Chapter 20: Blank Spaces in the Prodigy’s Canvas

Final exam.

Somehow, the word always sounded heavier than it was.

I've been into this situation multiple times before and always breezed through it, but this time, I don't feel as hopeful as I regularly was.

I was ready. I spent weeks arming my head up.

My notes were complete. I had the formulas memorized and every important concept highlighted. I was more fit for every question than ever, but those preparations dissolved instantly as I entered the classroom.

I don't know if it's just me or the room was way colder.

The lights overhead were dimmer.

Voices were blurred as if I was underwater.

It was four corners full of sleepy eyes and desperate scribbles.

And I was floating around them.

The exams aren't hard, it was the previous term exams reshuffled and some newer concepts inserted into it.

The answers in each question came in smoothly, and I wrote them efficiently, but the answer I was yearning for had already faded into the howl of yesternight's breeze.

What I fear is for that answer to remain a mystery, or perhaps, a refusal.

Kousaka-san hadn't said anything about it. No messages, not a single word.

Zilch.

Nada.

Everything seemed to collapse after I told her how I felt.

And this distance between us in the room—this wasn't routine. There was nothing warm hidden beneath it unlike before. The invisible threads already vaporized in the cold. We aren't even feeling each other's presence anymore.

I tried to look at her, but I was afraid of seeing her expression and knowing the truth.

I hadn’t slept properly. Every time I closed my eyes, the back of her coat, that faint scent of her lavender shampoo, the softness of her voice—’I’ll see you tomorrow’—it replayed like a broken record.

What did it mean?

Was that a rejection? Or something else? Something worse?

I didn’t know.

But I knew this—her absence said more than anything she could’ve spoken.

When the bell of the final period rang, I handed my papers in. Everything around me droned in slow motion, and I didn’t even realize I had finished ahead of Tsurugi-san, the former class representative who had clung to the top spot like a badge of honor since the first year's spring.

Should I celebrate? No.

At this point, that didn't matter.

Because when I stepped out into the sun and made my way to the park, there was no golden hair glinting in the afternoon light. There were no blue eyes stealing glances from behind a sketchbook ten meters across.

The bench was empty.

She didn’t come today.

I sat behind the stall. My hands moved automatically—unpacking the tray, aligning the skewers, checking the propane tank.

Still, nothing.

She really wasn’t coming, was she?

Was it because I confessed?

No, scratch that. Of course it was because I confessed. People don’t disappear unless they’re running away from something—or someone.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.

Perhaps shutting myself was better.

I thought of her so highly that I overstepped bounds that I'm not allowed to cross.

Maybe just like art, love can destroy relationships you value so much.

“...Damn me.”

She would give me an hour of scolding if she ever heard my thoughts.

I should stop thinking this way, I guess. I'm already way past this phase of my life.

Ah, I just miss her.

As I pulled myself from my thoughts, I tightened the apron behind my back and flicked on the burner.

And the peculiar sense of humor of the universe materialized once more.

I heard the clack of heels incoming.

It wasn't the kind of sound that was too elegant to belong to a delinquent girl with a habit of cursing in French.

“Congratulations, Shimizu-kun~”

I looked up to an unexpected visitor.

Tsurugi Konomi-san stood there, arms clasped, her short bobbed chestnut hair pinned neatly, expression constantly between cheerful and glee.

But above all else, she looked amused—like she'd been waiting for this.

"Yes?"

She arched her brow.

"Haven't I promised that before? If you beat me, I'd be indebted to you?" she said, smiling with polite annoyance.

Her words evoked memories of our moments together. I had a habit of deleting triggering memories, but that puts Tsurugi-san out of the question.

My days with her were filled with everything warm and precious.

It felt fresh again, intensified by the hours I spent moping over the subsequent turn of events last night and the thoughts of crumbling in the pressure of final exams.

Tsurugi-san and I crammed in a public library before, having just graduated middle school and wanting to apply to our dream high school, Shonan. Snowflakes from the light snow storm drifted behind the windows, carrying the cold reality that the road to Shonan isn't as easy as it seemed.

I was still in the process of rediscovering socialization and warmth back then, but seeing Tsurugi-san's smile across my seat, I knew that I chose the right person to be with.

I blinked the memories out, and I finally felt being pulled up from the depths of last night's encounter with Kousaka-san.

“…I didn’t notice I did well until I saw the scores.”

She smiled. And it carried the same warmth two years ago, before everything went distant.

“Figures. You looked like a ghost during the whole thing.”

“I felt like one.”

She arched her brow. “Romantic problems?”

I didn’t respond.

She took it as a yes.

“I came to see if the rumors were true,” she continued. “That the so-called dango boy was hitting up on the delinquent ice queen.”

“Half wrong.”

She giggled in return.

“Rumors aside, since you stole my crown, the least you can do is buy me ice cream.”

“Huh? I thought you're the one indebted?”

“Just kidding." she beamed with amusement. "There’s a new ramen shop in Hanadokeisen. It’s cheap but delicious, and you know, eating at hidden gems are now trendy! Guess what, they also offer those super spicy levels other stores hadn’t offered before! Come with me, my treat!”

“You're still as loud as before.”

“I never left, you idiot.”

I stared at her for a long second. I am not suspicious of her intentions. Tsurugi-san was constantly kind towards me, and I'm thankful that she never changed.

The real kicker today was me not wanting to topple over our reunion just because I want to get distracted by the thoughts of Kousaka-san.

…And due to that, I had to think it over for a second further.

Oh, I already knew my answer.

I looked at the bench and saw it empty.

I turned to the sky and saw no gold reflecting back.

I realized something about distance.

Sometimes, it doesn’t come with closure. Perhaps it’s just the absence of someone who used to be there.

And sometimes, another person will step in—not to replace the one missing, but to remind you that you’re still here and not entirely alone.

While the lady across the bench I admired the most disappeared, the stall behind me remained.

And it will be today, tomorrow and the next.

I will take responsibility for it.

The world has this ruthlessness that it doesn’t wait for someone to heal from grieving.

I had to go on right away.

It never meant that Kousaka-san already lost her worth to me, maybe she did it because she had to maintain the life she was living.

I had mine to live too.

So when Tsurugi-san grinned and pulled me out of my own head, it stopped feeling like betrayal.

It felt like a rescue from myself.

I nodded and untied my apron. “Alright, lead the way.”

This moment was for the friends who drifted apart but never really vanished.

And I wasn’t going to let it pass me by.