Canvas of Silent Colors

I stood in front of the small mirror, quietly brushing my fringe aside as I studied my reflection. The morning sun slipped through the curtains, painting faint golden lines across my face and making my dark hair look almost black. I let out a soft sigh.

Breakfast had ended a while ago, and now the dorm was returning to its usual peaceful silence.

I adjusted the collar of my Suimei High blazer, smoothing out invisible creases. The deep navy fabric felt slightly stiff on my shoulders. It was still new – today marked the start of the new school term, after all.

Outside, I could hear the faint chirping of spring birds, the kind that made the chilly April air feel a little warmer.

"It's only been four days…" I whispered under my breath. Four days since I moved into Sakurasou,

My fingers lightly touched the edge of the mirror as I thought about my current life. In this short time, he had assisting Sorata-senpai with the dorm chores.

While Sorata-senpai handled cleaning duties and checklists, of course, sometime I help Sorata-senpai take care dorm together if Sorata-senpai had private matter. But,, primarily I'm now cooking dinner for everyone. 

Cooking had always been something I loved.

In my past life, I could barely cook instant noodles without messing up. It was embarrassing – humiliating, even – and one of my regrets.

That's why, after reincarnating, I promised myself I'd learn properly. I put genuine effort into learning, practicing with patience, following my mother's careful teachings at home until it became a hobby I genuinely enjoyed.

And honestly… I also wanted to cook for my own health. Ever since I started exercising regularly, I realized how important it was to control my diet and protein intake. Cooking my own meals meant I could adjust everything to match my training routine, making sure I was getting enough nutrients to recover and stay strong.

In my past life, I never even thought about things like that. But now, I wanted to take care of myself properly – from my mind to my body.

I smiled faintly, remembering last night's dinner. Korean bulgogi with fluffy rice and assorted banchan side dishes. The day before, creamy mushroom stew with homemade garlic bread. And before that, crispy Chinese dumplings with dipping sauce.

I liked bringing flavours from around the world to Sakurasou's small dining table. It felt like letting everyone travel, even if just for a meal.

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Nanami-senpai had patted my shoulder while drying the dishes, her smile bright and honest. "Your cooking feels like home, Ren-kun… but not just a Japanese home. It feels like you're letting us travel through food."

Sorata-senpai leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach with a tired grin. "If you keep this up, I'm gonna get fat before graduation."

I chuckled softly, shaking my head, but then Sorata-senpai scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Hey… Ren, do you think you could teach me some recipes someday? Not just Japanese dishes, but maybe Western or Chinese too."

I tilted my head slightly. "Of course, but… why the sudden interest, Sorata-senpai?"

His eyes flicked away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I-It's nothing, really. Just… I thought it'd be nice to cook something different for Mashiro, you know? She… likes sweet things. Baumkuchen, pancakes, that kind of stuff. I thought it might… impress her."

I saw his embarrassment and felt a small warmth bloom in my chest with small sigh. He really did care about her… but even so, there was something complicated in his feelings.

Sorata saw Mashiro as someone fragile, someone he needed to protect. That's why, without realising it, he always made her choices for her. He never truly saw her as an independent person who could decide her own path.

I smiled softly and nodded. "I understand. I'll teach you whenever you want, Senpai."

"Thanks, man," he mumbled, trying to hide his flustered grin as he stood up to take his dishes to the sink.

The next morning, after the quiet dawn run with Nanami-senpai around the school track, she stretched her arms over her head, breathing out into the chilly spring air. Her ponytail swayed slightly, damp with sweat.

"Ren-kun," she called softly as I wiped my face with a towel. Her voice was hesitant, unlike her usual firm tone. "Um… about your cooking."

I blinked, tilting my head. "Yes, Nanami-senpai?"

She looked away, her cheeks faintly pink despite the morning cold. "Do you… think you could teach me, too? Just… the easy recipes. Things I can make quickly after work or rehearsals. I'm… honestly pretty bad at it, but I want to learn."

For a moment, she kept her eyes on the track, embarrassed. But then she glanced at me with a small, shy smile that felt different from her usual confident expressions.

I could tell why she smiled like that. Even though Sorata-senpai already had Mashiro-senpai – her best friend, Nanami-senpai still couldn't completely give up. She was strong, but her feelings weren't something she could control just by deciding to let go. 

Seeing that, I smiled back gently and nodded. "Of course. I'd be happy to teach you, Nanami-senpai.

