Canvas of Silent Colors

The soft mechanical buzz of the PA faded out, leaving behind an eerie silence in Class 1-B.

All eyes turned toward me.

I blinked once, calmly set down my chopsticks, and wiped my hands with a napkin as if the school hadn't just summoned me to the principal's office in the middle of lunch.

Tomoya was the first to speak, his voice nearly cracking.

"Ren… what did you do?"

I exhaled slowly and gave him a small, reassuring smile. "It's nothing serious."

Of course, I couldn't exactly say I'd spent yesterday afternoon negotiating with Kagami-sensei about skipping official club registration just to stay a ghost member. Technically, I wasn't breaking rules… but I was definitely bending them in ways the handbook didn't like.

If anything, I was more in danger of getting a warning or being forced into detention than facing any actual punishment.

Before Tomoya could press further, the classroom started buzzing with whispers.

"Did I hear that wrong?"

"Wait, Natsuki got called to the principal's office?"

"We're just first-years—why would they even summon someone this early?"

"There's no way he's in trouble… right?"

It wasn't like our year had done anything outrageous yet. Four weeks in, and the biggest scandal was someone sneaking takoyaki into the library.

"Excuse me, Natsuki-kun."

I turned slightly. The class rep, Kurosawa Yui, was standing now. Always neat, always calm, her posture straight as a ruler. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes said enough.

"Yes, Kurosawa-san?"

"Did something happen?" she asked. "If it's related to the class or any club responsibilities, I can speak to Kagami-sensei."

She meant well. But it was clear she was also running her own investigation, the gears in her head spinning through possibilities.

Someone like me getting called out didn't add up in her checklist.

Behind her, three voices rose — not exactly whispering.

"Ren-kun's going to the principal's office?"

"No way, that can't be right!"

"If this is about some dumb paperwork, I'm gonna scream…"

Those three were impossible to miss, Yamamoto Airi, Tachibana Riko, and Sakuraba Mina.

Popular, bold, and always trending among the fashion crowd. Their uniforms were barely within the code, unbuttoned jackets, skirts just shy of rebellious, and those perfectly styled, effortless waves in their hair.

The kind of students teachers often sighed at but couldn't help liking.

Even though they looked like textbook gyarus, the three of them were officially in the fashion club. And despite their flashy appearance and loose talk, they were genuinely kind.

Yamamoto had covered for a shy classmate during oral presentations, Tachibana helped organize the emergency supply shelf last week, and Sakuraba was the one who took notes for a kid out with the flu.

They weren't worried because it was gossip-worthy.

They were worried because it was me. 

Back during club try-out weeks, Tomoya and I helped the fashion club when they had a last-minute outfit issue. It wasn't anything official.

We just stepped in and switched with them so they could still present properly.

That moment kind of set everything in motion.

It didn't take long before people started talking. The fashion club thanked us in a post, someone from the photography club uploaded a few photos, and somehow the story got bigger each time it was retold.

Before we knew it, people started calling us the "Promotion Club" — half as a joke, but the nickname that really stuck, though, came from these three. They were the ones who first called me the "Jack of all Trades." Just me, not including Tomoya.

I guess it made sense. After all, I kept moving between clubs, offering help whenever I could. Whether someone needed an extra pair of hands, someone to carry equipment, or even just someone to listen, I was there.

I didn't do it to show off or anything. I was really just trying to help Tomoya find a place that suited him, and if I could do something useful along the way, then I figured why not.

Tomoya helped too, but only here and there. Mostly when I asked. He was still figuring things out and hopping between clubs to see what fit. People noticed him, sure, but he didn't stand out the same way.

Me, on the other hand… I guess I ended up feeding the rumor. Not on purpose, but I never really corrected anyone either.

The girls became a lot more forward after that. Especially with me.

Even though I didn't really know how to handle that kind of attention, I just tried to stay polite. When they got too flirty, I turned them down gently. They never got upset. If anything, they just laughed and said things like, "If we hang out long enough, maybe one of us will win over Ren-kun."

I'd laugh too. And somehow, over time, we actually did become friends.

Tomoya, though... he was completely hopeless.

One wink, one compliment, and he'd go bright red. The girls loved that about him. They said he looked like a shy little puppy. He didn't even try to hide it — if anything, he just made it worse by reacting exactly how they wanted every time.

Later that day, after another ambush by the three of them, he looked at me with this serious face and asked, "Ren... is this what they call... my spring?"

I didn't say anything. Just smiled and patted his back.

Maybe it was.

I offered a composed smile to them and Kurosawa-san, not too forced. "Really. It's probably just some clarification about volunteer lists or school forms. I'll be back before sixth period."

Kurosawa-san studied me a moment longer, then gave a small nod. "Alright. Let us know if you need anything."

I turned to Tomoya, who was still frozen like I'd told him I had a secret twin who burned the gym down.

