*Divided*
Part 2 - Complications

Life is a series of highs and lows, although not particularly in that order.
Years of bad luck can be followed up by a single moment of better luck, 
which can then be disregarded again in a second. Judging from the cycles of 
my life, I was due some sort of penanse for my prosperous year in 
Shinagawa-ku. And as it later turned out, my assumption wasn't far off.

My summer break was the metaphorical 'calm before the storm'. I spent my 
days doing what I had wanted to do since April; relax, plain and simple. For 
weeks on end my routine was to stay up until the early hours of the morning 
reading, and then sleep in late the next day. Norrie-sensei had lent me some 
books on art history during the vacation, and I read them over and over 
again at night. Near the end, only the sun's light at high noon could wake 
me up. Not even my mother could claim that feat, yet she still insisted on 
trying. It made me slightly annoyed, but as long as I stuck to the routine I 
was in a wonderful mood. There is no better feeling than of being well 
rested.

While away from school, I preferred to stay close to home. There was always 
so much more to do in Minato-ku, with an abundance of places to meet people 
and enjoy yourself. As much as I would have liked to spend time with some of 
my louder, more energetic friends, I was drawn to a secluded park that was 
frequented by other students my age. It seemed like the only place in the 
entire city untouched by the worries of the real world. And ironically, it 
was located in the middle of a commercial district known for its skyscrapers 
and high pace environment. 

I brought a sketchbook with me on every visit, and replaced a filled one 
once a week. I tried my hand at all of the different scenes laid out in 
front of me. One day I wanted to draw a group of children playing with a 
ball, the next I drew a young couple on a bench. I had already gotten quite 
good at sketching nature; small plants and the like. It wasn't much of a 
challenge anymore. But I still preferred drawing those sorts of things to 
animate objects. Whenever I attempted to draw animals or people they often 
looked too much like cartoons. And while they were at least acceptable 
cartoons, I decided not to dwell on the subject. Drawing flowers was my 
strong point and I was content with that.

Besides the flora, my attention frequently turned to a large fountain in the 
main courtyard. It was made from solid white stone and I remember it was the 
oddest shape; not quite a cube, but certain areas were rounded like a 
sphere. I stared at it everyday and could never figure out what it was 
supposed to represent. It was like nothing I had ever seen before; a 
completely original idea. After a few days, I realized worrying over it was 
pointless. I concluded it was a modern art sculpture, and therefore beyond 
the realms of comprehension. If there was anything I had learned from the 
art books, it was how to recognize something too simple to understand. The 
fountain was definitely grouped into that category; something that the 
average person could never appreciate.

Every once and a while, I would spot some people I knew in the park. They 
never came over to see me, mind you. They were always walking along with 
their other friends and having far too good of a time to say hello. I began 
to feel lonely whenever that happened. I would ask myself all sorts of 
questions (Was I not important enough? Was I really their friend at all?), 
but would push them to the back of my mind. I then forced myself to pick my 
pencil back up and start sketching again. It was therapy in a way, and it 
still helps whenever I start to feel inadequate or anxious. The behavior 
became reflex after that summer. I never did anything with friends; too busy 
and preoccupied to bother phoning them. The friendships suffered because of 
that. When the vacation ended and school came around again, I found that few 
people would even speak to me unless I spoke to them first.

My eighth grade class was composed of a group of people I knew nothing 
about. I had seen them around in the halls, but had never found out their 
names. The exceptions were two girls, Sanae and Yuriko. They were best 
friends and rarely went anywhere without each other. They were also the 
types of people who started new friendships relatively easily, so I hoped 
they didn't feel I was too stuffy to be involved with them. They were the 
only ones I felt comfortable enough to impose on.

Compared to the seventh grade, I was fortunate enough to be without an 
academic rival that year. I had never worried that my marks weren't good 
enough; I was content that I did my best. And while I didn't get the top 
award at the end of the year, my teachers told me I was doing exceptionally 
well. I had come a long way since elementary school, I constantly told 
myself. Juku really does help leaps and bounds.

