Nijipuka Nuhu: The Reincarnated Artist and the Seven-Colored Curse - Swallowed by the rainbow-colored light

The afternoon before summer break, I was the only one left in the art room. 　The guys who'd dumped cleaning duty on me had long since gone home. The shouts of the baseball club drifting in from outside the window felt strangely distant. My white school uniform jacket clung to my back with sweat, and dust speckled my black slacks. I hadn't even bothered to fix my bedhead of black hair since morning. "…Let's just get this over with." 　I, Satou Yuuki, reached for the old easel propped up in the corner of the room. 　It hadn't been used in years. No one even knew who'd left it there. The wooden frame was dark and cracked in places. Only the white cloth draped over it looked oddly new, which somehow made it more unsettling. 　Just as I was about to pull the cloth off— 　A voice echoed from deep inside my head. A voice from that day. 　The summer of sixth grade. There was a girl in my class who was being bullied. She always hung her head in the corner of the classroom, and during recess she'd flee to the library. Watching her hurt, but I never had the courage to talk to her. 　So I drew her. 　I wanted to show someone that she could really smile. No—that's not it. I think I wanted to convince myself. Because in my eyes, she wasn't just a girl who cried. She had another face, a different one. 　I sketched her portrait secretly during recess. And she found it. "Why do you know my real face?" 　She was crying. Whether she was angry or sad, I still don't know. But my drawing made her cry. That much was certain. 　From that day on, I became afraid to draw. 　Art hurts people. 　My hand stops over the cloth. My fingertips are trembling slightly. After all these years, I still react like this. "…I still haven't apologized, huh." 　The moment I muttered those words— 　Light poured out from behind the easel. 　It was rainbow-colored. Red, blue, yellow, green, purple, orange, indigo. All the colors blended together, yet each one remained distinctly visible. That kind of light. "Wha…?" 　The light filled the room like water. The easel, the plaster busts, the blackboard, the window glass—everything was dyed in rainbow hues. 　I tried to run. But my legs wouldn't move. No—not just my legs. I couldn't move a single finger. 　The light wrapped around my body. It felt warm and cold at the same time, impossible to describe. 　My consciousness faded. 　The last thing that surfaced was, of course, her crying face. "Sorry." 　The words I couldn't say disappeared into the light. 　―――― 　When I opened my eyes, the sky was seven-colored. "…Huh?" 　I was lying on my back. What I felt beneath me was grass. No—too soft for grass. 　I sat up and looked around. 　A massive seven-colored aurora flowed across the sky. Like a curtain being drawn, slowly but surely. The sun was visible, yet its light refracted into rainbows. 　The ground was strange too. The grass at my feet wasn't just green—there were blue blades, purple blades, orange blades. As if someone had splashed paint across the earth. "Where… am I?" 　I looked at my clothes. My white school jacket, despite being swallowed by that light, didn't have a single drop of paint on it. 　And then I noticed. 　On the back of my left hand, a rainbow-colored crest had appeared. "What the hell is this…" 　A small, swirling pattern. Seven-colored light moved slowly beneath my skin. It didn't hurt. But it was definitely there. 　It wasn't like a birthmark. It looked like something that had surfaced from somewhere much deeper. "Oh, you there." 　A voice suddenly called out to me. 　I turned around. An old woman stood there, carrying a pack on her back. A face full of wrinkles, a faded cloak, a wooden staff in her hand. A traveling merchant, maybe. Colorful fabrics peeked from the bundle on her back. "Sleeping in a place like this—you're a strange one. On a journey?" "Uh, well… I'm not really sure what's going on either. Where is this place?" 　The old woman tilted her head. "This is the outskirts of Irodoria, near the Ashlands. Quite a ways southwest of the capital, Prismatica." 　Irodoria. Prismatica. Ashlands. 　All names I'd never heard before. "I'm from Japan, actually…" "Japan? Never heard of it." 　Yeah, figures. 　I'd been transported to another world. That rainbow light had brought me here. 　It's not that I wanted to escape reality. But I couldn't think of any other explanation. "Are you a painter?" 　The old woman was staring at my left hand. "A painter…?" "That crest on your left hand. You're the second coming of the legendary painter Iris Caravaggio. To think it's actually true…" 　The old woman's expression changed. "You'd better run before the Nocturne Cult finds you. This area is dangerous." "Wait, please. What's the Nocturne Cult—" 　But the old woman said nothing more and hurried away. 　I stood there, frozen. 　The second coming of the legendary painter. The Nocturne Cult. 　None of it made sense. "Who I am… I'd like to know that myself." 　I muttered to no one in particular. 　The crest on my left hand pulsed with a faint heat. 　―――― 　Black mist rose from beneath my feet. "Huh?" 　No. Not my feet. Black haze was spewing from all across the ground. 　The mist took human form. 　Three figures. All clad in black robes. Their faces were hidden beneath hoods. But their eyes glowed red. "The rainbow crest… There's no mistake." "The painter the Cult has been searching for." "Capture him. If he resists, you may remove a limb or two." 　Nocturne Cult. The name the old woman had mentioned echoed in my head. "H-hey, I'm just a high schooler—" 　I couldn't finish. 　One of the robed figures waved a hand, and the black mist shaped itself into a spear and flew at me. "Whoa!" 　I rolled across the ground to dodge. My heart was pounding. My mind went blank. 　What's happening. Why is this happening to me. "Run!" 　Someone shouted. 　The next instant, a small hand grabbed my right hand. "This way!" 　I ran, pulled along. 　My legs nearly tangled. I couldn't breathe. But the warmth of the hand gripping mine was strangely vivid. 　