One day passed quietly. After school ended, Junichi Aoki didn't go straight home. Instead, he made a small detour—to the local internet café.
"Junichi! Over here. Haruto's on PC No. 3. Want me to boot up your usual?" the man at the counter, a middle-aged uncle with a friendly grin, greeted him.
Junichi shook his head. "No need today, Uncle Sato. I just came to see Haruto."
"Ah, got it. Go on in then." Uncle Sato waved his hand casually. "Oh, right—could you bring this drink to him? I forgot to send it over earlier."
"Sure."
Junichi took the drink and stepped past the rows of humming machines. In the corner where they always hung out, he spotted Haruto Yagami—but instead of gaming like usual, he was browsing webcomics.
Haruto, with his flashy dyed hair and sharp school uniform, looked like someone ripped from a shojo manga himself. His handsome features were the kind that naturally drew attention.
"No games today? Just reading manga?" Junichi plopped down beside him and casually opened the drink. Without much thought, he took a sip.
Haruto glanced over and blinked. "Oh, hey. Didn't expect you to actually show. There've been a lot of good releases lately—some new series are seriously fire. Wait… whose drink are you chugging?"
"Yours."
"Oi, you're fucking shameless." Haruto smirked, shaking his head. "So, not playing today either? You came all the way here just to freeload my soda?"
"I'm not here to play," Junichi replied calmly.
"Huh? Then why'd you come?"
"I needed to ask you something."
"Ohh?" Haruto's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Alright, tell me who needs a beatdown. I'll grab the crew and we'll handle it."
Junichi gave him a dry stare. "Why do your solutions always involve violence? No, it's not that. It's… something else."
"Alright, alright, I'm listening." Haruto casually took the drink back and sipped from the same straw.
"I want you… to teach me how to draw."
"…Huh?"
"I said, teach me how to draw." Junichi repeated, his face dead serious.
Haruto stared blankly at him for a moment, genuinely taken aback. They'd known each other for years, and while he'd always sensed the quiet storm of emotions Junichi carried, the guy had never shown interest in anything creative. Not even once.
Still… something was different now. In a good way.
After a few seconds of silence, Haruto stood up.
"Alright. Let's go."
"Huh? Where to?"
"My place."
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Haruto lived in a small one-room apartment that was, frankly, a bit of a mess. His "study" was packed with piles of comic books and sketchpads—some unfinished, some worn from age. Junichi glanced around, quietly taking it all in.
Back then, Haruto had studied art seriously for two years before abruptly quitting. Though his hands might've gone rusty, he still knew more than enough to teach a complete beginner like Junichi.
Besides, Junichi didn't have the money to afford professional lessons or digital equipment. Asking Haruto for help was the only real option.
"Here," Haruto said, tossing him a pencil and sheet of paper. "I studied sketching, and honestly, it's the foundation of everything. If you get a solid grasp on form and perspective through sketching, the rest gets way easier. We'll start with that."
He didn't ask Junichi why he wanted to draw. Not directly. But in the back of his mind, Haruto figured it might have something to do with applying to an arts-focused high school.
Junichi nodded. "Got it."
"Start with lines. Clean, confident strokes. Here—watch me."
Haruto smoothly drew a row of straight lines, crisp and evenly spaced. "Practice this first. Over and over."
Junichi didn't say much. He picked up the pencil and began drawing, eyes narrowed in focus.
Haruto peeked at the page now and then, offering brief pointers.
"Too shaky. Don't force the line—relax your wrist. Try again."
Junichi let out a slow breath, then got back to it.
As the hours passed, Haruto read through a manga volume beside him, occasionally letting out a "whoa!" at a twist or killer panel. Meanwhile, Junichi continued practicing in silence.
Eventually, Haruto glanced over and nodded. "Alright. That's enough lines for today. Next up—you're gonna draw something simple. An apple."
"An apple?"
"Yeah. Gotta start somewhere."
Since Haruto's parents were both away on business trips, the apartment was quiet—no curfews, no interruptions. Junichi planned to stay the night.
"Don't burn yourself out though," Haruto said, standing and stretching. "You've been at this for like four hours straight. I'll go get us something to eat."
"Hey, Haruto—get extra. A lot.
"…How much is 'a lot'?"
"Just enough for, like, five people."
Haruto raised an eyebrow. "You planning to eat all of that?"
"You'll see."
"Alright, alright."
When Haruto returned with a stack of bento boxes, Junichi washed his hands and dug in.
"We're never finishing all this," Haruto muttered.
Junichi didn't reply—he was too busy demolishing the first box.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Haruto watched in shock as Junichi devoured the entire spread.
"You… You actually finished all six?!"
Junichi wiped his mouth. "Still a bit hungry. Got anything in the fridge?"
Haruto gulped. "Dude. You're a bottomless pit. Seriously, are you training to win an eating contest or something?"
"There's still bread and eggs in the fridge. You can fry them yourself."
"Perfect."
As Junichi headed into the kitchen, Haruto touched his flat stomach in disbelief. "All that food just… disappeared. What the hell, Junichi. He must has a black hole in there."
Junichi returned soon after, full again, and sat back down in front of his paper.
Without missing a beat, he picked up his pencil and went right back to drawing—with a fire in his eyes that hadn't been there in years.
He had made up his mind.
No matter how long it took… he would master this.