Hirito was a starving artist.
Literally. He couldn’t afford to put food on the table. He was a great painter, but others were
greater. He sat in his shop, day after day. People came to browse his work but
never bought a thing. Except once…
A young gentleman in a black suit jacket came into the store one day and admired his painting of red sun setting behind white mountains. The painter spotted him admiring his work.
“That’s $100,” he told the man.
The man looked up.
“I haven’t any money. Never carry it,” he replied.
Hirito let out a slight sigh of disappointment.
“How about something else?”
“Like what?” Hirito asked as he lifted his eyebrow.
“Forgive me, but from the state of this place, it looks like you’re struggling. Am I right?”
“That’s no concern of yours.”
“What if I could help you?”
Hirito walked out from behind the counter.
“How?” he asked.
“Give me this painting and I’ll give you a gift. What you paint will come into being.”
Hirito laughed and told the gentleman to get out.
“It’s the truth,” he exclaimed.
“So, what? I can paint money and be rich? A mansion to live in?”
“Eh, I wouldn’t. Too detailed. Houses are difficult because
there is too much detail on the inside that’s unseen. What you paint is always
empty on the inside. Buy one and fill it. And money, well, is difficult. I’ve
tried it, but no matter how good I am, I can’t get it even close to being
acceptable and no one will ever take it. Stick to objects. Food, supplies,
things like that. Objects. It can only be what you paint, no one else.”
“That sounds like nonsense, all of it. Even if it is true, why do this for me?”
The gentleman turned away and stared outside, like he was thinking about something that was weighing heavy on his mind. He fiddled with an old key around his neck.
“Because I want your painting.”
“That bad? Why? You said you’re a painter, just paint something yourself.”
He turned back to look at Hirito and let out a chuckle.
“I would. It’s for my wife. She loves landscapes and she wants work of new artists. We collect. There is not an empty spot on any wall in the house. Just random art from all over the place.”
“You’re really serious?”
“Yes. Once you’ve finished what you’re painting, all you have to do is say “Let what I paint rumble and shake, now come awake.”
“This isn’t some sort of trick is it? Like if it rains, I’ll lose whatever I have?”
“Ha-ha, no. It’ll stay. Don’t worry.”
“And how do you do this?”
The gentleman let out a smirk.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure. Let’s just say I was born with it. What do you say?” he said and put his hand forward.
Hirito looked around at the poor condition of his shop and shrugged.
“It’s not like anyone’s going to buy it anyway,” he said hesitantly and shook the gentleman’s hand.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. He then took out his pocket watch.
“I must be off. The wife will love this! Just remember, stick to the simple things and don’t ever paint a living thing and make it real. Never a person, don’t do it.”
“Why can’t I….,” he started to say but the gentleman was
already gone.
