"..."
With her brows furrowed, Nijika stared seriously at Summer's Bloom. The mixture of confusion and melancholy on her face piqued the curiosity of the blonde woman beside her.
From her appearance alone, she was just a cute high school girl who clearly didn't know the first thing about fine art. So why was she making that kind of expression?
The girl's face made the woman raise an eyebrow. Her voice was calm as she asked, "You seem to see something different in this painting?"
"Eh? I don't really know anything about this stuff..."
Suddenly addressed, Nijika flailed her pale hands in flustered denial, her head shaking rapidly like a rattle drum. But even so, the fleeting hesitation in her eyes didn't escape the keen gaze of the blonde woman.
Such an unusual emotional response was truly unexpected.
"It's fine. Just say whatever comes to mind."
"Eh...?"
Her gaze darting away, Nijika looked again at Summer's Bloom, lips half-parted in hesitation. But in the end, her tangled thoughts were drowned out by a swell of emotion.
"Maybe it's... something about the light and shadow? The color and lighting in this painting seem really impressive?"
Nijika didn't understand the art of painting at all.
To her, visual art was far more abstract and difficult than music, which anyone could grasp. There was no way she could judge the quality of a piece. Even the most striking paintings only got a simple "Wow, that's amazing" from her at best.
Her understanding of painting was that of an average person.
And yet, even as someone so ordinary, she felt something different about this painting.
"But I think... maybe just like you said, big sis, the artist didn't really pour any deep emotion into it. I imagine that while holding the oil brush, they probably had a stiff, blank expression."
"But when they finally finished Summer's Bloom, I bet they were smiling."
As she spoke, a small laugh escaped her lips.
With her hands behind her back, the petite blonde girl rose lightly onto her toes. The orange-yellow backpack on her back made her look like some kind of flower spirit from a fairytale, vivid and pure. At some point, the gleam in her red eyes had softened into a gentle, tranquil glow.
It was as if she longed to reach out and touch the painting itself, and she lifted her right hand toward the air as if to grasp it.
No one but him could have painted this.
The gentle smile in her memory slowly overlapped with the image before her, and her thoughts began to drift skyward.
Beside her, the blonde woman stared in stunned silence at the girl who stood there smiling. Dressed in her kimono, she exhaled heavily as though forcing down the shock in her chest, then spoke in a voice layered with meaning:
"...I really didn't expect you to give that kind of answer."
Hearing that, Nijika panicked and quickly bowed in apology. "S-sorry! I really don't know anything, I just said what I felt..."
"No, you were right."
The blonde woman's expression remained cool as she tucked her hands into the wide sleeves of her kimono. Her gaze grew more serious as she explained, "The brilliance of this painting lies in its 'light' and 'color.' The way it uses light and shadow is so advanced, it's practically in another league from the rest of the art world. That's why I called it monstrous."
"It's hard to believe someone under twenty painted it."
Genius? No, this went beyond genius.
Even those ancient masters of Impressionism, famed for their use of color, would likely bow in reverence to this level of skill.
And yet, this monster-level artistry had somehow ended up in a youth exhibition like the Japan Young Artists Collective Exhibition?
This piece was like dropping an Beast Bomb in a parking lot, an overwhelming force that crushed everything else and seized the highest prize with ease. An artist of this caliber couldn't possibly be unknown.
And yet, she didn't recognize the name at all.
"You described it very well. That was an excellent interpretation."
"R-really?"
Being suddenly praised by such a professional made Nijika scratch her cheek in embarrassment, but before the joy could rise, it was already pushed down by more complicated emotions.
Because it wasn't that she understood art. Rather, it was simply that she was deeply familiar with the style of this particular painting that was the only reason she could describe it so precisely. The words she spoke had come from instinct alone.
But as her guess was confirmed by an expert, that absurd idea she had buried deep inside began to rise from the depths like an iceberg surfacing in open sea.
Still, Nijika didn't dare to confirm it.
The storm of emotion surging in her chest wouldn't allow her to ignore the details anymore. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest. Forcing a gentle smile, she turned her gaze to the plaque beside Summer's Bloom.
There it was, written clearly:
"Yuuka?"
Nijika's breath caught.
That artistic pseudonym, at once unfamiliar and strangely recognizable, froze her in place.
The blonde woman in the kimono narrowed her amber-gold eyes and spoke thoughtfully, "Yuuka is his pen name. As for his real name, that's still unknown."
Waves of thoughts and memories surged into her mind.
The figure who always sat before a canvas, that familiar presence, began to overlap with the image of the one in her heart.
Nijika's crimson eyes trembled violently. Fragmented memories echoed in her head.