I stepped up beside him and gave his shoulder a light slap. "I'll be back soon. Don't eat my dessert."

He stared at me. "Ren, this doesn't feel like a joke."

"I'm not joking," I said softly. "And I'm not in trouble."

A pause. Then he nodded once.

"Alright… but if anything happens, I'll make a scene. Just saying."

That made me smile a little.

"Duly noted."

And with that, I stepped into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind me.

The hallway wasn't exactly crowded. Most of the students had already cleared out after lunch, though a few were still lingering outside or rushing back in with last-minute snacks and supplies.

A couple of first-years from another class noticed me as I walked past. I heard my name whispered, followed by that familiar phrase — "Jack of all Trades." I didn't stop. Just let out a quiet sigh and kept walking.

"Wait, isn't that the Jack of all Trades?"

"Why would he be going to the principal's office?"

"Maybe that whole nice guy thing is just a cover…"

"What if he's actually… scary?"

I heard it. All of it. They didn't even try to be subtle.

As I rounded the corner toward the stairwell, something caught my eye. Eriri.

She was standing near the window at the far end of the hallway, gazing outside with her arms crossed. The light from outside made her hair almost glow, and for a moment, I wondered if she even noticed me coming.

But then our eyes met.

And just as quickly, she looked away. Her expression tightened, not angry, not exactly, more like... disappointment. Like she had expected something else and didn't like what she found.

I didn't take it personally. Not really.

She didn't know me, and I barely knew her. But that didn't stop her from judging. Maybe it was because I was hanging around Tomoya. Maybe it was the timing—being called to the principal's office not even a month into school probably didn't help.

Still, it wasn't hard to guess. 

That look wasn't about me, not entirely. It was about Tomoya. About what she thought I'd bring into his life. Maybe she saw me as a distraction or someone who'd pull him into something stupid.

I remembered seeing them at the club demonstration. She was sharp, polished, almost too composed.

But the second she spotted Tomoya in the crowd, her act cracked, even if only a little. She tried to hide it, but her eyes lingered too long before pretending he wasn't there.

Whatever was going on between them, it wasn't simple. It wasn't hate, either. It was... something unfinished.

I exhaled through my nose and kept walking.

"Really, teenagers," I muttered under my breath, half amused, half tired.

Not like I was any older technically. But sometimes, watching all of this from the outside, it felt like I'd aged an extra year or two just overnight.

I just smiled a little and nodded to myself.

Then, without a word, I climbed the stairs to the third floor. The principal's office was waiting.

----------------------------

The walk to the principal's office felt both short and long at once. Maybe it was the quiet. Or maybe it was the way the third-floor hallways felt heavier somehow, like time slowed down just a little here.

I wasn't even halfway down the corridor when Sorata-senpai suddenly appeared from one of the classroom doors.

"Ren," he said, voice low but urgent. "You're heading to the principal's office?"

Before I could even nod, Nanami-senpai came up behind him. "Did something happen? No way you're in actual trouble."

I tried to play it off with a light shrug. "Probably just a misunderstanding. I'll clear it up, don't worry."

But they didn't back down.

Sorata-senpai scratched the back of his head. "After what happened last year with Misaki-senpai and Jin-senpai, they're probably already watching Sakurasou like hawks."

Nanami-senpai nodded firmly. "Exactly. If one of us gets called in, the rest don't just sit around."

They stood on either side of me, half like bodyguards, half like they were daring someone to try and stop them. I could feel the weight of it—how they weren't just saying it for show.

"If they want to talk," Sorata-senpai muttered, "then they'll hear from all of us. We're not letting them mess with one of our own."

I blinked, a little caught off guard by how serious they were.

"Really?" I said, though I already knew the answer.

"Obviously," Nanami-senpai said. "You're part of Sakurasou. That's it."

Before I could respond, I caught a glimpse of Mashiro-senpai. She stood just past the open door of her classroom, half-hidden behind the frame. Her eyes met mine.

She didn't speak. She never needed to.

I gave her a small smile. Tired, honest, maybe a little worn down. She stared a second longer, then dipped her head and vanished back inside.

Sorata-senpai followed my gaze, exhaled. "She saw."

"Yeah," I murmured.

Nanami-senpai gave my arm a pat. "Let's just handle it and come back before lunch break ends."

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. But standing there between them, hearing those quiet words and seeing their expressions, I felt it. That reckless kind of loyalty only Sakurasou could pull off.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. But standing there between them, hearing those quiet words and seeing their expressions, I felt it. That reckless kind of loyalty only Sakurasou could pull off.

I couldn't help but laugh.

Just a small chuckle under my breath, but enough to make them look at me. "Alright," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Let's see how bad it really is."

We reached the principal's office door, and for a second, all three of us just stood there.

Then Sorata-senpai raised his hand and knocked.

The moment the door creaked open, even he stiffened a little.

Inside, the room wasn't just the usual boring office setup.

