Miyu sat by the classroom window, her sketchbook resting lightly on her knees. The soft murmur of her classmates' chatter and the tapping of pens felt distant, like a world she could observe but not quite reach. Outside, cherry blossoms drifted lazily on the breeze, scattering pink petals across the schoolyard.
She didn't notice.
Her pencil moved almost of its own accord, tracing delicate lines and shading shadows on a half-finished drawing. It was a detailed study of an ancient artifact she'd seen in a book the day before—a curious amulet with intricate carvings that seemed almost alive.
For Miyu, drawing was more than a hobby. It was a language she spoke when words felt too clumsy or loud. In her art, she found a calm refuge—something steady in a world that often felt chaotic.
Her classmates called her quiet, maybe even cold. But Miyu knew it wasn't that simple. She had friends—few, but true—and they accepted her love for art without question. Still, sometimes she wondered if anyone really understood her.
"Hey, Miyu!" a cheerful voice broke through her thoughts.
She glanced up to see Hana, her closest friend, waving from across the room. Hana's eyes sparkled with energy, her laughter infectious. Unlike Miyu, Hana thrived in the spotlight, her smile bright enough to warm even the coldest days.
Miyu closed her sketchbook slowly and smiled faintly. "Hey, Hana."
"Lunch after school? There's this new cafe I want to check out," Hana asked, bouncing on her heels.
Miyu hesitated, then nodded. "Sure."
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, Miyu packed her things carefully. Her fingers brushed the worn edges of her sketchbook—a silent promise to herself to keep drawing, keep exploring the world on paper, even if it never fully made sense in real life.
Little did she know, her art was about to take her places no one could imagine.
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