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SPACE WHALES
Michiru's exhibition opened three days ago. "The Night Sky Reflected in the Ocean Waves", she called it. Oil on canvas, the pieces varying in size, but with the same theme running through them. A misty, sparkling indigo-blue, coming to life in dozens of shapes and forms.
Today, she was asked to make an appearance before a group of grade school students on a tour. She gladly agreed, of course. She's happy to discuss her work with anyone who's interested, and she's always gotten along well with children.
Michiru takes great pride in her work; her mother always said it was worthy of museums. Perhaps it's for that reason that she's never ventured beyond hidden little galleries like this one. It's incredibly pleasant, though; the gallery owner was thrilled to meet with her, and gave her a warm, hearty welcome. "It's an honor to be holding your exhibit here," he had said, and Michiru had bowed her head and responded "No, it's all mine".
It's no Louvre, to be sure, but she likes it just the way it is. Simple, comfortable. The glamor, she keeps to her night life.
"Kids," she hears the teacher call out as she approaches, hoping to quiet the large, chattering group with limited success. It's only once Michiru is standing in front of them, smiling warmly, that the children fall into silence. "This is Miss Kaioh Michiru, the artist behind the exhibition we're seeing today. Why don't we give her a nice, friendly hello?"
"Hello!" the children's voices resound in unison, those at the circle's edges drawing closer.
"Hello," she answers back, humbly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before offering the teacher a small, polite bow. "Thank you for coming today, everyone. I can only hope you enjoy the exhibition. Before we start, why don't I tell you a bit about myself?"
The response is far more positive than the question would normally call for, but Michiru's used to it. "Yeah!" "Yes, please!"
She laughs a little, fondly. "Well, then..."
Today, she was asked to make an appearance before a group of grade school students on a tour. She gladly agreed, of course. She's happy to discuss her work with anyone who's interested, and she's always gotten along well with children.
Michiru takes great pride in her work; her mother always said it was worthy of museums. Perhaps it's for that reason that she's never ventured beyond hidden little galleries like this one. It's incredibly pleasant, though; the gallery owner was thrilled to meet with her, and gave her a warm, hearty welcome. "It's an honor to be holding your exhibit here," he had said, and Michiru had bowed her head and responded "No, it's all mine".
It's no Louvre, to be sure, but she likes it just the way it is. Simple, comfortable. The glamor, she keeps to her night life.
"Kids," she hears the teacher call out as she approaches, hoping to quiet the large, chattering group with limited success. It's only once Michiru is standing in front of them, smiling warmly, that the children fall into silence. "This is Miss Kaioh Michiru, the artist behind the exhibition we're seeing today. Why don't we give her a nice, friendly hello?"
"Hello!" the children's voices resound in unison, those at the circle's edges drawing closer.
"Hello," she answers back, humbly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before offering the teacher a small, polite bow. "Thank you for coming today, everyone. I can only hope you enjoy the exhibition. Before we start, why don't I tell you a bit about myself?"
The response is far more positive than the question would normally call for, but Michiru's used to it. "Yeah!" "Yes, please!"
She laughs a little, fondly. "Well, then..."
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Haruka has never spent this much time wondering what goes on in another person's head before (it's none of her business, after all). "Calming is good," she concurs as a result: drat, that was kind of a dumb thing to say. Ah well. It's said now.
She probably ought to follow it up with something else, though. If only to keep the looming threat of an awkward silence at bay. What had she thought she'd do when she had this woman in her car, again...? She can't remember.
"D'you go out often?" she asks - it's odd to think of them crossing paths in the same basic neighborhoods, really, without realizing it. Odd both as individuals and, well...she hadn't really been thinking about anybody at Michiru's workplace in terms of what they did when they were off duty. She has a feeling that makes her the small person.
Drat.
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Either way, Michiru's endeared.
"For coffee with handsome women?" She crosses her legs at the ankles, folding her hands together over one knee. "Not as often as you might think."
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She turns onto the correct street and starts looking for a parking spot. The weather's nice. If they have to walk, that isn't so bad.
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That much is true. But she's being presumptuous, isn't she. She is presuming all over the place. Is that wrong? Is she totally mistaken about Michiru's day job (night job? The hours must be strange). But it's...well...it is....what it is. "I....don't really have a job, per se."
Not with set hours. She races cars. And bikes. And anything else with a motor that can be raced. But maybe that explains why she doesn't know about jobs in general...?
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The lack of job, from how she mentions it, doesn't sound like a temporary situation she particularly wishes to amend.
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One leg pushes open her car door but she doesn't get out just yet. The security brought from knowing exactly what one was going to do with one's day - exactly where one fits in a grander scheme - might be reassuring. Perhaps that's the appeal.
But that's absurd. Haruka, too, knows exactly where she belongs. She's Tenoh Haruka, top junior racer in Japan. Atop her world already. She doesn't need anything more than that.
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She prods, but gently. "Is it fun?"
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Or not having a steady job? They're the same thing, really. Her next laugh is drawn out, still thoughtful, but fond. "There's nothing like it. Just you and the machine, and a sense of speed...the scent of the wind as it blows across the circuit....That'd be worth anything."
Which does imply there's bits that aren't so great, but Haruka isn't focused on those. She closes her car door. "If you go fast enough, it feels like you aren't even moving at all."
And that's the best feeling. Your own world. Everything in motion, and yet, everything still.
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What a curious thing to say, from someone who loves it. Is remaining rooted in place really a feeling one could call fulfilling? She can't quite imagine how.
But saying it aloud would be more cruel than teasing, and so Michiru refrains.
"It's nice," she offers instead as she shuts the car door behind her. "Having something you're so passionate about."