7- New Day, New Faces

The morning felt wrong. Almost surreal.

Probably because this was the first time that Minori woke up, and it wasn’t because of insomnia.

Also, the fact was that she hadn’t even mentally prepared herself for the Monday before her. Obviously, she knew she had to attend university; that’s why she moved to Shibuya anyway. But knowing and doing were two separate things, and for Minori, most things involving a guaranteed series of social interaction just stopped at the knowing stage. But there she was, standing and grabbing the door hinge a bit longer than necessary as if preparing for a jumpscare.

But Minori refused to be a horror movie shill.

“Going?” Rie asked, standing behind her.

Minori nodded, glancing her way. The blonde had gotten accustomed to life here, rocking a baby blue oversized tee and shorts. Her hair smelled of jasmine flowers, a weird selection of conditioner courtesy of Akagi.

“Akagi-nee did tell me about your…university,” she said, “People learn to draw.”

“Yeah,” Minori responded, “There are different universities for different things.”

“There are…” Rie said, almost wistfully, “Why did you pick the drawing one?”

Minori’s lips curled into an arc, “Because that’s what I want to do, even if people say otherwise.”

“Akagi-nee told me that people don’t like those who pursue things like you…she said stuff about healthcare and…engineering or something.”

Minori clicked her tongue, “Yeah, society is weird like that. don’t mind them. Do what you want.”

“Mm…”

Minori exhaled and opened the door.

“Itterashai.”

Minori froze. She wasn’t aware that Rie was familiar with the smaller things. But she sighed and glanced her way again, looking at her with those innocent eyes.

No, she shouldn’t be soft here.

“Ittekimas.”

Rie nodded.

That was enough for her.

Shibuya was loud. The morning rush hour was so persistently loud that even Minori’s earbuds couldn’t block out the sound. However, it is dangerous to walk around a busy road. The streets were too crowded for her liking. She was glad that the metro station was only around a fifteen-minute walk. All she had to do was take the JR Yamanote Line to Ueno Station and walk for another fifteen minutes.

Easy.

But she forgot to factor in a known factor in her journey.

Shibuya was too loud.

And she was better off being content with having a place to stand in the metro for around forty minutes without a risk of dying than hoping for some obnoxious salaryman to give her a seat, because rush hour was like an evolutionary pruning where survival of the fittest can be represented in a naturalistic setting.

And when she reached the campus itself, it was larger than she thought, or at least, it felt larger. More crowded, more people she didn’t know. Everyone was so nervous, and they were so bad at hiding it.

Was she nervous?

Who knows.

Minori only walked past them, not looking back, trying to rock a full-sleeved shirt that covers her up in the middle of spring—like who even does that?! Well, who cares? She just walked in like it was totally normal, into the bustling auditorium where red-cushioned chairs were arranged in rows with a gap in the middle for students to pass through. The stage stretched from one corner of the room to another with stairs on either side. Minori looked around, hr shadowed eyes scanning for a set that would make her less conspicuous.

Then again, anyone with her fashion sense would be conspicuous.

She found a seat that wasn’t too far back, but not too far forward either. She leaned back and let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging. Too late to have any regrets. Too late to leave as a bearded, stiff man up front talked about growth and opportunity—the standard pep talk. Meanwhile, this girl was fiddling with a strand of her moon-like hair, trying to get the likeness of his face in caricature,

“If you’re going for caricature,” a voice said, “the body should be smaller than this.”

Minori looked to her right, noticing a guy to her side, leaning slightly and gazing at the drawing in her notebook. He pulled back a strand of his sandy hair, his amber eyes wide with interest.

“True,” she regarded, erasing and redrawing.

He hummed, “What branch?”

“Painting.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

Minori paused, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled, “Just the vibe of a brooding artist,” he winked, “Not a bad thing.”

Minori rolled her eyes. This guy was weirding her out, probably because she hadn’t talked to anyone in a while. “I do not brood.”

He smirked, “Really now? If you say so.”

She sighed, continuing to draw. But then she heard a mumble.

“Painting, huh…sounds cool. Can’t paint if my life depended on it.”

She glanced at him, her eyes raised, “Oh? What medium are you in, then?”

