A blur, a rhythm, for a while that’s how the days felt, something neither comforting nor disturbing. 

Ryuya would go to class—sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening—and spend the rest of his time at home with Rika. Her recovery was slow, at first. She still shuffled around the house in a quilt, too sleepy to bother him much, But as the days passed, she began to stir.

A giggle here and there.

Her appetite was back too. She’d stealthily steal snacks from the kitchen, unaware of how obvious she was. 

“...”

“Why don’t you go out more?” 

And now her voice was back.

Pestering him over lunch.

“I go to school.” He answered, flat and disinterested, rising to carry their bowls to the sink.

“I go to school too” She answered, her tone was matter-of-fact as if the distinction was obvious.

Ryuya exhaled, not in the mood to humor her. “I got to study as well.”  He added quickly but; even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t much of an excuse.

At this point, keeping up with school wasn’t difficult. 

Accommodations were arranged around his attendance, the clinic and school stayed in touch, smoothed out the cracks in his routine.

At this point, he was used to this rhythm.

Rika’s words lingered though.

Yet, the idea of being outside too long, to blank out at the wrong time, in the wrong place…

It was enough to kill the prospect right then and there.

The buzz had retreated during this time, he’d still have moments where the ground felt shaky, moments of doubts where he’d be vigilant of any shifts. But nothing ever escalated.

As the days stretched on, Sanae became a quiet fixture in his routine, she’d greet him during breaks, and often she’d drag him to the club where he’d linger just enough to satisfy her without committing.

Emi, on the other hand, was harder to ignore.

Their paths crossed more than he liked, yet she wasn’t seeking him out like before. 

If he entered the clubroom and she was there, she’d leave soon after. In class, he’d feel her gaze—fleeting, quick, barely lingering before flicking away.

Ryuya didn’t know what to make of it. Didn’t know if he should feel relieved, or just uneasy. 

But honestly, as long as she didn’t pester him, it didn’t matter.

    Conversations wove together into a rhythm that didn’t require thought—just noise and movement. Emi sat with her friends near the vending machines in the schoolyard.

    “—I swear, he was staring the whole time,” Mina was saying, her voice tilting upward in exaggerated exasperation. 

    “Like, I get it, we were in the same class last year, but do you really have to burn a hole through my face?”

    Across from her, Chiyo laughed, stirring the last of her drink with her straw. “Maybe you should’ve waved,” she teased. “Give him a real reason to panic.”

    They laughed again, sharp and loud, she did too, at least she tried.

    Why am I even here..

    The thought rose.. She could even predict the flow of conversation before it happened. 

    Chiyo’s teasing. 

    Mina bringing up a test, a teacher, an inside joke from last semester that would only be funny to the people here. 

    And now she could even hear herself, noticing her own voice interjecting and reacting.

    “…Emi?”

    She blinked, her attention snapping back. Mina’s gaze was on her.

    “Hm?”

    “I said, are you hanging out with us this weekend ?” Mina repeated, nudging Emi’s arm lightly. “or are you too good for us now ?”

    “I'm busy.” 

    The words came too quickly, she’d reacted before she could catch them and they sounded too sharp. 

    Quiet followed, stretching just enough to feel awkward. 

    “Got an art thing this weekend,” She added, her voice sculpted for credibility, hopefully it’d clear the fog away.

    Chiyo leaned in, her chin resting against her palm, her gaze expectant. 

    “And how’s your new masterpiece coming along?”

    A pause. Breath caught her throat. Emi looked away for a second.

    Enough for herself to notice.

     “Still in progress” She answered quickly.

    A lie— maybe she should have told the truth..

    That she had already started over twice, that every brushstroke felt wrong, that every time she tried to commit to an idea, it felt hollow, fake and forced..

    That she failed to produce anything she could display without feeling disgusted.

    That letting the sketchbook go should’ve solved this…?

    That it needed to..? 

    That now she sat painfully aware that it didn’t fix anything..?

    That she felt like a fool for even thinking it would..?

    That, maybe.. keeping it would’ve been better..

    “…”

    Someone said something she didn’t catch, and the table broke into laughter. Emi exhaled, a practiced smile returning to her lips. 

    It was easier this way.  She picked up her drink, took a slow sip, and let the conversation move on, picking up her part.

