Reiko was bursting with motivation to become a great author, but Hayashi Shuichi didn't pay it much mind.
Though the stories he told his little cousin were all classics from his previous life, whether a book became a hit or a bestseller depended on a huge amount of luck, in addition to raw talent.
Shuichi wasn't quite ready to commit to the life of a literary copycat. It was simply too exhausting.
At the entrance of the Beika Art Museum...
"There are way more people here than usual." Shuichi frowned slightly, his gaze scanning the crowd flowing in and out of the building.
He had passed by this place several times before, and his impression had always been that it was deserted enough to catch sparrows at the door. He hadn't expected to see such a long queue at the ticket booth today.
"It's likely because of the exhibition," Yusaku Kudo noted, pointing toward a nearby information board. "The museum is exhibiting the famous Mount Fuji paintings by the artist Hosui Kisaragi from June 1st to the 15th."
"Hosui Kisaragi?" Reiko asked curiously. "Is he a very famous painter?"
Chikage Tomizawa brushed a stray lock of short hair away from her eyes. "He's arguably the most famous landscape painter in Japan these last few years."
"He specializes in painting Mount Fuji. One of the works on display today once fetched a staggering price of over two hundred million yen at a Tokyo auction."
"Two hundred million?!" Rei Furuya gasped, his fingers instinctively beginning to count. "How many zeros is that...? Can you really make that much money as a painter?"
"It's not that being a painter makes money; it's that famous painters make money," Shuichi said, looking at the museum's grand foyer. "Most artists live their entire lives in obscurity. Some can't even afford to keep themselves fed."
"It's much the same for writers," Yusaku Kudo agreed with a sympathetic nod. "Those who truly make a name for themselves are a tiny minority."
"I say, you two..." Chikage Tomizawa covered her face in exasperation. "We came here to appreciate art today, not to listen to you lament the harsh realities of life."
Chikage had already purchased tickets for herself and Shuichi beforehand. Lacking one, Yusaku Kudo had no choice but to go and line up by himself.
Shuichi and Chikage led the three children into the museum ahead of him.
Taking advantage of Yusaku's absence, Chikage leaned in close to Shuichi, biting her lip as she whispered an apology. "I'm sorry. I got a bit emotional earlier and said something I shouldn't have."
"Forget it." Shuichi glanced back at Yusaku Kudo in the queue. "Judging by Kudo's expression, he doesn't seem to be looking into it. But you were just lucky today. With a loose tongue like yours, you're going to talk yourself into a prison cell sooner or later."
"I'm usually not like that," Chikage huffed defiantly. "It's only because you were right there that I relaxed a bit too much."
"So, you're saying it's my fault?" Shuichi raised an eyebrow, unamused.
"I didn't say that." Chikage turned her head away, her gaze drifting elsewhere.
"Master, what are you two talking about?" Rei Furuya suddenly popped his head up between them. "Does Miss Tomizawa have some secret she doesn't want people to know?"
"Stop prying into a girl's secrets, you little brat!" Chikage snapped, waving him off impatiently.
"Tch. She's clearly an old woman, yet she still calls herself a girl," Rei muttered under his breath. "Narumi and Reiko-neechan are the only girls here..."
Before he could finish, a heavy fist descended upon his head. Thwack!
Chikage gritted her teeth, her voice dripping with suppressed rage. "Are. You. Asking. For. Death?"
"...Sorry." Rei let out a dry laugh and quickly grabbed Narumi's hand, dragging him toward the front.
"Slow down! Don't bump into anyone!" Shuichi called out after them.
"Stupid brat. Just wait until I get my hands on you later!" Chikage stamped her foot in irritation.
Despite the plan being an "art tour," Shuichi, Reiko, Rei, and Narumi possessed almost zero artistic talent between them.
Shuichi stood before a painting with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl. To him, the only way to judge a painting was whether it looked "pretty" or not.
As for the "profound emotions" hidden within the brushstrokes?
Even after racking his brain, the only thing he could recall was that cliché line from his old textbooks: "This work deeply expresses the artist's profound nostalgia for their hometown."
Reiko mimicked her brother's posture, tilting her head as she stared at the canvas, her small face equally clouded with confusion.
In contrast, the usually boisterous Chikage Tomizawa underwent a total transformation the moment she stood before a painting. Her aura shifted entirely.
She tilted her head back slightly, her gaze focused intently on every single stroke. She would nod, then shake her head, her fingers occasionally tracing invisible lines in the air.
As they walked, she patiently explained the subtleties and brilliance of each piece to the group.
Shuichi and Reiko—the "art illiterates"—listened with glazed eyes, barely following. Only Yusaku Kudo was able to keep up with Chikage's commentary. The young novelist would occasionally adjust his glasses, analyzing everything from composition to color theory with professional precision.
The group soon arrived in front of a painting depicting sunflowers.
"This piece seems to be an imitation of Van Gogh's Sunflowers," Chikage remarked, her red lips pursing as she frowned at the intensely colored work. "A pity. It only captures the surface; it failed to grasp the true inner essence of Van Gogh's work."
"Indeed," Yusaku Kudo agreed. "The greatest value in Van Gogh's paintings is the raw, intense emotional expression behind them. This piece falls far short."
"Onii-chan," Reiko whispered, pulling on Shuichi's sleeve and standing on her tiptoes to reach his ear. "Why do I feel like even my drawings are better than this?"
"...I feel the same way." Shuichi couldn't help but chuckle, ruffling his sister's hair. "I honestly don't know how they see 'emotion' in this messy, jumbled-up pile of paint."
"Haha! It is true that Van Gogh's work can be difficult for the average person to grasp."
A hearty laugh sounded from behind them. The siblings turned to see a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache and a balding head.
"But this painting really isn't pretty," Rei Furuya said bluntly, his face full of bewilderment. "It's just a mess."
The man didn't take offense. Instead, he chuckled and explained patiently, "You cannot look at a painting only for its outward appearance. A truly masterful painter pours their soul into the canvas, so that the moment you see it, you can feel exactly what the artist felt in that moment."
With that, the man stood up and walked slowly to the sunflower painting. He tilted his head back, studying it for a moment. "Though it lacks a soul, being able to imitate the surface of a Van Gogh this accurately is no small feat."
Having said his piece, he walked away with steady, composed strides toward the deeper sections of the museum.
Narumi watched the man's retreating back and whispered, "That uncle looked like someone really impressive."
"Tch, he's bald—of course he's impressive!" Rei made a face, causing Narumi to giggle behind his hand.
"Don't talk nonsense," Chikage hissed, glaring at him as she lowered her voice. "That man just now... was Master Hosui Kisaragi himself!"
"Eh? He's Master Kisaragi?" Rei scratched his head. "Suddenly, I feel like everything he just said made a whole lot of sense."
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