As it turned out, Sanae was the student who received the top academic award 
that year. I had heard, never giving it a second thought. I was happy for 
her, but when I was placed in her class things quickly changed. Suddenly we 
both became very competitive. We had all the same teachers and all the same 
assignments; the only reason one of us would lose marks was because of a 
fault of our own. That added pressure gave me a bad case of nerves, one that
I couldn't easily overcome. What did help, however, was the friendship that 
formed between us. With the larger projects, she volunteered to work with me 
so we would both be ensured to get a good grade. I liked those projects the 
best, and I think she knew.

During first term, I was happy that I had finally chosen art as one of my 
courses. Norrie-sensei was always smiling whenever I walked in, sketchbook 
in hand. It was a beginners' class and the other students sometimes had a 
hard time with particular media, like charcoal or pastel. Because of that, I 
felt a little guilty whenever I got the highest mark. I knew the other 
students hadn't come for tutoring after school, like I had for the past 
year. It was also obvious that Norrie-sensei favored me above everyone else. 
It didn't matter how much effort I put into my work, if any at all. That 
wasn't important to her and it frustrated me greatly.

I couldn't compete with Sanae if I didn't put effort into my work, I knew, 
but that didn't stop me from doing otherwise. Even when it was plainly 
obvious that I had rushed a project, I was always surprised to see that it 
would indeed get full marks. Norrie-sensei wrote it off as "thinking outside 
the box". I couldn't shake the feeling that she was doing that just to avoid 
tarnishing my reputation, not because I actually deserved it. The boy who 
sat across from me, Naoki, became resentful of me for that very reason. I 
admit that he put much more thought into his assignments than I did and 
racked his brain for ideas constantly. Yet, I had still gotten consistently 
higher marks than him, and he didn't easily forgive me or Norrie-sensei. 

Just when school appeared to be calming down, swimming tryouts rolled 
around. The first thing I noticed was that more people showed up than the 
previous year. It seemed that the team had gotten a reputation for being 
easy to make, which was far from the truth. Saito-sensei worked us hard, and 
in many cases expected more from us than we were willing to give. I was 
still as insecure as ever, so I gave it my all during the tryouts, just to 
show how much I was capable of. I wanted to prove my worth to not only him, 
but to myself as well. 

I remember that when it came time for the results to be posted on his door, 
the short walk down the hall seemed daunting. But in the end, I didn't even 
have to glance at the paper. Saito-sensei gave me that same crooked smile, 
and I knew at once. I smiled back and then went on my way. I was looking 
forward to the season more than anything else.

What I did not take into consideration, however, was that because of other
activities my time would become a precious commodity. Conflicting schedules 
threatened to overcome me. My teachers fought to make sure I didn't hand 
assignments in late, and Sanae herself would phone my house to remind me of 
deadlines. Because of the knowledge that I had a rival eager to shake me, I 
often stayed up late to finish projects for various subjects. Even when I 
knew full well that I had swimming practice the next morning I insisted on 
it. Saito-sensei knew some of this, thankfully, and excused my behavior 
whenever we had an early pool time. The cold water, at least, aided in 
waking me. Whatever time I had left, which wasn't nearly as much as I would 
have liked, Norrie-sensei took seemingly morbid pleasure in monopolizing.

While all this was happening, she had begun to give the art students more 
demanding assignments. It seemed to her that we were becoming bored, which 
was true in my case particularly. And since she never liked to see wasted 
talent, our new project was meant to do just the opposite. Force us to be 
interested so we could pass the course. It wasn't the project itself that 
was complicated. Its instructions were quite simple on their own. It was 
what I knew the project would become that worried me.

"Draw whatever you like," she had said, almost weary of our dull looks. "All
I ask is that you make it colourful, use at least three different media, and 
don't leave an inch of white space."

