Chapter 2: 1

“To The Pit”

She always sits on the same chair—

The Manor Hall student residence I stayed at was located in the western area of Bristol. Stepping outside the gate, I headed down the Lower Clifton Hill road and its stone pavement. I walked over the pedestrian crossing which was pretty much meaningless since everybody disregarded the traffic light anyway, and made my way past the biggest building of Bristol University, the Wills Memorial Building, which resembled a church or a giant castle. Next, I entered the gentle slope of Park Row. The street had an antique shop offering genuine rifles made of dark wood and rusted metal, as well as an apparel store selling skateboards and sneakers. Crossing the street revealed a deteriorated long set of stairs. They supposedly have existed since the 14th century, given the name “Christmas Steps.” Walking down these for a bit, I encountered a bronze statue wearing a coat and sitting on a horse.

This place was close to the center of the town, which is also where you’d encounter the most activity in the area, and near that was a small game shop called 8-Bit World. Shown inside the window were posters that had lost most of their color through ultraviolet rays years ago, with dusty plus toys of popular characters right next to them. I had let them be for a while, but today is the day I want to look after them properly. And for that, I had to call out to her. I heightened my resolve by pushing up my glasses once, and then opened the door.

“Good morning, Boudicia-san.”

The girl sat at the cash register on a cheap-looking chair, not giving me a response. Instead, she merely sent me a listless gaze. Her slant eyes and pupils colored in an ashen blue caught me, as her long blonde hair, tied up high into a ponytail, reflected the sunlight entering through the window. Each time she looks at me, I feel like a small animal who happened to meet eyes with a beautiful lion in the Savanna who was just busy drinking some water. So that she wouldn’t figure that out, I closed the shutter inside my heart, and then carefully spoke to her.

“Have you finished cleaning?”

“Not yet.”

This was our regular exchange. However, even though I ask this every single time, her meaning of “Not yet” did not equal the idea of “I’ll do it now.” I headed to the back of the store and grabbed a duster, returning to the front. She was resting her head on her palm at the cash register, simply spacing out into emptiness. I sighed faintly and then called out to her again while being faintly aware of how things would develop from now on.

“Won’t you help me clean, Boudicia-san?”

Hearing my question, her sharp gaze pierced through me. She then narrowed her eyes as she opened her mouth, showing her white teeth.

“Huuuh? Why do you have to be so noisy about every small thing?” And she continued, sounding ready to bite my head off. “Are you my mum or something? Come back once you actually baked a pie for me, got it?”

“Pie, you say? I am fairly confident in my cooking skills, though,” I returned a remark, realizing that this was the direction she came at me today.

“That’s not what I mean. I swear, you Japanese have no wit at all.”

“And going with that logic, the British should be bad at cleaning, no?”

“That makes no sense~”

“Both are overgeneralizations, don’t you think?”

“…Yoshi. You seriously piss me off.”

“Thank you very much for the compliment. Anyway, could you take care of the shelf, Boudicia-san?”

“Hell no. Also, I keep telling you. Boo is fine. Just Boo.”

She didn’t even bother listening to my plea for help and just threw her own personal request at me. In all fairness, she did say that before, I just didn’t comply because I thought it was a rather troublesome nickname.

“I personally think Boudicia is a wonderful name.”

“I’m telling you to stop!” She crossed her arms and pouted as she averted her face.

Seeing that childish gesture forced me to flash a wry smile, but if the person in question is so adamant about it, then I have no reason to not abide by their request.

“Anyway, Boo-san.”

“See, I knew you could do it.”

“Please take care of the dust on the shelves. I’ll handle the shop window.” I was about to walk away, but Boudicia didn’t seem to like that.

“I can handle the shop window, too. That seems a lot easier.”

“I was actually planning on replacing the display…Do you know how to do that, Boo-san?”

Despite being my senior at work, she actually is way less informed about this shop and how everything works.

“All right, all right. I’ll get the shelves done, geez!” Boudicia grumbled as she stretched out her left hand, grabbing the duster.

Surprisingly enough, her dominant hand is left. And after she awkwardly placed a small stepladder in front of the shelf, she stood on it and violently moved her left hand from one side to the other, blowing the dust off like a storm. Personally, I wish she’d be a bit more thorough and careful during her work, but if I were to say that to her face, she’d probably throw the duster right at my face, so I decided to let bygones be bygones.

Not to mention that I was already fairly used to exchanges like these. At first, I was distraught at the fact she possessed such a harsh tone despite her delicate outer appearance, but each conversation with her acted as good practice for me, too, and it’s definitely thanks to her that I managed to get much better at English over the past month. Granted, some wasn’t voluntary from my side, but it’s a blessing in disguise.

I got accepted to Bristol University and moved to the dorm here at the beginning of September. Before that, I had been studying at a university in Japan, but I decided to leave my home at least once to study overseas. The fact I was even accepted here is nothing short of a miracle. Well, unlike Japan’s universities, the real work only started after that fact.

The biggest adversary I had to face was my financial situation. Luckily, I received a scholarship that would pay for most of my money during my time here, but I still wished to work a bit on the side to stabilize my finances. Eventually, I ran into this game shop here. Granted, working immediately after moving overseas brought a lot of trouble with it, but seeing a lot of characters here that I had spotted even back in Japan allowed me to find a connection to settle in better.

Even the very first time I opened the door to this shop, Boudicia sat at the register. Her glittering hair and long eyelashes, paired with her clear eyes and small face, as well as surprisingly long limbs, I assumed I had encountered an actress you’d seen staring in a movie, but imagine my surprise when she first opened her mouth.