The warmth of being held when training didn't go well. The comfort of dozing on his shoulder when she was exhausted. The way she'd cling to him like a child when things became overwhelming. That stretch of irreplaceable, joyful, love-filled time was rushing back alongside all the confusion.
Both her emotions and her instincts were telling her the same thing, what she had guessed was likely true.
Nijika lowered her slightly dimmed red eyes. She pushed down the chaos and uncertainty in her heart and forced a gentle smile as her gaze remained on the plaque.
"...Thank you so much for talking with me. But I just remembered I have something to take care of..."
With only a few words of polite farewell, the thoroughly flustered blonde girl turned and walked away.
Staying lost in confusion wouldn't solve anything. She needed to find the answer.
…
In the autumn air of Hanasakigawa, that distinct youthfulness of an all-girls high school still lingered.
The late autumn sunlight filtered through the golden leaves above and spilled across the delicate, pale face of a black-haired girl. Sitting beneath a tall ginkgo tree with a panda-print lunchbox in her lap, Shiina Taki casually popped an octopus-shaped sausage into her mouth using her chopsticks.
Clack.sfx
A familiar black can of coffee landed beside her. Standing before her with her own lunchbox was the expressionless Yahata Umiri.
"Mind if I sit?"
"...You don't have to ask. If you want to sit, just sit."
With Taki's indifferent permission, Umiri sat down without a word. The two of them silently gazed out at the sunlit sports field.
In this all-girls school, scenes of girls sweating and chasing their dreams were an everyday occurrence but for the two of them, it was a world they didn't quite belong to.
Umiri looked up at the endless blue sky, her thoughts tangled and uneasy.
Ever since Kazami Haru had asked her out on a date, she'd been caught in deep reflection. Unable to say no, but also unable to say yes, she wasn't acting like her usual unruffled self. Being asked out had been so unexpected that she still couldn't process it.
After all, compared to Taki sitting beside her, she didn't exactly ooze femininity.
Suppressing the chaotic swirl in her chest, Umiri outwardly remained composed as she asked casually, "So, how did it go?"
"I already told you I'm not thinking about that right now..."
"I meant your band's performance."
Umiri's pale green eyes rose calmly, carrying an inscrutable look as she glanced at the girl beside her, the one who always seemed to self-destruct at the worst moments.
"Huh...?"
Taki's fair cheeks flushed red at visible speed. Holding her lunchbox tightly, she stumbled over her words, unable to respond properly. "The performance... it went pretty well, I guess? From start to finish, everything went smoothly this time."
"And what about him?"
Umiri dropped the question casually.
"So you were aiming for that all along?!"
The quiet peace they'd been enjoying instantly shattered. Taki's embarrassed groan practically took on physical form.
Watching her squirm, Umiri let a small smile lift the corners of her lips, as if she'd been waiting for this exact reaction from Taki.
Maybe it was because Taki always wore her heart on her sleeve, always made her emotions so plain. From that alone, Umiri could start to sense what was going on. Still keeping her face calm, she spoke lightly:
"From the look of it, things seem to be moving forward. Have you decided to accept his confession?"
Taki snapped her head up, her violet eyes flaring with a touch of guilt as she replied, "Of course not. I'd never say yes to a guy who's two-timing... or more."
"Then why not just reject him outright?"
Umi Umiri's emotionless question struck like an arrow through the heart, making Taki, who was already flustered and defensive, freeze in place.
The truth was, Taki understood her own feelings all too well.
At first, she had been firmly opposed to Haru's "harem antics." But somewhere along the way, she had started to take them in stride. Especially when she saw Soyo and that pink-haired girl openly flirting though she spoke against it, a strange feeling had settled deep in her chest.
She had originally planned to support Tomori in confessing to him and yet, when Tomori turned her affections toward her instead, Taki's heart had begun to falter.
If that idiot Haru confessed to her again... could she really hold herself back?
Her hesitation didn't escape Umiri's notice. Watching her friend silently, she steadied her own thoughts and spoke flatly:
"If you like him that much and can't let go, why not stop resisting and just join already?"
"If you keep dragging it out, maybe you won't be the one who walks away in the end."
Umiri's quiet warning made Taki's heart tremble. She understood perfectly, this was Umiri giving her a nudge as a friend. Taking a deep breath, Taki slowly shook her head.
Then she lifted her amethyst gaze with rare seriousness and fixed it on the calm, elegant girl beside her.
"I'll face it sooner or later. But what about you, Umiri?"
"You like him too, don't you? Don't you have any plans of your own?"
Dropping her stubborn front, Taki seized the momentum in an instant. Umiri didn't respond. Her hand wrapped around the aluminum can of coffee, her jet-black hair resting gently on her shoulders.