My ethics not withstanding, I could have done that project blindfolded. But 
both Norrie-sensei and myself knew I would not make it that simple. Never 
once, in the time I had known her, had I finished my work early. I was a 
stubborn perfectionist who paid too much attention to detail. I wasn't even 
efficient with my time in class, although it may have seemed different to 
prying eyes. I never quite knew until the end whether I would get the 
assignments done in time. But sure enough, I handed in my work exactly when 
it was due, not a minute before but never a second later. And even though we 
had a generous amount of time to work on the project, a few months in fact, 
I still look back and sigh.

The paper we received to work with was larger than the desktop itself. We 
all had to get in groups and push our tables together just so we could work 
properly. It figured that Naoki would be in my group. He sat across from me 
yet again, with a particularly mischievious twinkle in his eye.

"You won't be able to do it," he said, taking a long glance at my blank 
paper. "There's just no way. Not with everything expected of you."

I knew what he had implied with his not-so-subtle statement. Norrie-sensei 
knew I had been slacking so she gave me something I was sure to put effort 
into. And with what she knew I was capable of already, it had better be 
good. Even so, out of everything, it was the timing of the project that 
worried me. I had to cancel my morning violin lessons with Okano-sensei, 
which had resumed after the vacation, just to make certain I had some chance 
of proving Naoki wrong. My pride had gotten the better of me.

It didn't help that my mind was nearly devoid of any and all ideas at the 
time. I didn't want the project to become just another work to add to my 
growing portfolio. I imagined it to be original; as unique as my 
fingerprint, but recognizable in its own right. My expectations were set 
higher than even I was willing to admit. I took the paper home every night, 
intent on making a mark on it. I knew I had to pace myself, but as I 
mentioned before, it's not my strong point. 

Meaningful intentions are well and good, but I found that following through 
is just as, if not more, important. Regardless, I just couldn't bring myself 
to do it. Motivation was scarce and my routine was draining. Days lasted for 
what seemed like weeks. After class, I went to practice. After practice, I 
came home and studied. If I could manage to finish my lessons without 
falling asleep, I took that as a sign. So, by the grace of the Gods 
themselves, I worked on my art project for the magical hour before I lost 
consciousness. Good ideas were few and far between, so I often looked 
through magazines to get ideas. I drew a composite sketch by the end of the 
second week, and then tried to map out my plan on the much larger assigned 
paper. It was complete with flowers and birds, and in the center I included 
a favourite quotation of mine. I scrapped the sketch a few days later.

For what was nearly a month after that, I gave up completely. It was 
incredibly frustrating to not be able to express myself creatively. I came 
home and slept, not wanting to try anymore. My academic future be damned. I 
still did my work, of course, but put little time into assigned projects. I 
could only divide my attention so many ways and they had yet to realize 
that.

I dragged myself to swimming one morning, very reluctant to crawl out from 
under my covers. The smell of chlorine penetrated my senses when that of a 
warm breakfast should have been. I walked to the sign-in sheet and tiredly 
scribbled "Miru", a nickname my teammates had given me. I really couldn't 
have cared less, but as Saito-sensei strolled into the pool area, late as 
usual, he made me smile for the first time in days. It was exactly what I 
needed.

Saito-sensei started roll call like he did every day. We all remained in the 
pool, treading to keep our heads above the water. He knew we were paying 
attention nonetheless, so he didn't ask otherwise. When he got halfway down 
the list, exactly where my name should have been, I saw him furrow his brow.

"Miru? Who is that?" he said, confused and just as tired as me, it seemed.

Everyone around me cracked a smile and knowingly looked in my direction. I 
raised my hand out of the frigid water and called out. "Kaioh Michiru!"

He looked down to me in the pool, my wet hair pulled back into a bun. The 
name clicked and a thoughtful expression showed on his face. "I've never 
heard anyone call you that before."

