Little Runaway || Mitsuya T.

03

[ At your service ]
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At school, I got cornered by one of the art teachers. She called me into an empty classroom with her. I had a nagging feeling she was about to ask me for something and that I wouldn't like it. My gut feeling about these things was right more times than it was wrong.

"So..." She wrung her hands together. "The school's trying to raise some funds."

I failed to see what that had to do with me.

When I didn't react, she continued, "This year, a few of us teachers decided that we're gonna host a fashion show for the school. It'll be a good way to draw a crowd. We can charge for tickets and then sell picturebooks of the designs afterward. Not to mention selling the actual designs."

"Excuse me, Hiyori-san, what is it that you want from me?" I asked, hoping she would get to the point already.

She grinned at me. "I was hoping you'd be willing to take pictures of the models on the runway and of the creation process so we can create behind-the-scenes material. We also need promotional pictures before the show."

I blinked at her. That sounded like a lot of extra work. I winced, thinking of all the times I'd come home from school later than usual and get to hear it from my dad.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can help," I said.

Maybe in another life, I would've been excited about a project like this. Maybe I would've even made some new friends. But not this life. In this life, I didn't get to do things I liked for more than five or ten minutes at a time. And I couldn't let myself enjoy living too much or for too long. If I did, my world would come crashing down and the ground would crumble from beneath my feet.

It had happened before. When Emma and I had decided to become best friends and I'd spent more and more time with her and her family, I'd been happy. I'd been over the moon until my mother had packed her things and left. I had one picture of her that I'd hidden from my dad and the letter she left on my nightstand. She'd chased her dreams, at the cost of our family.

Then a few years later I'd had my first kiss. A boy from class, who I'd had a crush on. It was sloppy and awkward but it was my first kiss and from my crush. I'd been happier than ever. It was also the first time my father ever laid a hand on me. He'd caught me texting Emma about the kiss, and he'd yelled at me for being indecent. He'd asked if I wanted to spend my life selling my services to men twice my age. Then he'd slapped me when I'd tried to defend myself.

"...a few designers lined up. We're lucky this year to have such talented students. The president of the sewing club is particularly talented and I think if you work together with him, you could create something really special." The teacher was rambling. "Please Shimizu-san. You're the only one who has their own camera that I know of. If the show fails, we'll have to cut funding for the arts next year. Plus this could be an opportunity to create the foundation for a career in photography."

I'd be lying if I said it wasn't tempting. If I could kick off my career as a photographer, maybe I wouldn't need to go to university. Or maybe, just maybe I could sell enough pictures to afford it.

"If you do this, I can give you a free pass for half of the mandatory sports classes." The teacher's eyes were filled with hope as she dangled the free pass in front of me.

"Okay, I'll do it," I caved.

The teacher's smile widened as she handed me the pass she'd already written up for me. Then she launched into a full explanation of the details and deadlines for the project.

ʚїɞ ~ ʚїɞ ~ ʚїɞ

Mitsuya was with the sewing club after class, helping one of the girls decide which stitch would suit her dress best and still give the functionality she needed. It was a pretty cool design that she'd come up with.