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The Artist & The Archer

It was a beautiful summer’s day, and it seemed that half the student population at Bell Liberty Acadamy were outside enjoying their weekend respite from classes, though there were a few dedicated students who had brought their work outside with them.
Seated underneath a leafy tree, papers in hand, Iwai Takuto was one such student.
However, if one were to ask Iwai what he was up to, ‘work’ would be the last thing/the last word he’d use to describe his activity.
For the shy artist, drawing was a pleasure, and never a chore.
He’d chosen this particular copse of trees because it was quiet and allowed him solitude enough to work on his drawings. It was not that he hated people watching him draw, it simply made him feel uncomfortable.
The quality of his sketches surely wasn’t good enough to merit an audience, although he hoped to become good enough one day to submit them to a gallery. He hadn’t told anyone about this dream, of course. He was afraid they’d laugh.
Idly, he flipped through his loose leaf sketchbook, pages of both finished and unfinished works. He smiled, remembering Ito Keita’s praise as a picture of a flower in blossom caught his eye. Bell Liberty’s newest student was both honest and friendly, and his heartfelt words touched the green haired artist; his enthusiasm for Iwai’s drawings had given him a renewed inspiration to achieve his secret dream.
Turning to a fresh page, he considered his latest assignment. The teacher had suggested he practice drawing figures, since he’d been recently focusing on wildlife. This picture was to be a historical piece, with a human subject set against historical Japan. Iwai began to sketch a few ideas in pencil before making his decision. Iwai selected a stick of charcoal and began.

Sunlight filtered through the trees, and if one was paying attention, they might have noticed the slight change in the direction of light as it filtered down. Of course, being engrossed in his task as he was, Iwai did not notice the passage of time.

* * *

Staring down at his drawing, Iwai was mortified. Captured on paper was a soldier from feudal Japan. He was in full battle dress, and seated upon a rearing black stallion. The reins were looped around the pommel of the saddle, with the soldiers knees and thighs keeping him seated. In his hands, a bow, drawn, with an arrow knocked and ready to fly.
The picture was quite skilful, however, its composition was not what had Iwai staring transfixed at the paper. It was the warrior himself.
It was a complete likeness of Shinomiya Kouji.
Oh dear.

Lately he hadn’t been able to take his mind off the handsome archer. He sometimes wondered if his feelings for Kouji were that transparent. After the incident at the bathhouse Takuto was so sure they were ready to call him out on it. He nearly fainted with relief with relief when no-one confronted him, although a small part of him was disappointed. He didn’t want to decieve Shinomiya-san the way that he was. For the next few days after the incident he’d kept his distance from the tall archer, hoping it would help, and yet it had only made him feel more miserable. And apparently, made him obsessive, if the picture was anything to go by. Resolutely he ripped the drawing out of this book, and prepared to shred the sketch no matter how if made his chest constrict painfully. He would simply start again.
Perhaps fate simply didn’t agree, or perhaps Iwai was just unlucky, for a sudden gust of wind snatched the drawing out of his hand and up into the air. Jumping to his feet, he snatched desperately at the air, hoping to catch the paper, but to no avail.



Iwai watched helplessly as the tall man in kendo gear grabbed the paper
”You lookin’ for this?” he waved the paper in the air.
Takuto nodded slightly and hesitantly stepped forward.. “Y-yes….t-thank you.” he murmured.
But the man simply moved the page out of reach, laughing. His two comrades laughed and moved closer. Iwai stopped, suddenly anxious.
“Let’s have a look then” one of them sneered. “Been drawing butterflies and flowers again, bishounen?” Then, utter silence as they glanced down at the page. “I think I see what’s going on here. This here your fag boyfriend, then?” he waved the paper in Iwai’s face.
“W-what? N-no…” Iwai stuttered, stumbling backwards as the trio advanced on him.
“It’s not like that…it’s just a drawing…” he murmured. “Just a drawing,hmm?” Y’see, I think you’re lying. I think that’s exactly what this is. Maybe everyone else can deal with that, and think you’re harmless, but most of us realise that perverts are dangerous - that they ain’t welcome at this school.” As the man spoke, two of his friends circled around Iwai, and stood behind him, blocking his retreat. Iwai froze, heart in his throat.
He grabbed Takuto’s wrist roughly, and twisted it behind his back. The artist cried out softly as his arm protested.
“Please…” he begged. “Don’t do this.” His pleas were not only ignored, the three thugs simply laughed, closing in on the helpless young man. A fist caught him on the cheek, and he cried out in pain. Quickly, he tried to shield his face as best he could, with one arm. He prayed they would get bored quickly. Suddenly, one of them roared with pain, and crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg. Protruding from his thigh was an arrow. The other two thugs paused for a moment, dumfounded. Shinomiya Kouji stood a short distance away, still holding up his bow.
“ - the fuck, man??” the other exclaimed, dumstruck. Kouji observed the three calmly. “You have ten seconds to get the hell out of here.” he stated flatly. “-Who the hell do you think you are?” the leader yelled.
“…3...4...” Shinomiya counted. The leader slowly started to approach Kouji. His eyes narrowed.
“…7...8...” he reached behind him for another arrow. The leader must have seen something in his eyes, must have realised the archer wasn’t joking, because he backed up a few paces - then turned to his friends.
“Grab his arm.” he snarled at his uninjured friend, and he bent down and supported the other boy’s arm, half carrying, half dragging the boy, they left quickly.
Takuto had slumped to the ground, one hand covering his bruised cheek. He was pale and shaking. Shinomiya dumped his quiver and bow in an unceremonious pile, and fell to his knees beside his friend.
“Iwai-san, are you alright?” he questioned softly. The other boy nodded hesitantly, but wouldn’t look at the archer. “Iwai…please look at me.” he urged. Slowly the ashen-haired young man lifted his head to meet his gaze. His eyes were watery. Without thinking, Shinomiya embraced his friend, wanting simply to comfort the gentle painter. Iwai stiffened for a moment, then began to cry tears of shock and pain. He buried his face into the other man’s neck and sobbed quietly. Kouji’s voice became a soothing murmur in his ear as he regained his composure.