The student council was already there—lined up neatly like they were holding court. They didn't look angry. Just composed. Calm. Some of them even looked like they were trying not to smile. Their eyes followed me, not cold, but definitely watchful. Curious. A little too curious.

All except for Bossun-senpai, who was grinning like he'd just been handed popcorn before a show.

Kagami-sensei sat nearby, eyes half-lidded and sleepless, arms crossed like he'd just been woken up from a six-day coding session.

Which, knowing the situation, might not even be a stretch.

Chihiro-sensei was there too, leaning against the window with her usual tired grin. There was something quietly amused in her eyes, like she was watching a sitcom no one else could see.

And behind the desk, the principal himself.

Sorata-senpai coughed under his breath. "This feels a little… excessive."

Nanami-senpai stood a bit straighter. "Yeah. Like walking into a boss battle without saving."

I took a breath, stepped forward, and gave them all a polite nod.

"Well. Afternoon," I said. "I assume this is about the thing."

The principal raised an eyebrow. "You assume correctly."

Yeah. I figured.

Then he looked to Sorata-senpai and Nanami-senpai. "Thank you for accompanying him. But this part of the meeting is private."

Sorata-senpai frowned. "Wait, what? With all due respect, Ren isn't some troublemaker. If he's in trouble, we should at least hear why."

Nanami-senpai stepped up beside him. "He didn't do anything wrong. If it's something serious, we should be here too."

There was a small beat of silence before Chihiro-sensei spoke, calm and low. "You're not wrong. But this isn't about punishment."

She turned her eyes to me, then back to them. "It's something that only Natsuki needs to hear first."

Kagami-sensei pushed up his glasses. "This isn't a disciplinary meeting. It's... a conversation. One that needs fewer voices."

Sorata-senpai looked to me. "Ren?"

I gave him a small nod. "It's okay. I'll explain it later."

There was still hesitation in his eyes. Nanami-senpai looked unconvinced.

That's when one of the student council members stepped forward. Uzui-senpai, sharp and straight-backed. His voice was even.

"It's not what you think. Natsuki's not in trouble."

Another followed—Hime-senpai. Her expression was serious but kind. "We just need to confirm something."

Then Bossun-senpai stepped closer, rubbing the back of his neck. "Think of it like... a recruitment interview, but not exactly."

His grin widened. "Honestly, I've been waiting to meet you properly."

That caught Sorata-senpai off-guard. He blinked. "Recruit?"

Hime-senpai gave a small nod. "It's complicated."

Nanami-senpai narrowed her eyes. "Then why not just say that?"

Kagami-sensei sighed. "Because it's not official. Yet."

Chihiro-sensei stepped between them with a soft clap of her hands. "We're not keeping secrets. Let Ren hear it first. You'll understand soon enough."

There was another pause. Then, slowly, Sorata-senpai exhaled. "Fine. But you better not be pulling some weird cult invitation on him."

Bossun-senpai laughed. "No promises."

Nanami-senpai turned to me. "We'll be right outside."

I nodded. "Thanks."

They stepped out quietly. The door clicked behind them.

Now it was just me, a room full of upperclassmen, my homeroom teacher, a dorm supervisor and the principal.

And somehow, that was the less stressful part.

The principal steepled his fingers and studied me for a long second. "Natsuki Ren."

I gave a small bow. "Yes, sir."

"You've made quite the impression these past few weeks."

I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or a warning, so I just nodded. My voice would've come out awkward anyway.

But truthfully, I already knew why I was here. It wasn't just about the proposal, or the Undertale project Kagami-sensei will mentioned. This conversation had been coming for a while.

I'd been moving through the school quietly. Helping fix club issues. Covering gaps when teachers needed a hand. Helping mundane issues to all students.

On the outside, it probably looked like I was just being nice. Like I had a problem with saying no.

But that wasn't the full story.

There was intent behind it. Not because I wanted attention, or some kind of reward.

I just needed space to do what actually mattered to me.

I didn't want to tie myself to one club. I didn't want to be locked into one routine, or one label. Between the Undertale project, a few other things I'd planned and helping Mashiro, my time was already spoken for.

And I knew how schools like this operated.

Back then, in my old life, I'd heard stories. Some schools that looked like they ran on talent and grades, but really ran on reputation. Places where being seen the right way could get you more freedom than asking for it outright.

Suimei wasn't that different.

So I leaned into that.

I started helping where I could. Not loudly. Not for show. Just enough to be remembered, quietly, by the right people.

Maybe it was a little selfish. I wanted them to see me as useful enough to bend the rules for. I won't pretend that wasn't part of it.

But I still meant it when I helped.

And if things went the way I hoped, maybe they'd let me keep doing it. Not officially tied down to one place.

Just working in the background, where I could actually make a difference.

The way I wanted to.

Kagami-sensei shifted in his seat beside the principal. His dark circles looked worse up close.

"I told him everything. About the game. About the ghost member idea."

