The land of the unwanted

For outsiders the land of the unwanted was known for hot weather and sneaky sandstorms. Karaza, while being freed from her cast she looked outside the window, even though the sandstorm turned the view of the city warm brown the city of Tribunalis Ad Mare looked rather cozy, or maybe it was the pleasant temperature of the wooden hospital.

“Kinda unfortunate, you won’t get to walk outside today, so physical therapy room it is.” The nurse told.

“It came out of nowhere, the sandstorm."

“Oh yeah, they always come unexpectedly. But you get used to that.” The nurse said with a cheerful voice. Karaza raised her eyebrows in agreement, she personally believed that one could get used to mostly anything.

But the surprise part was unskippable.

In the shabby apartment Ryu was searching frantically in his suitcase, Roxy looked at the hot mess of his side. Even her side felt unfamiliar in a subtle way, like a piece of a spot the difference game.

She looked again at the tendrils lifting everything off the ground. Now he was rummaging through his suitcase.

"Have you seen my small glass crown?" He asked, voice muffled.

"It was near the kids." She tilted her head.

Her eyes stopped at the walls where her embroidery works hang.

"Where are my Ojamajo doremi magical tools embroidery?"

"No idea."

They looked at each other, bamboozled. Eventually, Roxy went to her houseplants.

"Kids, what happened here?" She asked the potted plants.

"They suddenly disappeared?" Ryu repeated what Roxy had told him.

"That's what they saw."

“Is this an effect from the tornado?” He frowned, “Or is this a wish? I can’t really tell with all these shock waves.”

"No, it's probably a wish. I can feel the change in the surroundings."

They ran through their belongings, writing a list of the missing things, all were handmade and art pieces. As they compared their lists side by side, she caught a glimpse of his hands, many Band-Aids on his fingers and a bandage on one wrist.

“You want a healing gem?”

“No, all good,” He murmured, his thoughts already in a different place, until something clicked. “I have to go, see ya.” He ran off the building.

“Wear your goggles, it’s sandy out there!”

In the auction center the preparation was going smoothly, until it wasn't. Amongst workers who hung paintings and carried sculptures, artists checking their pieces and slots on the auction schedule, a couple of managers whispered about a missing piece. Ryu eavesdropped until his teacher called upon him.

“What’cha doing here, kid? Your preparations are not today.” Yamada said, walking up to him.

“Really?”

“Believe it or not, unusual for you to have a mix-up.”

Ryu just gave his signature deep stare. The teacher never knew what kind of thoughts he had behind those big black eyes. Sometimes he doubted the existence of any. In actuality the boy realized that staring had a strange effect on people, it always got him out of any unwanted situation.

“Well, it’ll be a good learning experience. Just don’t hinder anyone.” The teacher said.

Bingo.

He followed his teacher around while some invisible tendrils of his investigated around.

Some workers hung a portrait on the wall next to them. Ryu looked at the name signature in the corner, below the beautiful family portrait. "Sami." the signature said.

"Must be tough, having that guy Andre as an advisor," Yamada murmured to himself with a sigh. "You holding up okay?" He looked at Ryu but soon pressed his lips tight when he saw a man with a long ponytail entering the room, with a young blonde man walking behind him.

“Speaking of the devil.”

“Please don’t mention him otherwise you gonna find him standing behind you.” Ryu said, and the teacher held a chuckle.

“No seriously, he’s helping you with your auction preparation, right?”

Ryu gave his signature stare again.

“Oh my god…” The teacher slapped his forehead.

Sometimes it doesn’t work, actually.

And he soon found himself getting dragged in the halls of the auction center. The world was ending, someone wished for art to disappear, but Ryu found himself solely focusing on his delayed task. And his tendrils retracted back to his body as they stood in a corner near some ladders and scaffolds, getting away from the work's way

‘I mean this might be the first and last chance.’ He thought.

"Well, let's go over it one more time, Next week the auctioneers will visit, vote for the art pieces that they liked the most, then pieces that passed the pre-selection will be presented in the auction. Now who is your targeted audience?" Yamada told automatically like someone who had done that for many years.

"Rich people, I mean people who are interested in niche art."

".. Exactly, for the pre-selection your work will be shown either Saturday or Tuesday, that's when niche art enthusiasts will visit."

"So it is a matter of which day is optimal."

"More or less, auctioneers who come Tuesday are usually looking for an artist to hire, your work might not sell but you might get a patron."

"So, in auctioneers with buying intentions are coming Saturday."

Yamada took a deep breath.

