Canvas of Silent Colors

For a while, neither of us spoke.

The corridor buzzed with conversations about club choices, last-minute gossip, and what they'd eat for lunch. I walked slightly ahead, weaving past groups with effortless ease, while Tomoya followed half a step behind with cloudy eyes.

When we reached class, I turned back to him, tilting my head slightly. "Lunch together?"

He blinked, eyes unfocused, before nodding without a word.

We ended up at the back courtyard, just beyond the school building where the track field stretched under the noon sun.

A few members of the track club were still training, their rhythmic footsteps pounding against the lanes. But apart from them, this place was deserted.

I sat down on the low stone ledge near the chain-link fence, setting down my bento box. Tomoya lowered himself beside me without a word. 

'It's fortunate I decided to bring lunch for him today.'

I glanced at the wrapped box I'd packed for him earlier that morning.

'At least… it's an easy way to open his heart a little. Food tends to do that for most people.'

He picked at his rice without lifting his head, scooping up small bites as if each mouthful was nothing more than an obligation. His bangs fell forward, shadowing his eyes so I couldn't read them.

Normally, when I brought him lunch, he'd light up the moment he opened the box. He'd grumble a little out of habit, but his eyes would brighten at the sight of braised chicken or tamagoyaki, and he'd end up eating with quick, eager bites.

I ate my own lunch calmly, chewing without haste. From the corner of my eye, I watched him. His shoulders seemed smaller than usual, curled in slightly, as though he was trying to disappear into himself.

After a while, I let out a quiet breath, letting the silence settle for a few moments longer before speaking.

"You mentioned last week," I began casually, pausing to chew and swallow, "that there's a new RPG coming out this spring. Is it... from the same developer as Chronicle Saga… or someone else?"

His chopsticks froze mid-air. Slowly, he lifted his head, blinking at me. "Ah… oh. Yeah… it's from Stellar Works." 

He eat the konjaku before continuing, If I'm not wrong, they're the ones who made Chronicle Saga's expansion pack last year. The system's apparently going to have real-time branching instead of static flags… and… well there is some updates that..."

As he spoke, his voice regained some of usual energy, words tumbling out faster with each explanation. He talked about the developer's history, the concept artists they hired from indie doujin circles, the supposed leaks of the first heroine design.

His gestures grew more animated. I listened, giving small nods, the corners of my lips curling faintly.

"You're surprisingly detailed when it comes to these things," I remarked softly.

He flushed lightly, scratching his cheek. "W-Well… it's… it's important stuff, okay?"

"I suppose everyone needs a specialty."

For a while, the tension around his eyes eased. He still drifted off mid-sentence sometimes, words trailing into silence before he forced them back onto game mechanics or plot theories.

I just sitting there, listening and feel the sun warming our body, his quiet rambling mixing with the faint noises through the field.

After a while, the bell rang, its sharp echo rolling across the empty courtyard. Tomoya froze mid-bite, staring down at his half-finished lunch. Then he let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"…Guess I rambling again."

At least there was a spark of energy in his voice now, a glimpse of his usual self. I watched him quietly, relieved to see his shoulders relax even just a little.

"Well, Tomoya," I said, leaning back with a faint smile. "Your lunch isn't empty yet. Give it to me. I don't like people who waste their food especially the one who cooking that food is me."

His head snapped up so fast I almost laughed. "NO WAY!!"

In an instant, his chopsticks moved at lightning speed, shoveling every last grain of rice into his mouth. By the time he lowered his lunch box again, it was spotless.

I chuckled softly, closing my own empty bento. "I was just joking. But we should hurry if we don't want detention."

Tomoya let out a quick breath, his usual grin flickering back onto his face. "Yeah… you're right."

He stood up, brushing off his pants and looking down at me with a spark in his eyes. "The last one back to class has to write a review to Puritan tomorrow."

For a moment, something light bloomed in my chest. I let out a rare smirk, childlike and unguarded.

"Oh… you're on."

Tomoya took off first, his shoes skidding lightly against the pavement as he sprinted ahead. "Haha! See ya there, old man!" he yelled over his shoulder.

I simply walked forward at my usual pace, then broke into a light jog with steady pace. Within seconds, I'd closed the distance between us and slipped past him right before we reached the classroom door.

When he stumbled in after me, his forehead was damp with sweat, shoulders heaving. I wasn't even out of breath.

He glared up at me, chest rising and falling fast. "Seriously… what are you…?" His voice held no malice, only exhausted disbelief.

I just offered a faint smile, brushing off my blazer sleeves. "You challenged me."

For a moment, silence hung between us. Then Tomoya let out a shaky laugh, low at first before growing louder. I couldn't help it – a small chuckle escaped my chest, and soon we were both laughing, leaning against the doorframe like idiots.