By the way, the reason I didn’t take her for a model at first is because of the oversized hoodie she wore, open at the front, and the black sports tights covering her legs. Paired with her worn and large sneakers, it all created a rough feeling, which even allowed an amateur like me to realize she wasn’t particularly concerned with her outfit.

That being said, speaking with pure logic, there’s still a good chance she might have a profession along those lines. After all, despite having worked here for about a month now, I still don’t know a thing about her. Since she’s usually here when it is time for my shift, I figure that this is probably where she works most of the time. In terms of her age, it’s usually hard to tell with women, especially with English women like her, but I just selfishly assume she should be around the same age as me.

“What are you staring at?”

“Ah, sorry. I was just thinking that if you don’t pick up the figurines, it’ll be hard to get all the dust off there,” I commented on something else entirely to ensure she wouldn’t find out I was staring at her that entire time.

“Will you stop complaining about every small thing? I was gonna do that right now!” She grumbled, but her voice sounded so clear and transparent.

Even when she screamed or complained, she never sounded hoarse. It’s really weird, and I think about it each time I hear it. And even as she hissed at me, she continued to lift the figurines with her right hand to clean under them.

“Ah, wah, wah!”

However, she happened to bump into the shelf with her hand, which sent the figurine spiraling into the air. She juggled it once, twice, and even three times until she finally grasped it with her hand, only to lose balance with her whole body, falling to the ground.

“Eeek?!”

I wanted to catch her, but it was already too late for me to react, as she had landed on the ground with the figurine, creating a large rumbling sound.

“Are you okay, Boo-san?”

“This is your fault, you hear?! All because you forced me to clean!”

“That’s a bit of a leap in logic, don’t you think?”

Boudicia’s white, possibly even translucent, skin turned red, as she roared in unreasonable anger. Just when you think she’s a hottie, she’s got a nasty personality, and yet she’s this clumsy all the time, which is why she often lets things drop to the ground, including her own body. Maybe she feared that, which is why she wanted to push the cleaning of the shelves onto me. Connecting the dots there, I reflected on my attitude. Then again, cleaning was necessary.

Either way, I’m just glad she’s not hurt too badly. I offered my hand to her, who was still sitting on the ground, but she purposefully ignored it and got up with her own strength. Looking at her like this, she looked less like a lion and more like a prideful stray cat. Including the mysterious air she gave off. The reason I’ve been taking a lot of shifts lately here at work despite my busy university schedule was to check her out during work. It’s like taking a detour on your way home from school to visit that stray cat you regularly meet. And since my hand had no other place to go, I instead opted to pick up the figurine. And with that as a signal, the bell attached to the door rang with a loud ding.

“Hey, welcome…Ah, George-san.”

“Hey there, Yoshi-kun. Good morning.”

I greeted the new customer with a warm smile and gentle tone, as George gently raised his hand to wave at me.

“Yuck, more trouble’s arrived. Why don’t you turn right and go back to where you came from, you parsley bastard.”

“What a greeting that is, Roasted Beef-chan.”

“Who’s meat, huh? I’ll boil you alive.”

George is a regular here at the store. Then again, he would stop by a lot, only to not buy anything in the end, simply engaging in banter like this with Boudicia. He was a tall man wearing a suit with qualitative material, possessing the outer appearance of an English gentleman, while wearing a rain jacket on top to not completely overdo his look, still possessing a stylish fashion sense. With his gentle tone and dignified look, he resembled a large dog. In that context, he’s the exact opposite of Boudicia, too. And yet, they did resemble each other in some parts, which is why I’d immediately buy into any hypothesis that he could be her older brother. Boudicia always hisses when he would come to visit, but through George, I could learn a lot about the UK, so having him stop by was one of the joys of working here.

“Why are there only idiots around me…”

“Have you never read Cinderella? The nasty older sisters never get to marry the prince.”

Boudicia’s comment held quite the punch, but George’s retort was as sharp as a knife. Looking at them like this reminded me of a couple of friends who’d known each other for a long time or especially close acquaintances.

“Seems like you’re not as clever as you think. The big bad wolf’s gonna get blasted and slaughtered by Akazukin1.” Boudicia grinned as she put on the hood of her red hoodie, showing her long nails.

The way I see it, this is a mixture of a werewolf and Akazukin, but what do I know?

“Was it such a violent story? I can hardly remember.”

“It sure was. That’s why her hood is red.”

“I highly doubt that was it,” I retorted.

“On a different note, there’s something that caught my attention just now.” George pointed at the door behind him with his thumb. “There’s something drawn on the glass outside.”

“Wait, really?”

“Really.”

I quickly rushed out of the store and checked the window. Drawings? That should be impossible. I just got here, and I didn’t find anything…However, George was absolutely right. On the bottom right part of the glass, I spotted a skeleton drawn onto the surface with a bluish-green color. It was wearing a large hat as it stood on a boat, holding something that looked like a spear. Although it wasn’t too clear, the expression it had made it look like it was smiling. Size-wise, it could probably barely fit into my palm. And yet, it was oddly detailed.

“When was this…” I crouched down to get a closer look at the drawing when I heard the sound of the door opening to the left of me, and quite violently, too.

“This, huh? Damn bastards looking down on us.” Boudicia bent her knees like me to inspect the drawing, as she stretched out her left hand to knock on the part of the glass with the drawing.

I thought she’d be furious, but she was much more composed than I would have expected. But since she brought her face closer and touched my shoulder, my heart skipped a beat and I slid over half a step to the right.

“Just what’s going on with this?”

It was truly odd. It must have appeared in the short time we were cleaning inside the store. Logically speaking, this should be impossible. And even more surprising was the fact that Boudicia stared at me. Her long and golden eyelashes moved up and down a few times.

“…Well, my bad.”

“Huh?”

