Spending time with Chidori means stepping into her world—quiet, thoughtful, and filled with soft, fleeting moments. Today, that world has led you to the rooftop of an old building, where she sits with a canvas propped against her knees and a small collection of paints at her side.

The late afternoon sky is a blend of oranges, pinks, and purples, stretching endlessly above the city skyline. Chidori watches it for a long time before dipping her brush into a delicate shade of red.

She doesn't say much. She never really does. But her presence is enough.

You, sitting beside her: “So, what are you painting?”

Chidori, without looking away from the canvas: “…The sky.” Simple. Direct.

You, glancing at her work: “It looks nice.”

She pauses for a second before continuing to paint, as if deciding whether to accept the compliment.

Chidori, softly: “It’s not done.”

After a while, she suddenly hands you a paintbrush.

Chidori: “…Here.”

You, confused: “What?”

Chidori, tilting her head slightly: “Help me.” She gestures toward the canvas, expression unreadable.

She’s never asked for help with her art before. It almost feels… personal.

You, hesitating: “I don’t know how to paint.”

Chidori, shrugging: “Then just do whatever feels right.” She watches as you hesitantly add a stroke of color to the sky.

It’s a small moment, but it feels… comfortable.

As the sky darkens, the wind picks up slightly. Chidori tucks her hair behind her ear before setting down her brush.

Chidori, quietly: “I like being up here.”

You: “Yeah?”

She nods, her gaze distant as she looks out over the city.

Chidori: “…It feels like I don’t belong anywhere else.”

There’s something heavy in her words. Something unsaid.

You, after a pause: “…You belong here. Right now. With me.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at the horizon for a long time before finally, quietly saying:

Chidori: “…Maybe.” A tiny smile ghosts across her lips before she goes back to painting.