There was a small rustle from the student council side. Sumiji-senpai adjusted his glasses, eyes unreadable.

"He's been helping everyone whether its first-years, second-years, third-years, club leaders, even teachers. Quietly, without asking for anything."

He turned slightly, gaze settling on me. "Jack of all trades. That's what they're saying."

"Not as loud as my campaign entrance," Bossun-senpai added, leaning back in his chair like this was any other lunch break. "But hey, you start rumors just by staying quiet. That's pro-level stealth popularity."

He shot me a grin. Mischievous, but warm.

"I respect that."

I gave a small nod, just acknowledgment.

Then her voice cut through the air.

"Why?"

Everyone turned.

Kei-senpai sat upright, hands folded, expression calm. She hadn't spoken until now, but her eyes had been sharp the whole time.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried. Clear and direct.

I didn't flinch. I'd thought about that question before. Too many times, actually.

"It's not about fame," I said. "And I'm not running from responsibility either, I just don't want to be boxed into one thing when I know I can do more outside the lines."

There was a pause, so I continued.

"I've seen what happens when people don't get help. I've been there. But now I can do something. Even if it's not much, I want to keep doing that—just not in the way the system expects."

Kei-senpai watched me quietly. Her expression stayed still, but something in it eased.

"…You're not lying," she said, almost to herself.

Beside her, a chair creaked.

"That kind of answer," Chiyoko-senpai muttered, arms crossed and chin raised slightly, "is too clean. If you were auditioning, I'd say you're playing the good guy too well."

I blinked.

She stared at me, frowning like I was a scene she couldn't quite decide how to direct. "But I've seen your name come up in many clubs already. Different problems, different people, same results. That's not luck."

I held her gaze. Then nodded.

"I didn't say it was luck."

Chiyoko-senpai clicked her tongue but didn't press further. It didn't feel like she was trying to call me out, more like she didn't want to be caught off guard.

Before anyone else could speak, a quiet voice interrupted.

"That's enough."

Chihiro-sensei stood, arms folded behind her back. Calm, composed, and somehow still managing to silence the room without raising her voice.

"We're not here to interrogate him. He's not applying for a seat on the council. This is about clarification. The ghost member idea, and whether it's something we can approve."

Her eyes landed on me.

"And whether you're serious about following through."

I met her gaze. "I am."

She nodded once, then turned back to the principal.

"Then let's focus."

The principal finally spoke, folding his hands atop the table. His voice was calm, but carried weight

"Technically, club registration isn't mandatory. Not at Suimei. Never has been."

He paused, as if letting that fact breathe for a moment, before tilting his head slightly toward me.

"But let's be honest. In a school like this, where art and ambition are everything, not joining a club as a first-year? It's almost unheard of."

I didn't respond. Not yet.

"For many first-years with creative ambition, joining a club is the first step. Whether it's theatre, music, film, or any hybrid in between, they chase that one 'in' that might lead to something real. Sometimes it's grueling. Sometimes it's political. But in Suimei, effort isn't wasted."

He leaned slightly forward.

"We've got eccentric students, yes. You've met your student council. You've lived in Sakurasou. But there's a reason we let them be as strange as they are. If you have talent, Suimei lets you run wild."

He looked straight at me, not smiling, not blinking.

"You didn't join any club," the principal said. "Didn't make a campaign. Didn't chase a debut. Yet here you are. Not begging for a spot, but negotiating to not have one."

He studied me like a puzzle he'd half-solved already.

"And that's what makes you interesting."

There was no warmth in his voice, not exactly. But there was something close to curiosity. Respect, maybe. Cautious respect.

"You're not just helping people. You're testing the system. Quietly. You want to see how far you can go without wearing a badge."

My thoughts stirred.

'This isn't the same principal I saw at the opening ceremony. Back then, he looked tired. Half-asleep behind the mic. Even during the club exhibition week, he barely said a word, letting student council handle the mess.'

'But here, he commands the room. Even Kagami-sensei and Bossun-senpai stays quiet.'

The principal's eyes hadn't left me.

"You're either brave... or foolish," he said. "But I've always been interested in students who don't follow the script."

His tone shifted again—still sharp, but tinged with something else. Something older.

"You know why I care about this school? Why I stayed, even after I could've taken an easier job somewhere cushier?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

"Because I love art. Not the kind that wins awards. The kind that refuses to fit in and still demands to be seen."

A silence settled. Not awkward. Just full.

"I don't need everyone here to conform. But I need them to commit."

He straightened in his seat.

"So here's the question... are you committed, Natsuki Ren? Not just to the students or their problems, but to your path. Even if it's unconventional."

I met his eyes again.

This time, it wasn't a negotiation.

It was a test.

The principal finally leaned back, the edge of his coat brushing the chair. His gaze flicked toward Kagami-sensei.

"And I suppose what makes this rare is that you're actually vouching for someone, Kagami."

