unfinished

ii. kintsukuroi

ahhh. this one is one of my favourites. i'm quite sad i couldn't keep writing it, but i'll explain. this one was supposed to be in my collection "mono no aware" as the third / fourth chapter, and the idea came to me in a dream. it was a very vivid dream at that. 

it's about the protagonist, lauren, a girl in high school, meeting a transfer student from japan for the first time. lauren and misumi, the student, develop a close bond, so close that lauren's best friend, calista, starts getting jealous of their interactions. but there's something deeper to misumi, lauren discovers - a side she shows only in private, in the broken china cup in misumi's room, in the heartbreaking way she stares at the ocean waves, in the way she confesses to lauren a deep, yearning secret that makes lauren realise, 

the most beautiful people are often the most broken people. and misumi is the most beautiful girl she has ever seen. 

writing this synopsis makes me care for the story oh so much - but there's an obvious reason why i couldn't keep writing it, and i'll say it in detail at the footnote. enjoy, by all means. 

---

kintsukuroi (n.) the japanese art of repairing broken utensils by pouring molten gold to seal them. the philosophy behind the pottery art is that a broken thing / person is more beautiful. 

The news started a small ripple of commotion and gentle protests among the class, murmurs rising and falling like waves among the group of girls huddled in the corner of the room. Then Calista bounded over and shook my shoulders, dragging me from the sweet, dreamless morning sleep that I was so used to enjoying every school day. 

"There's a new student in our class. Everyone's in riots, Laur. You should totally come over and hear the gossip about her." 

Calista was out of breath, her eyes sparkling and coursing with the usual boundless energy that she carried about her so beautifully. A small smile crossed my lips wryly, and I stifled a yawn behind my palm, pushing back my chair. 

"Alright, you got me. But let's go out to the corridors and you can update me on the details." I answered with a laugh. 

I had never been able to say no to Calista, my only best friend in the class. Privately I also thought she was the prettiest out of all of us, her shoulder-length brown hair tied in elegant braids, framing her almond eyes. From childhood I had always been an awkward person, and I didn't quite fit in with the boisterous crowd of my class - yet Calista took me under her wing (it might have been because I helped her with group assignments, but still). 

"They say she's of mixed descent, and she's apparently super pretty." Calista started off, a twinkle in her gaze. "I think I heard that Jasper once dated her when she was still studying in one of the other local schools. They broke up really messily, because Jasper was convinced that she was flirting with a guy from the Falcons - you know the football team." 

I raised an eyebrow. "Jasper Lee? You sure she dated him?" 

"Yeah!" Calista's excitement grew. "The one and only Jasper Lee, one-half of the golden couple. Star quarterback. The same person." 

Truth be told, I didn't meddle much in gossip myself, but even I was intrigued. Jasper was one of those boys who were declared unattainable by the lower masses, and had a literal harem of girls surrounding him even though he was extremely public with his girlfriend Isabel. And of course, Calista's eagerness to share this information also came from the fact that she once had a crush on Jasper herself. 

"Hmm. Dating Jasper, huh. What's her name?" 

"Not sure." A small frown marred Calista's face. "It started with a M or something, but because she's got this Japanese name, I have no idea how to pronounce it. Don't worry, I think she's just popped to the washroom. You'll be able to meet her soon." 

The rest of Calista's chatter was drowned out in the stampede of boys who had cluttered out into the hallways. It wasn't uncommon for them to swarm out in a whole bunch, somewhat like a street gang. This time their attention was diverted to a slim figure who had emerged unsteadily from the girls' washroom door. 

"There she is!" Calista whispered unnecessarily.

Curiosity washed over me and I stood on my tiptoes, trying to get a glimpse of the new girl over the crowd. The sea of boys was overwhelming, a blockade against my line of vision, and I sighed internally - was this new girl so worth gaping at for minutes?

Then the bell rang, too shrill in my ears, and the early morning sun slanted beautifully into our classroom. Calista grabbed my hand and tugged me inside, running to our seats breathlessly. 

It was then that I caught my first glimpse of Misumi Hanaoka. 

---

She had her nose buried in a Murakami book. 1Q84, his greatest novel of all time. I remember because it had been my favourite in junior high, and I was quite the avid fan of Murakami novels. Half of her face was hidden delicately from my view, but the side turned to me was already striking enough to make me do a double take. 

Hers wasn't the kind of beauty Calista possessed. Calista had a fragile air about her, accentuated by her pale skin and her slightly flushed cheeks, framed by her light mousy strands of hair. Calista - she was breakable, like a piece of Victorian glass tinted with striking colours. 

She was Calista's polar opposite. 

Her eyes seemed to be a deep onyx, but upon closer inspection hid hints of indigo slashes. The slant of her cheeks and face were strong, imposing; her skin flawlessly tanned. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, the wavy length falling like a raging waterfall down her shoulders and back.

Then she glanced up, casually, as if she hadn't noticed me sitting beside her. She had taken the seat beside mine, as Calista and I had put our bags together in the front row. It was quite an unexpected move - usually the new students seemed to gravitate toward the back rows, shy and unsure of their whereabouts. 

"Oh, hey!" Her voice. It was mesmerising. Something about it was like lightning and fire. "I'm Misumi, nice to meet you. I have no idea what I'm doing since I'm new, so I'll have to assume you're familiar with this - I'm kind of overwhelmed right now." 

Startled by her outgoing demeanor, I nodded slowly and gave her a small smile. 

"Hi, I'm Lauren. Welcome to the class-"

"Yeah, everyone's so amazing! Also I've heard so much about you, Laur, the people I've met all say you're the kindest person in the form." Misumi cut me off mid-sentence, laughing, tossing her head back lightly so her raven-black hair rippled over her shoulder.

It was evident from the start that nobody could take their eyes off Misumi. Introducing herself in front of the class was an easy feat for her, as everyone was riveted to the way her voice carried across the stuffy classroom so flawlessly. 

"Misumi Hanaoka... moved from Tokyo to pursue a more internationally recognised diploma... previously I really enjoyed swimming. I also love writing poetry..."

Poetry - swimming? Those two were the only words I caught clearly, but I was already choking back waves of disbelief. Calista 

---

a.n. i couldn't keep writing this because i kept spontaneously adding elements of myself into misumi's character. misumi's background, her demeanour, her facade, and her darker side - everything screamed me. she was an idealistic version of myself that i'd created, only i wasn't as beautiful, i was just an ordinary girl with unrealistic dreams. and misumi seemed to get tainted with my personality. i loved her. so i didn't keep writing about her, to leave this pristine. this draft stops at misumi loving poetry and swimming, two things that are the staples of my life. because i can't write myself into a character i love when i hate myself, can i?