"Really," I replied, the slightest bit sarcastic. My friends on the team, 
who I'm sure he had overhead at one time, called me nothing but. "Oh well."

He gave me another look and then resumed, unruffled. Practice continued on 
from there. It was the middle of September, a time when we were busy 
conditioning ourselves for the upcoming meet. That year it was during the 
first week of October, sooner than any of us were prepared for. Strangely, 
I wasn't worried. I knew that the others had faith in me, just like everyone 
else in my life. I relished the feeling that thought washed over me, a sense 
of belonging. I knew I wouldn't let them down.

It were those feelings that I had been missing all along, I realized. I was 
a person whose actions depended on my emotions. So, when I had shut 
everything out, I had numbed my senses enough to prevent motives from even 
beginning to form. It all seemed so clear then.

When I came home that day, my mind was brimming with new ideas just 
screaming to be put down on paper. I dropped my schoolbooks at the foot of 
my bed and reached for my art project. I was eager to work and equally 
excited to be inspired once again. I had missed the long evenings that I 
would spend hunched over my watercolours, painting what seemed like my soul 
onto the lightly textured paper. The project changed before my very eyes 
that night. It was indeed original, just like I had imagined. I stood back 
from my desk, tired, but more proud of myself than I had ever been before.

Splashed on the expanse of white were the colours of the world; the blues of 
the oceans depths, the reds of the bleeding sunset, the yellows of the 
twinkling stars. In places they remained separate, beautiful in their own 
right. But close by, they united and mingled with each other, spilling deep 
violets and emeralds. The colours retained their character even when they 
flowed past one another, creating contrast and diversity. The colours were 
everywhere; there seemed no end. Even though they were encased in drawn 
objects, flowers and glass, they couldn't be contained. The picture was to 
be viewed as a whole, and it was presented that way for all to see.

I looked down at the paper and was in simple awe of what I had accomplished. 
Etiquette stated that an artist shouldn't admire her own work, but being 
conceited was the farthest thing from my mind. It was my art, myself on 
'canvas' per se. I stared down and smiled out of untainted joy. Upon the 
paper, I had drawn everything that had held meaning to me during the past 
year. Everything that I had been passionate about. My violin, favourite 
lines of sheet music. My school uniform, my bathing suit. Flowers from the 
park, birds and the sky. It was everything I was and everything I could ever 
hope to be all at once. And then, content, I fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling energized and cheerful, truly happy to be 
alive. The sunlight danced into my bedroom as I opened a window and let 
fresh air rush in. Suddenly, my heart was free of the strains of 
adolescence. No more was I weighed down by pressure to perform academically. 
Never again would the expectations of others burden my soul. For months I 
had closed my senses to the world because I feared it would overcome me. 
Never again.

With the project cradled in my right arm, and my violin safely in the other, 
I walked through Shinagawa-ku on my way to school. In front of me shuffling 
slowly was Naoki, who was obviously quite tired. I smiled genuinely and then 
ran up behind him, hitting the poor boy in the head with the thick rolled up 
sheet of paper. He muttered something under his breath, but I paid no mind.

"I finished," I said, ever pleased with myself. I gracefully adjusted my 
hair ribbon as he stared with wide eyes.

"I don't believe you!" he accused, his hard gaze pointedly on the paper held 
in my hand. "Let me take a look!"

Smiling, I turned my back to him. "In due time!" I shouted, racing toward 
the school building. Naoki followed as I laughed, the chase becoming a 
spectacle. Students parted in the halls, surprised to see me in such a 
jovial state. When I passed Sanae and Yuriko, they only smiled back and 
didn't question me. After all, I was nearing the end of my hardships. I 
finally had good reason to smile. 

Naoki had given up soon after, realizing that he was acting childish. But 
that hadn't stopped me; with no one on my tail, I meandered through the 
corridors idly calm. My feet had taken me to Norrie-sensei's room, her door 
slightly ajar. I pushed it open farther still and knocked quietly. She was 
sitting at her desk, a bland expression on her face. Once she saw it was me, 
she stood up and quickly crossed the distance between us. 