Kagami-sensei, half-slouched in his seat with his usual I-just-woke-up expression, didn't bother straightening. But his eyes? Sharp. Focused.

"I've played the game," he said, voice calm. "It's a demo, yeah. Maybe rough around the edges. But it's not just functional. It has heart."

That drew a few subtle glances across the table. Even Hime-senpai paused her tapping fingers. Kei-senpai tilted her head, listening closer now.

Kagami-sensei scratched the back of his head, then lazily pushed up his glasses.

"I've seen tons of student projects. Most crumble halfway, ambition without foundation. Some look flashy but have zero emotional weight. But this one? It hit something even in me.

And I've played everything. Visual novels, RPGs, doujin games, even bugged beta builds people begged me to review on dead forums."

He leaned forward just slightly, gesturing vaguely at his face.

"You see these dark baggy eyes? That's because I literally speedrun the entire thing last night. 100%-ed it. Found all the hidden easter eggs—and there's a lot, by the way. Some were annoyingly well-hidden. Like, deliberately crafted to frustrate completionists."

There was a beat of silence.

Then he added, almost grumbling but with a weird note of respect, "I even hacked into the full game directory just to see if there was a hidden build or bonus route. Thought I was onto something when I found this encrypted folder labeled 'Route_Alpha_Last'. You know what it was?"

He looked around, then exhaled like the punchline still annoyed him.

"A troll message. Literal fakeout. Just a single .txt file saying 'The full build is on another storage drive. Try again, nerd.'"

Someone stifled a laugh. Even the principal cracked the faintest of smiles.

Kagami-sensei just shrugged, and looked at me.

"I don't care about high-end graphics. I don't care about scope. But this? It felt... sincere. Like someone poured something they couldn't say out loud into the code."

The principal folded his hands again.

"So you're serious. You want to become this so-called ghost member to work on a game... on your own?"

I hesitated only a moment.

"I'm not against working with people. But this isn't something I can do in a typical club setting. I'm not looking for validation or supervision. I just want to finish what I started."

Bossun-senpai raised an eyebrow. "You're talking like you're making the next Final Fantasy in your bedroom."

Sumiji-senpai adjusted his glasses. "Even so, he's not wrong to want that independence. Some clubs suffocate creativity with deadlines and shared vision that becomes… diluted."

That's when Chihiro-sensei chimed in from the side.

Arms crossed. Posture relaxed but somehow still commanding, even when she's wearing Crocs and sipping bubble tea.

"You do know there's a game development club, right?" she said, tone dry but amused. "Founded by Sorata. You know. Your senpai."

The principal nodded. "Last I checked, the member of this club are all Sakurasou members. Including alumni, and Shiina Mashiro."

He tapped a finger against the desk, eyes locked on mine.

"So why not go there? Why isolate yourself? Why keep it especially from Sakurasou?

The room went quiet again.

I took a slow breath. My tone didn't waver.

"Because this game isn't a group project. It's not something to polish for contest deadlines or pitch presentations. It's personal."

They watched me closely now. All of them.

I looked at Chihiro-sensei.

Her expression hadn't changed, not much. Still calm. Still sipping that bubble tea like she wasn't part of one of the most infamous dorms in the history of Suimei. But I knew her too well now. There was a pause in her breathing.

That subtle shift in posture.

"I'm sorry, sensei," I said quietly, "but what I'm about to say might hurt."

She didn't flinch. Just waited.

I took another breath. It felt like exhaling everything I'd been holding in since the day I found that game under a dim of flickering light in cramped apartment.

"The game I'm making... it's not just any story. It's a game that's meant to be felt. That if someone's playing it at 2 a.m., wondering if they even matter… it'll reach them. Even if no one's physically there, they won't feel alone."

Silence.

"I know that might sound naïve. But games saved me once. Not in a loud, life-changing way. Just... quietly. In that grey space where I didn't know who I was, or if I even mattered."

I paused, just long enough to let it settle.

"Someone out there made something. Probably without thinking too much about who would play it, or what it might mean. But it reached me. And in that moment, it felt like someone had seen me. Even if they never knew I existed."

My voice stayed steady.

"I want to do that for someone else. Just one person is enough."

Across the table, Chihiro-sensei set her cup down. The faint clink of plastic against wood felt louder than it should've.

Then came silence.

Not awkward, exactly. Just... thoughtful. The kind of silence that fills a room when everyone's still processing what they just heard.

And then....

"I like your attitude," Bossun-senpai said, leaning forward, hands flat on the table. "No, seriously. I really like your attitude.

"Ren, I want you in the student council."

Hime-senpai's head snapped toward him. "You what?"

Bossun-senpai looked completely serious. "I'm saying we recruit him. Right here, right now. No forms, no votes. Just vibes."

Usui-senpai gave him a slow side-eye. "You're aware that's not how anything works, right?"

Sumiji-senpai, seated off to the side, exhaled the kind of sigh that sounded like he'd been through this exact scene a hundred times before.

