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hangedkayKintsukuroi for Couples
Touma’s eyes follow the path the teacup takes through the air as it tumbles, slightly backwards and to the left. The rotation is a little off, his fingers letting him down as his joints have become less responsive over the years. The cup strikes the well-worn dent in the kitchen floor on the edge of its base, rather than flush with the side. It will make for a different pattern, smaller shards to work with. He nods slightly and takes a deep breath. It will be trickier this time.
Fifty-six hundredths of a second, that’s how long it takes for an object to fall five feet, one and one-quarter inches. And Manami would never let him forget about that quarter of an inch. She said it was what made her stand out from her friends, and in that, Touma agreed. She did stand out, bright and proud, a beautiful ocean wave that stood ready to envelop him with not just her arms, but her whole being.
At the point of impact, the cup moves at just over 18.1 feet per second, the same speed that any object would be at if it fell from the same height, adjusted of course for any air resistance. Over 12 miles per hour - a sub-five-minute mile pace. Manami’s personal best in the mile was a little over five minutes when Touma used to watch her run track in college. Not good enough for nationals, but it put her easily among the best at their school. Back in a time when her mind and body were one.
On average, and at the right angle, the cup should break into four large sections, and a multitude of small shards. The longest crack would normally be a circle near the center of the entire cup, creating a solid ring and three large jagged segments. Smaller bits would have broken off from the edges of those segments, some large enough to be reused, others becoming too brittle or dissolving away like dust.
But randomness rarely results in the average. The large pieces don’t often scatter away from each other, and it is no different today, as seven mid-size pieces emerge, the two largest of which come to rest on top of each other. Touma kneels down carefully and begins to gather the fragments, first scooping up the largest one with both hands, turning it with his right until it rests lightly in the palm of the left. He carries it over to a cardboard box inlaid with a soft, heavily tea-stained towel and lays it gently inside as if resting it on a pillow. He repeats this with each section, supporting each one fully and taking his time in order to avoid any further damage. Once broken, ceramic materials, like bones, are far more susceptible to additional deterioration.
Touma lifts the box containing all the pieces that could be saved and brings it down the hall to his workshop. Here, he carefully sets it on the third shelf in the first empty space. On his desk is a pile of neatly stacked sheets of blank stickers, on one of which he writes the date with an old feather pen and ink. The ink runs slightly and he smudges it trying to clean the lines. He blows on it softly so it finishes drying, his memory overlaying a scene of Manami’s hair flowing past her ear - small strands broken loose from her long braid in the ocean breeze.
The timer for the centrifuge wakes Touma from his reverie, and he crosses the room to check on the progress of the lacquer. Raw urushi requires purification prior to use, or else the imperfections can cause problems down the line. At any step in the process a mistake can mean starting over, or worse, ruining the product entirely. Manami’s doctors stressed the importance of precision and patience as well. It has taken Touma a while to learn these skills. Today, the lacquer needs some more time, so Touma resets the alarm and lets the centrifuge continue its process.
On his desk sits a precise hand-drawn diagram with a date from two weeks ago, showing how to put together another specific broken teacup. Next to it is a box with the matching date and parts. Later today he will begin the process of reshaping the cup, joining the edges with the completed lacquer. He will use a padded vice to help with his shaking hands. His forearms will cry out in pain from the effort as well as from the recently scabbing cuts along their tops, a byproduct of creating just the right red tint. The cup will become whole again with his help, both inside and out.
But first, he makes his way over to the shelves by the door. On them are thirty-one re-formed cups spaced out with dated stickers below each. The cracks in each one are filled with thick, bright red edges in varying states of solidity. He picks up the oldest one with reverence and holds it up to the light, inspecting it. A small smile creases the right side of his mouth, and he heads out, cup cradled in both hands like it might melt through his fingers.
“For you, my love.”
Touma places the cup on the tray in front of Manami then moves her hands to its sides. He looks carefully at her face, looking for a sign of recognition - a spark in the eyes, a smile - but nothing appears. After a couple minutes, he looks up and adjusts her wig to cover the scar that is peeking out from underneath. Then he takes back the cup and sets it aside.
“I’ll put it with the others. I will get it right one of these days.”
He turns to the wall behind him and places the teacup along the handmade shelves that adorn the entire wall, surrounding the window that looks out on the shore beyond. Then he rolls her chair into the sunlight to give her a full view of the outside.
It’s almost time to build more shelves.
Touma’s eyes follow the path the teacup takes through the air as it tumbles, slightly backwards and to the left. The rotation is a little off, his fingers letting him down as his joints have become less responsive over the years. The cup strikes the well-worn dent in the kitchen floor on the edge of its base, rather than flush with the side. It will make for a different pattern, smaller shards to work with. He nods slightly and takes a deep breath. It will be trickier this time.
