returns home, she can return to her freedom once she finds out Given the opportunity, she immediately became unscrupulous.Her high heels hit the ground, and then there was the sound of people trotting barefoot.

The sound was getting closer.My sister was going upstairs, calling my name loudly at the same time: "Ryoji!"

"I'm home!" I answered her.

Immediately afterwards, the door of my room was opened directly.I was lying on my bed with a "big" character, and as the door was pushed open violently, Mimi in a black patchwork dress appeared on the other side of my feet.She came straight up without even removing her satchel from her shoulders.

As usual, my sister quickly scanned my room for a week.I got out of bed and moved the chair in the corner to the desk.

We used LINE to communicate before, so of course I know why she came to me.

"Where are the comics?" She cut to the chase.I go to the backpack.During this period, my sister walked into the room and sat on the chair I had just dragged out.

"Parties, parties, and more! That's what I don't like about Tokyo."

Minami complains about Tokyo every day.I don't know if it's her sincerity or an angry remark about being affected by the party at home, or both.

She is a big drinker, but she will pretend to be difficult to deal with alcohol.After I took out the sketchbook, I turned to find her taking off her socks.

"The fine grass has been drawn."

"Really? Soon, let me take a look."

I opened the sketchbook, and there were a few scrawled pieces of paper inside. This was the rough script and storyboard that Miami gave me—the simplest kind.

Miami is not good at drawing.On the basis of the storyboard draft she gave, I refined it into a fine draft, and then modified some details of the fine draft according to her opinions to draw the original draft.We maintain this partnership.