“Illustration.”

“Makes sense.”

“I know.”

The speeches and the droning continued, but she was too focused on drawing, too focused on worrying about how to respond to another question, because as much as she says she doesn’t care. She’s still human.

“I’m Hayato. Moriyama Hayato.”

She nodded, “...Minori. Kirishima Minori.”

“Nice to meet you then, Kirishima-san.”

She nodded again.

At some point, people stood up, the students flooding out of the hallway like arteries pumped blood through an anxious person’s body. The uneasy expressions on people’s faces were understandable. New place for some, new environment for most. So, as any reasonably asocial person would, Minori jumped ship and slipped out of the auditorium through one of the secluded spots.

She headed to classes. Voices filled in again, fading out as she stared outside the window from her seat in the corner, responding only when needed. At some point, she was asked to introduce herself alongside the rest of the class.

Sooner or later, the voices dulled in her ears.

Anatomy, colour theory, all that she knew or she thought she did. People did give her a few sideways glances, but who cares?

Old techniques, brushworks, and discussions of a potential trip to the Toride campus for practical training in the near future.

Now that intrigued her.

But her notes remained as just plain lines.

Literal lines on paper, caricatures and occasional scenic pencil drawings that seemed too polished for a sketch.

Finally, a breathing room arrived in the form of the day ending. It felt less like something completed and more like something endured.

Minori quickly slipped out again.

If this were a university of arts, there must be a studio.

Her paradise away from the chaos.

Much larger—in her head—and much bearable. It was like the non-existent asthma inside her escaped as she inhaled a huge breath. The studio was quiet, save for students of different years and streams working on their own thing. Minori liked that: focus, concentration, no interruptions. Sunlight filtered through tall windows. The faint smell of creativity (she was figuratively high enough to visualise a scent) lingered, settled into the space like something permanent.

Minori exhaled.

She set her bag down.

Sat.

And opened her sketchbook.

She drew a few strokes, looking at the very much panicked expression of a boy, shorter but about the same age, twisting his raven hair and biting his lip, trying not to tear off the paper with his scribbling.

Minori sighed, which startled the kid. He immediately looked up, “S-sorry!”

She shook her head and turned back to the drawing in front of her before taking a curious glance at his, a turnaround of a woman in a frock, measurements marked with a different colour.

“She leaned slightly, “Realistically, with those proportions, it’d be too tight-fitting.”

He gasped slightly before looking down at the picture and nodding, “True… Thank you.”

“Tight clothes would feel too restrictive for girls with big boobs.”

He erased and redrew without looking up. Her lips curled in approval before her focus shifted back to her drawing.

Silence was nice.

Just the air from the AC, scribbles on paper and lots of people doing their own thing, talking in hushed whispers.

When the chair next to her dragged. Minori looked up to see Hayato sitting next to her.

“You escaped, too?”

He dropped his bag on the empty chair next to him, as if he belonged there already. Minori nodded.

“Too loud.”

“Yeah…” he nodded, pulling back his hair, “People like us wouldn’t last long in social circles, I guess.”

Minori tilted her head, setting her pencil down, “...People like us..?”

He smiled, “Ones who look like they’d rather be somewhere else.”

She didn’t respond. And that in itself was answer enough.

“He turned toward the other boy, who was still drawing with a sharper expression.

“Sora,” Hayato called.

The boy looked up, and a faint smile crossed his face, “Oh, I didn’t notice you, Hayato.”

Hayato snickered, “Been that way since we were kids…too focused, unaware of the world.”

Minori shrugged, “Sounds normal to me.”

Hayato’s eyes widened in mock surprise, “You’re a zombie too?”

Minori rolled her eyes, “Says you… I walked past your classroom. You weren’t any different.”

“So you do pay attention.”

The boy named Sora laughed. Hayato looked between Minori and him. “Oh, you don’t know Sora, Kirishima-san…” he hummed before pointing at the other lad, “This is Sora. Fujimoto Sora.” he looked at Sora, flicking his forehead to revert his attention, “Sora, this is Minori. Kirishima Minori. At least look at new people in the eye, idiot.”

Sora looked at Minori with a slightly flustered expression. Minori only sighed, looking at Hayato, “Don’t force him, Moriyama.”

