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Hana shut her eyes, opening them to peer at her reflection in the mirror. With her eyes closed, she had the appearance of any other woman but with her eyes opened she became unique. She became too different. For all her childhood she had struggled to find confidence because of these eyes. She grew her hair and covered her face in shame to hide her differences.
And yet that girl had so easily said the words she desperately wanted to hear. Words that only her grandmother had told her before.
"Beautiful." She whispered to her mismatched eyes.
What a strange way fate worked.
Hana smiled, chuckling slightly. And with a newly revived confidence, she marched onstage into the auditorium.
The room filled with echoing applause.
"Arigato," she said into the microphone, her voice resounding over the crowd. "It is truly an honour to be back here with you."
Someone whistled.
"For those that don't know me or don't remember me, my name is Hana and I graduated from this high school almost four years ago." She continued smoothly, "Recently, I graduated from university at the top of my class and now I am here to share with you my passion for art. To do so, I will show you my most successful series of paintings named: Painted Flowers, Unspoken Words."
The crowd clapped.
Hana unveiled her first painting, one of a weeping lady wearing a black kimono, holding a vibrant red camellia in the rain. The flower was the only bright colour in this dark piece.
"Depicted here is a lady in black, holding a red camellia. The black of her kimono symbolizes her grief as the camellia voices the rest..."
From her seat, dozens of rows away from the stage, Kagome stared fixated at the woman's face, something twisting inside her at the sight of the lady's pained expression and internal agony.
She looks heartbroken. Like she's filled with such despair and suffering she just wants to scream but can't find the words.
"Once, hanakotoba was used commonly all across Japan. Hanakotoba being Japan's language of flowers, a way to communicate one's thoughts and feelings without words. Other countries have their own versions of the flower language as well. I spent three months travelling around the world learning about them."
A secret language of flowers...
"The red camellia means to be in love, or to be perishing with grace. In this case, it was both. About a year ago, I painted this lady after she discovered she was terminally ill. She had asked me to paint a message for her lover when she died so that he'd remember her."
Kagome could feel her eyes beginning to water at the tragic tale. Her heart aching in sympathy.
