The rain had passed overnight, leaving behind that soft, washed-out smell of clean streets and wet earth.
By morning, the sky was pale blue again, like someone had wiped it gently with a brush.
Haruto arrived early to class — earlier than usual. The windows were still fogged a little from the humidity, and a faint breeze carried in the sound of a distant lawnmower from the sports field.
He liked mornings like this. They were quiet enough to hear himself think.
A few minutes later, Aoi stepped in, holding her sketchbook against her chest. Her hair was still a little damp, strands sticking out near her ear.
"Morning," she said softly, her voice still half-asleep.
"Morning," Haruto replied, shifting in his seat. "You're early."
She smiled. "Couldn't sleep. I had an idea for a drawing and… well, it wouldn't leave me alone."
He chuckled. "That sounds about right."
There was an ease between them now — not loud or obvious, but real. They didn't fill silences anymore; they just let them exist.
---
At lunch, they sat under the trees behind the gym — the same place they'd discovered by accident last term.
The ground was still damp, so Aoi spread her cardigan before sitting down. Haruto hesitated, then joined her.
A group of students passed nearby, laughing, carrying sports equipment. The noise faded quickly, leaving only the rustle of leaves.
Aoi took out her sketchbook again. "I've been trying to draw the sound of rain," she said, flipping to a blank page.
Haruto tilted his head. "The sound?"
"Mm. It's strange, right? It's not something you can see. But… it has a rhythm. Like footsteps."
He watched her pencil move — light strokes, then softer ones, then pauses.
> She looks calmer when she draws, he thought. Like she belongs somewhere just between silence and sound.
After a while, she glanced at him. "You can draw something too, if you want."
He blinked. "Me? No way."
Aoi grinned. "Come on, you helped in the art room. You're practically an apprentice now."
He sighed but took the pencil anyway, drawing a simple line that went nowhere. She laughed quietly — not teasing, just amused.
"See? You started something," she said. "That's the hardest part."
Her words stuck with him — maybe because she wasn't just talking about drawing.
---
When the bell rang, they walked back together.
Students rushed around them, talking about summer plans, club tournaments, and cram sessions.
Aoi slowed her steps to match his pace. "Are you doing anything over the break?" she asked.
"Not really. Maybe help my uncle at the bookstore again. You?"
She thought for a moment. "I might visit my grandparents' place. They live near the sea."
Haruto smiled faintly. "Sounds peaceful."
"It is. You'd like it. The sky there feels bigger somehow."
There was a short pause — comfortable, but charged with something quieter than words.
> He wanted to say that anywhere would feel peaceful if she was there too.
But maybe some things didn't need to be said yet.
Instead, he nodded. "Maybe you can draw it when you come back."
"I will," she said softly. "I'll bring you the sketch."
---
That evening, as Aoi walked home, she thought about the way Haruto had watched her draw — not in awe, not in confusion, just… with care.
It made her heart feel lighter, like she was carrying something good and fragile.
> He's learning to stay, she thought.
And maybe I'm learning what that really means too.