Title: Artist’s Eyes
Paring: OhnoxOC
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None…?
Note:.
SO RANDOM! This fic is! It has nothing to do with anything XD And it just kinda cuts off…. >.<;; Ah well, I have achieved Kinbarii’s first OhnoxOC request! I hope you will all enjoy ~_^<3
Requester: The LOVELY Kinbarii-san’s third time ;D

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The cold, crisp air filled his lungs in a soothing manner as the autumn breeze played with his hair. Despite the falling temperatures, he was content walking in the cooling breeze with nothing over his thin t-shirt. He took in the crunching of leaves under his feet and the mutterings of other people around him, slowly letting the outer world into his mind. The cloudless lake of blue above let a warm sun smile down on him, the surrounding orange and brown making the day even more perfect.

            A soft breeze whistled past him again, causing the browning leaves to rustle and the dead ones to dance at his feet. How he loved the sounds of the autumn day. They contributed to his outlook of the world, coloring the places he walked and assisting his over-eager eyes.

            He let everything around him seep in through his senses, warming his heart and lifting his spirits high. It was amazing how such a world could exist. One so calm and inviting; one that was brimming with warm, bright colors.

            He walked with a set, steady pace until he reached his destination. He patted his back pocket, checking to make sure he had actually brought his wallet. What he wanted was the one thing he would never allow his mother to buy for him.

            The tiny shop loomed over his small figure and he relished the sight of it. His eyes shined up at the sign that was swinging from above, “仕切る”, or “Divide.” The title never ceased to fit the tiny art supply shop. It was surely a divide, that door, from the real world into one of pure imagination.

            Smiling, Ohno pressed his palms flat against the stainless chilled glass like a child. He peered in as he always did, breath fogging the glass. The bell clanged a pleasant welcome when the door was pushed open and he was assaulted with the overwhelming smells of fresh paint, oils, and paper. They lingered on his tongue, causing his head to go temporarily blank with happiness, while he breathed in the warm air which brushed the cold from his skin.

            “Irasshaimasen!” called an old voice from behind the oak check-out desk that was posed in the back of the room. “Ah! If it isn’t Satoshi-kun! It sure has been a while since we’ve seen you here.” Ohno bowed his head slightly to the older man in agreement.

            “Work’s been busy, ne? Don’t overwork yourself.” His smile widened at the old man’s grudging concern. Ohno watched while he disappeared into the tiny back room and supposed he was there doing his own artwork. He noted to himself that he would have to see some of the old artist’s new work.

            Taking a deep, relaxing breath, he looked around the tiny shop, mind swirling with the colors. Nothing had changed although it had been months since his last visit. The array of colored paints stared blankly back at him while he eyed them appreciatively. They were always the first thing he looked at seeing as they were the best paints in all of Japan.

            Ohno slowly pulled out his wallet, not sure if there was enough money present this time, as well, to buy those paints. It wasn’t that he needed them, he was only really there for new pencils and a new pad. Also, to enjoy the feeling of warmth and excitement whenever he was in the place. But those paints…

            His eyes dropped from them to the open slit of his wallet that held the remnants of his money from the last outting. He flipped through the notes with his thumb, the soft paper tickling it.

            A sad sigh escaped from his throat, bringing along all of his hopes. Once again, his mother had run rampage on his wallet taking money and not returning it. He would have to talk with her once he returned home. He just barely had enough for the items he had actually traveled the way to buy.

            Ohno took a short step backwards and shoved the lowly wallet into his back pocket. Quickly as possible, he turned from the tempting paints in the direction of the pencils and paper. Instead of facing the items, though, he was face to face with a young, slightly familiar woman. Before he could stop himself, they had bumped into each other.

            Ohno was a steady man, but apparently, the woman was not so. She stumbled and to keep her from hitting a pile of parchment paper, he grabbed her elbow in one hand and her waist in the other. The words, “Oi! Abunai!” jumped from his lips in a startled jumble. She uttered no noise, just looked at him from her crooked position in his arms.

            “Can you let go of me, please?” she asked and not all kindly. Ohno’s eyebrows creased together in that of hurt. His hands tightened instead of loosening, not knowing how to react to her harsh request. He was suddenly nervous in front of this person. His eyes flicked around frantically, his mind searching for the proper words and actions to administer. They stopped their frantic search on hers.

            Those eyes sent a shiver down Ohno’s spine. He felt as if he had seen them before, along with that look she was giving him. A tired glare. Those eyes, though, though eyes. Why did he feel like he saw them every day?

            “Rei…na-chan?” he asked, the name slipping from his memory into words before he could stop it. He finally had control of his hands and released the woman shyly.

            Her eyes shrunk to slits with the force of her glare. “How do you… Oh!” Those eyes widened quicker than they had shrunk and focused on his face in an instant. “Satoshi-kun! Is that you?”

            Ohno watched, entranced, while her eyes changed once again to harbor meaningful warmth, a smile playing across her features. “Hisashiburi dana.” she said, voice soft. A timid smile crept across his own face and he lowered his head just a bit.

            “I thought you moved to America,” he said, cautiously pushing his way towards the items he needed to buy. Reina followed him.

            “You remembered!” She exclaimed excitedly. All signs of her previous annoyed glare gone. “I moved in sixth grade, yes. But I came back for this summer.” Ohno nodded, running his hand along a closed notepad. He picked it up and ruffled through the pages, feeling the slight breeze the movement gave off brush against his skin. It felt just right.

            “So what’re you doing in this store?” He questioned, curious. He picked up a couple pencils and shuffled over to the check-out desk while waiting for her reply.

            “I could ask you the same thing,” she teased. “Why don’t we talk over lunch?”

 

            Once they reached the café, Ohno sat at an outside table, dropping the little bag of art supplies at his feet. He was lucky that they were in his home town, or else he would never be able to be out and around like he was.

            Reina sat gracefully across from him. A waiter dropped by with menus and Ohno couldn’t take his eyes off of her face as she smiled in thanks. The cool breeze now upon them was more welcome than it had been earlier. The afternoon sun tickled their skin in perfect contrast. It glinted off her sleek black hair and caused her eyes to glow almost forebodingly.

            Ohno hadn’t seen his old friend from his middle school days in years since she moved to America. The sight of her as a grown woman caused the blood to pulse in his veins. He remembered sitting with her at lunch all the time. How all the boys had teased him and how they had always ended up sharing pictures they had drawn. He had nearly forgotten that she had also been an artist, or at least someone who enjoyed drawing.

            She picked up the menu and searched through it, not seeming to notice Ohno’s appraising gaze upon her. The wind blew strong in a sudden breathtaking moment. Reina giggled as her hair blew around her face. She lifted her eyes to meet his, finally. His breath stuck in his chest looking into her eyes again. He realized they were the same eyes he saw most every day in the mirror. Ones that had a slightly off outlook on the world, clearer than most and brighter than all in the right moment. Ones that saw everything if they were allowed by their owners.

            The eyes of an artist.