hanyou
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fight like a girl
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Post by hanyou on Mar 1, 2009 6:51:36 GMT 9
[with saintsergio!]
Matthew Yamada stretched slowly and yawned. It was too early for school, and the break was killing him, not to mention the blue plaid he had to wear. Why anyone would want to wear plaid was beyond him, but he had to do well in this school or his father would lynch him. He pulled his math book, the next class, out of the bag and laid it on the desk. As much as he understood math, it was like looking at a foreign language. Although he would have much preferred a language. At least those he seemed to understand better than anything else.
Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his shaggy hair and glanced up at the ceiling. He hadn't really made any new friends yet, he was still getting settled into his new apartment and his new school. But it was hard to when all he wanted was to get out on the fields and into his football pads. He'd brought his gear with him, he couldn't forget training, but he didn't have anyone to play with. He sighed again and closed his eyes, rocking himself back and forth in his chair, waiting for the bell to ring. If he had been at home in Kentucky, he would have gone up to a group of students and introduced himself. He just couldn't here. Things were different in Japan, much more than he would have originally thought. He prided himself on being friendly, but Japan was just so different.
Best to get started on his blog for the day. The team back home would be curious about the 'babes' and they would want to know their new words for the day. Matt was surprised at how eagerly the team read his blog, offering comments and suggestions about things he could write about next. It was refreshing, to know that his team wasn't a bunch of idiots. Most of them wanted to come visit, and he would welcome the relief. Maybe they would help him make new friends! He laughed to himself and pulled his notebook out to begin jotting down ideas. Today, he would teach them about sports.
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Post by saintsergio on Jun 4, 2009 7:31:09 GMT 9
Long, black hair was pulled back as usual, intense, dark blue eyes narrowed slightly as he looked around. He had transferred only days ago and still didn't know where his own classroom was. Today, he was stripped down to his tank and suit pants. He was going back and forth from his car to his classroom and managed to get lost every single time. Shingo didn't pay close attention to anything but art, it was obvious.
Sweat was accumulating on his face, skin pink as he carried two big boxes, the top box had statues sticking out of it, and pallets and gods know what else was in there. He saw a classroom open and thought it had to be his. It was to early for students yet, and most teachers were int he lounge with their coffee and their constant chattering; things Shingo found annoying. Gossip girls, he called them all.
Shingo was having a hard enough time already, the boxes were heavy as hell, too much for the sensei to handle himself. To make matters worse, he tripped over the framing of the door, the top box got sent flying, the ceramic statues shattering as they hit the floor, and Shingo cried out as his knees hit the floor and his chin the heavier box of books. He stayed like that that for a while; smashed fingers, in a ridiculous position on the floor, and looked up, tears in his eyes. He'd manage to do the unthinkable. Break his beloved statues in SOMEONE ELSE'S class room. "Sunova..."
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hanyou
New Member
fight like a girl
Posts: 30
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Post by hanyou on Jun 8, 2009 2:00:00 GMT 9
"Teach?" Matt murmured as he stood up quickly. The poor man looked confused and way too inappropriately cute for somebody who was supposed to be a teacher. He couldn't believe that this man was a teacher, he looked too young, but it was too early for anyone else to be around. Quickly remembering where he was, he corrected himself, "Sensei?"
He kneeled beside the other man and put his hand on his shoulder, hoping to be able to help if he could. He would need a broom to clean up the broken pieces of the statues. What was he doing with all these statues, trying to carry them all in at the same time? He didn't look like he could carry anything heavy with his slender arms, but apparently he was hiding some muscles. "Are you okay?" he asked. "I can go get the nurse if you need me to?" He offered a small smile to the sensei, hoping he could help in some way. It looked like he was crying. Was it because he was hurt, or was it because he was upset about what had happened with the art pieces?
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Post by saintsergio on Jun 8, 2009 4:52:01 GMT 9
With the kids' help, Shingo managed to get himself up, but wasn't listening to anything the boy was saying. He simply stared at those shattered pieces and felt pieces of his lif shatter. Like a horror movie scene playing out in his head over and over. He'd forever remember the day he broke the things he loved the most. Turning away from the other, her rubbed his face with the back of his hands, wiping away those unshed tears. He wouldn't embarrass himself like that.
"Get me a broom and a dustpan..." He said, voice sounding calm and smooth despite how frazzled and fragile he looked at the moment. Yes, the teacher could lift heavy things with no problem. It came with painting. Work up your muscles enough and they get stronger and used to a lot of weight. He pushed his long black hair back behind him, letting it touch his heels; having it to high up to touch the floor like it did when it was down. The elder man turned to see Matt for the first time and then gave a sigh.