“You must have been bothered by the fact I said you guys had no wit, right? Being diligent is who you are, right? I don’t wanna be that gal, but that joke was hella lame, so no more, ‘kay? Sorry.”

I had no clue what she was referring to.

“Um…That wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”

“This is just your typical graffiti, right?”

“Graffiti…”

I couldn’t connect that word to any mental image and was forced to just return it like a parrot.

“…Seriously? You’ve never seen graffiti? No way, right?”

“I feel like I’ve heard the term before…” I answered honestly, but Boudicia still struggled to accept that.

“We’ve got a whole lot around here, nah?! You get a spray can and then…pssssh and all that!”

I thought about it for a moment but remained clueless.

“Roasted Beef-chan, that explanation won’t help dear Yoshi-kun much.”

I heard a familiar voice and looked past Boudicia’s shoulder when I saw George stepping outside the store with a smile.

“No way he never saw any up to this point!” Boudicia stood up as her golden hair shook with vigor.

However, George couldn’t agree.

“If you don’t pay particular attention to it, I could see him not spotting it. In fact, I’m quite delighted he’s showing so much interest. Listen up, Yoshi-kun, here’s a lesson on graffiti.”

George seemed happy like a fish racing through the water as he began vividly detailing the idea behind graffiti. It basically referred to art that is drawn on the city walls and other buildings using spray or pens. At first, it was simply regarded as mere doodles and drawings. During the 70s, it became popular and eventually reached its peak in the 90s. It began with New York as the center and then spread throughout the world. Originally, it was seen as part of hip-hop culture, but at the same time, it was also regarded as a crime—vandalism. And all I was told felt like a new world opened up for me.

“Graffiti started by writing your own nickname, and the letters of such became more and more flashy. That’s why you don’t use the verb draw or paint, but write when referring to it. And the people who create graffiti are called writers, too. And if you want to be respectful towards the art, you say they’re graffiti artists.”

Being told knowledge and detail on the level of an encyclopedia, I was utterly bewildered.

“I can tell you really like graffiti, George-san.”

“Not just graffiti, but art in general. Ever since I was a little boy. The Art Museum in Bristol is like my second home.”

“What a moldy house you live in.”

“You shouldn’t make fun of the history consisting of the pursuit of art. Show your respect.”

“Anyway, Bristol’s regarded as the holy ground of graffiti,” Boudicia ignored George’s comment, put one hand on her hip, and puffed out her chest.

George didn’t disagree with Boudicia’s comment and continued with a nod.

“There’s plenty of cities that are famous for their graffiti. London is no exception, and you could also name Paris, Melbourne, as well as the remains of the Berlin Wall. But Bristol gathers artists who are most famous across the world. In that sense, this city is extremely special.”

“Most famous…”

“Ah, yeah. You mean Banksy, right?” Seeing me struggling to think of anybody, Boudicia shook her head as she opened her arms.

“Seems like that didn’t ring a bell.”

“Well…”

George saw me still struggling to connect anything, as he grinned and delivered an explanation.

“We’re talking about Banksy. He’s an elusive and masked artist. Nobody knows his true identity, and his entire existence is shrouded in mystery. All we know is that he’s from Bristol. And yet, his works are highly valued around the world. As part of one of the world’s biggest art auctions, Sotheby’s, one of his works was sold. Wanna guess how much? One million pounds.”

“A million…He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

Putting that into the Japanese currency, you’d be looking at 150 million yen. I started to feel dizzy imagining that sheer number.

“That’s right. That is exactly what makes Banksy such an outstanding individual. He is a genius that creates absolute value like this out of nowhere. But the most amazing part has yet to come. Right after the successful bid, his work was—”

“Yeah, yeah. We get it. You really love Banksy, George.”

Boudicia seemed like she was tired of all this exposition. It was my first time hearing this story, but from the looks of it, she was probably told the same thing countless times over.

“Of course! Banksy’s impact is one of the rarest in the history of the arts. He stands on the same level as Andy Warhol or Marcel Duchamp. Speaking in terms of Bristol origin, he could call Damien Hirst his friend. I consider it my pride and joy to be born in the same city as him.”

Thinking that such an amazing person was living in the same city I stood in…felt quite odd.

“Any chance that Banksy could have done this?” I pointed at the graffiti and asked.

“Nah, doubt it. He doesn’t live around here anymore. Though, I hear he’s still writing here in Bristol from time to time.”

I had expected that answer, but even if this was done by Banksy, I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell either way.

“Still, what a bother that they had to place it right there.”

“And I personally don’t consider this to have so much artistic value.” George showed a dejected expression as he shrugged.

“You can say that again. I’d love to have them erase it, but oh well…”

Something clicked in my head when I heard Boudicia’s statement. Like something was off, almost.

“Boo-san.”

“What?”

“Do you happen to know…who did this?”

“Wha…” She looked at me in utter disbelief.

Seeing that reaction, I half-guessed that I was on the right track.

“I was just thinking of how to erase it. Since it seemed like an accident, or even misfortune, I didn’t even bother to consider who could have done it. However, you were different. You said that you wanted the person in question to erase it. That would mean you could have a means of reaching the person who put this here.”

“Damn it…Bothered about the smallest detail. Who are you, some critics of loose articles?”

Boudicia’s insult had a good hit for once, leaving George laughing.

“You’re a sharp one, Yoshi-kun! It’s your loss, Boo. You gotta tell him now, right?”

“What’s going on, Boo-san? Who did it?” I asked, too.

Could you really identify the person who put down such a small graffiti like this?

“Gaaaah, I swear! Fine…But, just a heads-up, I’m not in the clear about everything.” Boudicia reluctantly pointed at the graffiti. “Take a good look. Normally, you write graffiti with regular spray, but this one didn’t spray it directly. It’s too small for that.”

