Chapter Text
Midori Sakurai was turning 21 years old in a country that was not her own. She felt fine despite that, for she was not alone.
"Thank you, Hierophant." The "Green Ghost" handed her a paintbrush as if he were an assistant to the young painter. Hierophant Green was the creature's name; he had been with her for as long as she could remember, but it seemed she was the only one who could see him. She quickly learned that she should not mention him.
The first time she mentioned Hierophant Green, he was an imaginary friend and she needed to grow up; the second time, they began to doubt her sanity; the third time, Hierophant instinctively defended her from some bullies, and suddenly Midori was cursed.
She had been born with wavy, reddish hair; in particular, she had a stubborn strand that always stood out, no matter the hairstyle. Once she cut her hair short; she felt good until she got home and her mother scolded her because "ladies do not wear short hair." She was born with 3 birthmarks—two on her eye as if they had been slashed, and one on her abdomen in the shape of a circle. To her parents' relief, the marks had faded over time and were barely noticeable if you didn't pay attention. She wore sunglasses to hide the marks; she believed they made her look mysterious.
Midori had been born into the Sakurai family. Her surname meant "Cherry Blossom Well," and she was part of an influential family from Kyoto. Her father pressured her academically, telling her she was part of a distinguished family and had to live up to it; her mother was no different, telling her she had to be a lady and find a husband from a good family. Above all, they were an extremely conservative family; deep down, she did not feel like they were her parents, and she felt sad about that. They named her Midori because her mother's pregnancy was almost miraculous, and she was born in spring while her mother saw the green foliage on the way to the hospital.
People at school saw her as "The cursed girl" since they couldn't see Hierophant Green, and therefore they usually left her alone or, in the worst cases, bullied her.
Her mother blamed her for this, asking her to behave like a normal girl; her mother also taught her how to apply makeup from a young age, as she was ashamed of the marks on her eyes. She liked video games and 80s things, which also made her weird in the eyes of others.
When she brought up the idea of studying art, her parents flatly said "no," but later they changed their minds because "She's going to marry a rich man anyway, and her husband will support her," making no secret of the fact that they planned to use her as a pawn to climb socially.
The redhead had a fascination with Middle Eastern countries; she had made a painting of Cairo that gave off oppressive vibes, good enough to win her a scholarship to a university in the United States, Florida.
The artist also had a "Muse" who appeared to her in dreams—a young Japanese man who appeared in her dreams. Speaking of dreams, she used to have flashes of people, places, and situations that made her feel affection, but funny enough, in her dreams she was in a man's body.
Today she was working on a piece for a university exhibition. A Boston Terrier in a desert, with a strangely shaped mound of dirt in the background. She had never had pets, but she could draw the scene as if she had seen it. She didn't use her real name when signing her artwork; instead, she used a pseudonym, 典明 (Tenmei)—it felt like the right name.
"Why should I go?" Besides working for the Speedwagon Foundation, Jotaro Kujo also worked as a professor and marine life researcher at a university in Florida. He had been on the verge of becoming the lab chief, but his absences made him unreliable in that regard; perhaps if he had been promoted, he wouldn't have to go through this. "I don't care what the people from the art department do."
"Because we are all going, because the university is the one paying us, and because the rector said it was mandatory for all staff." The lab chief exhaled as well; it was obvious he didn't want to go either—anyone would know that scientists were not social creatures.
"Give me a break..."
"Jotaro, if you don't go, you're going to get me into trouble. Besides, I always cover for your absences," the chief mentioned.
"You just have to go, walk around, make sure everyone sees you were there, and leave. It won't even take 15 minutes."
Jotaro exhaled. "Fine..."
"Thanks, Jotaro! You saved my ass!" the lab chief said, relieved.
"What the hell is behind the dog?" one of the classmates asked while they finished setting up the exhibition upon seeing the painting. Midori shrugged. The good thing about being in the art department was that everyone was at the same level of weird and eccentric, so there wasn't usually the bullying she suffered in school. "It looks like sand, but it also seems to have wheels."
"You have a great imagination," another classmate commented.
"Stop babbling, the guests are going to enter in a few minutes," the stressed professor said.
Midori's classmates dragged her to the bathroom. They were all touching up their makeup and clothes.
"Midori, do you want me to cover the marks on your eyes? So you don't have to wear sunglasses today," one of her classmates asked; she had forgotten about it. Midori nodded in agreement. Her classmate began to cover the marks with her makeup. They were always kind, but not close enough to be considered friends.
"It wouldn't hurt you to learn a bit of makeup."