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hanyou
New Member
fight like a girl
Posts: 30
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Post by hanyou on Jun 9, 2009 14:50:22 GMT 9
Matt resisted the urge to laugh as he left the classroom for the nearest maintenance closet. He hadn't met a teacher so clumsy. At least he was pretty, hopefully he would have him soon. He wasn't sure who he was, but he must have been lost. Funny that a man who worked as a teacher couldn't find his way around the halls. Perhaps it was just because of all the boxes he had been carrying?
"Excuse me sensei," Matt murmured as he returned to the classroom with the broom and dustpan. They'd gotten most of the biggest pieces up and it would probably just be easier to sweep the rest of the stuff up. When the teacher got out of the way, Matt was quick to clean up, efficiently. He blamed his father for teaching him to be an effective housekeeper, translating that skill to other areas. At least he could be useful here.
"Can I help you carry the rest of the stuff to the right classroom?" Matt offered as he emptied the dustpan in the garbage can. He shrugged and let the broom rest against the teacher's desk and turned to the black-headed teacher who'd clumsily tripped and broken the statues. The teacher's eyes were unusual on him, he wasn't really sure what he thought about it. Was there something on his face? He hoped not, that would be perfect, just ruining his chances as a new student in this huge school.
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Post by saintsergio on Jun 9, 2009 15:17:37 GMT 9
His eyes left the boy for a moment to regard the boxes and then the trashcan with a sigh. His hand wiped at the tears again and he nodded with a small grunt. "Thank you for offering," he murmured lowly, full lips forming the words with a bit of difficulty keeping his voice from wobbling. Damn. He'd have to remake statues and glaze and.. his head hurt.
Motioning to the smaller box, he sighed a bit more. "Grab that one... Would you know where the art room was? Having just transfered, I haven't had time to really pay attention." His voice was calm that time as he hefted the larger one, wincing as it snagged his hair. Ah, well. That's what he got for having that long hair. "I'm the new art teacher, Shingo Katori. Shingo-sensei to you," he turned around and gave the student a pointed look, meaning he should call him Sensei and nothing else. He had no patience for clowns and trouble makers.
He padded out the door, nearly tripping on the same door frame, a growl emitted from deep in his throat. Shingo hated the way these doors slid instead of swung. The last high school he worked for, he didn't have this problem.
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hanyou
New Member
fight like a girl
Posts: 30
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Post by hanyou on Jun 11, 2009 11:03:09 GMT 9
Matt laughed and lifted the box and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know where the art room was, he didn't have art classes and he didn't know anyone well enough to know if they had art classes either. He shook his head and answered the teacher, "Sorry Shingo-sensei, I'm afraid not. I don't know where the art class is. I'm a phys-ed oriented student. I haven't even seen where the art room is."
He waited for the teacher to move out the door and down the hallway before followed after him. He would have to let the other man search for the art room and hope he found it soon. He let his eyes drift over Shingo-sensei's body, taking in the long black hair and the slender body. He was kind of pretty actually. A very slender form and long and lean frame. He was interesting looking.
"When did you move to this school sensei?"
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Post by saintsergio on Jun 14, 2009 7:02:21 GMT 9
And so the odd pair moved down the halls. Shingo felt it was around here somewhere. At the question. the older one shrugged lightly. "From a high school in Osaka." He murmured softly. Nothing wrong with that. He doubted anyone would find out why he was forced to quit and moved to Tokyo. No one here probably heard of that incident. Thank God. He wouldn't repeat the same mistake and get involved with the principles son.
"Didn't really like my job there, before you ask. That's all you need to know about it. It's a shame you're not taking art. It should be required for at least one year." He'd like to teach every student the beauty behind sculpting, painting, drawing
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hanyou
New Member
fight like a girl
Posts: 30
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Post by hanyou on Jun 19, 2009 13:00:04 GMT 9
Matt shrugged as he read the tags on the door. Surely there had to be an art classroom around and then he smiled as he saw it. Emblazoned in bold kanji that completely clashed with the uniformity of everything else in the school, the art room stood boldly out in the empty hallway. Matt stopped and called out to the teacher, hoping he would turn around, apparently he'd missed the obvious sign. "This is the classroom, right sensei?"
He slid the door open for Shingo-sensei and waited for him to enter before he followed. "Tell me more about what it is you like? I'm a sports fan. I like sports and I've always been into sports. I've never understood what it was that made people like art so much." Matt shrugged as he put the box down on the nearest table and glanced around. The room was interesting at least. It was filled with student's work in various stages of completeness. It was like looking around at the thought processes of others his age as they followed the creative urge that drove them. The only thing he'd really cared for obeying was the physicality required of him to be successful in football.