“That makes sense.” I fixed my glasses and put my face closer.

“Look, there. It’s a bit out of focus here. They probably just pre-cut paper and then ran the spray over it. You call that a stencil.”

“I see. That would allow them to write it in an instant.”

The answer is always simple. And because it was so simple, it surprised me. I would have never even thought of that.

“Most graffiti is regarded as a crime, y’know? You don’t have time to leisurely spray the entire wall. There’s a lot of techniques circulating that would allow quick writing.”

That is true. The person who gets their property full of graffiti definitely won’t enjoy it. It’s practically vandalism. Then, Boudicia pushed her face closer to the skeleton graffiti.

“And this guy ain’t half bad. Looking at this, he can write at least 100, easily. It’s rare to see someone this talented here in Bristol, even. But there are a few messy places where the paint isn’t equal to the rest. It doesn’t match the actual quality of the blueprint. I doubt they’d usually be relying on stencils. And there, this matt pressure. Probably Montana. And even if that’s a normal choice, this beryl green caught me off-guard. Usually, you’d write stencils in black or red. There must be a reason they chose this color.”

The influx of information was too much for my brain to handle. I thought I was ready, but around half of it was just completely lost on me. But, that last part caught my attention.

“A reason?”

“The person doing this must have gotten the stencil from a third party and was ordered to do it in this color.”

“So we’re dealing with a group?”

“Yeah. Probably a group of two. One pressed down the stencil and the other sprayed over it. That’ll allow them to write it quickly.”

That made sense. But to think even this much could be deducted from a simple graffiti.

“That’s amazing, Boo-san. You’re like Sherlock Holmes.”

Since we’re present in the UK, I figured that the protagonist of the English novel I had read before would match the situation perfectly.

“H-Holmes? Ah, c’mon, everybody would be able to tell this much…” Boudicia said as she stuffed her right hand into her pocket, playing with the string of her hoodie using her left hand.

Seeing her tear her gaze away with a bit of a pout, I was genuinely impressed. Didn’t expect I’d see that of her today.

“If Boo’s Holmes, then Yoshi-kun must be Watson. You’ve crossed the level of being a Consultant Detective, and more of a Graffiti Detective. Not a bad duo you two are.” George seemed oddly fulfilled, as he pointed at Boudicia and then myself.

Leaving aside the debate if I have enough of a presence like Watson does, I have to agree with his assessment of Boudicia and her ability to reason.

“And…who did it?”

“So persistent…Like I said, I haven’t figured out everything yet.”

“Don’t think that will work on me. You must have some kind of method to clear that up, right?”

“Why are you so adamant about this?!”

Because I’m curious about who did this. And more than that…I wanted to figure out just who exactly this rude sleazeball but also beauty of a senior this girl here truly is.

“Just tell me.”

“Gaaah, I get it! I get it!” Boudicia raised both her hands as she said so.

That gesture probably conveyed both I give up and I’m tired of this.

“Well, can’t have those bastards look down on me. Putting them in their place won’t hurt.”

“Then…”

“Yeah. I’m going over to give them a piece of my mind.”

Internally, I was dancing in excitement.

“With that decided, I guess you two will have to head out right now,” George said, smiling as if he had just obtained a new toy.

“But we’re still on our shift…”

“No adaptability, eh? When in the UK, you do as in the UK.”

Boudicia entered the store and grabbed a random pan and paper. She then wrote something on it, stepped outside, and put it on the door with tape.

“This should do the trick.”

The letters on the paper were written with quite eccentric writing.

“…What does it say?”

“Huh? You can read, right?!”

“Well…”

I approached the paper, but I had no clue what it was. The dirtiness of the letters was ruining all readability. I know that English people aren’t too concerned with their handwriting, but this is a bit too rough around the edges.”

“It reads ‘Out for Lunch! Be back in an hour!’ if I had to guess.”

As Boudicia was greatly hurt by my inability to read her handwriting, George thankfully translated it for me. And truth be told, I had seen something similar like this before, but to think it was just a convenient excuse…Of course, I doubt this is the same for every single case, but that at least explains why some places remained closed even when I came back an hour later. Also, what’s even the point of putting up that paper if people can’t even read it? I was bewildered about the many holes in this idea, but Boudicia nonchalantly locked the door to the shop with her key.

“What are you spacing out for? Let’s go, Yoshi.”

“I have to say…Seeing Boo listen to others and act on her own. What a time we live in.” George tried to hold back his laughter as he looked at her and then at me.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about Yoshi not letting people be and listening to them.”

“And yet, I’m very attentive to every single thing you’ve been saying for a while.”

“See?! This is exactly what I mean!”

“Well…if you found them, I’d like to be filled in. But more importantly, good luck.” George waved his hand at us as he saw us off.

Boudicia continued to grumble for a bit longer as she started walking. I also raised my pace so that I wouldn’t be left alone by her. Just where were we heading anyway? What’s going to happen now? So many questions, and yet my heart was racing in excitement. It felt like an adventure. Like a tour guide was introducing me to a world I had never known. And with my excitement at an all-time high, I chased after Boudicia’s back.

*

“Um, Boo-san?”

“What?”

“This is not a good idea. Let’s turn back.”

I followed Boudicia in utter silence for the past twenty minutes, until we reached an art supply store. That being said, it wasn’t an outdated or worn-down shop. Rather, you could easily see inside the store from the large glass windows, especially the bookshelves colored in bright colors to create a stylish atmosphere. The billboard at the front entrance had text written on it.

Let’s fill this town with artists.

