The door to the rooftop creaked softly as Ryuya stepped back inside, the restless energy refusing to settle. The stairwell was quiet yet hummed with echoes of the floors beyond.

He descended slowly as steps and thoughts blurred together. 

Landing on the third floor, Ryuya paused, his grip on the railing tightening. 

His gaze floated through the hallway next to him.

The thought of going back lingered just enough to make him hesitate, weighing the solace he’d just found into exhausting rounds of hesitations—

Letting the day dissolve like the ones before.

Or going back.

His gaze drifted to the window, staring absently, tracing the slowly spreading patterns of the rain. 

The choice before him demanded more than he had and for a second, he just wished someone would make it for him. 

“Ryuya?”

The voice broke softly into his thoughts, light but distinct. He turned his head, his gaze catching on a familiar figure approaching from down the hall.

The girl from earlier—her expression calm, her steps unhurried, as though her presence here was the most natural thing in the world.

She offered him a faint smile as she stopped a few steps away.

“I was just heading downstairs,” She said lightly.

Ryuya’s hand stilled against the railing, but he didn’t respond immediately. “Were you on the roof ?” she asked, her tone carrying no judgment.

“Yeah.”

She nodded faintly in return, as though the answer required no further elaboration.

“It’s a good spot,” she said, as her gaze drifted to the window.

“I get why you’d go there.”

Her words settled gently between them, unassuming and easy.

Ryuya’s grip eased slightly.

“Class is done for me so I was actually heading to the clubroom,” she said, motioning faintly toward the staircase.

“I could grab your sketchbook if you want ?”

Ryuya exhaled faintly, the sound more of a soft release than a sigh.

Sanae’s smile softened.

He nodded, his hand letting go of the railing as she turned toward the staircase..

Sanae walked with softness, each step seemed to deliberately linger just enough, a steady and calming rhythm..

The faint murmur of voices grew louder as they approached the second floor. The air felt more alive there, with a quiet energy that made the walls feel less distant.

The art club was just ahead, Sanae glanced back. “Here we are,” she said simply, stepping ahead to nudge the door open.

The room stretched wide.

Rows of easels, some bearing canvases in various stages of becoming, others holding blank potential. A few students were there, filling the air with the faint sounds of creation. One at a desk, another at an easel.

Ryuya lingered at the threshold, Sanae glanced back at him.

“Come on,” she said lightly.

She moved inside, her posture easy. Ryuya followed, a pace away.

“I think your sketchbook’s in the cabinet,” Sanae said, motioning toward the back of the room. His gaze flicked briefly to the canvas next to him—a landscape with muted colors.

“It’s mine, It’s not finished though—” Sanae said over her shoulder as she walked toward the cabinet. “But you can tell, right? What it’s supposed to be?”

“A mountain ?”

“Yeah.” she replied, glancing back with a faint smile. 

The faint hum of the room settled around him. Brushes whispered against canvases, the muted scrape of pencils filling the space.

The rain outside tapped softly against the windows, shaping the room into this isolated cocoon.

Sanae opened the cabinet with a soft creak. Ryuya didn't move.

After a moment, she straightened, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Hmm.. That’s strange,” she murmured, glancing back at him.

Ryuya's gaze shifted back to her, she was stepping toward him.

“I swear it was there yesterday. Someone must’ve moved it.” Her eyes scanned the room. His expression didn’t shift.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, looking away.

Sanae turned fully toward him, her expression softening.

“It’s probably just been misplaced. I’ll check with Emi later—”

Ryuya didn’t answer.

“You’re welcome to wait here, she's bound to turn up soon.”

A beat.

The thought lodged itself in his chest, his eyes swept the room—before he finally nodded, the motion heavier than it should have been.

They both moved back, Sanae grabbed a nearby stool, setting it up next to hers before she sat in front of her canvas. Ryuya hesitated but moved toward it, lowering himself with quiet indifference.

“So.. Is it what you expected ?” She asked.

“It’s quiet.”

“Yeah it is," Sanae said casually as she slowly reached forward.

"The showcase's coming up so a lot of us have to focus right now,”

She grabbed a brush from the easel tray. The palette lay on the table beside her, a chaotic mix of greens and browns spreading out like a tiny abstract painting of its own. 

“Some prefer to work at home—" She dipped her brush. "Some others would rather just hang around, the ones that are here now are mostly those who like the calm.” 

Something pulled in his head, the weight of uncertainty, he exhaled quietly, nodding along.

“Hope this isn’t too much for you.” Sanae said, a hint of concern in her voice. 

“It’s fine,” he said as the sensation loosened. “Just tired.”

“You didn’t sleep much?” Sanae’s brush paused mid-stroke, her gaze flicked toward him briefly before returning to the canvas.

“I guess.” he answered flatly.

Sanae nodded faintly—her gaze lingered on her canvas—his drifted back to the window, noticing the rain’s patter growing slightly louder.

The silence stretched—his attention dissolving in the quiet.

“It must be boring for you..”

Ryuya's focus snapped back in a blink.

He glanced at Sanae—she was staring at her painting with an unreadable expression, completely detached from the warmth she displayed earlier.

That look—he wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or the painting in front of her, but it felt familiar, the kind of weight he recognized in himself.

“Paintings like mine—"

Sanae sighed softly.

"Don’t really strike me as the thing that’d inspire someone like you.”

A faint smile appeared at the edge of her words, though it carried something else, something heavy.

He stayed silent for a moment, not sure how to respond or if he should respond at all. 

Instead, he looked at the streaks of green blending together on her canvas. It was true, in a sense—her painting didn’t stir anything in him. But then again—he’d never paid attention to someone else’s work before, he’d only seen Rika draw, and the comparison felt unfair. 

His gaze came back to her, she appeared different, her expression withdrawn. Sanae glanced at him briefly before letting out a resigned sigh.

“I don’t really know what inspires me,”  he said, surprising even himself.

Sanae's gaze shifted to him, staring at him with a perplexed expression.

“..I’m not used to seeing art.” he followed shortly.

“How come?”  Her gaze lingered on his face awkwardly, her eyes dissecting him, or so he thought.

Ryuya took a second to gather himself.

“I never really cared, I guess?” He answered tentatively.

“Ever been to a gallery before?” She asked.

Ryuya shook his head. 

“So how did you start drawing? Was it something you’ve always done or..?” Sanae insisted.   

“It’s more of a recent thing.” He answered dispassionately, shoving his hands into his pockets..

Sanae’s expression was unreadable—like nothing he said made any sense. He’d answered her truthfully but with each answer, he felt the distance grow wider.

“How recent..?” She asked softly.

“A few months?” He replied hesitantly.

“It’s because of my sister.” He added, his tone clipped.

Sanae figdeted with her brush.

“Is she a famous artist or something?” she asked.

“She’s six.” he answered quickly, letting out an exhale before following “She'd just make me draw with her… I guess at some point I started to do it on my own.”

Sanae's expression seemed to soften, her earlier smile resurfacing though he wasn’t sure why.

“That’s sweet,” she said softly.

Ryuya shrugged yet he could feel the earlier tension dissipating. Also, it seemed Sanae got her motivation back, as she brought her brush to the canvas once again.

The door slid open—

Cutting through the room’s rhythm—

Footsteps followed—

deliberate and sharp..

Ryuya didn’t need to look to feel the shift in the air.