I looked to the side. 　There was a girl running beside me, her light-blue hair streaming behind her. 　Six tentacles grew from the top of her head. Pale blue, like a squid's. They wriggled in response to her emotions, and right now they were all standing straight up—maybe from excitement. 　Her eyes were different colors. The left was deep indigo, the right a brilliant rainbow. That rainbow eye turned toward me and sparkled. "You're a painter, right!" "Huh? Painter—" "That crest! The mark of the legendary painter! Amazing, I actually met the real one!" 　She was excited. Even while being chased, her voice was buoyant. "I'm Nijifuka Nuhu! What's your name?" "Satou Yuuki… wait, this isn't the time for that!" 　The black mist closed in from behind. "It's okay, leave it to me!" 　While running, Nuhu pulled a small piece of chalk from her pocket. "Wait, what are you doing—" 　Nuhu drew something on the ground. 　It was a doodle. A round body with short limbs. A cat-like, octopus-like creature—hard to tell. 　But the next moment, the doodle moved. "Meow!" 　The drawn creature leaped off the ground and lunged at the black mist pursuers. "Whaaaaat!?" 　I shouted. 　The drawing was moving. "In this world, what you draw becomes real. It's called Gagi. I'm not as amazing as you, but I can do at least this much!" 　Still holding my hand, Nuhu turned down an alley. "W-what were those things? Those black mist guys." "The Nocturne Cult. Bad people trying to monopolize this world's Color Essence. They want your power." 　Color Essence. Gagi. Nocturne Cult. 　Nothing but unfamiliar words kept pouring in. 　But one thing was clear. 　I was being hunted in this world. 　And the power of drawing became reality. 　―――― 　Night fell. 　We hid in a hollow in the wasteland, gathered around a small campfire. 　Sparks crackled and vanished into the dark sky. The seven-colored aurora didn't disappear at night—it adorned the sky in place of stars. "The Cult's pursuers—looks like that doodle held them off. We should be safe this far out." 　Nuhu sat by the fire, holding her hands out to warm them. 　Looking at her again, she was small. About 150 centimeters tall. Much shorter than me. But her presence was incredibly strong. 　Her pale blue long hair swayed in the firelight. The tentacles on her head had calmed down now, undulating slowly. 　She wore a short dress that looked easy to move in. Sky-blue, with rainbow embroidery at the hem. She was barefoot. "Hey, Yuuki. How much do you know about your power?" "Nothing. I just got to this world a little while ago." 　I told her honestly. 　About cleaning the easel in the art room. About being swallowed by the rainbow light. About waking up in this world. 　Nuhu listened in silence. "I see. …Then let me explain this world to you." 　Nuhu began to speak slowly. 　This world was called Irodoria, and people could repaint parts of the world using a power called "Garyoku." 　But the "Color Essence" that fueled that power was finite. Use too much, and parts of your body would lose color—until eventually you turned transparent and vanished. 　A hundred and fifty years ago, there was a disaster called the "Great Depletion" when Color Essence nearly ran out. The legendary painter Iris Caravaggio turned her own life into paint and scattered it across the world, barely saving it. 　Now the "Color Council" managed the Color Essence, and laws limited how much could be used. 　But there was a "Nocturne Cult" that opposed this control, seeking to monopolize the Color Essence. "…And that crest on your left hand is the proof of the legendary painter. They say only Iris's reincarnation bears it." 　Nuhu looked straight into my eyes. 　Her left indigo eye and right rainbow eye. Both flickered, reflecting the firelight. "I'm the reincarnation of the legendary painter…?" "That's right." "That's impossible. I'm just a high schooler, and I haven't even drawn properly in…" 　The words caught in my throat. 　I hadn't drawn seriously in years. "There's no way someone like me is a legendary painter." 　I hung my head. "Yuuki." 　Nuhu's voice rang quietly. "You didn't choose this. The light chose you." 　I looked up. 　Nuhu wasn't smiling. But she didn't look angry either. 　Just a quiet face, as if stating a simple fact. "…Hey, will you listen to me?" 　Nuhu nodded. 　I told her about the portrait incident in sixth grade. 　About the girl who was bullied, and how I drew her smiling face from imagination. 　About how that drawing made her cry. 　About how she said, in a trembling voice, "Why do you know my real face?" 　About how I'd been afraid to draw ever since. "Maybe I was drawing to hurt people. Without realizing it, I was trampling into her heart." 　The campfire crackled. "…Yuuki." 　Nuhu spoke. "Did you hate that girl?" "No. The opposite. I wanted to help her somehow." "Then that drawing was full of your kindness." 　Nuhu said that, then touched her own head tentacles. "These are my paintbrushes." 　The tentacles curled around her fingers. "Squid-people's tentacles become paintbrushes. They're part of my body, the source of my Gagi. …There was a time I was self-conscious about them. People called me a freak, called me gross, over and over." 　Nuhu smiled a little. "But these are my paintbrushes. I draw with them, so my drawings are mine. …That's why your drawings are yours too, Yuuki, because you drew them. Maybe they can hurt people. But they don't just hurt. They can save people too." 　I couldn't say anything. 　I didn't think her tentacles were dirty or gross. 　I just felt her words sinking deep into my chest. 　The campfire crackled again. 　―――― 　Morning came. 　The seven-colored aurora thinned slightly with the dawn, and the whole sky took on a pale, watercolor-like tint. "What are we doing today?" 　Nuhu asked while putting out the fire. "What do you mean…" "

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Episode 1

Name: Nijipuka Nuhu: The Reincarnated Artist and the Seven-Colored Curse
Author: Novelia

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