The message written there stood out the most among all the other shops around. It was a strong and assertive line. I doubted that this was the name of the store, but the board was buried with that same line. Boudicia didn’t pay much attention to it and just entered the front door, so I followed.

The air inside the store had a distinct smell of color. The shelves were filled with goods and supplies I had never seen before. And when I think that each of these has a special use, I was overwhelmed. However, I happened to spot one familiar sight in this foreign territory—A spray can that had 94 written on it.

It’s the same spray can that I found that day. The only difference was the amount. The silver canister had the same number written on it, joined by countless other cans on the same bookshelf. The sheer amount felt like I was looking at a wall. But taking a closer look, the top part of the cans had different colors.

“Is this…”

“Hm? It’s spray paint. Used for graffiti.”

Boudicia must have seen me stare at this odd sight, as she explained.

“How many are there?”

“189 colors.”

“…What?” My mouth was agape as I couldn’t process that sheer number.

All I knew were the basic 24 colors for the crayons I used as a child. I don’t even think I could name half of those anymore.”

“Strictly speaking, it’s 94. But Montana’s got hardcore or water-based ones. Over there are Belton and Flame, too.”

I had no idea what she was even referring to, but it was plenty to make me understand the sheer selection of spray paint there was in the world. Meanwhile, Boudicia headed to the cash register without hesitation. Looking over, a sturdy man stood there between the aforementioned cash register and the shelves buried with spray paint, and I did the same…But that’s where I told her we should turn back.

“Even you have no chance of beating him, Boo-san. There’s always an absolute difference in body weight when engaging in a physical fight like…”

“Calm down. Also, what is that even supposed to mean? Do you think of me as some wrestler?”

Rather, a wild beast. But of course, I didn’t dare say that out loud. And as we were having that exchange, the man in sandals spotted us and spoke up.

“…Boudicia? Now that’s a surprise. Getting to see your face is quite the delight.”

You are reading story Overwrite at novel35.com

The voice coming from the man turned out to be much more gentle than I could have imagined, deeply reverberating inside of me. It didn’t seem too surprising to him, to be honest. And the way he called her made it clear that they knew each other.

“Oh zip it, Aeon. Your body’s as freaky as always. Also, I bet you haven’t actually forgotten that I ask you to not call me by my name, right?” Boudicia bit back as she would with about anybody.

But compared to when she spoke to me or George, her voice seemed a lot more gentle.

“I think it suits you quite well.”

“Wanna fight, punk?”

“Negative. I was just trying to resolve things peacefully.”

The man called Aeon let out a faint laugh without his eyebrows moving even an inch. The contrast between his darker skin and white teeth was almost dazzling. Maybe it was because of the absolute difference in size between the two of us, but even looking at him made me instinctively realize I wouldn’t be able to win in a physical fight. His stature made it look like his spin was made out of steel beams, and it was unbefitting of the atmosphere the shop gave off.

“I wonder. But enough of that.” Boudicia didn’t bother continuing the conversation and instead pointed at me, flicking her thumb.

“Aeon, this guy’s Yoshi. He’s the Japanese from my part-time job.”

“Yoshi-san, hello. My name is Aeon.”

“Huh?”

The sound first entered my head, with the meaning coming in with a second delay. He actually spoke Japanese just now. Because I haven’t spoken much of it lately, it took me a second to realize. In a hurry, I responded in Japanese.

“My name is Yoshi. Nice to meet you, Aeon-san…Nice to meet you. You speak Japanese very well.”

When I returned to English mid-way through my greeting, Aeon seemed satisfied and continued with regular English.

“I am quite interested in the idea of Zen. I even visited Kyoto and Kamakura many times.”

“Despite his burly stature, he’s actually a bit of a spiritual fanatic.”

As the opposite of Boudicia laughing heartily, I could only nod to myself. He truly embodied the idea of Zen, so there was no arguing about that.

“And, I’m also a petty writer. Though it’s all plain graffiti and nothing to be boastful about.”

That also didn’t surprise me. Granted, his muscles were in a bit of contrast to the idea of an art supply store, but he did fit well standing in front of the wall of spray paint.

“Who’s petty?! This guy’s stroke control is on another level. If you let this guy write a tag at high pressure, there’s nobody in Bristol who can beat him. It’s seriously like Zen, or whatever!”

“Thanks, Boudicia. However, I simply was looking for an answer to my question. Right toward a wall, that is.”

Boudicia seemed oddly excited all of a sudden, but Aeon remained calm and collected always.

“How philosophical.”

“It’s simple. Art is a series of questions.”

“Not an answer?”

“An answer will immediately turn into another question. It’s the same.”

“What the hell?! Don’t just get excited without me!”

Boudicia must have been angry that she couldn’t participate in the conversation, as she slammed her hands down on the counter. Seeing that childish act, Aeon showed a warm smile.

“Boudicia, you should test your hand at mediation. It’ll help calm your feelings.”

“Shut it! When I achieve enlightenment, I’ll make sure to take you to Nirvana first on the list!”

“Haha, that is a very generous offer.”

“Boo-san, Nirvana isn’t hell. Rather, its concept is much closer to heaven.”

“Stop lying! Such a gloomy band could never be heaven!”

“Well, never mind that…”

As I was feeling dizzy from all the horrible misconceptions and proclamations that just reached my ears, I could hear Aeon muttering something.

“You two sure are close.”

“Huh? The hell are you talking about? In what world would we look like that to you? Your sunglasses shouldn’t influence your hearing, too.”

“Well, let’s just leave it at that,” Aeon said with a smile and clapped his hands. “Anyway, Boudicia. Which ones are you gonna buy? Get a big purchase and I’ll make it cheaper for you. I’ve waited this whole time, after all.”