It seemed that fate had not finished playing tricks on the shy artist – for the wind picked up the drawing lying forgotten in the grass nearby and set it within reach of the archer.


Curious as to the content of a single drawing that could cause so much trouble; Kouji stretched out an arm and plucked up the sheet.
Takuto had gone quiet in his arms – the shock beginning to wear off – and yet he did not notice where Kouji’s attention lay.
It was him. Seated on a horse with a bow in hand, his face full of determination. Kouji was stunned. He knew his blue haired friend was talented – and yet he had only ever seen him sketch plant life. He was surprised and flattered.
“It’s me…” he murmured.
Iwai’s head snapped up in alarm, his eyes filled with horror.
“I – I’m sorry…I didn’t mean for it to be you….I just started drawing, and…” he trailed off.
Kouji was surprised at his friend’s outburst.
“No.” he interrupted. “I like your drawing. I’m flattered.” He smiled.
Iwai regarded him glumly for a second. “It was for art class. I promise I won’t submit it.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because after today – people will say things. You heard the kendo students …I don’t want to cause trouble for you…and it’s not your fault I’m in lo –“a hand flew to his mouth, devastated.
Kouji looked at his friend. Really looked at him. This remarkably talented young man who had drawn him perfectly from memory. Who visited him, a quiet, encouraging presence during his archery practice Who was always there to listen when problems arose in the dorms. And suddenly everything snapped into focus.
“Because you’re in love with me…” Kouji finished for him.
Iwai’s eyes slid shut, his hand still over his mouth.
“I’m sorry.” He choked out. “I’ll leave…you won’t have to put up with me…”
Kouji could see the light leave his friend’s still tear stained face, and his heart clenched painfully. He couldn’t bear to see Iwai so distraught.
Steadily, he reached out and lifted Iwai’s chin up, bringing their lips together and allowing his feelings to master him.
Kouji could taste salty tears on the artist’s lips. He tilted his head slightly to better caress the young man’s lips with his own. On them he could taste the salt of tears and he sought to erase any trace of it from the young man’s lips.


Takuto held himself completely still, afraid that it was all a dream, or worse, a joke of some kind. But Kouji’s mouth was all too real as it pressed warmly against his own, urging him to part his lips. Tentatively he kissed the archer back, moaning softly when Kouji responded by pulling him closer and deepening their kiss.
Long minutes passed by as they shared kisses between them.

At last Kouji pulled away, and regarded Iwai. Takuto’s eyes were bright, face flushed with a mix of desire and embarrassment.
A sharp spike of lust went through him at the sight. How could anyone harm this gentle soul? No one would ever touch Takuto in anger again, he vowed silently.
“How long, Kouji?” Takuto surprised them both by blurting out. He blushed. “Ano...never mind….”
Kouji only looked thoughtful. “Consciously?” He shrugged. “A few moments. I have never thought of you in that way before this moment.”
Takuto bit his lip, eyes stormy once more. “Then I am just…a curiosity to you? You don’t…want me?”
Kouji gave him an injured look.
“Perhaps I was somewhat dense. But I am smart enough to realize one thing at least – the person who has your love Takuto, is extremely lucky. You have always been there for me, and I have never told you how much that means to me.” He cupped Iwai’s face and slung an arm around the slender artist, pulling him closer once more.
“How long, Takuto?” he echoed the earlier question.
Iwai let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Oh Kouji…don’t you know? It’s always been you…” he murmured.
Shinomiya simply reached out to cuddle the shy artist, letting him know without words how much he was needed by the archer.
Suddenly, he grinned into the smaller man’s hair.
“I have one question, Takuto.” He began seriously.
“Hmm?” Takuto’s voice was literally a faint vibration against his chest.
“You really did use my toothbrush that night at the bath house, didn’t you?” he continued, eyes twinkling.
“W-what?” Takuto stuttered, shocked, as he spun around to face the archer. “No! Of course not, why would – “he spluttered to a stop as Kouji began to laugh, his body shaking slightly.
“I am only teasing.” He grinned, eyes dancing with mirth.
Takuto shook his head ruefully, and chuckled along with Shinomiya.
After a few minutes simply enjoying each other’s presence, Iwai shifted, restlessly.
“What is it Takuto?” Kouji questioned his friend.
“I’ve never done…any of this before…” he admitted shyly, eyes downcast once more.
Kouji inhaled sharply at the effect these words had on his body, and he cursed himself silently as the worst kind of barbarian. His possessive urges were working overtime in regard to Takuto, it seemed.
“Then we’ll take it slow.” He reassured his friend.
Takuto’s stomach suddenly took the opportunity to remind him he had skipped lunch that day. He blushed crimson as Kouji chuckled.
“Have dinner with me tonight?” He offered.
“Aa.” Takuto smiled shyly.