The golden afternoon light slanted deeper through the window, casting long shadows across the now quiet manga and anime clubroom. Dust motes floated lazily in the sunbeams, giving the room a dreamy, almost nostalgic feel. The whir of the drawing tablets and the occasional tapping of styluses against the screens had been the only sound for the last half hour, aside from the faint, muffled chatter of students in the hallway winding down their own club activities.
Kokoro was hunched slightly over a drawing tablet, completely absorbed. His eyes were laser-focused, brow gently furrowed, his hand steady as he refined the sketch lines and adjusted the speech bubbles for one of the panels. Despite having worked on it for quite some time, he still moved with careful, precise intent, as if each stroke was a silent promise to bring Sayuri's vision to life.
Aikawa Sayuri, seated next to him, glanced up at the wall clock. Her pink eyes widened a little in surprise.
"Oh no, it's almost six," she said softly, voice a mix of realization and a tinge of regret. She turned to Kokoro. "We should probably stop here for today. It's getting pretty late."
Kokoro blinked and finally looked up from his screen. His body ached from sitting so still, and he let out a small groan as he stretched, his arms reaching toward the ceiling and his spine cracking slightly.
"Yeah," he said, glancing at the clock and rubbing his shoulder. "Time really flew by. I didn't even notice."
Sayuri stood up and gave a long, satisfying stretch, lifting her arms high and arching her back slightly. She shut her eyes tightly and held the stretch for a good few seconds before letting out a sigh. When she opened her eyes, they were glistening slightly from the tension, and she wiped them gently with a napkin she pulled from her school bag.
"What a day," she chuckled, her tone cheerful but exhausted. "Thank you again, Kokoro-kun. Seriously. I wouldn't have been able to finish that much on my own. You really saved me today."
Kokoro, already closing his drawing tablet and placing it into its case, looked up at her. He gave her a reassuring smile.
"I had fun," he replied casually. "And your story's really good. Honestly, with how solid your plot is and how much emotion it carries, you might even win that short manga competition next month."
Sayuri blinked at him, her eyes softening. Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked away with an embarrassed smile.
"You're just saying that," she mumbled, clearly flattered. "But... thank you."
She brushed some strands of pink hair behind her ear, a shy little gesture, and then turned back toward her desk to begin packing up.
"If I do enter it," she added, slipping her sketchbook into her bag, "I'll definitely credit you. You helped with the drawing and layout—honestly, that saved me so much time. It wouldn't feel right without your name on it."
Kokoro chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Sure," he said. "If that's what you want. I don't mind."
With that, they both stepped out of the clubroom, Sayuri carefully locking the door behind them. The hallway outside was much quieter now, most of the other clubs having finished for the day. Only a few stragglers remained, chatting idly or packing up supplies.
Sayuri turned to Kokoro with a soft smile.
"Hey," she said. "You want to grab a drink? My treat. We deserve something cold after that much focus. I think my brain melted halfway through drawing that one emotional panel."
Kokoro tilted his head slightly, then smiled back.
"Sure. Drawing's more exhausting than people think," he said with a chuckle.
They walked side by side down the long, sun-drenched hallway of the fourth floor, their footsteps echoing faintly on the polished floor. Outside the windows, the sky was turning a soft amber, clouds tinged with orange and pink. The Sakura trees near the school gates swayed gently, petals drifting in the evening breeze. The warmth of the day lingered in the air, and the sound of birds getting ready to roost created a peaceful, nostalgic backdrop.
Sayuri walked a bit ahead, humming lightly to herself, clearly in a good mood. Kokoro watched her for a second before adjusting his bag strap and looking away, hiding a small grin.
He had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but today, at least, felt like the start of something quietly special.
____________________________________
The vending machine's soft hum barely registered in Kokoro's ears as he waited for the bottle to fall. Beside him, Aikawa Sayuri peered at the selection of drinks with her finger pressed thoughtfully to her chin. The orange hue of the evening sun filtered through the windows of the hallway, casting long shadows across the floor and bathing the moment in gentle warmth. After a quiet but satisfying stretch of creative work, the silence between the two felt natural—peaceful.
Kokoro reached for the cold drink with a small sigh of relief when the sound of a familiar voice suddenly pierced through the air.
"Yo! Kokoro!"
Startled, Kokoro turned toward the voice just in time to see Kenta waving enthusiastically from the far end of the hallway, flanked by his two ever-present companions. The trio jogged toward him, each with a familiar mixture of exhaustion and mischief etched into their faces.
"Kenta?" Kokoro blinked in surprise. "You're still here? I thought your club ended hours ago."
Sayuri turned at the sound of the commotion, her expression warm and a little curious. "Friends of yours?" she asked with a smile.
Kokoro gave a small nod. "Yeah. We got separated earlier, but we were supposed to meet up after clubs. I didn't think they'd still be here, though."
Sayuri smiled gently and gave him a light wave. "Then I won't keep you. Let's meet in the clubroom tomorrow? Same time."
"Sure," Kokoro said with a smile, watching her turn and walk away with a light step. The golden light of the hallway made her long pink hair shimmer faintly, and for a moment, Kokoro stood still—just watching.
"Oho? Was that your girlfriend?" Kenta's voice broke through his moment of reverie, followed by the sudden weight of an arm being slung over Kokoro's shoulder.
"Definitely looked like it," one of the other boys teased.
"Way to go, lover boy. Should we have waited? Didn't mean to interrupt your moment under the sunset."
Kokoro sighed and gently shrugged off Kenta's arm. "She's just my club president, alright? We were working on a manga project."
Kenta gave him a mock-suspicious look, squinting his eyes. "Sure, sure. That's how all romance manga start, you know."
"You read too much shoujo," Kokoro said dryly, though the edge of his mouth tugged into a smile.
"But seriously," Kokoro added, "why are you all still here? Didn't you say the drama club ends earlier most days?"
At that, Kenta's face crumpled into a dramatic display of misery. "Don't even get me started. We were basically ambushed the moment we stepped into the clubroom. They made us perform—like, right away! In front of everyone!"
"I blanked so hard I forgot my name!" one of the other boys groaned.
"I tripped over my own script," the third muttered, looking equally haunted.
Kokoro chuckled softly as the three launched into overlapping tales of embarrassment, each one blaming the others for their theatrical disasters.
"You could've saved me, man," Kenta lamented dramatically. "I looked into the eyes of a third-year and forgot what emotions were."
"And yet you claim I'm the one living out a romance manga," Kokoro replied.
The four of them exited the school building as the last light of day began to fade into dusk. The warm air carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms, the trees lining the path swaying ever so slightly in the evening breeze.
As they walked side-by-side down the familiar road from school, the chatter continued—about clubs, about anime they'd watched recently, about dinner plans and overdue homework. Their laughter echoed under the dimming sky, simple and youthful, tethered to the kind of memories that would linger long after high school ended.
Even as Kokoro participated in the banter, a part of his mind drifted back to Sayuri's focused gaze and the quiet hum of the clubroom. That warm, peaceful space where creativity and companionship flourished.
But for now, he let the laughter of his friends anchor him in the present, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the slowly darkening sky.
Tomorrow was a new day—and the clubroom door would be waiting.