The teacher seemed to be genuinely interested in art though, and not the vague interests that most of the teachers he'd encountered had. And the art that covered the room looked lovingly tended. If nothing else, the teacher would be able to help him pass the time before classes started. He leaned against the table he'd put the box onto and crossed his arms over his muscular chest while his eyes studied the thin teacher.
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Post by saintsergio on Jun 19, 2009 21:52:27 GMT 9
Blinking as the room was pointed out to him, the elder man shrugged and slipped inside after the student. Why feel embarrassed when he was the one who asked the other for help? He set the boxes down on an empty table and looked to the student with those dark blue eyes. Of course he was into sports. Matt was so much more muscular than Shingo, it was almost laughable. Here he was a good ten or more years older, and he still looked like an anorexic man.
His eyes drifted to the classroom and filled with some kind of joyous emotion. Art always got him happy, always got him thinking. Why did he love art so much? "Art's the only way.... one can be completely honest with themselves. You can't force yourself to draw, paint, sculpt, any other emotion than the one that you're feeling. It creates a sort of freedom and allows one to relax as they create something in their image. There's no such thing as bad art. It's all practice. Even the masters considered their 'greatest work' practice for something far grander, something only they could see." His voice was low, resonating in the room with a rumble. There were not tapestry, no carpet to absorb the sounds. He preferred it that way; so he could hear the art happening.
"In sports, it's about winning, isn't it? Sure they say it's about having fun, but most players lose the passion for it and quit, to never take it up again. One can't quit art no matter how hard they try. It sings in their soul, gets their blood flowing, appears in the middle of the night like an angelic vision..." He looked towards his desk, towards a big canvas propped up against it. His own creation. He didn't just teach. He did art with the students.
"How often do you see your coach playing football? Baseball, basketball, whatever it is you play? The only real way of teaching is to do it yourself and let your students focus on your own mistakes so they don't make it themselves. And vise versa. I learn a great deal from my students, as I hope they do from me." He turned back to Matt, finally, and gave something of a smile. It was obvious he enjoyed talking about art.
Finally, the teacher moved towards the boxes and opened one, pulling out several small pieces of canvas with various things painted on them. All of which were signed 'Shingo' at a different age. Katori wasn't one to waste any art. Instead of pictures of his family on his desk, that's where he placed the canvas; having rigged it to stand up like a picture frame. Instead of a cup of pens and pencils, it was full of charcoal and paintbrushes. Paint splattered the tables, the floors, even the walls. No one who didn't like art wouldn't appreciate this room.
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hanyou
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fight like a girl
Posts: 30
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Post by hanyou on Jun 20, 2009 15:01:30 GMT 9
"Wow," Matt murmured softly in English. He let his eyes roam the classroom slowly, letting them linger on the various art pieces. He watched the sensei setting up his newest pictures on the desk. It was fascinating. It was interesting to see so much passion in this thin man, watching him delicately handle the canvas pictures as he organized them on the top of the desk.
"You've got a lot of passion for art," he mumbled, switching back to the Japanese needed in the country. "It's good to see so much passion in people when they have hobbies." He let his eyes wander the classroom and sighed. He had to go back to his classroom soon. He didn't really know a whole lot about happened in an art room but he did understand what it was like to be so completely passionate about something like that. He knew what it was to be passionate, he could relate to that.
When it came to football, there was nothing like being out on the field, dressed in his pads and rushing at the opposing team, trying to get them to submit to his power. He loved taking the other players to the grass, proving to them that he could strong arm them. He loved being physical. The ability to run the plays, the chance to memorize the playbook, it was important to him, it made him feel good. He loved stretching out, he loved running quickly on the track. It was something that made him feel free and made him feel like he was empowered. It was everything that he wanted.
"I like that you have passion about art, sensei," Matt murmured. "I'd like to learn more about this. Its... its hard to imagine passion like that about something that isn't physical."
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Post by saintsergio on Jun 20, 2009 20:20:42 GMT 9
"Art is very physical. It takes muscle building up. Callouses on ones hands, hours on your feet, your every ounce of concentration. It's just more spontaneous than sports," he said with a delicate smile, tracing one of the pieces he did. This was a rare time anyone would see him caring about anything. Art is what Shingo lived and breathed for.