He waited? What does he mean by that? But before I could say a thing, Boudicia threw in a sharp answer.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. Someone put graffiti on our store. Can’t say I’m too keen on getting involved, but letting this stand ain’t an option either!”

“Doing it while being fully aware that you’d be there definitely is rash. Though I think it’s just a bad coincidence.”

Listening to his words, I thought for a moment and then posed a question.

“Um…why is writing graffiti on a shop like that rash?”

“Good question, Yoshi.”Aeon raised his index finger and pointed at me. “One side of graffiti is the rivalry. Most writers have their designated areas where they conduct their work, and they see it as their own turf. If another artist writes their graffiti on that turf, it can very well be seen as a declaration of war.”

I had no idea such a culture existed. And that fact revealed another fact I had kept in my mind as a possibility.

“That means that Boo-san is also a writer, right?”

“Ack.”

“Not to mention quite the famous one?”

That would explain a lot.

“Hey now, Boudicia. You haven’t told him?”

“Oh, for the love of…I don’t like talking about boring stuff.”

I had expected something akin to that reaction, but Aeon’s follow-up definitely threw me for a loop.

“Not just famous. This lady here is a top-class graffiti writer. Nobody here in the area doesn’t know the Ghost of Bristol. And everyone’s saying that she’s a genius.”

During that explanation, Boudicia had an expression like she ran into a rotten apple while going through her fridge. And yet, Aeon spoke of it like a famous restaurant in a tourist area, his expression fulfilled and proud.

“I just said that graffiti’s rivalry in a way, but there are absolute unwritten rules. In this case, we say that ‘If you’re going to Overwrite something, write something that is more difficult to accomplish, or something that excels the former work.’”

“Overwrite…”

“That’s right. The walls here in town are limited, meaning that you have to write your own work over someone else’s. But, it has to be something more difficult and admirable than the one before. That’s how the rivalry in the field of graffiti came into existence.”

“Aeon, will you just…”

“And the Ghost of Bristol is a specialist at overwriting. Leave behind any poor graffiti and she’ll appear from the shadows to—”

That’s where Aeon’s explanation stopped. The reason for that was Boudicia slamming her left hand on the counter. The small flower pot on there shook greatly and almost toppled over, but Aeon grasped it just in time without even so much as blinking once. The flower inside still dangled a bit left and right.

“That’s not very nice, Boudicia. I strongly recommend you look into the art of mediation.” Aeon placed the flower bot back on the counter as he scolded Boudicia.

Unlike me, who was genuinely flustered because of this action, he was as calm as always.

“It’s your damn fault for not shutting up. And…my head is always empty, ‘kay?” Boudicia must have gotten a hold of herself, as she awkwardly stuffed her hands into her pockets and looked away while mumbling. “…Someone wrote on our shop window. Using a Montana beryl green.”

“Beryl green? Now that is…”

“Yeah, I’m sure of it. They’re on the move…Aeon, did anybody buy some of your beryl green lately?”

I listened to them that far when everything finally connected. I wondered why Boodica came here if Aeon wasn’t the culprit. But, that should have been obvious. She wanted to obtain information about the actual people who did this.

“I sadly cannot disclose personal information about my customers.”

“Not playing on sharing anything, huh?”

“I have no clue who you might be looking for…But, I feel a bit hungry right now. I’d love to go for some burritos at the Bearpit. And also…” Aeon crossed his arms and showed his white teeth. “If you’re gonna erase the graffiti, you’ll need a solvent, right?”

“Kah, goddamn chocolate bastard.”

“Affirmative. I am quite sweet, see. Especially towards talented artists.”

“Zip it!”

Despite this being evidently praise, Boudicia didn’t seem happy in the slightest. Instead, she took out a coin and slammed it on the counter.

“Here. Now gimme the solvent.”

“Thank you. Have a nice day.” He grabbed the coin and then went to get a bottle of solvent, placing it in front of Boudicia like a bartender handing over a drink to a customer.

She grabbed this with her left hand and then turned around.

“Let’s go, Yoshi.”

“Huh? Where to?”

“Did you even pay attention? To the Bearpit.”

With the solvent in one hand, Boudicia stepped out of the store and kept walking. I lined up next to her and asked.

“…Just who is Aeon-san?”

“A writer, duh?”

“Not that. He didn’t seem like just any writer.”

“Hell do I know.”

“I thought you knew since you’re acquainted.”

“Sure, but his graffiti is his alone. Not interested in any more than that.”

That comment left me slightly bewildered. Are all artists…or rather, all graffiti writers like that? While walking alongside Boudicia, I glanced over toward the town. So far, I considered it random doodles, but once I consciously looked around, I saw various types of graffiti in countless shapes written in all sorts of places. However, the graffiti I saw on that foggy day possessed so much pressure, it overwhelmed the unfamiliar me. The ones I see around here feel more like whims and ways to pass the time, lacking the impact I felt then. Granted, there were lots of types of graffiti, but compared to that lion, I couldn’t deny that these were lacking.

“…It doesn’t really feel like art.”

“You say something?”

“No, nothing.”

“You made fun of me, right?”

“Not in the slightest. I was just voicing a doubt I had.”

“You’re such an uptight bastard…” Boudicia didn’t even hide the fact she was fed up.

“Just call it a redeeming feature, please.”

“Heh, whatever. You’re not totally wrong, either.” Boudicia stopped in her tracks and pushed her fist against a wall with graffiti written on it. “If you ask me, this is just third-class at best,” she said and grinned. “Perfect timing. I’ll show you what real graffiti looks like.”

*

“That is a bear, right?”

“Ye. Name’s Ursa.”

I looked up at the giant bear called Ursa.

“Hello there.”

“As if someone would stand still to greet a bear.”

“I wanted to pay my respects, so to speak.”