Fifty-six hundredths of a second, that’s how long it takes for an object to fall five feet, one and one-quarter inches. And Manami would never let him forget about that quarter of an inch. She said it was what made her stand out from her friends, and in that, Touma agreed. She did stand out, bright and proud, a beautiful ocean wave that stood ready to envelop him with not just her arms, but her whole being.
At the point of impact, the cup moves at just over 18.1 feet per second, the same speed that any object would be at if it fell from the same height, adjusted of course for any air resistance. Over 12 miles per hour - a sub-five-minute mile pace. Manami’s personal best in the mile was a little over five minutes when Touma used to watch her run track in college. Not good enough for nationals, but it put her easily among the best at their school. Back in a time when her mind and body were one.
On average, and at the right angle, the cup should break into four large sections, and a multitude of small shards. The longest crack would normally be a circle near the center of the entire cup, creating a solid ring and three large jagged segments. Smaller bits would have broken off from the edges of those segments, some large enough to be reused, others becoming too brittle or dissolving away like dust.
But randomness rarely results in the average. The large pieces don’t often scatter away from each other, and it is no different today, as seven mid-size pieces emerge, the two largest of which come to rest on top of each other. Touma kneels down carefully and begins to gather the fragments, first scooping up the largest one with both hands, turning it with his right until it rests lightly in the palm of the left. He carries it over to a cardboard box inlaid with a soft, heavily tea-stained towel and lays it gently inside as if resting it on a pillow. He repeats this with each section, supporting each one fully and taking his time in order to avoid any further damage. Once broken, ceramic materials, like bones, are far more susceptible to additional deterioration.
Touma lifts the box containing all the pieces that could be saved and brings it down the hall to his workshop. Here, he carefully sets it on the third shelf in the first empty space. On his desk is a pile of neatly stacked sheets of blank stickers, on one of which he writes the date with an old feather pen and ink. The ink runs slightly and he smudges it trying to clean the lines. He blows on it softly so it finishes drying, his memory overlaying a scene of Manami’s hair flowing past her ear - small strands broken loose from her long braid in the ocean breeze.
The timer for the centrifuge wakes Touma from his reverie, and he crosses the room to check on the progress of the lacquer. Raw urushi requires purification prior to use, or else the imperfections can cause problems down the line. At any step in the process a mistake can mean starting over, or worse, ruining the product entirely. Manami’s doctors stressed the importance of precision and patience as well. It has taken Touma a while to learn these skills. Today, the lacquer needs some more time, so Touma resets the alarm and lets the centrifuge continue its process.
On his desk sits a precise hand-drawn diagram with a date from two weeks ago, showing how to put together another specific broken teacup. Next to it is a box with the matching date and parts. Later today he will begin the process of reshaping the cup, joining the edges with the completed lacquer. He will use a padded vice to help with his shaking hands. His forearms will cry out in pain from the effort as well as from the recently scabbing cuts along their tops, a byproduct of creating just the right red tint. The cup will become whole again with his help, both inside and out.
But first, he makes his way over to the shelves by the door. On them are thirty-one re-formed cups spaced out with dated stickers below each. The cracks in each one are filled with thick, bright red edges in varying states of solidity. He picks up the oldest one with reverence and holds it up to the light, inspecting it. A small smile creases the right side of his mouth, and he heads out, cup cradled in both hands like it might melt through his fingers.
“For you, my love.”
Touma places the cup on the tray in front of Manami then moves her hands to its sides. He looks carefully at her face, looking for a sign of recognition - a spark in the eyes, a smile - but nothing appears. After a couple minutes, he looks up and adjusts her wig to cover the scar that is peeking out from underneath. Then he takes back the cup and sets it aside.
“I’ll put it with the others. I will get it right one of these days.”
He turns to the wall behind him and places the teacup along the handmade shelves that adorn the entire wall, surrounding the window that looks out on the shore beyond. Then he rolls her chair into the sunlight to give her a full view of the outside.
It’s almost time to build more shelves.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-06 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 12:17 pm (UTC)and some are merely mis-named.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-06 10:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 12:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-06 11:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 12:15 pm (UTC)i think i live in analogies and metaphors. sometimes they work better than others.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 01:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-08 12:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-08 12:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 10:01 pm (UTC)Beautiful work.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-08 12:18 am (UTC)the actual process of Kintsukuroi is amazingly delicate and time-consuming. and way beyond my patience or skill.
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Date: 2024-07-08 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-08 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-08 02:42 pm (UTC)Apart from feeling like a dummy, I enjoyed the second reading as much as the first, so it was a good thing. :-)
no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 11:49 pm (UTC)Beautiful imagery, "He blows on it softly so it finishes drying, his memory overlaying a scene of Manami’s hair flowing past her ear - small strands broken loose from her long braid in the ocean breeze."
Very well done!
Dan
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Date: 2024-07-08 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-08 03:35 am (UTC)Dan
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Date: 2024-07-09 09:31 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)