"…Thank you," she whispered, her smile brightening slightly before she turned away to start walking back to the dorm.

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I walked downstairs, tightening my Suimei blazer over my shoulders. The spring air drifting through the open windows felt crisp, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms from the garden.

By the front door, Sorata-senpai was adjusting his bag strap with a lazy yawn, his hair still slightly messy from sleep. Mashiro-senpai was clinging to his arm, her cheek pressed lightly against his shoulder as if anchoring herself there.

Sorata-senpai looked half-awake and flustered, his face tinged pink as he tried to free his arm enough to zip up his bag, but he didn't push her away—only shifted awkwardly with a small, helpless smile.

Nanami-senpai stood beside them, scolding Sorata-senpai half-heartedly about staying up too late again, though her gaze kept flicking toward Mashiro-senpai with a complicated look.

Mashiro-senpai's sketchbook was clutched loosely in her free hand, and her eyes stared ahead, unfocused, that same vacant expression masking everything beneath. But I could tell her hold on Sorata-senpai was tighter than usual, her small fingers curled firmly around his sleeve.

Usually, she drifted beside him like a silent shadow. Today, it was as if she needed to feel his warmth just to stay standing.

"Good morning, Ren-kun," Nanami-senpai called brightly when she noticed me.

"Good morning, everyone," I replied with a small bow.

Mashiro-senpai didn't say anything, but I saw her shoulders stiffen slightly. Ever since that afternoon on the porch, she'd been like this—never alone if I was nearby, always keeping Sorata-senpai or Nanami-senpai between us, as if I was something she couldn't bear to face.

And even though her expression was the same as always, I knew. Because that afternoon, for a single fleeting moment, I had seen what hid behind her silent walls.

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I watched her from my seat on the porch, the spring afternoon casting soft shadows across the worn wood. She sat beside me with her headphones on, the laptop screen glowing against her face in quiet blue light. I couldn't hear what she heard, but I could see it in the way her breathing turned uneven, her chest rising and falling too quickly.

Then her eyes went wide. For a moment, it felt like the world around her slipped out of place. The calm mask she always wore fell away, leaving only fear and confusion flickering in her gaze.

My heart clenched. She didn't blink, just froze there, her hands hovering above the keys, lost somewhere in that silent music I couldn't hear. Even from where I sat, I felt the tremor of her breath.

"Mashiro-senpai?" I whispered, my voice cracking with something I didn't expect. Concern. But before I could move closer, she tore her eyes away, as if whatever she felt scared her more than the game itself. She stood up abruptly, her legs scraping softly against the porch.

Without a word, she turned away. Her sketchbook slipped from her lap onto the floorboards, manuscript pages fluttering around her feet. Pencils rolled away between the cracks, but she didn't look down. Her steps were sharp and silent, her breathing ragged like she couldn't think of anything except whatever had just clawed into her chest.

At the bottom of the stairs, she paused and glanced back. Her eyes were still wide and trembling, holding confusion, fear, and something new—vulnerability, maybe, or something even deeper I couldn't quite name.. Then she turned and climbed the stairs to her room. A moment later, I heard her door close softly above me.

I stayed there, listening to the breeze rustle the scattered pages around my feet. My fingers brushed the cool edge of the laptop before resting on her sketchbook lying beside me.

I closed my eyes, feeling a tightness in my throat I hadn't expected. I didn't mean for it to hurt this much.

But I knew this was her. Raw and unfiltered. And more than ever, I wanted to help her find her own words again.

That evening, Sorata-senpai came back from the market, plastic bags rustling with instant curry packs, rice, eggs and bottled tea for dinner. He set them down on the kitchen counter and stretched his shoulders, looking tired but relieved to be home.

As he walked past the porch door, his eyes caught on the scattered pages near the steps. He blinked, frowning slightly, then stepped outside. Mashiro-senpai's sketchbook lay where she had left it, her pencils and manuscript pages spread out, some edges curling in the cool spring breeze.

"Ren," he called, turning to me with confusion written all over his face. "Why is Mashiro's stuff out here? Did something happen? She never leaves her tools lying around like this."

I paused, glancing at the papers before looking up at him with my usual calm smile. "Ah… she was working out here earlier," I said gently. "But she got a little tired from drawing in the cold breeze, so she went back to her room to rest before dinner. She seemed a bit worn out, that's all."

Sorata-senpai let out a small sigh, the tension in his shoulders loosening. "I see… yeah, she's been overworking herself lately. Thanks, Ren."