“Totally weird.”

A few minutes going northeast from 8-Bit World, we reached the business district called Shopping Quarter, which offered galleries and the Cabot Circus inside a shopping mall that acted as the city center of Bristol. The plaza located in the center there seems to carry the name Bearpit. The sculpture of the namesake bear Ursa was acting as the symbol here. Call it a sculpture, it wasn’t actually made of wood or stone, but rather a combination of black and white plates. Its shape reminded you of polygons, creating a feeling rarely seen in today’s art. It stood on two legs, and when you moved closer, you’d have to look up at it. It was bigger than an actual bear, which created greater pressure than from a distance. Boudicia walked away from the bear and toward the plaza, as I asked.

“Why did we come here?”

“If the color’s beryl green, then it must have been done by the crew who use this place as their nest.”

“Crew…”

“A graffiti team, so to speak. For the people who can’t write graffiti if they don’t group up. And the beryl green’s the team color of their crew.”

I had no idea such a system existed. I always assumed that graffiti was something you’d write on your own.

“Just to let you know…Don’t do anything rash. Some guys here can be a bit blood-thirsty.”

“What?”

Boudicia turned towards me and dropped an absolute bombshell of terror.

“Well, just relax and everything will work out.”

“I don’t think that accounts for anything I would call proper advice.”

“Stop being a little scaredy cat. Let’s go.”

The Bearpit was a circular space one set of stairs lower than its surroundings. Going down these and through a tunnel, you’d get access to the larger area. Finally, the name Bearpit finally clicked in my mind. What surprised me the most were the walls at these stairs and the passage we walked through. Every single inch was full of graffiti to the point calling it buried would be an understatement.

“Wow…”

Put in simple words, it was disarrayed. Rectangular letters, people’s faces, weird characters, realistic animals…So many images, with even more colors, mixed together to overwhelm me at every step. It’s not that every single piece of graffiti possessed immeasurable beauty and quality, but the overall energy this sight created was overwhelming. I realized that this is what graffiti was all about.

“Wow…This is completely different from the art of an art museum.”

“Yeah. You don’t wanna put graffiti in the same category as the dead art at the museum and gallery. Graffiti’s alive.”

It was an excessive statement, but the power I felt here left me unable to disagree.

“…Why are you writing graffiti?”

“Hm?”

“I was wondering why the people who wrote the graffiti worked this hard, and what went through their minds.”

It was a genuine question in my mind. They can produce something so awe-inspiring, yet they can’t even sell it. In fact, it goes against the ideals and rules of society. And yet, I can feel such passion and desire from the graffiti here.

“Hmmm…To write even better graffiti, I guess?”

I remembered the unwritten rule of graffiti that Aeon taught me. If you’re going to overwrite graffiti, it has to be more complicated or better done than the previous one. It’s the rhythm that drives the writers forward and brings the harmony to keep pushing graffiti to greater heights.

“You need some serious determination to overwrite. You gotta win, or you’re done for. Because if your version sucks, you’ll get overwritten immediately. It’s a genuine fight.”

Despite the disturbing statement, Boudicia spoke with a gentle and warm tone, like she was caressing a pet she had kept for years.

“…And, when you finish one that has you going ‘This one’s so awesome!’, it’ll stay for a while without being overwritten.”

It was perfectly logical. Overwriting something while abiding to the unspoken rule, your work will definitely stay a lot longer without being overwritten. And to a writer, that must be such a prestige.

“That’s exactly it. It feels like…it’s all alive.”

I gasped and looked at Boudicia’s profile. She had such a saddened and lonely expression on her face, I felt the need to say something.

“Um…”

“Hm? What?”

“Isn’t there one…you’ve written, Boo-san?”

She didn’t answer my question and just pointed at a corner of the tunnel. There, I spotted a small ghost with the words BOO written next to it. It was a round ghost that had fangs growing, but it looked more adorable than scary. It reminded me of a character from a game I played years and years ago. The character would approach you when you had your back turned towards it, but when you directly looked at it, it would hide its face with a flustered expression. Teasing it like this was so much fun, I did it all the time. And to be honest, it resembles Boudicia in a way.

“Just this one?”

The reason I asked something this insensitive without thinking is that I had such a familiar sight in front of me that made me careless. When I realized I shouldn’t have said that, it was already too late.

“Yeah. That one’s just a small sign left. The rest was all overwritten,” Boudicia said.

She spoke with a nonchalant tone, but her expression was enough. She was smiling, evidently holding back something. And yet, I didn’t know what to say. Seeing me stuck without a response, Boudicia continued with a cheerful tone.

“Don’t make that face now. I just lost…That’s all there is to it. I’m not a genius or anything. And this wall is the proof for that, so no use being bothered by it.” Boudicia moved away from the wall and did a long stretch, ending with a yawn.

From then on, she turned her back toward me without saying a word and started walking again. That sight of her reminded me of a stray cat. With its tail standing high and an empty stomach. But I didn’t know what to say, so I quickly chased after her.

“More importantly…”

We passed through the tunnel and stopped in a corner of the plaza. Stopped there was a green bus. For a second, I was bewildered at the existence of a bus inside a plaza like this, but it all made sense. The letters Bearito were written on it with paint. It must be a pun on bear and burrito. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cringe at it. And looking closer, I could see what looked like a menu written on a blackboard next to it. It seemed to be a small restaurant.

There stood several tables with chairs in front of the bus, allowing customers to eat while being seated. A relatively small but bulky man with very white skin was currently cleaning one of those. The baseball cap he wore had the profile of a queen inside a circle imprinted on it. I feel like I’ve seen that coin before, but as I hadn’t been living here for too long, I couldn’t clearly remember. And despite me feeling a bit anxious at the sight of that man, Boudicia walked toward him without hesitation.

