Unseen and Unspoken

Morning – The Weight of the Day

Ren Takahashi’s walk to school was, as always, uneventful. He kept his head down, his bag slung over his shoulder, steps steady and measured. The morning sun felt muted, hidden behind a thin layer of clouds. The streets were noisy, but the noise didn’t reach him.

As he neared the school gates, he spotted a stray cat—thin, gray, slipping through the gaps between people’s legs. It paused briefly near a convenience store, eyeing a half-eaten rice ball left on the curb. The cat’s gaze met Ren’s—cautious but curious. For a moment, they just stared.

He considered approaching but thought better of it. The cat darted away, blending back into the stream of passing students. Just a quiet, unnoticed thing.

Ren exhaled and moved on.

Classroom – The Hand-Off

The classroom was already buzzing when Ren arrived. Conversations layered over each other—Aika’s animated chatter, Mayu’s blunt replies, Daiki’s easy laughter. Rika sat at her desk, her attention on something distant.

Ren walked to his seat and placed the rolled-up chart on her desk. Rika looked up, a moment of surprise flickering across her face before she composed herself.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Ren nodded and took his seat without another word. His face was as blank as ever—no satisfaction, no concern. Just a silent exchange that lingered a little longer than necessary.

Rika’s eyes followed him for a second, but when he didn’t look back, she unrolled the chart on her desk, her fingers smoothing out the edges. The sketch—intricate and polished—reflected back at her. A carefully crafted web of masks, each hiding an expression that teetered between pain and composure.

Her throat tightened briefly. She looked away, folding the chart carefully before slipping it into her bag.

Lunch Break – The Quiet Betrayal

Lunch came, and Rika sat with Aika and Mayu at their usual spot near the window. Sunlight filtered in, bouncing off their lunch boxes. Aika’s hands animatedly waved as she recounted a story about her failed attempt at a pull-up in gym class.

“Anyway, Mayu didn’t even help me up! She just stared,” Aika complained, pouting.

“It was embarrassing to watch,” Mayu replied flatly.

Rika listened with a distracted smile. Her mind drifted to the chart in her bag, the weight of Ren’s sketch a quiet pressure. Without thinking, she pulled it out and laid it on the desk.

Aika’s story paused, her eyes widening as she leaned closer. “Holy— Rika, did you make this?”

“Wow,” Mayu muttered, her usually disinterested gaze sharp. “I didn’t know you could draw like that.”

Rika hesitated, her fingers curling over the edge of the chart. Her eyes flicked to the corner of the room—Ren sat with Daiki, his head bowed over his notebook, lost in whatever sketch lay beneath his hands.

“Yeah,” Rika finally said, her voice steady. “I made it.”

Aika’s grin widened. “No way! I thought for sure Ren did it. I mean, he’s always drawing, right?”

“He helped me with the concept and explanation,” Rika added quickly. “But I did the sketching. That’s why I’m presenting it tomorrow.”

Mayu nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. It’s really impressive, Rika.”

Aika’s excitement reignited. “Oh, Mayu and I did ours too! But, like, it’s a mess compared to this.” She pulled out their project—an explosion of colors with vague symbolism. Mayu didn’t seem invested in defending it.

“It’s… creative,” Rika offered.

“Exactly!” Aika beamed. “Creative chaos!”

At that moment, Daiki wandered over, curious about the commotion. He leaned over the table, taking in Aika’s project first with a lopsided grin.

“Looks like a color battle gone wrong,” he teased.

Aika flushed, her hands flailing. “It’s abstract! You just don’t get it!”

Daiki blinked, caught off guard by her sudden defensiveness. “Okay, okay. Didn’t know I was critiquing a masterpiece.”

Aika laughed nervously, her fingers tapping rapidly on the edge of her desk. Mayu’s expression was blank but amused.

Then Daiki’s eyes landed on Rika’s chart. The smirk softened into something more genuine. “Whoa… This is seriously good. You did this, Rika?”

Aika’s eyes darted to Rika, anticipation burning in her expression. Rika forced a smile, the weight of the lie pressing against her ribs.

“Yeah, I did,” she said, voice steady.

“Damn,” Daiki muttered. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

He gave a quick, impressed nod before returning to Ren, muttering, “What’s up with Aika today?” as he left.

Aika buried her face in her hands. “I’m going to die.”

The Presentation – The Mask and the Girl

When it was time to present, Rika stood at the front of the room, the chart spread open before her. The classroom fell into an attentive silence, curious eyes on her.

Her voice was steady as she spoke. “Our project explores the concept of hidden emotions—the masks people wear to hide what they’re really feeling. Each face here carries an expression, concealed yet vulnerable, representing the tension between our true selves and what we show to others.”

Murmurs of admiration spread across the room.

“Wow, Fujisawa can actually draw?” someone whispered.

“She’s more than just popular, I guess,” another muttered.

The teacher, usually composed, looked genuinely surprised. “Rika, I didn’t realize you had an interest in visual art. This is impressive. Have you considered exploring it further?”

Rika hesitated. “Actually, this is the first time I’ve done a visual project like this.”

A satisfied murmur rippled through the class. Rika’s eyes drifted to Ren. He watched, impassive, his expression closed. Just as unreadable as ever.

After School – The Unspoken Consequence

The class dispersed slowly, conversations still buzzing about the presentation. Daiki clapped Ren’s shoulder as they walked out.

“That was so like you, Ren,” Daiki grinned. “Quietly doing the work and staying out of the spotlight. Classic.”

Ren’s eyes followed Rika’s retreating figure, her friends animated beside her. His grip tightened slightly on his bag strap.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

“Sure it doesn’t,” Daiki replied, smirking. “Doesn’t matter at all.”

A Moment Between Masks

In the quiet of the hallway, Rika noticed Ren lingering by the stairs. For a second, she thought of thanking him, of saying something—anything. But the weight of her lie sat heavy, unmoving.

“Hey,” she finally called out.

Ren turned, his expression unreadable.

“The presentation went well,” she offered, testing the waters.

“Yeah,” Ren replied evenly. “People were impressed.”

Rika’s throat tightened. “Does it… bother you?”

Ren’s gaze held hers for a moment—steady, impenetrable.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, voice soft yet distant.

And just like that, he turned away, disappearing down the stairs.

Rika stood there, the echoes of their conversation clinging to the air. For the first time, the silence between them felt like a wall.