The class fell silent, eyes turning towards us in a ripple of confusion. I straightened, meeting their gazes with calm composure.

"Sorry for being loud," I said softly, my tone polite and steady. "We were just playing around."

A few students blinked in surprise at how casually honest I was. Tomoya only sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow as he shuffled past me towards his desk.

"Cringe novel puritan," he muttered under his breath, but there was no real bite to it. Just a resigned smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

And for me, that was enough.

------------------------

The afternoon slipped by faster than I realised. Soon, homeroom was drawing to a close. Golden light angled low through the windows, catching on dust motes drifting lazily in the quiet air.

Around me, students stretched their arms and yawned, desks creaking under shifting weight. 

The door slid open with a sharp clatter. Kagami-sensei strolled in, headphones slung carelessly around his neck with that red hair wild as ever.

He reached the front, tossed a thick stack of papers onto the teacher's desk with a dull thud.

"Alright, listen up, you little brats," he drawled, his voice rough with boredom. "Here...club registration forms. The principal forced me to tell that..."

Kagami-sensei yawn a little bit and continues, "School wants first-years to at least try joining something. Connections, portfolios, Experience, holistic education… blah blah, whatever."

He scratched his cheek lazily, eyes still fixed on his screen. Then a small smirk tugged at his lips, and he finally looked up.

Behind those slightly tilted glasses, his gaze sharpened just enough to silence the quiet chatter.

"For those of you thinking of slacking off without joining any club… don't. But hey—" he shrugged lightly, phone still in hand, "—if you're gonna rebel, at least make it entertaining for me."

A thin ripple of awkward laughter spread across the class. Some students sighed, slumping dramatically in their seats, while others reached for the forms with resigned murmurs.

After all club registration forms distributed to students, a volunteer student stood up from their seat. They turned slightly to face the class, back straight and hands at their sides.

"Stand. Bow."

Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone rose in unison, dipping their heads towards the front. Kagami-sensei didn't even bother looking up from his phone, and just waved a lazy hand in acknowledgment.

Tomoya moved quickly, stuffing his form into his backpack. He slung it over his shoulder and started to stand up.

"Tomoya," I called softly.

He froze mid-motion, fingers gripping the desk edge. His shoulders tensed. Slowly, he looked over at me, lips pressing into a thin line.

The guarded flicker in his eyes told me what he was thinking.

I let out a small sigh, shaking my head with a faint smile.

"I'm not going to pry about that," I said, keeping my tone calm and quiet. "I'll just wait until you want to tell me."

His shoulders twitched slightly, fingers tightening around his bag strap. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, bangs shadowing his eyes. 

"I just… wanted to ask about the club forms," I continued, voice softer now. "Are you really going for literature?"

For a moment, he didn't react. Then his brows drew together, his guarded expression loosening into something tired but honest. A tiny laugh escaped him, breathless and small. When he spoke, his voice carried a hint of resignation.

"…I don't know," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a weak smile. "I thought literature club would be like middle school… somewhere I could slack off. But… it feels different here. I… guess I need to think about it a little more."

I watched him quietly, his shoulders slumping as he let out that small laugh. There was something painfully honest in his eyes, like a boy who had finally admitted a truth he'd been avoiding.

"It's okay that you don't know yet," I said, my voice low and steady. "All humans are like this. No one just wakes up one day knowing their purpose."

He blinked at me, lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came out.

"It's rare, you know… for someone to be certain from the start," I continued, letting a faint smile soften my expression. "Like me. I like cooking, so choosing a club was easy. But for most people… it takes time."

His eyes widened a fraction before falling away, staring at the forms in his hand. A quiet breath left him, shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"That's why we're here, right? To search. To try. We have two weeks to observe and experience each club. Use that time well… and don't rush yourself."

"…Yeah," he murmured. "Thanks, Ren."

"Anytime," I replied softly.

After a moment of quiet, we both slung our bags over our shoulders and stepped out of the classroom. Neither of us spoke as we walked down the corridor, the low hum of students and late afternoon light spilling across the polished floors creating calm atmosphere. 

Just before we reached the main entrance, Tomoya slowed his steps. His voice came out a little hesitant, almost thoughtful.

"…Hey, Ren."

I glanced at him, waiting.

"Do you… want to becoming a chef?" he asked, eyes fixed ahead. "I mean… cooking's an art too, right? And Suimei has competitions outside. I heard about it earlier… honestly, it'd fit you. Anyone who's eaten your food would agree."

I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head. "Nope. It's just a hobby, and I already have my dream locked on."