A blur, a rhythm, for a while that’s how the days felt, something neither comforting nor disturbing. 

Ryuya would go to class—sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening—and spend the rest of his time at home with Rika. Her recovery was slow, at first. She still shuffled around the house in a quilt, too sleepy to bother him much, But as the days passed, she began to stir.

A giggle here and there.

Her appetite was back too. She’d stealthily steal snacks from the kitchen, unaware of how obvious she was. 

“...”

“Why don’t you go out more?” 

And now her voice was back.

Pestering him over lunch.

“I go to school.” He answered, flat and disinterested, rising to carry their bowls to the sink.

“I go to school too” She answered, her tone was matter-of-fact as if the distinction was obvious.

Ryuya exhaled, not in the mood to humor her. “I got to study as well.”  He added quickly but; even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t much of an excuse.

At this point, keeping up with school wasn’t difficult. 

Accommodations were arranged around his attendance, the clinic and school stayed in touch, smoothed out the cracks in his routine.

At this point, he was used to this rhythm.

Rika’s words lingered though.

Yet, the idea of being outside too long, to blank out at the wrong time, in the wrong place…

It was enough to kill the prospect right then and there.

The buzz had retreated during this time, he’d still have moments where the ground felt shaky, moments of doubts where he’d be vigilant of any shifts. But nothing ever escalated.

As the days stretched on, Sanae became a quiet fixture in his routine, she’d greet him during breaks, and often she’d drag him to the club where he’d linger just enough to satisfy her without committing.

Emi, on the other hand, was harder to ignore.

Their paths crossed more than he liked, yet she wasn’t seeking him out like before. 

If he entered the clubroom and she was there, she’d leave soon after. In class, he’d feel her gaze—fleeting, quick, barely lingering before flicking away.

Ryuya didn’t know what to make of it. Didn’t know if he should feel relieved, or just uneasy. 

But honestly, as long as she didn’t pester him, it didn’t matter.

    Conversations wove together into a rhythm that didn’t require thought—just noise and movement. Emi sat with her friends near the vending machines in the schoolyard.

    “—I swear, he was staring the whole time,” Mina was saying, her voice tilting upward in exaggerated exasperation. 

    “Like, I get it, we were in the same class last year, but do you really have to burn a hole through my face?”

    Across from her, Chiyo laughed, stirring the last of her drink with her straw. “Maybe you should’ve waved,” she teased. “Give him a real reason to panic.”

    They laughed again, sharp and loud, she did too, at least she tried.

    Why am I even here..

    The thought rose.. She could even predict the flow of conversation before it happened. 

    Chiyo’s teasing. 

    Mina bringing up a test, a teacher, an inside joke from last semester that would only be funny to the people here. 

    And now she could even hear herself, noticing her own voice interjecting and reacting.

    “…Emi?”

    She blinked, her attention snapping back. Mina’s gaze was on her.

    “Hm?”

    “I said, are you hanging out with us this weekend ?” Mina repeated, nudging Emi’s arm lightly. “or are you too good for us now ?”

    “I'm busy.” 

    The words came too quickly, she’d reacted before she could catch them and they sounded too sharp. 

    Quiet followed, stretching just enough to feel awkward. 

    “Got an art thing this weekend,” She added, her voice sculpted for credibility, hopefully it’d clear the fog away.

    Chiyo leaned in, her chin resting against her palm, her gaze expectant. 

    “And how’s your new masterpiece coming along?”

    A pause. Breath caught her throat. Emi looked away for a second.

    Enough for herself to notice.

     “Still in progress” She answered quickly.

    A lie— maybe she should have told the truth..

    That she had already started over twice, that every brushstroke felt wrong, that every time she tried to commit to an idea, it felt hollow, fake and forced..

    That she failed to produce anything she could display without feeling disgusted.

    That letting the sketchbook go should’ve solved this…?

    That it needed to..? 

    That now she sat painfully aware that it didn’t fix anything..?

    That she felt like a fool for even thinking it would..?

    That, maybe.. keeping it would’ve been better..

    “…”

    Someone said something she didn’t catch, and the table broke into laughter. Emi exhaled, a practiced smile returning to her lips. 

    It was easier this way.  She picked up her drink, took a slow sip, and let the conversation move on, picking up her part.