Bossun-senpai, as usual, remained unfazed. "Look, every time I meet someone who's got that spark, you know, that fire to do something real... I trust my gut. And my gut's telling me Ren's the kind of person we want."

"You said the same thing about that one guy who tried to fill the school pond with gelatin," Uzui-senpai deadpanned.

"Okay, that was different," Bossun-senpai admitted, waving a hand. "That guy had vision, just no brakes."

"I'm right here," Hime-senpai said, crossing her arms. "Shouldn't we at least talk about this first?"

"I am talking," Bossun-senpai said brightly. "I'm saying we bring Ren in, and then we talk. Efficient, no?"

Then came a deliberate cough from the head of the table.

The principal watched the scene unfold with a familiar sort of patience. Arms crossed. Half-amused.

"Still skipping procedures, Bossun?" he asked, tone light.

Bossun-senpai grinned like he was a kid caught sneaking snacks before dinner. "You know me, old director. Some habits never die."

"And some processes exist for a reason," the principal replied, though his smile didn't fade.

Uzui-senpai muttered, "We've all said that to him before."

"And yet," Bossun-senpai said, shrugging, "you all still listen to me when it counts. Admit it... I'm rarely wrong."

Hime-senpai sighed, but her expression had softened. "You're still impossible."

"But effective," Bossun-senpai said, then turned back to me. "So what do you say, Ren? No pressure, but I think you'd be a damn good fit."

Bossun-senpai's words still hung in the air when a calm, measured voice cut through the energy.

"I see you haven't changed at all, Bossun-senpai."

Everyone turned. Chiyoko-senpai had been quiet this whole time, hands neatly folded on the table. Her lips curved slightly, just enough to betray her amusement.

"Recruiting people mid-conversation," she said, tilting her head, "it's very you. But still, maybe give him time to actually finish explaining himself?"

Bossun-senpai blinked. "Oh. Right. That."

"I didn't say it's a bad thing," Chiyoko-senpai added. "It's kind of refreshing, honestly. But..." her gaze slid to me, sharp beneath the softness "...Ren here still hasn't answered the most important question."

She didn't need to raise her voice. Her words were weight enough.

"You told us what this game means to you. Why you want to make it. Why you chose to work alone. And that's fair... sometimes, personal stories need personal hands."

She leaned forward, just slightly. Enough to close the space between us without making it feel confrontational.

"But why did you hide it from everyone at Sakurasou?"

The table went still again. Not tense. Just quiet.

"Even people who walk alone don't always have to walk in secret."

It was Yonagi-senpai's voice.

She hadn't said much all day. But now her gaze was on me, soft and unreadable, like she was seeing past everything I said and focusing on the things I didn't.

"You didn't have to tell everyone," she said, "but you didn't tell anyone. And if you really trusted them... wouldn't you have at least shared the weight? You lived with them... "

Chiyoko-senpai glanced at her, and there was a flicker in her expression. Something closer to pride.

There was something familiar between the two. A kind of ease in how they passed the conversation back and forth without stepping on each other's words.

I didn't know much about their personal connection, just from the way they sat... how comfortable they seemed, how natural the timing of that cut-in felt. I started to wonder if they were best friends.

"I'm not accusing you," Chiyoko-senpai added, voice lower now. "But I think you owe Sakurasou, or at least Chihiro-sensei here an answer."

That afternoon came back to me.

I was sitting in the common room, watching Mashiro play Undertale.

She was right beside me.

Still pressing the arrow keys, guiding Frisk through some quiet hallway with [071. Undertale] heard on that headset Mashiro wearing.

Then the screen shifted.

A mirror.

"Despite everything, it's still you."

Mashiro didn't say anything. But her fingers froze on the keyboard.... for a second, I wasn't sure if she was breathing.

Then, I observes her expression.

It wasn't just confusion.... there was fear in her face.

Like she was overwhelmed by everything she couldn't say out loud.

And I just sat there, beside her.

Watching.

Not saying a word.

I shook my head.

Pulled myself back to the present.

Everyone was still watching. Waiting.

My gaze settled on Chihiro-sensei, I exhaled.

"Chihiro-sensei," I said, "do you know about the project the Sakurasou members are working on?"

She raised one eyebrow, just slightly.

"If I'm not wrong... I think they're making a game, right? I heard Sorata-senpai mention it, once. Offhand at dinner last week or two if I'm not wrong."

There was a short pause. Then Chihiro-sensei smiled faintly.

"Nyanboron," she said.

"The project name. That's what they called it."

I gave a small nod. Quiet. Letting it settle.

Chihiro-sensei took a breath, folding her arms lightly. "It started out simple," she said. "A game idea pitched by Sorata. Mashiro was involved. So were Nanami, Misaki, Jin, even Ryuunosuke."

She paused, thoughtful.

"Sakurasou… tends to bring out that kind of energy in people."

