After getting over my cold and returning to school, one of the first things I did was visit the art room—a place I’d never been before. The moment the door opened, the odor of oil paints filled my nostrils—it didn’t smell good at all.
Still, Ichika’s eyes practically sparkled as she took in the classroom. “Wow!” she gushed. “Look at all the paintings.”
I spotted a row of canvases in different stages of completion. Practically no art club members were visiting the room during lunch; however, Iguchi stood by the window. When she noticed our presence, she turned her head toward us.
“I said don’t move, Iguchi,” Chiaki told her, his voice exasperated.
“But we have company.”
Until that point, Chiaki hadn’t even realized Ichika and I were there. I could tell from his severe gaze that he’d been deeply focused. “Wow, Riku. You never come in here. What’s up?” he asked, his face softening into a smile.
“I was looking for Iguchi. We heard she’d be in here.”
Iguchi’s eyes widened in surprise. “You were looking for me?”
I promptly handed over a single postcard.
She glanced at it for a moment, then murmured in recognition, “This is from that beauty school we visited the other day.”
“Mike-san said they’d hold their school festival soon, so we should go check it out.” She and I had exchanged contact information the day we met at the clinic, and we’d kept in touch since, texting from time to time.
The school festival was a venue for the beauty school students to showcase their new skills, and they planned to hold a joint fashion show with their fashion-design sister school.
Chiaki peeked at the postcard Iguchi held. “Are people only allowed to attend if they’ve got an invitation?”
“Nope. Ichika’s coming too. Mike-san said we’re welcome to bring any friends who are interested.” Actually, she’d asked me to invite as many people as possible.
Iguchi and I were discussing when to meet up when I noticed that Ichika had disappeared from my side.
“Ichika?”
She was gazing at Chiaki’s competition piece, which hung on the wall. It was a landscape painting almost as detailed as a real photo. Then, seeing the painting of the calico cat Chiaki had presented during the send-off event, she seemed to die of cuteness overload.
I took the opportunity to steal a glance at the new project Chiaki was working on, although I didn’t know much about oil paintings. It was a portrait that included a large full moon. The figure in the painting was completely nude, and silvery moonlight glinted off their hair.
I could tell at a glance that Iguchi had modeled for this piece. Those two must be really close if she’s acting as Chiaki’s nude model. He’d only painted the tone of the figure’s skin, however—no other specific details.
“Is that figure male or female?” As I looked at painting, I’d suddenly been struck with the urge to ask.
“Huh? It’s a girl, isn’t it?” Ichika said, as if stating the obvious. Given who was modeling, that did seem to be the obvious answer.
Chiaki whistled. He seemed impressed that I’d observed some incongruity. “I didn’t expect anyone to wonder.”
“The chest was a little smaller than I anticipated.”
“Well, excuse me!” Iguchi snapped haughtily, prompting Chiaki to convulse with laughter.
“And the figure’s build is different,” I added. “It almost lacks softness.” Iguchi was tall and statuesque, with broad shoulders, but there were too many discrepancies for the subject of the painting to be her.
“Oh, now that you mention it, I can see it,” Ichika agreed. “Don’t women have defined waists because they have one rib fewer than men?”
“It’s not that they have fewer ribs. Their skeletal structure’s just different,” Chiaki said. “Men have a wider chest cavity, and women’s ribs get smaller as you go down the ribcage.” He pointed out the areas with his paintbrush handle. “On the other hand, the female pelvis is broader, while the male’s is narrow. Women’s waists are more defined due to their skeleton.”
It went without saying that most viewers would assume the person in the painting was female. Perhaps Chiaki was happy someone had detected his true intention in the piece; he continued describing differences between the male and female forms. “Men have broader shoulders because their collarbones are longer. And since male and female pelvises are different widths, the leg bones are obviously different as well. How’d you figure that out, though, Riku?”
“I just…didn’t think that looked like Ichika’s body.”
The words slipped out innocently enough, but Ichika’s face turned red as a ripe tomato. Seeing that, Chiaki and Iguchi clasped their own cheeks, exclaiming, “Oh my gosh!” in unison.
While nursing Ichika, I’d taken off her clothes to wipe her sweat. I’d seen then just how different our bodies had become. As children, boys and girls looked similar, but Ichika’s form was undoubtedly feminine now.
And, just as she’d changed, so had I. It wasn’t only that I’d grown taller. My voice had lowered, and my Adam’s apple protruded. The shoulders and waists of women’s clothing had gotten too tight, yet the garments bagged awkwardly around my chest and butt. I knew men wound up with angular bodies that gained muscle quickly, but I’d never realized their skeletons were different.
There was no way I’d ever have a body like Ichika’s. On the contrary, we’d probably keep getting even more physically different.
“Do you plan to make that figure male or female in the end?” I asked Chiaki.
“I haven’t decided yet. Part of me wants to keep it as-is,” he replied, eyes trailing over the unfinished painting. “If I was trying to win a competition prize, I’d have to decide, but I’m painting this as I please—it doesn’t need to be a man or woman.”
I sensed that some element of this painting was occupying his thoughts. A quick glance in Iguchi’s direction revealed that it was now her turn to blush. Something we weren’t privy to seemed to be going on between her and Chiaki.
“We should get going, Ichika.”
“Huh?”
There was still some time before our lunch break ended. I knew Ichika wanted to look at the paintings a little longer, but I took her hand, and we left the art room together. When the door closed behind us, I peeked back through the window. Chiaki had noticed Iguchi crying and was wiping away her tears.