My Mom Has a Secret. [VOL. 1 END]

The cultural festival today was so fun! I got to hang out with Mom (I wish Dad had been there, though), I got to show everyone who came by the MRC booth my one-shot and artwork, I got to eat all kinds of yummy food AND I got to see Haru-kun in a maid costume!

It would have been nice if I had gotten to spend some time with him, though...As a friend, I mean! As a friend. But our breaks didn't line up and he was with his family. On the plus side, his cute tsundere maid act helped our class win the award for best in the 1st year!

There was no afterparty, though…at least not that I know about. Maybe that only happens when we're seniors or something. I know in anime and manga every time a cultural festival happens there's always a bonfire and dance where it's said that couples who dance together will end up being married or something like that...I would have loved if something like that did happen and Haru-kun was there and we got to- Aaaaah! Why am I thinking about this?! Forget it! Just as friends, just as friends! That’s what I meant!

Anyways, the school held the closing ceremony, I accepted our award (on behalf of my brilliant idea...the class rep Sudou was called up, but she let me go since it was my idea in the first place), and then we all went home. My mom picked me up and drove me home from school- she hasn't done this in years!

Our house smells like lavender when we walk through the front door. Mom's been real into those scent diffusers lately. Ryou said he got home earlier, but there's no lights on- figures he's out goofing off with his delinquent buddies, the brat. When are Mom and Dad going to put their feet down? Isn't it wrong for a twelve-year-old to be running around with high school delinquents?

My mom lets out a long breath as she enters and takes her shoes off. "It's been a long day for you, hasn't it? I didn't mention it on the way home, but I heard there was some kind of commotion at the outdoor exhibits...I hope you weren't caught up in it..."

You know, there's a teensy little thing that I didn't mention about the festival...it nearly became a festi-brawl! Ahahahahahaha! That was a good one!

Sorry.

Still, with the way that Haru-kun was acting, he probably doesn’t want the world to know what happened. "Uhh, it was some spontaneous performance art!"

"A what?"

"Yeah! From the Spontaneous Performance Art Club! They do spontaneous performance art!"

"Okay. I guess if it was staged it's fine. I was walking over to the middle school and then I heard someone yelling and I wanted to make sure you weren't in trouble."

"No, really, I was totally okay!" I was, except for the part where I had to help stop a rampaging Chisato-san, but we can talk about that later.

"How'd your club booth go?" Mom asks, dropping her purse on the counter.

"Kakihara-senpai drew people and made a bunch of money. I sold a couple sketches, I guess?"

"Is that the girl with the glasses I talked with a little bit?"

"Yep! She's our club's future Janp author!"

"Really? She must be pretty talented, then."

I'm exaggerating a teensy little bit...she's not actually confirmed to be publishing in Janp or Sunrise or whatever, but by the time she graduates she definitely will. Kakihara-senpai's amazing. She sold every single one of her sketches- I sold two.

There was one piece of art I had on me that would have changed that if I had put it out in the booth, though. But I didn't. It's not for the booth. It's for now. My mom's turned her back to me as she's organizing her things. I was wondering when to tell her, but...now's as good of a time as ever. I hesitantly pull the zipper on my bag as I take out a creased sheet of paper.

"Mom, do you know what this is?" I ask. She turns her head around slightly- of course she knows. I knew what it was as soon as it fell out of the boxes in the closet of the guest room. Its pencil lines are rough, and the paper has become worn over the years, but I know the scene from memory.

It's page 11, chapter 20 of The Color of My Heart.

For what seems like an eternity, neither of us speak. Then, my mom says in a cold tone of voice, "I told Tetsuya to throw those away."

"You were Mikono-sensei? This whole time?"

"There's no hiding it now, is there?"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't want you to know."

"Why?"

"I already told you I didn't want you to know."

"I don't get it! Mikono-sensei is the greatest mangaka there's ever been! You know how much I love her and how amazing an author she was…I’ve told you about it! I spent years and years and years wondering if someday she'd come back and make something else that was as beautiful as Color and all this time she was right in front of me? Don't you know how happy that would have made me if Mikono-sensei told me she loved something I wrote, or something I drew, instead of blowing me off whenever I showed her?! Instead of not even telling me a single thing?!"

My mom pauses for a frightening length. And then she says, "Ayame," then pauses again, "I played dumb because you have too much talent to waste your life drawing manga. If I was a better parent, I would have stopped you. Forgive me."

"It's not a waste! I love it!"

"It's not something to aspire to. It's a brutal industry. You fight and struggle and 99 out of 100 times you'll never make it. I was one of the lucky ones. The rest end up broke, alone, with years of their lives wasted for nothing."

