Work Text:
The world around Shinonome Ena went on in black and white.
Some would find it ironic, as Ena was an artist. Yet many of the people around her, whose faces only remained a mass of greys to her, are impressed by her abilities to produce colourless art to the point where her work is worthy enough to be displayed in museums.
Ena never cared about such things to begin with, despite wanting her story to be known through her work. Human interaction was something she never exactly liked, and while she liked to revel in the attention they gave her art, Ena soon found it to be, in her words, “a pain in the ass” to go to. She would much rather sit in her colourless room, painting her colourless pictures.
That is, until she came to learn about the colours of sound.
Akiyama Mizuki was an eccentric fellow, claiming that they could see the colours of Ena’s painting from the day they met her, and talked about her exhibition together.
“This painting of a woman entangled in vines,” began Mizuki, on the day Ena caught them staring at it intently. She had explained what she was trying to convey with such imagery, and Mizuki immediately gave their view.
“Purple. I can only see purple. I hear about the despair this lady is in, and it’s as if you’ve painted this entire piece in purple.”
Ena was by no means daft when it came to colours that she could not see, but to learn that Mizuki could hear colours was something that left her baffled for the rest of the day. Baffled and wanting to learn more about what Mizuki knows, and about Mizuki themself.
Simply put, Shinonome Ena, who saw no colours, was fascinated by Akiyama Mizuki, who saw too many colours.
The two met again in Ena’s next exhibition, and Ena decided to ask Mizuki about how they saw her grey painting of a couple falling in love under the constellations.
“ Happiness shows up in blue, and love shows me pink.”
“Huh,” Ena mumbled. “People usually associate the word love with red, don’t they? Or is this just a weird Akiyama Mizuki thing?”
The pink-haired fellow only chuckled teasingly. “You hurt me, ma’am. Though I guess you’re right. I used to see the word love as red, but recently it’s been more of a light, almost faded pink, like the colour of cherry blossom trees in the spring. Ever since it started, I could only associate the colour pink with love, and everything I’ve always loved . But I guess just like how love is subjective from person to person, the way I perceive certain sounds will vary.”
“You’re an oddly poetic one.”
Mizuki laughed again.
“Nah, I just read that out of a book.”
Out of sheer habit Ena smacked the laughing Mizuki’s shoulder as if they were already close friends, and the taller one only responded by chuckling even more. “Well, I should get going. Thank you for the exhibition, Shinonome-san. I certainly learned a lot.”
Mizuki left the atelier with a wave, leaving Ena with much more to think about.
Ever since then, Ena and Mizuki met up often, due to the desire to know more about what Mizuki sees. Mizuki, who aspired to be a fashion designer, got inspiration from Ena’s paintings and so they agreed to Ena’s sudden request of going out for a meal one day.
Mizuki would go on to explain what else they saw when they hear certain words and music. She particularly liked songs from a composer named K, and they’d go on to explain the plethora of colours they saw whenever they listened to K’s music.
“When it comes to music, it depends more on the general feel rather than the melody of the songs. The songs that highlight despair and suffering would appear in strides of purple and crimson. It’s like seeing poison and blood right before my eyes, seeping into my vision, scaring me to the point of nightmares. On the other hand, happy and exciting songs would appear blue and yellow, like the bright sky over a field of sunflowers — peaceful and relaxing.”
It gave Ena a good sense of not only what Mizuki sees, but how the colours look. She may not be able to see them, but Mizuki showed it to her through their words and passion, and their love for the phenomenon they were blessed with.
Soon enough it felt like Ena could really see those colours she was blind to.
And soon enough, her fascination with Akiyama Mizuki turned into what she thinks is love.
“Ena, what do you think the colour of my name is?”
Mizuki had taught Ena a lot about colours, as they insisted they wanted Ena to comprehend the concept even if she cannot see them. In their many meetings Mizuki would talk about a colour, describing how they think of it and what sounds they associated it with. Ena was particularly fond of the colour orange, which Mizuki described to be the sound of warmth, of crickets peacefully chirping in the hot summer day, and a particular song K had made which cheered their listeners on (she also liked the song, and was even inspired to paint a portrait based on it).
However, this had been the first time Mizuki asked Ena about what she thought.
“You’re really putting me on the spot here, huh?” She retorted, though earnestly thought about the answer. “I guess it would be a light blue. You’re always so happy, but it’s almost a mellow type of happy.”
Both Ena and Mizuki seemed satisfied with that answer.
“What about my name, Mizuki? What does the sound of Shinonome Ena look like to you?”
Mizuki only smiled, eyes only focused on Ena, and Ena only. She did not need to know the colour of Mizuki’s eyes to know they were the prettiest pair she had ever seen.
“Shinonome Ena sounds like orange to me,” Mizuki pointed out. Ena hummed in satisfaction, somewhat glad that Mizuki associated her name with a colour she liked.
“But…”
The grin on Mizuki’s face grew, and Ena could feel her face burning from the emotions they conveyed through their expression.
“Your voice,” Mizuki began, leaning closer to Ena until their fringes lightly brushed against one another. Mizuki, without a care if they were in public, stole a quick, yet passionate kiss on Ena’s lips.
Ena was on cloud nine. Mizuki’s next few words were clear to her even as they came in a whisper, and conveyed nothing but love only for her.
For the first time, it felt like Ena could see colours.
“Your voice sounds like pink to me.”