Once upon a time, there lived a poor young woman named Hokusai Kasumi.

She lived with her mother, father and little sister.

“Why don’t you go out and find work to help your family?” her lazy father would say when Kasumi would choose to go to school activities. It made her feel bad that she was enjoying her life.

“Do you really need that? You know we have to worry about your sister,” her stressed mother would ask, whenever Kasumi would ask for supplies for school or clothes that weren’t already old and used. It made her feel bad to ask for anything, because what if it affected the family?

“I want that! I want it, I want it, I want it! Give! Meanie big sister!” her sister would say, whenever Kasumi would get anything that was new and good. She didn’t want to be seen as mean or bad, so she always gave up on liking anything or having favourites to appease her family.

She was a good daughter and sister and took pride in that. She worked hard and always gave up everything when asked.

Like being an artist. There was no way they afford for her to take classes, or get her supplies. But for a while, she had her little ways of getting by.

Secretly, she would collect scraps of papers thrown out into recycling, stating that the other unused side was still good. Whenever another student would toss out a pencil that was considered too small to keep using, Kasumi happily took it instead. This way she amassed her own supplies, meagre as they were.

Art was the only thing that made her happy.

Even when she had to leave high school to find a job to help support her family.

Even when people laughed about her old and tattered clothes that she wore into intense raggedy messes.

Even when her sister got everything she ever wanted just by asking for it.

As long as Kasumi had art, she was still able to be happy. Drawing doodles and full pieces she kept in careful collections stashed safely away in her room. Whenever she had time (which was rarer the older she got), there was a tiny pencil in her hand no longer than two and half inches with an old test paper whose back she was using to draw something.

Kasumi loved her family, that was what she thought, so of course she worked hard for them, so they could all live peacefully. Her family did not come from money nor did they amass much money, so when her little sister came along when she was 13, things got rougher for the family. Kasumi worked day and night, diligently, hoping that once her sister reached adulthood, things would get better. At first it was juggling school and a part time job and then it became rushing between two shifts at two different jobs. But even when the day came when her sister became a fully grown adult with the support of the family, nothing changed.

Yet still, as long as she had art, it would be all right. As long as she had access to a single pencil and a scrap of paper, it would be okay. No matter how much her family disapproved of this hobby of hers. Even if online strangers who saw her work bashed it and told her to quit posting, she never stopped loving art. She worked hard and then had her little moments of joy on old scrap paper. Kasumi always made it work.

But soon, her skin became grey. Her eyes sunk and her hair began falling out. Her lack of nutrition began to show. She forgot what it was like to see the sun, because she worked around the clock and rarely left her jobs to see the light of day. When she traveled to and from places, it was always dark. But she didn’t mind. Kasumi knew it was all for a purpose. As long as she had a place to call home, where she could take time to draw, it would be just fine. No matter how much was asked of her, she would always complete the job, just so she could indulge for a few minutes on a drawing.

But then one day, she died.

One would think working herself to death with little food and sleep was the cause of her untimely demise and, surely, it was a large contribution to the weakening of her body. However, what truly dealt the final blow was the callous treatment of her one and only love: art.

Exhausted, emotionally and physically, Kasumi came home to find her room entirely emptied of her precious treasures. Scrap papers she collected over the years, the tiny pencils she kept in old, hole filled pencil cases rescued from trash bins, and pens that leaked, but still worked…drawings she had lovingly kept in stapled bundles as books she could look back on to see her progression over the years…!

All gone. Every wall deprived of art pieces. Her drawers emptied. Her room looked all new and clean, with not a speck of anything Kasumi owned.

“We arranged a marriage for you and we can’t have your future husband see how much of a loser you are. We must present a proper and clean front so that the marriage goes through. He’s rich and will be able to care for this family. He’s older than you, but at least someone is interested in you. Besides Kasumi, you’re an adult now. There’s no need to have such dirty and childish things laying around. It’s time to grow up.”

Those were the words spoken to her by her parents, but Kasumi barely registered them, such was the shock she experienced. She simply nodded, thinking this another sacrifice to this family, all the while trying to process what was going on. Everything was for them. Never her. Why did they have her if they couldn’t afford her? Why did they have a second child if things required their firstborn to work so hard? Just why, why, why, why?!

But there was no fighting back. This was how it always was. And she was so tired. Kasumi just kept nodding quietly, unable to summon enough energy to be angry.

Just why was I born…? She thought to herself before getting ready for the next job.

In such an exhausted, heartbroken state, she barely noticed when she tripped down the stairs on the way to her second job shift. She didn’t try to grab anything when her thin, weak body tumbled over the railing of the apartment stairs. Kasumi just thought about how there was no point anymore as she fell, fell, fell…