"You gotta think for the long term kid, your advisor wants to make the greatest painter in the world, and that's not your jam which is acceptable, just not with him. I am sure you realize it more than anyone else, if you don't paint for him he will not let you stay in the academy. I know auctions are exciting, but getting a patron is a much safer route."

He looked at his student, unable to decode the black eyes staring at his soul.

'Thank you teacher, but I want the Saturday after lunch slot."

"Come on, stubbornness will not -"

He was cut off when someone slipped and bumped into a ladder, it almost fell on them but Ryu grabbed it just in time.

Yamada watched, half confused and half impressed when he lifted the metal ladder up with one noodle arm.

"Are you okay?" Ryu asked, shifting his head to see the other person, his expression grew cold when he saw the person behind the ladder.

"Hey, Sami, slippery floors, huh?" The teacher joked as he reached his hand to him, lifting him up and noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

"Yes, thank you! Pardon me, I must go." He moved hastily.

"Andre is surely putting a lot of pressure on him, you two grew together right? can you check on him?"

"No." His polite, low voice has an unusual sharpness to it.

"Is that so?" Yamada murmured, not wanting to dig deeper, shooting a concerned look toward the blond young man. "Well, all of this is unfamiliar to you too, take it easy."

His teacher's reassurance didn't quite reach him as he saw the large portrait becoming transparent, on its way to disappearing.

Outside again. The preparation ended for the day. He bought overpriced goggles from the closest convenience store and shook his hair from the accumulating sand while wearing them.

‘Why are rich neighborhoods’ convenience stores so expensive?’ He sighed. The wind wasn’t blowing as fast so he left the shelter of the store’s awning and started sauntering.

Something about empty streets in the middle of the day, wind isn't carrying much sand. Just before the storm is about to end completely. Walking alone in this time evoked a strange feeling within him, although not unwelcome, it was the kind of feeling that dragged many thoughts with it.

‘I wonder if the world would look like this when it ends? Just empty…’

‘Probably not, the tornado will destroy all these buildings with it. Everything too.’

‘Well that’s depressing. Now I want some bread.’

He took the wrong turn. Further away from his neighborhood he stopped at a bakery he had never tried before. And with a trusty brioche bun he took left and right turns in the stone-paved streets.

‘Man I missed the countryside and the only one road in the village…’ He thought, turning around when the street started narrowing a little too much to be his correct direction.

Truth to be told, the city wasn’t too hard to navigate. Every neighborhood had a distinctive architectural style and a pole clock that had the name of the neighborhood and the neighborhoods around it.

When the buildings started having cantilevered balconies and tall narrow windows akin to Alexandria's cosmopolitan golden age, he knew home was getting closer.

He saw a museum workers lifting up the thick, rubbery cover off the museum made of glass walls . His mind immediately jumped to the heated discussion his class had about this upcoming style of museums, built with the intention to make art unhidden by thick walls of a building, accessible to be seen by the passersby in the street.

Some said that was the food stand version of consuming art, others were simply concerned by the nature of glass, more susceptible to robbery attempts and stones carried by sand storms. Ryu on the other hand got a full mark on his essay on the topic so he no longer cared to think about it. Plus, entering food was allowed so he waltzed inside the museum for a detour.

Between the Turkish style rugs and wooden sculpted tables he saw a work by a relatively known artist he came across while researching for homework. He placed the bun back in the paper bag, walking closer to the piece.

It wasn’t her most well-known work, or the most critically acclaimed, but it had something to it. An open book, carved from wood with actual sentences engraved on the pages and filled with melted copper that was poured and solidified there. The sentences were from the artist’s childhood diary, about a normal school day and playing with friends.

Another detail was a copper bookmark shaped like a childish drawing of a flower, the kind where the petals overlapped on one another. The label supplied it was a replica of a handmade bookmark, gifted by a friend of the artist.

The craftsmanship was confident, the piece radiated with an ode to the simpler days. For the boy the artwork signified another thing.

‘It’s really a successful encapsulation, of what she wanted it to mean.’

‘I’m just a second year student who joined the academy because of the high acceptance rate but, I can tell this was special.’

‘The techniques are a matter of practice, choosing the subject is a matter of a coin flip. But making something that comes out the exact way one’s feeling would look like… That’s something I haven't obtained yet.’

He walked out, the dim light from the murky sky hit the glass walls at a sharp angle. He looked at the horizon where doom was lurking.

‘Will it ever be my turn?’

A blow of wind carried a beaten-up flowers with it.

‘Will I ever get a handmade bookmark?’

He pondered on the way home. He thought about visiting again tomorrow, but the time sun rose again, the art piece had disappeared.