Chapter 4 — EVENING LIGHT

The courtyard was quiet by the time Jinsei arrived. Most students had already left, leaving only a few lingering voices and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. He spotted Akane sitting on one of the benches, sketchbook open, her posture relaxed but attentive to her work.

“You’re early,” he said, coming to stand near her.

“I wanted some time before heading home,” she replied without looking up. “It’s calmer here.”

He nodded and sat beside her. There was no awkwardness, just the natural spacing between two people who were slowly getting used to each other’s presence.

She flipped the sketchbook open to a new page. It was another small meadow, with gentle grass and a faint crescent moon hovering above it. The lines were light, careful, deliberate—but there was something warm about the simplicity of it.

“That’s… nice,” Jinsei said.

She looked up at him, eyes meeting his. “I wanted to try something different today,” she said quietly.

He noticed how the sunlight brushed against her hair, the small tilt of her head, the faint curve of her lips as she waited for his reaction. He found himself paying attention—not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

They spoke in soft, casual tones about the festival project, exchanging small ideas, sharing brief observations. Occasionally their hands brushed while passing pencils, or while turning pages. Each time, a small, warm awareness lingered—a spark neither needed to name.

“Do you think we’ll have time to finish all this before the festival?” she asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I think so,” he said, glancing at her sketches. “We just need to focus on the small details.”

She smiled at him then—a quiet, genuine smile that wasn’t meant for anyone else. Jinsei felt a subtle pull of warmth in his chest, a realization that her presence made the space feel lighter.

As the sun lowered, their conversation slowed. They walked together toward the street, side by side, the rhythm of their steps easy and natural.

“You’re… different,” she said lightly, almost teasing.

“I notice things,” he replied, calm and simple.

She looked at him briefly, then smiled again. A small, unspoken connection passed between them. Nothing dramatic, nothing forced. Just two people paying attention to each other in a way that felt natural.

When they reached the corner where they would part ways, she paused. “Thanks… for today,” she said.

“It was nothing,” he replied, but it felt fuller than the words suggested.

She walked away slowly, glancing back once. Jinsei watched her until she disappeared into the soft evening light, the crescent moon faint but visible in the sky. For a brief moment, he thought of the meadow in her sketches—a quiet little world she had created. And somehow, he wanted to see more of it, more of her, slowly.