Hayato only shrugged, “He’s been this way all the time, just give him a push and he’d arm up in no time… Although, you’re too stiff.”

“I prefer that.”

Hayato shrugged again, “You do you.”

Click.

A flash distracted the trio. Minori looked around, realising this wasn’t the first time. Then, the camera flashed again.

Closer this time.

Minori didn’t look up.

But she noticed the angle.

And then, the girl.

“Ah—there you are.” A new voice sounded. Minori glanced up. A girl entered the studio, and the first thing she noticed was her dyed hair, dark blue up close, but the instructors probably mistook it for black, so they let it pass. The girl stood near the entrance, hands on her hips like she’d been looking for someone.

Her gaze shifted to the camera girl.

“There you are, President.”

Silence shifted.

Just slightly.

Minori’s pen paused.

Hayato blinked.

“…President?”

The girl grinned. “Student council president,” she said, like it was obvious. “Kuroda Rei.”

Rei looked at her, and before she could open her mouth, the girl interrupted. “Rei-chan!” she pouted, “I told you not to take pictures of others without their permission.”

The girl named Rei paused, then looked at Minori, “You’re photogenic.”

Minori froze, “I…am?”

The other girl tilted her head, then squinted, then nodded, “Yeah.. I see what you mean,” she hummed, “You’re cute, kouhai-chan¬”

Minori took in a breath and almost choked on air, “H-huh?!”

Then, casually—too casually—she stepped closer.

“Mind if I sit here? You’ve got good lighting.”

No response.

A pause.

Minori sighed. “…Do what you want.”

Flat.

Except for the crimson face.

The girl smiled wider.

“Nice. I like you already.”

She turned slightly, glancing at the others.

“Yeah, definitely first years,” she said, “You haven’t heard of Rei-chan. She’s a household name.”

Rei looked at the girl, “Don’t exaggerate, Mio.”

Mio gasped, “Oh, no, no, no, I’m not!” She laughed, “Ace photographer. The girl who traps life’s essence in a lens.”

“The press club uses too much flowery language that breaks logical thinking. Too abstract.”

Minori looked back at her sketchbook.

People came and went.

Different faces.

Different years.

Same space.

A shadow fell briefly across her page.

Minori looked up.

A woman stood beside her.

Composed.

Sharp.

Her gaze flicked once—to the sketch.

“...Your composition is off.”

A pause.

Then she walked away.

No explanation.

No introduction.

Just—

Gone.

“Who was that?”

“Mizuhara-senpai,” Mio answered, “The ice queen.”

“She seems…elegant,” Hayato said. Sora nodded in agreement.

“That’s how rich kids are. Her dad apparently owns a conglomerate. You lucked out, Nori-chan.”

“Nori-chan…” Minori sighed, “Too familiar, don’t you think, senpai?”

Rei hid a smile, but Mio only pouted. Sora’s eyes widened, “You don’t mince your words, do you. Kirishima-san”

Minori shrugged, “I don’t see the point in it.”

Rei smiled, “Finally, a girl who thinks alike.”

Time passed in sketching and conversation. It felt strangely manageable by the time they all were forced to leave. The instinct that told her to fade into the background was softer, but present. The sun set in the distance. Minori would’ve taken some time in the public park to sketch it, but she pulled out her phone and just clicked a picture for later, sliding it back into her pocket before entering the underpass to the metro station.

She stood at the apartment door again. The excitement made her almost forget she had a home. It was overwhelming.

Definitely not because she enjoyed herself.

Definitely not.

Rie answered the door.

“Okaeri,” she said.

“Tadaima.”

Minori blinked, “You were waiting?”

“I texted you,” she said.

“You can text people?”

Rie nodded plainly, “Akagi-nee gave me her old phone.”

Minori let out an exhale, “Oh, that explains the unknown number… Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Rie only nodded.

As she stepped inside, the smell of udon noodles wafted into her nostrils.

“Micchan,” Akagi called, “How was your first day?”

Minori set her bag down gently, “It was interesting…”

Akagi raised an eyebrow with a signature smirk. “Interesting, huh?”

Minori nodded, “Yeah…interesting indeed.”