Tomoya exhaled, a small sigh escaping him. His shoulders slumped slightly as he turned away, lips curling into a resigned smile. "Must be nice… knowing exactly what you want to do."

I watched him quietly for a second. Then, with a flick of my fingers, I tapped his forehead gently.

"Ow—hey…!"

Before he could rub the spot, I reached out and rested my hand on his shoulder. He froze under my touch, looking up at me with wide eyes.

"Listen to me, Tomoya." My voice was calm, but firm. "Whether we're at our lowest or highest… we're friends, right? So if you ever want to search for your purpose… your dream… or even fulfill that dream one day, I'll help you."

His eyes widened a fraction more, his mouth opening as if to reply, but no words came out.

I smiled faintly, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go. Then, I raised my fist slightly between us. "That's what bros are for."

For a moment, there was only the soft rustle of wind as it passed through the courtyard trees.

He blinked at it, surprised, before letting out a small scoff. But after a second, his expression softened. He lifted his own fist and bumped it lightly against mine.

"Geez…" he muttered with an exaggerated grimace, pulling his hand back quickly. "That's so gross… I'm straight, you know, Ren."

I let out a quiet laugh, rolling my eyes as I started walking ahead. "Idiot. It's a bro fist bump, not a confession."

Behind me, I heard him huff out a laugh of his own before jogging to catch up, the faint echo of our footsteps mixing with the late afternoon breeze.

At the front gate, we slowed to a stop. Students streamed around us, voices blending into the fading afternoon light.

Tomoya shifted his bag on his shoulder, glancing away for a moment before looking back at me. His lips twitched upward into a small, genuine smile.

"…Thank you again, Ren," he said, his voice quiet but clear. "For the advice."

I gave a small nod, my expression calm. "You're welcome."

He shifted his gaze down, clutching his bag strap a little tighter. Then, almost inaudible under his breath, I heard him murmur,

"…And for being… friends with me."

For a moment, I didn't say anything. Just watched as his shoulders curled in slightly, as if bracing for embarrassment.

I let out a small exhale and reached out to flick his forehead gently. "Idiot. That's obvious."

He winced, rubbing the spot I flicked. "Ow… seriously, that hurts. I'll get a bump at this rate…"

I chuckled softly. Seeing him like this, sulking like a scolded kid, made something feel lighter in my chest.

Without thinking, I reached out and ruffled his hair, messing up his already unruly bangs.

"H-Hey—!" he spluttered, trying to swat my hand away. But I just smiled down at him, feeling the faint difference in our heights as I rested my palm lightly on his head for a moment.

"Let's go, Tomoya."

He huffed, pouting as he tried to fix his hair again, but I saw the way his shoulders relaxed and how the faint crease between his brows eased. It was small, but for now, it was enough.

After managed to fix his hair somewhat, though a stubborn tuft still stuck up at an odd angle. Slinging his bag higher on his shoulder, he glanced back at me with a small, tired smile.

"Then… see you tomorrow, Ren."

I nodded, returning the smile with my usual calm. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

He turned and jogged off toward the station, his steps a little lighter than before. I watched until his figure disappeared beyond the school gate, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the path.

I slipped my hands into my pockets as I walked, feeling the gentle breeze brush against my face. The road back to Sakurasou was quiet, lined with faint shadows of the trees swaying overhead.

High school, huh…?

My steps slowed a little. I thought back to my old life. Back then, I was probably even more closed off than Tomoya. I barely spoke to anyone. Lunchtime was always just me, hiding in a toilet stall with a cheap convenience store bread in hand, forcing myself to finish it quickly so no one would find me there.

There were days when my locker was trashed, shoes stolen, desk scribbled with insults that blurred under my tired eyes.

'Orphan'

'Smartass'

'Cheater'

'Poor'

'Whore son'

I still remembered the thick black marker strokes bleeding into the cheap wood of my desk. They didn't even know me. All they saw was a quiet kid with second-hand clothes, never joining conversations, always reading alone.

A scholarship student with no parents, no money, no brand-name anything. My shirts were faded but always clean, pressed neatly every morning. I couldn't stand dirt or stains. Even then… I still tried to look presentable, even if I was invisible.

But kids didn't care about that. They never did.

It wasn't just isolation. It was bullying, plain and simple. Severe enough that even now, remembering it made something cold crawl up my spine.

But… even so.

I never turned into some twisted villain. I never let myself hate the world for it. Maybe that was stupid. Maybe that was just weak. But in the end, I was still… me.

I let out a small sigh, shaking my head softly as I continued walking under the mellow gold of the setting sun.

No use dwelling on the past now.

Sakurasou's lights glowed faintly ahead, welcoming me back to this new life.