CHAPTER V- The Artist’s Touch

"Soloman. I want to talk to Soloman, Kara." Relena demanded through the vidcom, "Not his representative, not his advisor. I want Soloman in the flesh and blood."

The secretary looked up from the perfectly manicured nail she was filing, "I’m sorry, Ms. Darlian. Senator Soloman is a very busy person who-"

"-Will speak to you right now," came a voice off screen.

Relena sighed when she recognized the middle-aged face of Senator Soloman, "Senator, you have no idea how glad I am to see you."

"There are few orators who can bring me to tears, Ms. Darlian. You are one of them."

She smiled cheerfully at him, "Do I know the others?"

"Martin Luther King Jr., Ghandi, a few others."

"Who were they?"

"Some before-colony speakers."

"Oh."

"What is it you wanted, Ms. Relena?"

The former queen sighed and rubbed the back of her neck distractedly, "Senator Soloman, I wanted to know how the elections are going in Geneva."

"Have you been to the new Senate House yet? It’s very exquisite." He said off-handedly, and then shuddered at her belittling glare, "You must still be living in Acropolis, then. Well, anyway, Senator Yuy is gaining a great deal of support from the colony-born senators, and her very title has brought quite a few former aristocrats to her side."

"So she’ll win, then?"

He shook his head, "No, the Earth Representative of Southern Europe Flavio DeToni is still ahead by a slim margin."

"And you’re saying that even the slightest amount of major positive publicity for Senator Yuy will help her leap that margin."

"Yes, and this ‘lost brother’ ploy could get her those indecisive votes. It makes her seem compassionate to the soldiers left over from the war."

"Clever. Very clever."

"Ms. Relena," Soloman said warmly, eyes full of pride, "If you were to voice your opinion, the public would definitely chose the candidate you want. In fact, it’s your political silence that has left so many so irresolute." He smiled, "Thousands would give their teeth for the power that you now hold."

Her smile was wide, but her eyes were sad, "They can have it for free, believe me."

"Well, Relena? What will you do?"

"I’ll do things my own way, Senator. I refuse to manipulate the public."

He grinned wryly, "That is the first true sign that you are not a politician."

"I never said I was."

Relena was left with a blank screen and an empty heart. Heero Yuy would have to stay hidden. Hopefully, by election-time, the matter would fade in the public’s memory, and Ariel would fall to her opponent.

Mournfully, Relena looked up to the now empty tree, and down to the note on her desk. It had been written with simple Heero Yuy tact.

Typical. Sighing, she fell back to her desk. When the vidcom rang again, the picture of her slouching in an almost defeated way, would be the first thing seen.

Three months to Election Day.

Heero Yuy did not know quite what to do. Laying low had always been quite easy for him, well, for the most part. He was sitting on a bench in a park, trying to absorb the soothing sounds of Japanese floating around him on the currents of artificially scented air.

He was on colony L1. This was the only home he would ever know.

"Ohiyo, Yasuo-sensei! Dochirahe?" *

"Junchou, daisei." **

The words, spoken between the high-pitched tone of a student and that of an older man, were right behind him. He sat still, staring coldly ahead.

"Deshi! Such language! Will you not use the formal language when speaking to an elder?"

The boy stood up and faced the ancient man with cold, unflinching hatred searing in his eyes, "I only treat those who have earned my respect with such a tone."

"Give me two minutes, and I will earn it, deshi."

"Why must you call me that? I am not an apprentice to you or any man!"

The teacher shook his head, "No, you are indeed my deshi. Allow me those two minutes, and let me prove that as well."

Heero hesitated, intrigued.

The teacher took this as consent, "You are an observant boy. Every blade of grass, every bloom has underwent keen scrutiny," the man’s eyes narrowed, "What color was the flower beside the maple tree?"

There was no uncertainty in his reply, "Red, with flecks of gold on the outermost petals."

He nodded, "Yes, boy, you have that skill. And yet, you also carry a depth of emotions inside of you that is far richer than any palate I have laid my hands on." He smiled a crooked smile, "You carry hatred, frustration, love, passion, and a terrible thirst for vengeance. The sadness that you hide away from everyone is so clear to me, that I could laugh. You are indeed knowledgeable, but beneath that core of intelligence lies a pit of self-doubt that is eating away your soul. You have succumbed to temptation before, deshi, but the experience has only made you stronger. You have yet to realize that." The man spread his hands, the sleeves of his Bukubuku***** spreading like the wings of a blue bird, "Are you yet convinced?"

"That took two minutes and thirty two seconds-" Heero hesitated, "-sensei."

Yasuo’s face folded like rice paper as he beamed, "I see this will be an interesting relationship, deshi."

And indeed it would.

"You only need twelve?" Doctor J confirmed over the vidcom, "Twelve weapons?"

"Trust me, Doctor J, if you make them well enough, twelve will be all we need."

"Very well, I understand what you are asking. Are you sure it will be as bad as that on the outer colonies?" the doctor dared.

"No, my good friend, it will be much worse."

It took a while for the people on the mining colony to realize that the sound they were hearing was not the screaming of a desperate child, but the wailing of sirens. Rocks and bits of machinery torn from walls and other such structures tore through windows and homes, and the pulse of human voices crying out in anger sounded much like the rumble of distant thunder.

"End to exploitation, death to unawareness! End to exploitation, death to unawareness! End toexploitation, death to unawareness!" The shouted throughout the street, until the dogs began barking at the interruption and the very rafters of the colony shook with the vehement words.

A voice on a loudspeaker carried over the chant, clear and cold and truthful, "Too long have we been repressed so that we may be the slave labor to fuel the Earth Sphere United Nation! Too long have we been exploited and kept as miners without room to grow or move or change! We will rise up from our mines and the filth that marks our trade! We will discard our illness from the poor conditions and strike upon those who have done this to us!"

Every organization has those they exploit, and the ESUN was no different. Except that this time, they were going to do something about it.

"UNITE, MY FRIENDS! UNITE AND LET OUR VOICE BE HEARD!"

People in vast numbers could always be heard. Especially if they had explosive objects that reinforced their statement.

Far away from the ruckus, a boy sat in a studio, with an assortment of perfect drawing spread out before him. The essence of a still life had been captured in a number of economic brushstrokes, the portrait of a child stared back at the viewer.

But Yasuo was not satisfied.

"No, no, no!" he shouted at his pupil, who had blossomed quickly under the few days of under his guidance, "You are not creating artwork!" In a flash of frustration, Yasuo tore Heero’s drawing- one of a pleasant bowl of flowers- to shreds, "Draw what you feel, deshi! Draw what tears at you inside! Don’t try and make it beautiful! Don’t try and make it appealing! Draw what you feel, draw the ugliness, the pain, the joy, the confusion! Draw it or get out of here!" Heero’s master took several deep breaths, "I am an artist, deshi, and I am trying to teach you the ways of this profession. You cannot succeed with flowers and fruit, but with passion and life!"

He was asking Heero Yuy to open up. Heero didn’t understand.

And the colony shuddered as it made a course adjustment, as if quaking with a sense of approaching terror.

* "Good morning, Professor Yasuo! How are you?

** "I am well, student."

***"Good day."

**** "Apprentice." Heero will be referred to as thus by Yasuo from now on

***** "Baggy clothing"