"99 out of 100 fail, but that doesn't mean you should give up! Why are you so against it? You tried, and you succeeded! Why are you acting like I have no choice except failure? Isn't not trying and never knowing if you would have made it worse?"

“I succeeded…but it wasn’t worth it.” She sighs and looks to the side.

“Yes, it was! If you'd kept going, you'd have been bigger than Kiichirou Ohba! All your fans love you! I love you! Think about us!”

“I have. And that’s why I don’t want you going down the same path as me. There was an artist that I loved long ago, too, just as much as you, no, more than you…but my success destroyed her. I don’t want you to ever know that pain.”

“What are you saying-”

"I didn’t tell you about Emi," my mother says, cutting me off. “I guess you’re old enough.”

"Huh?"

"Emi was my best friend from high school. She was just as- no, she was a much better artist than me. We swore we were going to both get published together. We would keep each other's spirits up no matter what sort of rejections we got. My first year of college, I won the one-shot contest at Sakubunsha and ended up getting published. That was how KokoIro came to be. Emi was the happiest I'd ever seen her that night. In the next couple of years, it took off. I was just a stupid 18 year old girl and wasn't prepared for any of it- not the money, not the publicity, nothing. Emi kept trying and trying to get published but never made it, but she was still cheerful and happy for my successes, or so I thought. I guess I didn't know anything. The night I won the Taishou in 2001, she called me to congratulate me and I thought I heard her voice breaking, but she still seemed genuinely happy for me, so I thought nothing of it. Two weeks later they found her body in a vacant lot. She had jumped that night, and I was clueless."

I can't say a word.

"I couldn't keep drawing after that, because every time I'd try I'd see her. Everything- the money, the awards, the fans- it should have been hers. Karma should have taken me and left her. Miko Mikono shouldn't have ever existed. That was the name Emi came up with in the first place. She was a shrine maiden when she was a little girl and she still let me use the name because she liked me so much.”

She pauses.

“I couldn’t draw anymore, because it was what had killed her. I did it with my own two hands. If I had never picked up that pen, or declined the offer- she’d still be here with us.”

“It’s not…your fault…”

“Now you know.”

"I still…don't understand…why you wouldn’t tell me if you were hiding something so painful? I could have helped you! I could have given you a shoulder to cry on if you needed it! I’m not a child anymore!" My voice finally breaks, the strain on it being too much to bear. "Please...just tell me why you kept it a secret..."

"Because I'm selfish. Forgive me. If your father hadn’t been around, I would have followed Emi- and when I had you, both of you gave me happiness I never deserved. I didn't want to be Mikono-sensei anymore. I just wanted to be your mother and make you happy. Gradually, I forgot about her. Maybe fate punished me for that…for being so happy when I’d killed my closest friend. A long time ago, when you were young, you told me that you were drawing manga and asked me to look at it. That’s when I saw Emi, for the first time in years, and that’s when I promised myself that you’d never turn out like her, no matter what I had to do. I guess I didn’t do a good job."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I know I wasn't there to know Emi-san. I have no idea how hard it is for you to even speak about her. But I'm not her. I'm my own person. Please don't stand between me and what I love. I beg you."

She sighs. "I never intended to. No…it’s more like I can’t stop you. If I said you couldn't draw manga, you'd do it in secret anyways. I'm telling you that it's a long, hard road ahead."

"I won't let you down. I promise."

A single question comes out of her mouth. "Ayame, do you know what your name means?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm just asking. Do you know?"

"I guess you liked flowers or something?"

"Well, it could mean that. I want to show you something, though. Come over here." She pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket and a pen. "The flower is what most people think of, but another word that has that meaning is 文目."

"I don't get it...kimono patterns?"

"That's the word, but the kanji are 'writing' and 'eye'. You're seeing language. Your father and I both write for a living. Clever, right? I'm pretty proud of myself for that one."

"My name's not written that way, though."

"Yours is 彩愛. The first character, 彩, is simple enough. It means being many-colored. Colorful. The second, 愛, means love. We named you that because you lit up our lives with so many brilliant colors, and we love you more than you could imagine. But there's another meaning to it."

"I don't get it." I never gave my name much thought- I didn't even assume it had much of a meaning beyond being two kanji that mean uplifting things individually but don’t make any sense when they’re put together, like girls are usually named with in the present day.

"Look closer at 愛. On the top is the man, at the bottom is his feet. What's in the middle?"

"Strokes?"

And then I see it.

"心! A heart!"

"Yes," my mother replies softly. "The color of my heart was you."