"I know about makeup," Midori assured.
"Feminine makeup," the classmate replied to her. She didn't feel feminine. "I'm also going to do your hair. Your hair is a mess." The classmate began to comb her hair and put it in a ponytail. "If you're not going to do your hair, you better cut it; you have it almost to your waist."
Midori exhaled. "I'd like to cut it, but I don't think it would suit me."
"Here you all were!" The over-stressed teacher opened the bathroom door. "Get out now!"
"Inviting a bunch of scientists to an art exhibition is useless. None of us have an artistic bone in our body," a colleague of Jotaro's complained.
"Probably they needed to fill space, and by the way, I do have an artistic bone—I was in theater in middle school," the lab chief commented.
"Yeah, you look like someone who was in theater," the other colleague joked. "What about you, Jotaro? Were you in theater or something like that?"
Jotaro looked at them strangely. "What makes you think I would have been in theater?"
The colleagues looked him up and down, paying special attention to his hair-hat. "Well, nothing, just curiosity," one of them replied.
The research team entered the university gallery, and it was obvious they were trying to make their presence known so they could leave quickly. Everyone had things to do—some were going home, others had consultations, some had a second job; in Jotaro's case, it was returning to the lab to continue a research project.
Jotaro walked through the corridors; he decided to look at the young people's works because it was obvious they had put effort into them. Some were beautiful, some were abstract, and some were the kind of weird, modern shit that Jolyne would like. He should have brought her, if it weren't for the fact that she was under house arrest before moving on to probation after reaching an agreement with a lot of help from the Speedwagon Foundation's lawyers.
He kept walking down the hallways until a painting made him stop dead in his tracks. It was a Boston Terrier with a defiant gaze in the middle of what appeared to be the desert, with a figure behind him. There was no doubt; it was Iggy with "The Fool." How could this scene be in a painting? Jotaro's senses were on high alert, especially when he read aloud the artist's name attached to the painting.
"N-Noriaki?" he said, confused.
"It's Tenmei," a female voice belonging to a student corrected him. It was a redhead dressed formally in a dark green suit.
"Some people read it as Noriaki. Tell me, are you from Japan?"
"I..." He turned back to look at the painting.
The student looked at him as if she were studying him. "Did you dislike my painting?"
"No, it looks like a dog I used to have in high school." He told her a half-truth. The girl smiled. "Where did you get the idea? It's not a very popular breed these days."
"I dreamed of him," the girl answered.
"Hmph." 'Stand users attract other Stand users,' Jotaro thought. Perhaps Tenmei was a Stand user. Jotaro didn't sense aggressiveness from her, but he couldn't be sure; perhaps she had been born with a Stand related to dreams—that was the only way she could have painted Iggy and "The Fool." Morioh was full of cases like that, and after what happened with Pucci, more Stand users had come to light as civilians.
There was silence. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Tenmei." Jotaro started to walk away.
"Likewise, Jotaro." He stopped dead in his tracks. He had never told the student his name; a giant red flag was raised over her.
Leaving the exhibition, the teacher in charge was saying goodbye to the guests.
"You can buy any of the paintings, if you like, to support our students."
Jotaro approached. "I want the one with the dog."
"Oh, Doctor Kujo?" The woman stared at him as if she didn't understand. "Oh, Midori's."
"I thought her name was Tenmei," Jotaro commented.
"No, she only signs her works with that name," the teacher replied. "She has never sold a painting, let me tell you."
The teacher went inside, probably to look for the student, and quickly returned, annoyed. "She says give her $20 dollars."
"Isn't that too low?" the biologist questioned.
"It is, she is underselling her work. She doesn't usually sell her paintings, but when I told her it was for you, she gave me that price," the woman replied. "Pick it up tomorrow at 5 pm."
Jotaro returned to his apartment, where Jolyne was under house arrest, since one of the conditions was that she live with a relative. Their relationship had improved, but his being an absent father plus the divorce had still left fractures in the relationship. There was no "Hello, you're home, Dad"; just Jolyne peeking out of the guest room she had claimed as her own to see if Jotaro was safe and sound, and then sticking her nose right back inside. The first thing he did upon arriving home was inform the Speedwagon Foundation about today's event and that he needed information on Tenmei or Midori, whichever her name was.
Meanwhile, Midori felt Hierophant Green manifest like a small child. "What? An old friend? When?" The Stand wanted to inform her, but something inside him prevented it. She was surprised that the professor wanted to buy her painting, but after all, pets are important, right? If it had reminded him so much of that dog, she was happy to give it to him.