'Disguise? Why on earth would you need a disguise to go to a go salon?' Why couldn't makeup brushes be like her paint brushes? At least that was a language that she understood. What this for eye shadow? Well it was now. "Which is what makes this a perfect disguise!" She said, grabbing a random brush thing from the container. "But Hikaru, you and many women in this time go out without make up everyday." Goban salon how to#"You're the one who wanted to go out to a go salon! I wouldn't have had to put this stuff on if you stopped bugging me about it." She said, trying to figure out how to open her mother's eye shadow palette. Even though he had zero knowledge of the beauty standards for today, he could tell that Hikaru had no idea what she was doing. 'I don't see how this is my fault, Hikaru.' Sai said, concealing his giggles behind his large sleeves. "Will you shut up already? I'm doing this for you, you know?" She growled, wiping off and smearing the red blush with a napkin. Sai laughing at her in the background was not helpful in the slightest. She now remembered why she hated make-up. The thirteen year old coughed harshly as she accidentally inhaled the large puff of powder, cursing to the heavens as it got into her mouth and all over the badly applied lipstick. There was nothing that she couldn't do with a brush in hand. Hikaru had never felt more happy than when she was holding a brush, paint splattered on her smock and on the canvas below. By the time she was ten, she had been considered an art prodigy by many of her teachers and her father's friends. Her mother, seeing her daughter's talent, wasted no time in acquiring tutors and teachers to help her grow and nourish her skills. It was them that she decided that she would she too would create her own worlds. A world of possibilities was in front of her, waiting for her to create on the blank canvas. Each piece, whether it be a doodle or a life size sculpture, contained a piece of the artist's soul, mind and body. Goban salon full#Art was a living this, full or life and emotions just like the people who created them. Ever since she could remember, art had surrounded her family in more than just the paintings they bought.Įvery painting had a story, her mother always told her as she helped her move the brush around the canvas. It was hard not to with an art teacher for a mother and an art appraiser for a father. Shindo Hikaru had been drawing since she could hold a pencil.
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