Tokyo's autumn was quiet, just like those people who exist in a crowd yet go unnoticed.
Haruto was sitting in his usual spot today under the old sakura tree on campus. The wind was a bit strong, leaves were falling onto his sketchbook, but Haruto had no complaints. For him, this place was a small world of its own where he observed people from a distance and captured their small movements in his sketches.
Haruto's sketchbook was always filled with half-finished faces. Someone holding a smile, someone staring far away with sadness, someone lost in a moment. Maybe that is why Haruto often felt like a background character in his own life. People walked, laughed, lived… and he simply drew them.
But today his pencil suddenly stopped.
Near the library's glass wall sat a girl he had never noticed so clearly before. Maybe she wasn't new to the campus, but to Haruto, she felt like a fresh painting, calm, soft, and slightly distant.
Her hair had a light brown shade falling just below her neck. A white cardigan, a long pleated skirt, and an open notebook in front of her. She was writing with such focus, as if every word lifted a piece of her inner world and placed it on paper.
Haruto didn't even realise when his pencil started drawing the outline of that girl.
After a few minutes a gentle breeze passed by, and the faint chime from the library door echoed. Haruto paused his pencil and looked at the girl again.
Her face held a strange calmness and, at the same time, a bit of blankness. As if she were physically present here but living somewhere else entirely.
A curiosity rose in Haruto's mind:
"Who is she?"
He had never seen anyone write so slowly. Each word was formed carefully, then paused, then continued again. As if she were gathering her thoughts and placing them onto paper piece by fragile piece.
A while later Haruto stood up, picked up his bag, and walked toward the library. Maybe he couldn't stop himself or maybe it was one of those rare moments where his feet made the decision instead of his mind.
The library was warm from the inside, with soft yellow lights and the old scent of books. Haruto stepped in quietly. He found the girl in the seating area between two shelves. From a distance he noticed a line written in her notebook, slightly shaking because of the breeze:
"If someday I forget everything,
May my heart still remember how to feel."
Haruto's heart froze for a moment. The line was unusual… unnecessarily beautiful… and unnecessarily sad.
He gently placed his sketchbook on the table opposite her. The wind didn't let her notice his entry, or perhaps she was simply lost in a world where no one could enter.
After a moment the girl finally lifted her eyes. They were exactly as Haruto had seen from afar deep, calm, and carrying a heavy quietness behind them.
She looked at Haruto for a second, then her gaze shifted to his sketchbook, where her outline was drawn.
The girl slightly raised her eyebrow.
"…You're drawing me?"
Haruto panicked a little and quickly closed his sketchbook.
"N no, I mean… yes. Sorry. I just—"
Seeing his awkwardness, the girl gave a small smile. Haruto felt the room's warmth soften instantly.
"It's fine. How do you know what to draw?" she asked calmly.
Haruto took a deep breath.
"I don't know. When a moment feels interesting, it just becomes a sketch."
"Interesting?" she asked, closing her notebook.
Haruto lowered his gaze a little.
"You looked… a little lost while writing. People like that always seem… interesting to me."
The girl hid a tiny laugh and placed her notebook aside.
"People usually avoid lost-looking people. You do the opposite and draw them."
Haruto shrugged.
"Maybe because I also look lost."
Hearing this, a real, soft smile appeared on her lips. Not a normal smile but the kind someone gives when they feel understood after a long time.
For a while, they both sat in silence. No pretending to read or write. Just a comfortable quietness.
Finally, the girl pulled her notebook close to her chest and softly said:
"My name is Rin."
Haruto bowed his head slightly.
"I'm Haruto."
Rin looked a little surprised, as if she were hearing his name for the first time and unsure whether she'd be able to remember it.
"Haruto… nice name."
"Thanks."
Haruto noticed Rin was repeatedly tracing the cover of her notebook with her fingers. It looked like a habit… or maybe a coping mechanism.
He asked:
"Do you write here every day?"
Rin didn't answer like a confident girl. She looked to the side, thought for a moment, as if she were searching for the answer.
"Maybe… yes. It must be written somewhere in my notes."
Haruto felt confused for a second.
"In your notes?"
Rin quickly changed the topic.
"Can I see your sketch?"
Haruto normally never let anyone see his unfinished sketches. But Rin's tone had an innocence and a strange softness that made it hard to refuse.
He opened the sketchbook.
It showed Rin sitting at the library table hair slightly blown, eyes lowered, pen poised above paper. The sketch was incomplete, details missing, but the emotion was clear.
Rin stared at it for a few seconds. Her expression was unreadable a mixture of appreciation and something… heavy.
Then she softly asked:
"Do I really look like this?"
Haruto quietly replied:
"Yes."
Rin gently stroked the sketch with her thumb as if she were touching a memory fondly.
Then she said a small thing:
"I look like someone who remembers things. But… sometimes… I don't."
The line felt strange to Haruto.
He softly asked:
"Are you okay?"
Rin smiled. It wasn't fake… just fragile.
"Yes. I'm just… a little complicated."
Haruto didn't ask anything further. He instinctively understood that some things are respected by leaving them unasked.
Rin picked up her pen again and wrote something on the page. Haruto noticed her handwriting was sometimes steady and sometimes suddenly tilting as if the flow of her mind was breaking.
He asked:
"Poetry?"
Rin shook her head.
"No. Thoughts. In case I forget later…"
She stopped.
A brief blankness returned to her eyes.
Then she finished the line:
"…it becomes easier to remember."
For the first time, Haruto felt a mismatch between her calm smile and her heavy words. Her smile was gentle but her words carried clouds.
Rin suddenly changed the topic:
"What do you draw… mostly people?"
"Yes. People and their emotions. Because I find it easier to feel them but harder to express them."
Rin softly said:
"Opposite of me."
"Opposite?" Haruto asked.
Rin closed her notebook and quietly said:
"I feel things. Very strongly. But… I cannot keep them."
Haruto didn't fully understand the line, but he didn't push.
Just by looking into her eyes he could tell she wasn't normal. Not in a bad way… but in a painful way.
They looked outside for a moment. Rain droplets landed on the library glass, leaving tiny trails. Rin followed them quietly as if searching for her missing thoughts in those drops.
Haruto softly asked:
"You like the rain?"
Rin tucked her hair back and said:
"I used to… I think."
There was something in that line a faint memory or the shadow of one.
Then Rin reopened Haruto's sketchbook and wrote a small line in the corner of the page:
"Thank you for seeing me."
Haruto was surprised.
"Seeing you?"
Rin stood up slowly, picked up her bag, and walked toward the exit. At the door, she paused, turned around, and said:
"People look at me… but they do not see me.
Today you did."
And without another word, she left.
Haruto watched her silhouette fade slowly through the library glass. A strange pull formed in his chest a mix of curiosity, fear, and fascination.
He closed his sketchbook and whispered:
"Rin…"
As if the name itself held a mystery.
Even after Rin left, her presence lingered in the air… like someone had painted the first gentle colour on Haruto's heart.