He crouched down, carefully gathering her sketchbook and pencils in his hands with a soft, fond smile, before turning toward the stairs.

"Guess I'll bring these up to her," he murmured to himself as he disappeared inside.

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Morning sunlight filtered through the trees lining the street as we walked toward Suimei. Nanami-senpai walked briskly ahead, her ponytail swaying with each step, while Sorata-senpai trudged beside Mashiro-senpai, his hair still a little messy from sleep. Mashiro clung to his arm today, her sketchbook pressed against her chest, her head resting lightly on his shoulder as she matched his pace.

"Honestly, Sorata," Nanami said with an exasperated sigh, "it's the first day of the new term and you already look half-dead. Did you stay up late again?"

Sorata rubbed his eyes and gave a tired smile. "I was finishing up the proposal layout for class… and tweaking the script for the game club. Besides, you were up late too, weren't you? Practicing your lines."

Nanami's cheeks flushed pink. "Th-that's different! I have an audition coming up soon. If I don't practice properly, I'll never stand out."

Mashiro tugged gently at Sorata's sleeve without looking up. "Sorata… warm."

He glanced down at her with a sleepy, embarrassed smile. "Yeah… it's warm today. Spring's finally here."

Nanami shook her head, half amused and half annoyed. "Don't just agree like that. Mashiro, are you ready for art prep this afternoon?"

Mashiro blinked at her, her eyes distant as usual. "Art… is art."

Nanami let out a small laugh under her breath. "Honestly… the both of you."

As we neared the school gates, she turned to me with a bright smile. "What about you, Ren-kun? Which class are you in?"

"1-B, Nanami-senpai," I answered softly. "It's near the art rooms."

"That's good," Sorata said, stifling another yawn. "If Mashiro wanders off again, you can help her find her way back."

For a moment, Mashiro's gaze flickered toward me. She didn't say anything, but her grip on Sorata's sleeve tightened as she pressed closer to his side, as if hiding from my eyes.

I gave a small, polite smile. "Of course. I'll do what I can."

They kept talking as we walked under the blooming cherry trees, Nanami chatting about her upcoming voice training, Sorata complaining lightly about deadlines, and Mashiro remaining silent, just listening with her usual blank calm. I listened too, answering when they asked me a question, but my mind kept drifting back to yesterday.

'I was too reckless.'

The thought pulsed painfully in my chest. I'd believed… no, I'd assumed that just letting her play Undertale would somehow fix everything. That the right game, the right story, could open her heart. How arrogant. How stupidly cocky of me to think healing was that simple.

Because the reality was, all it did was show how fragile she really was. That intense reaction – so genuine, so real – the fear and confusion breaking through her empty calm… it wasn't some miracle of recovery. It was trauma clawing its way back up to the surface. And now, instead of bringing her closer to understanding herself, it just made her avoid me. Avoid the games. Cling harder to Sorata-senpai, because at least with him she felt warmth, even if it was only borrowed.

My chest tightened as I walked behind them. I knew then this won't be easy. This will be hard. Very hard. Because her recovery… her freedom… will depend on how I walk beside her from now on.

But for now, I'll step back. Observe. Give her the cooldown she needs. Make her feel safe again, even if it means staying quiet for a while. Because pushing her now would only shatter what little trust remains.

Still, deep down, I feel something shift. At least now, Mashiro is aware. Even if it's just fear or confusion, or that tremor in her chest she can't name yet – at least now, she felt something. That's enough for now.

From here, I'll start over. Slowly rebuild what I broke, step by step. And when the time is right, I'll make her curious again. I'll make her see that those feelings aren't something to fear, that they're hers, and hers alone.

Because I still believe in her. In that quiet curiosity burning inside her chest. Even if right now she's scared, avoiding the game and avoiding me, I know her love for art hasn't disappeared. That spark in her eyes when she draws, when she sees something beautiful or strange or new… it's still there. It always has been.

Someday, when she's ready, maybe she'll reach out for Undertale again on her own. Maybe she'll want to feel it for herself, to see the story she left behind, to understand why it made her feel something so intense. And when that day comes, I'll be there.

I'll make sure she feels safe enough to be curious again. To look at her own feelings without fear. To see that even if she trembles, even if she stumbles or falls, she won't be alone.

Because when she finally meets herself in that world, in that quiet soul of hers, I'll be there too. Walking beside her. Holding her hand. Until she finds the strength to stand on her own.