After a pause, she sipped from the can and said in a bland voice, "I only said that to push you. I don't have feelings for Kazami-kun outside of friendship."
"A push?"
Taki frowned, her sharp eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"You're not the kind of person who tosses out a confession like it's nothing."
"Umiri, why are you lying to me?"
Taki's growing seriousness and furrowed brow caught Umiri a little off guard.
She might've worn her emotions on her sleeve, but Taki had sharp instincts, sharper than most. As her friend, she knew Umiri too well to believe such a flimsy excuse.
Just a few minutes ago, Umiri had sliced through Taki's defenses with a single sentence. Now, the boomerang had come flying back.
"Some lies are only meant to fool yourself, you know?"
Umiri looked down, recalling what Misumi Uika had said to her once.
That day, Uika had worn her usual soft smile, but behind it, Umiri had sensed something else pity, maybe even sympathy. Like she wasn't looking at just one person, but at all of them at once.
Looks like there was no avoiding it now.
"...Actually, Kazami asked me out on a date the other day."
"What?"
Taki's lips parted in disbelief, her violet eyes wide in shock.
She had assumed Umiri was hesitant because Haru had rejected her confession. But now, hearing that he had actually invited her out, she didn't know what to think. Maybe that so-called "confession" hadn't even happened. Maybe Umiri had made it all up.
"When did that idiot even... wait, you mean you're going to go on a date with him?"
Umiri slowly closed her eyes and shook her head.
"No. I'm planning to turn him down."
"Turn him down? Why?"
Taki stared at her, bewildered. But her sharp instincts kicked in again. Suddenly, her gaze narrowed.
She rose to her feet, standing beside Umiri, and glared down at her with piercing eyes.
"Umiri, what's that supposed to mean?"
"You like him, and yet you lie to my face... and now you're rejecting his invitation? Are you telling me you've already given up? Just because he turned you down once? Does that really sound like you?"
Umiri lifted her head to meet Taki's glare, still wearing her usual blank expression. Since becoming friends, she had never seen Taki look this cold.
She didn't answer, but her silence only fueled Taki's growing fury. Her emotions boiled over, rising fast and furious.
"Or are you holding back because of something else?"
Still expressionless, Umiri took another sip of coffee and closed her eyes.
"Who knows."
Her flat tone was the final straw.
Taki breathed deeply, trying to hold back her anger, but Umiri's unbothered posture left her seething.
"Here. Take it back."
She slammed the can of KISS coffee down on the bench, then turned sharply and strode away with her panda lunchbox in hand, her brows tightly furrowed.
Umiri sat in silence, watching her go. Her pale green eyes stared up at the endless sky, but even its vastness couldn't ease the storm in her chest.
So this is what it's come to...
"..."
She had planned to reject Kazami Haru.
Turning her head slightly, Umiri picked up the can of KISS coffee Taki had left behind. The sting of those cold words still echoed in her ears.
Suddenly, a familiar figure stepped out from behind a nearby tree.
Misumi Uika, who had apparently been standing there for some time, wore a faint smile on her face. Under Umiri's indifferent gaze, she slowly sat down beside her. The fingers of her right hand, still holding a can of coffee, had gone pale from how tightly she was gripping it.
"Since when were you into eavesdropping?"
"...I was just passing by, you know. Really didn't expect things to turn out like this."
Uika let out a long sigh, as if trying to exhale all the tension and bitterness in her heart. Bracing her hands on the edge of the bench, she looked up at the sky and said with a wry, half-jealous tone:
"If you're not planning to go on that date, maybe I should just go in your place?"
"Suit yourself."
Umiri replied with her usual aloofness, unmoved by the suggestion. That cool detachment added another trace of sorrow to Uika's eyes.
"That's not really an option, is it?"
"Because Haru doesn't like me at all."
The painful smile on the blonde girl's face made Umiri's heart tighten without warning. The raw sorrow in her voice pierced right through the barriers between them, and for a moment, Umiri didn't know how to respond.
While she had been listening to the conversation earlier, Uika's heart had already been pushed to the edge by anxiety and confusion.
And now... was she the only one left?
"If you really like him, then stop hesitating."
"Otherwise, you'll definitely regret it."
Umiri's eyes widened in surprise. Uika, still smiling, stood up slowly. Her violet eyes carried a faint glimmer, and her tone was light, almost teasing.
"That's what you said to Shiina-san earlier, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you're planning to do, Umiri. But me... no matter what, I'm not giving up."
Leaving those words behind, Uika turned and walked away, leaving only Umiri sitting silently on the bench.