“Hey.”

“Heya.”

“Two burritos. Can you deliver them for us?”

“Huh? Sorry there, but we don’t offer that kinda service. Please just give us a moment to get them ready,” the chubby man said with a somewhat perturbed tone.

“One I’d like you to get to the art supply store at Park Street. The other…will go to a game shop called 8-Bit World.” Boudicia kept her gaze sharp as she continued her words like slicing away at some meat.

He could have feigned innocence. However, as the man’s expression distorted in terror, it spoke more than a thousand words. No mistaking it—He’s our guy.

“Bullseye, eh? So you did it!” Boudicia grabbed the collar of the man as he staggered backward, questioning him further.

“Eeek! I-It wasn’t me! Or rather, it wasn’t just me!”

“Hey, Peni! What’s going on out there.”

The shriek of the chubby man must have reached the inside of the bus, as another man poked out his head with a nonchalant voice that was deeply mismatched considering the situation. I could even tell from here that he was a good bit taller than his friend, wearing blackish-green eyeglasses. His orange-colored hair and beard were equally thick and hairy.

“This one’s dangerous! She’s a beast!”

“If I’m a beast, then you’re the feast. Out with the truth or I’ll chew you up, you piggy.”

“Eeeeek?! Save meee!”

The chubby man called Peni pleaded for help. He might be able to break free from Boudicia’s grasp if he really tried, but he probably lost all strength because of the pressure she put on him.

“Mhm, yeah. This one’s bad. Her eyes are bad. Everything is bad. Don’t get involved with her.” The man inside the bus nonchalantly said so as he caressed his beard.

“It’s already too late, though…”

“What’s with that long yet narrow bod of yours anyway? You some giraffe?” Boudicia glared at the man inside the bus.

As if to respond to that specific comment, the man bent his back to step out of the bus and walked toward us.

“You’ve got guts, lady. My name’s JF. I’m responsible for the coffee at this establishment, and my friend Peni there handles the burritos. We’re two-in-one. And if you lay our hands on my partner, you won’t get off scot-free.”

Boudicia let go of Peni and then turned to face JF, who looked down at her.

“…Right. I get it. That means you two did it. You know a place called 8-Bit World?”

“Ah, that store!”

“Cat’s outta the bag…”

Boudicia glared at the two of them.

“So you guys came to mess our shit up, eh?”

“But, um, so, well, do you have proof?”

“That’s right! We demand proof!”

“Not even willing to admit it? Well then, maybe I should start spreading rumors that the writers of this place are shitty writers who sell awful burritos all around Bristol.”

“Ugh…”

“Th-That’s dirty!”

“Let me ask you again. You guys did it, right?” Boudicia’s sharp glare pierced the two of them.

The two grew pale and looked at each other, finally surrendering.

“We’re very sorry!”

“We were the ones who did it!”

What is this, even? With just a small graffiti, she managed to trace down the culprits in such a short time. And as Boudicia was unaware of my shock and bewilderment, she continued to put more pressure on the other two.

“All right, I won’t hand you over to the police. Instead, I’ll have you erase the graffiti.”

“But we have our restaurant…”

“Everyone in the Bearpit will starve.”

“Say that again. If you’ve got time to complain, then I’ll stuff your mouths full of spray cans. Got it?”

“Scary! Too scary!”

“That won’t fit! That definitely won’t fit!”

“I’m asking if you got it!”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Yesh!”

After that, Boudicia had the two make two burritos, slammed the solvent on the table and handed them masks to get them to erase the graffiti. JF was even ordered to deliver the burrito directly to Aeon’s store. Oh yeah, he mentioned that he wanted to eat a burrito earlier…Maybe this is some sort of payment for giving us the information?

As for Peni, he was utterly terrified of Boudicia until the very end. I even started to feel bad for him, but erasing the graffiti he created was a fitting punishment. Boudicia was Boudicia, still showing proper manners to pay for the two burritos. She sat on her usual chair, watching Peni erase the graffiti as he was crying his heart out, munching on the beef and cheese burrito.

I observed this scenery and was filled with profound emotions. Not even a few hours ago, I didn’t even know what kind of drawing I was looking at. And yet, Boudicia figured it out in a matter of hours and even dragged the culprit here to erase the graffiti. Being guided by her, I encountered so many people and witnessed so many things, and yet—I still didn’t know a thing. About graffiti…and Boudicia herself.

“Boo-san.”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you very much.”

“Huh? Why’re you thanking me?”

“I was just happy about this new experience I got to make today.”

“The heck? Totally weird.”

She flashed a wry smile as her translucent blue eyes, filled with light, gazed outside the store. And at the same time, I felt a strong desire to learn more about the kind of scenery she had captured in her eyes.

Column 1

What is graffiti?

One of Banksy’s representative works, located in the city center of Bristol: Mild Mild West.

A type of street art that revolves around writing and drawing various things on walls or public places using spray paint or pens. The artists are usually referred to as “writers.” It began as simple drawings and doodles of one’s own artist name until it exploded and mixed in with modern hip-hop culture. With the birth of the ‘Overwrite’ rule, namely, to write something more outstanding than the previous art, a rivalry and contest aspect was added to the art of graffiti. With many cases revolving around property damage, strictness around the creation of graffiti arose, when it moved from regular street art to various other aspects in the 90s. Even so, a lot of artists are still active in the scene. Not only did it greatly influence the art world, but also fashion and design.

Famous artists are Banksy, Keith Haring, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and more.

You can find story with these keywords: Overwrite, Read Overwrite, Overwrite novel, Overwrite book, Overwrite story, Overwrite full, Overwrite Latest Chapter