He turned those blue orbs back to Matt and pushed his black hair back off his shoulder. "Feel free to stop by anytime. I'm usually here late, if you'd like a lesson." He didn't realize what that sounded like since he was being sincere about it. If the other saw his passion, there was hope for him in Shingo's world. That's what art was. It's own world and a person merely tried their hardest to grasp at it.
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hanyou
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fight like a girl
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Post by hanyou on Jun 22, 2009 11:33:32 GMT 9
"I have a hard time thinking about art being physical," Matt answered. He shrugged his arms. "It's more of a discipline, right?" He uncrossed his arms and sauntered around the classroom mindlessly, looking at the art works, trying to figure some of them out unsuccessfully. He could see the images that the students were trying to project in most of the pieces, but there were a few, the more abstract ones, that were just completely lost on him. He didn't understand the images in some of them.
"Maybe I just don't have the imagination for it," he muttered to himself in English. He didn't want to offend the art teacher or send him off on a tangent about art. He'd made the mistake once before in Kentucky, and he refused to do it again. He didn't need to hear about how everyone was capable of expressing themselves artistically, even if they didn't believe in themselves. That everyone had the ability to create art. He disagreed. How could everyone have the ability to create art and suck at it? Nobody liked everything that was done artistically, art was too personally interpreted to be an undertaking as nothing more than a hobby.
At least with something like football or running track, there was no mistaking whether or not somebody was a good athlete. Nobody would be able to confuse a poor defensive tackle for a great one, a poor runner for a great one. The performance was laid out plainly for others to see. And there was no mistaking it. He enjoyed the freedom that that brought him. He liked proving himself among the greats of his fields, because he could keep up.
"How do you interpret it as good or not?" he asked curiously as he studied what looked to be like nothing more than a lump of clay with arms and legs.
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Post by saintsergio on Jun 25, 2009 22:17:44 GMT 9
"To me, there's no such thing as good and bad. No matter how bad you think you are, it's learning. You learn something every time you knead the clay, every time you put the brush to the paper..." He came up behind the other to examine the statue and gave a faint, very fond smile. His long arm came out and slender, delicate looking fingers touched statue and then chuckled. "This piece... Isn't finished. But it has come along way and the student has put in many, many hours. Just as dedicated to art as you are to sports."
When he said that, Shingo's hands moved to squeeze Matt's muscular arms and he marveled at them. It fascinated him how artistically beautiful this kid was, but didn't seem to realize it. His hands had a mind of their own now and he began to trace the muscle lines with ghosting touches, then turned Matt around and gave him a serious look.
"Become a model for me. I want to draw your muscles.." He always needed help when it came to muscular frames. "You wouldn't be nude, and it'd be for my eyes. Just shirtless. I have a hard time drawing and shading muscles under any kind of light."
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hanyou
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fight like a girl
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Post by hanyou on Jun 26, 2009 18:19:09 GMT 9
Matt had to fight off the urge to lean back against the teacher, to let his roaming hands have access to more of his body, the muscles that he just couldn't draw. He couldn't bring himself to believe that somebody as dedicated as Shingo-sensei would have a hard time drawing anything, if he put his mind to it. He couldn't fathom it. He shrugged slightly, feeling the blush creep up his cheeks at just the idea of posing though. It would give him a chance to get to know the sensei more, and it would prove to teach him more about art. There was a lot that he didn't understand that this teacher was passionate about, and he was slightly fascinated by it all. Shingo-sensei seemed to live and breath for art, and Matt wanted to know what that was like.
"You can't... take a picture or something?" Matt asked shyly, looking away from the statue Shingo-sensei had been lovingly caressing before he'd traced his arms. He wouldn't deny that he had built up some muscles playing and working out, but it had been awhile, and to the amusement of most of his teammates, he was self-conscious. Especially about the scars on his back. What if Shingo-sensei said something about the tattoo covering most of his back? He didn't know for sure, but he was pretty positive that they weren't allowed on the students. What if Shingo-sensei said something about them? He bit his lip nervously and turned his head to look back at the sensei. "You know... it's not that great," he muttered softly.
Besides, he wasn't really sure about what a lot of the older people thought about homosexuality in Japan, but his general experience with people older than himself hadn't been great. He was used to the bad mouthing and the rumors, but he didn't want to deal with it here because of some modeling thing for the teacher. He couldn't let Shingo-sensei know about it. He didn't want to lose the precarious friendships he'd managed to birth in his father's home country.
"But damn it would be interesting," he murmured to himself. He supposed he should be grateful for the offer, that was one of the most interesting things he'd been asked to do in his lifetime. "I don't know," he finished softly. He turned to look at the older man, trying to gauge his seriousness.
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