"I finished," I announced, not nearly as boastful as when I had said the 
same words to Naoki only moments ago. I held the project out for her 
inspection.

"Of course you did, Michiru. It's due today," she replied, taking the 
offered roll of paper and pointing out the one thing I shouldn't have 
forgotten.

With the tables still arranged in groups, she removed the elastic band and 
laid my project down flat. I was shaking; not from nervousness, but from 
holding myself back. At that moment, I had wanted to dance, shout, and 
announce to the world that I done what was thought to be impossible of me. 
I had to force myself to bite my tongue and hold back my cries, because 
Norrie-sensei's untainted opinion meant nearly everything to me. Even though 
I had bragged to Naoki earlier in the day, that was only to annoy him. 
Norrie-sensei was the one I strove to impress above everyone else. My pride 
would vanish instantly if she thought that I could accomplish better than 
the work in front of her. I knew that I could be crushed if that ever 
happened.

The air in the studio was silent as she looked at the picture. I could hear 
the noise of the surrounding halls, the older students talking loudly to one 
another. I was getting more and more anxious, craning my head forward in 
expectation. The corners of her lips were curved upwards in an appreciative 
smile and her gaze traveled leisurely over every inch of the art. She never 
took her eyes off the paper, even when she whispered to me.

"Do you see now what you can do when you apply your talent?" she said, her 
voice laden with emotion. "Do you finally see in yourself what I've known 
was there all along?"

I thought back to the night before. To the hours I had spent choosing 
colours, to the time I had put into meticulously sketching the petals of the 
flowers. And then to the moment when I had finished, the paint softly drying 
under the desk lamp in my bedroom. The level of skill that was evidently 
used on the project was one I had never shown before. There had not been 
such a project that demanded it of me until then. And all it had taken was 
being inspired by the muse that stared back at me when I looked in a mirror.

"Yes," I replied, "because this is what it took to make me truly care. It's 
no more a school assignment than it was a journey of self-discovery on my 
part. It had taken me this long to find out what truly makes me happy, and 
this is but the resulting revelation."

Her eyes still on the paper, Norrie-sensei paused a moment. "What is it that 
truly makes you happy? There are many elements on this paper. Art, music.."

"Self-expression," I corrected. "Whether through art or music, part of 
myself is always put into the piece. I couldn't have it any other way."

"Neither would I. Congradulations, Michiru. You've finally found what gives 
meaning to your life, and that is all anyone can ever hope for."

Then in one fluid movement, Norrie-sensei reached into her pocket and pulled 
out a red pen. Lifting a corner of the paper, she scrawled "100%" on the 
blank underside. Somehow, that time I wasn't surprised nor resentful. I was 
beaming with pride and knew that my mood would last throughout the day, no 
matter what would happen. After a drawn out battle with circumstance, my 
single moment of better luck had finally come. I just wish now that it would 
have lasted a while longer, before everything came crashing down around me. 
Life, after all, is a series of extreme highs and lows.

****************************************************************************

Standard Disclaimers: I don't own Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon, including all 
the characters and basic plot lines. They belong to Naoko Takeuchi, 
Kodansha, TV Asahi, Toei, and many others. This fanfic is copyright MinaP 
Aino, July 2003.

Recommended Listening: Try (Alternate version) - The Smashing Pumpkins; In 
My Place (Original or, better yet, the String Quartet version) - Coldplay; 
Namo Shirenu Hana - The Indigo; Ave verum - Amadeus Mozart

There have been very minor changes to Part 1: Past Influences, in case 
anybody is interested. Just some grammar stuff, mostly.

- MinaP Aino (MinaP_Aino_hime@yahoo.com) 1:46 AM 7/25/03

http://www3.mb.sympatico.ca/~holig