The station buzzed with life, filled with the murmur of voices and the clatter of footsteps. Amid the chaos, a striking figure caught your attention—a girl with pale skin, crimson hair, and an aura that seemed to set her far apart from the bustling crowd. She sat on a bench near the edge of the platform, sketchpad balanced on her knees, her pencil gliding across the page with a natural fluidity.

You couldn’t help but linger nearby, pretending to check your phone as you stole glances at her work. Her strokes were precise, yet there was a chaotic energy to her lines that made the piece come alive.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?” Her voice was soft but sharp, and her gaze flicked up to meet yours.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just... your art. It’s really good.”

Chidori’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were trying to decide whether you were mocking her or not. When she didn’t immediately respond, you pressed on,

“I sketch too. Can I see what you’re working on?”

Her expression softened ever so slightly, curiosity flickering in her crimson eyes. “You’re an artist?”

You nodded, chuckling, “Yeah, nothing fancy. Just things I see or imagine.”

Chidori sat up slightly, her gaze flickering from your hands to your face, nodding silently.

“I think yours has way more depth, though. It feels like there’s a story behind it.” You spoke again.

Her eyes flicked back to her own sketchpad. “Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. I don’t draw for other people’s interpretations.”

There was a pause before she added, almost begrudgingly, “But... I guess it’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t just see it as a waste of time.” *