Bossun-senpai leaned forward, his eyes practically sparkling. "Wait, wait... hold up. They actually made a full-on game? Like, the whole dorm? That's insane!"

"Right?!" Hime-senpai's voice chimed in, half awe, half chaos. "Why didn't we do anything that cool back in our club when we first-year?! Switch, this is your fault, right?"

"I mean, statistically speaking, if I was in Sakurasou," Usui-senpai said in his usual deadpan, "I would've probably just made the game's UI or something."

"Oh my god, you would," Hime-senpai groaned.

"Anyway," Sumiji-senpai cut in smoothly, brushing his fringe back. "I'd heard something… vague. Jin-senpai mentioned it last year, in passing. Said they were pouring their hearts into some group project. Didn't realize it was this."

Chihiro-sensei's expression softened at that. A small smile, proud, but distant too. "It's more than a game. At least, I think Sorata hoped it would be."

She didn't elaborate.

Just let the words linger.

Then the principal, who'd been silent this whole time, cleared his throat.

"Why do you ask, Ren?"

All eyes shifted back to me.

Again.

I looked at the principal for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"It's not about the game itself," I said. "At least… not entirely."

Something shifted in the room. The air turned still. Hime-senpai wasn't bouncing anymore. Even Bossun-senpai leaned forward slightly. Sumiji-senpai's gaze sharpened.

"I've only been in Sakurasou a few weeks," I continued. "And I don't know all the details. But I've been watching. I've seen how the members treat each other. Especially Mashiro-senpai."

I paused, choosing my next words carefully.

"She's always quiet. Focused. Brilliant, obviously. But sometimes I get the feeling that she's… carrying something heavy."

Chihiro-sensei didn't speak, but I saw her expression shift. Barely.

"I've seen her in moments where she seems present... and then completely gone. One of those times was in the common room."

I drew a quiet breath.

"She was playing my game. UNDERTALE."

Kagami-sensei's eyebrows rose slightly at that.

"She reached a scene... there's a mirror.

It says: 'Despite everything, it's still you.'"

The moment I said it, Kagami-sensei's eyes narrowed. Not angrily. But carefully.

"That's late-game, isn't it?" he asked, more to himself. "That's… not in the build I played."

Chihiro-sensei turned her head sharply toward me.

"What!? When did this happen, Ren?"

My voice lowered.

"She looked at it for a long time. Didn't speak. But something shifted. Like she wasn't just looking at a reflection, but something she'd been avoiding for years."

I glanced back at her.

"You know her better than anyone. I think... she remembered something. Or maybe she finally felt something."

Chihiro-sensei's eyes darkened. Her usual lazy indifference vanished.

"You're playing a dangerous game," she said. Her tone was cold. Flat. Almost trembling from the restraint behind it.

I didn't flinch.

"I know," I said softly.

Then I smiled. Not mockingly. Just... calm. Almost regretful.

Yonagi-senpai spoke next. Her voice was quieter than usual.

"How did she react?"

I hesitated. Then answered honestly.

"Badly. She avoided me. Wouldn't look me in the eye. The trust I'd slowly built on the first day… just vanished."

Chihiro-sensei's face twitched.

"Wait," she said sharply. "You mean this happened on your first day?"

I nodded.

Her voice rose, finally cracking from that dangerous calm.

"That explains it. That's why she's been acting strange for two weeks! She's been... more attached to Sorata than usual. Quiet in a different way. Off-balance."

She exhaled sharply. Frustrated. 

"Goddammit, Natsuki…"

I looked at Chihiro-sensei.

"I know it's dangerous. But for the first time, I saw her feel something… and it was real."

Chihiro-sensei's lips pressed into a thin line. Her arms were crossed tightly now.

"You're saying Mashiro's never felt anything genuine before? That's hard to believe. In one year she's changed a lot. She's opened up. She's dating Sorata. She's friends with Nanami, Jin, and everyone in dorm. She laughs. She even talks about Nyanboron like she actually cares."

"I know," I said.

'And I've seen it too. All of it.'

My voice softened again, but the calm was starting to tremble at the edges.

"But if she's healing… if she's growing… then why is she suddenly afraid? Why did she avoid me for two weeks? Why is she clinging harder to Sorata now than before?"

Chihiro-sensei didn't answer.

So I stepped forward.

"Tell me, Chihiro-sensei," I said quietly. "You're her cousin. You've known her longer than any of us."

I raised my eyes.

"Can she sleep by herself?"

The room fell still.

"Can she bathe without help?"

Chihiro-sensei's face shifted. Just slightly.

"Can she wake herself up? Dress herself? Choose her own clothes without someone laying them out for her?"

No answer.

I didn't flinch.

"I'm not saying that to humiliate her. I'm saying it because no one has ever asked what she wants."

I took a breath.

