A Sketch in the Rain

A Familiar Silence

Ren Takahashi had been absent for a few days. No explanation, no messages, no word about when he’d be back. Not that anyone seemed too concerned. He was the type of person people noticed in passing but never questioned when he wasn’t around. He didn’t disrupt anything, didn’t leave an empty space that needed to be filled.

Rika Fujisawa wasn’t sure why she noticed.

Maybe it was because of the project, or the fact that she had gotten used to his presence beside her in class—the quiet rhythm of his pencil scratching against paper, the way he subtly adjusted his notebook so she could see the notes when she missed something. Or maybe, it was because of that last conversation.

“Do you not care, or do you just not want to be noticed?”

His response had been immediate. “Didn’t need to.” No hesitation, no elaboration. As if he had already made peace with the idea of being overlooked.

So when Rika found herself wandering into the public library after school, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for.

And then she saw him.

A Window Seat

Ren was sitting in the corner by the window, just like always. His sketchbook was open in front of him, his pencil resting on the page, but he wasn’t drawing. He was staring outside, lost in thought. His posture was slightly slouched, his usual sharp attentiveness dulled.

Something about it felt… off.

Rika hesitated for a moment, debating whether to approach him. It wasn’t like they were close. They barely spoke outside of what was necessary. But before she could talk herself out of it, her feet had already moved.

She slid into the seat across from him, setting her bag down with just enough sound to make her presence known. But Ren didn’t react. His gaze remained distant, his mind elsewhere.

It wasn’t until she said his name—softly, but deliberately—that he blinked, returning to the present.

His eyes flickered to her, a brief flash of surprise before his usual guarded expression settled in.

“…What do you want?” His voice was calm, steady—but there was a slight roughness to it, like he hadn’t spoken much in the past few days.

Rika leaned her arms against the table, tilting her head slightly. “You haven’t been at school.”

Ren shrugged. “Caught a cold.”

A lie. She could tell immediately. He didn’t look sick—just… tired. But she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, her gaze dropped to his sketchbook.

“What are you drawing?”

Ren’s fingers instinctively tensed over the edge of the paper. Then, in one smooth motion, he flipped the sketchbook shut, closing it off from view.

“Nothing,” he said.

Rika raised an eyebrow. “Looked like something to me.”

He exhaled, glancing away. “People might get the wrong idea.” A pause. “You have a reputation to uphold.”

That made her stop.

Not because she hadn’t expected it—Ren had said something similar before—but because this time, there was an edge to it. Like he was reminding her of something she should already know.

Something she should agree with.

But she didn’t.

She leaned back slightly, folding her arms. “Why do you always act like it matters what people think?” Her voice was quiet, but steady. “If I cared, I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I?”

For the first time since she sat down, Ren actually looked at her. Really looked at her.

Not a glance, not a passing observation—just silence, drawn out and unbroken, as if he was trying to figure out if she meant what she said.

Something flickered behind his eyes. It wasn’t shock, not exactly. More like quiet disbelief, like he had spent so long assuming one thing about her that hearing otherwise didn’t quite register.

But he didn’t say anything.

He only studied her for a moment longer before breaking the silence.

“…You wanted to see the drawing from before,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Rika nodded.

Ren hesitated, then slowly opened his sketchbook again. This time, he didn’t hide it.

A Different Perspective

The drawing was of their classroom.

Detailed. Sharply focused. But what struck Rika the most wasn’t the technical skill—it was the way he saw things.

Every student was captured in their usual spots, their expressions frozen in time. Some were animated, mid-conversation. Others were more subdued, focused on their work. But the part that held the most detail—whether intentional or not—was her.

She was at her desk, caught in a moment of quiet. Not talking, not smiling, not performing. Just sitting there, looking out the window, lost in thought.

Rika stared at the sketch for a long moment.

“…You notice everything, don’t you?” she finally said.

Ren’s grip on his pencil tightened slightly. He didn’t respond.

She glanced at him, then back at the drawing. “You’re really good at this.”

That made him pause.

It wasn’t a casual compliment. It wasn’t the empty kind people threw around without thinking. She said it like she meant it. Like she saw something in his work beyond just technique.

Ren shifted slightly, his gaze lowering. “…It’s nothing.”

Rika looked at the drawing again. Then, before she could overthink it, she asked, “Can I have it?”

Ren blinked. He turned his head slightly, as if he wasn’t sure he heard her right.

“What?”

“The drawing,” she repeated, tilting her head. “Can I have it?”

Ren didn’t answer right away. His fingers hovered over the edge of the page, as if debating whether or not to tear it out.

After a long moment, he muttered, “…Do whatever you want.”

She took it carefully, folding it with more gentleness than she expected of herself.

The Rainfall

By the time they left the library, the sun had disappeared behind a curtain of gray. Rain fell steadily against the pavement, the kind that blurred streetlights into soft glows and soaked the world in quiet melancholy.

Rika frowned. “It was sunny earlier.”

Ren pulled an umbrella from his bag, flicking it open. “I saw the forecast.”

She glanced at him. “You always plan ahead, huh?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, after a brief pause, he turned slightly and held the umbrella out to her.

“It’s late,” he said, his voice even. “You should head home. I’ll wait for the rain to stop.”

Rika stared at him.

She didn’t take it right away. She didn’t know why. Maybe because it was unexpected. Maybe because she was starting to realize that Ren had these small, unspoken kindnesses hidden between his sharp edges.

Or maybe because, for the first time, she didn’t want to leave him standing there alone.

But she did.

She sighed lightly, taking the umbrella from his hand. As she stepped away, she muttered, “…You always do things like this.”

Ren didn’t respond. He just watched as she walked away, the rain drumming softly around him.

Before she disappeared down the street, she glanced back. Just once.

And there he was, standing in the same spot, waiting for the rain to pass.

The Next Day—A Familiar Face

Morning came, and with it, Ren’s quiet return to school.

He walked into the classroom like nothing had happened. No greetings, no explanations—just slipping into his seat with practiced ease, as if he had never been gone.

But before he could settle, a voice cut through the noise of the classroom.

“Still the same, huh?”

Ren’s fingers paused on his notebook.

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

He looked up.

Standing just a few feet away, a faint smirk on her lips, was Hina.

For a split second—just a flicker of a moment—his carefully controlled expression cracked.

And Rika, who had just walked into the classroom, noticed.