"You want to know why she clings to Sorata? It's not love. Not yet. It's survival. Because for the first time, she felt something real, and she didn't know what to do with it. And the only person she's learned to anchor to is the one who's been feeding her, dressing her, telling her what to do."

My hands curled slightly at my sides. Not in anger, but restraint.

"She never chose to fall in love. She doesn't even know what love is."

I turned to Chihiro-sensei.

"She didn't choose to become someone's girlfriend. She just filled in the blank. Because everyone around her told her that must be what love means, right? Changing clothes for her. Bathing her. Staying close. That must mean he loves her. That must mean she loves him."

A pause.

"She never asked. She never had the language to."

I looked at the room.

"She's not just a genius. Not a tool. Not a doll to be protected. Not a pet to be managed."

A breath left me.

"She's just Mashiro."

I met Chihiro-sensei's eyes.

"A girl so lonely she doesn't even know what's inside her own heart. A girl with real, serious issues—but no one ever taught her how to name them. They just kept painting over the canvas. Filling in the gaps. And calling it care."

For a moment, I thought I might've said too much.

But I meant every word.

"I don't want to fix her. I just want her to have the space to feel."

The principal leaned back slowly, fingers steepled. His gaze settled on me—not cold, not warm. Just focused.

"You built yourself up," he said. "Jack of all trades. Dipped into every club just enough to raise eyebrows but never let yourself get tied down."

His tone wasn't scolding. Almost amused.

"All of it. That whole path. It was to get to this?"

I met his eyes.

"Yes."

He nodded once, then tilted his head slightly.

I took a breath.

"There were three reasons why I fought for ghost member status."

I raised a finger.

"One, I needed freedom. Time to build something personal. Something that couldn't be boxed into a school competition."

Another finger.

"Two, I didn't want to become a rival to Sakurasou. Not to Sorata-senpai. Not to anyone. I didn't want comparisons or resentment. This wasn't about beating them."

Then the last finger.

"And three... was for Mashiro-senpai."

Silence.

"I needed to be around. Just enough to watch her. To understand her. But not enough to influence her. Not too soon. Not too strong."

The principal leaned forward slightly. Like he was inspecting something fragile but dangerous.

"You knew what you were doing from the start," he murmured. "Built a reputation. Positioned yourself where you couldn't be touched. All while planning this."

I nodded.

A long pause. Then he chuckled under his breath.

"As expected. The one who exposed that scandal last year."

I didn't answer.

He didn't need me to.

His smile faded. What replaced it wasn't disappointment.

It was caution.

"You're not just eccentric. You're also calculated. And you move like someone who sees five steps ahead."

I stayed still.

His eyes didn't leave me.

"So you negotiated ghost status not because you were too busy to join a club. But because you didn't want them to know what you were building."

"Yes."

"And it's for her."

"Yes."

He went quiet.

But I felt the shift.

Respect. Maybe unease.

Then his tone changed.

"And now you're being honest. Why?"

I looked down at my hands.

"Because I think you already knew something. About why she was sent here."

The principal didn't respond.

"I'm not going to pry into her past. That's her choice. But I want the first person who truly feels what I've made... to be her."

The room was still.

"I know I might look reckless. Maybe manipulative. But this isn't some grand scheme."

My voice was calm.

"I'm just trying to do something right. In my own way."

"She's surrounded by people who care. That's not wrong. But sometimes love gets tangled with expectation. And she's the kind of person who follows the path someone else draws, just to make things easier."

I looked at my hand.

"She's been surviving. Not choosing."

The principal leaned back. Still watching.

Chihiro-sensei crossed her arms. No smile. No sarcasm.

She looked like someone who was trying to see through fog.

"You're not a normal kid," she said quietly.

Her tone was flat. Not angry. Not impressed. Just cautious.

"You don't talk like one. You don't move like one."

I didn't deny it.

They saw me now. Not just as a ghost member or ambitious first-year.

As something else.

Maybe something dangerous.

But I wasn't here to scare them.

"I'm not trying to control her. I just want her to stop lying to herself. And to everyone."

That was all.

Even if no one else saw it. Even if they thought she was fine now.

I knew that silence in her eyes.

I'd been there.

"She deserves a choice."

I wasn't making a speech.

It was just the truth.

"I'm not here to fix her. I'm not trying to rescue anyone."

I looked up.

"I just want to be someone who doesn't treat her like a problem to solve."

Chihiro-sensei's fingers tightened around her sleeve.

The principal exhaled, slow and long.

"You knew what would happen when you came clean."

"Yes."

"You planned this."

"No. But I accepted it."

He studied me.

His fingers tapped the desk lightly.

Then a breath of laughter. Quiet.

"You're kind," he said. "But you're not harmless."

I didn't smile.

That wasn't a compliment.

But I didn't disagree.

Chihiro-sensei didn't speak. Her brows were tight. Her hands were folded.

She didn't look like the lazy teacher anymore.

She looked like someone who was starting to realize how little she'd noticed.