Chapter 3: colors of the heart

The arrival of autumn transformed the campus of Sakura High into a vibrant painting.

Golden leaves drifted through the air, decorating pathways and courtyards with warm colors. Students hurried between classes carrying posters, boxes of decorations, and stacks of paperwork. Everywhere, conversations revolved around one thing:

The Cultural Festival.

It was the most anticipated event of the year.

For Aiko Tanaka, however, it was also becoming the most stressful.

“You’re officially the lead artist for the manga café!”

The announcement came from her homeroom teacher during the planning meeting.

The entire class immediately turned toward her.

Aiko nearly dropped her sketchbook.

“M-Me?”

The teacher nodded.

“Your artwork is amazing. The class voted unanimously.”

Around the room, students agreed enthusiastically.

Aiko forced a smile, but nervousness tightened her chest.

She loved drawing.

She loved creating stories.

But leading an entire project?

That was different.

Across the room, Haruto glanced at her and gave an encouraging smile.

The simple gesture eased her anxiety slightly.

After class ended, students flooded the hallway discussing festival plans.

Aiko remained seated at her desk.

Staring at the blank planning sheet.

Haruto appeared beside her.

“You look like you’re preparing for battle.”

She sighed dramatically.

“It feels like one.”

“You’ll do great.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

He leaned against her desk.

“Why?”

“Because you’re confident.”

Haruto laughed.

“Who told you that?”

“You seem confident.”

“That’s because I hide the panic.”

Aiko blinked.

“You get nervous too?”

“All the time.”

His answer surprised her.

For some reason, she had always imagined Haruto as someone who could handle anything.

Seeing a more vulnerable side of him felt strangely comforting.

He gently tapped her notebook.

“You don’t have to do everything alone.”

A warm feeling spread through her chest.

“I know.”

His smile softened.

“And if you need help, I’m available twenty-four hours a day.”

Aiko laughed.

“That’s impossible.”

“Fine. Twenty-three.”

“Still impossible.”

“Twenty-two?”

She shook her head.

Haruto pretended to think seriously.

“Twenty-one and a half.”

The nervousness she had carried all morning finally disappeared.

“Deal.”

⸻

Festival preparations quickly took over everyone’s lives.

Classrooms became workshops.

Hallways became storage rooms.

Teachers became unwilling supervisors.

And students became exhausted artists, builders, and performers.

The manga café project was ambitious.

Visitors would enter a café decorated like scenes from famous manga.

Hand-drawn panels would cover the walls.

Original character artwork would be displayed throughout the room.

Aiko was responsible for coordinating the visual design.

Which meant she was constantly busy.

By Wednesday afternoon, she sat surrounded by sketches and paint supplies.

Her shoulders ached.

Her eyes burned.

And she still wasn’t satisfied.

A shadow fell across her desk.

“Still working?”

Haruto.

Of course.

She smiled automatically.

“Someone has to save this project.”

“Ouch.”

Aiko laughed.

“I’m kidding.”

Haruto placed two canned drinks on the desk.

“I brought reinforcements.”

Her eyes lit up.

“You’re my favorite person.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Only because of the drinks?”

“…Maybe.”

Haruto pretended to look offended.

Aiko giggled.

The sound echoed through the nearly empty classroom.

For a moment, neither spoke.

The atmosphere felt comfortable.

Natural.

Easy.

Eventually Haruto picked up one of her sketches.

His eyes widened.

“Aiko.”

“What?”

“This is incredible.”

She looked away immediately.

Compliments still embarrassed her.

“It’s not finished.”

“It looks finished.”

“It’s missing details.”

“It looks perfect.”

She pouted.

“No artist wants to hear that.”

“Why not?”

“Because then people don’t understand how much more work there is.”

Haruto nodded thoughtfully.

“I understand.”

Aiko looked surprised.

“You do?”

“You’re always trying to improve.”

The sincerity in his voice made her heart flutter.

Sometimes Haruto noticed things nobody else did.

Little things.

The kind of details she never expected anyone to see.

And somehow that meant more than any compliment.

⸻

The following afternoon, Yuna and Ren joined them after school.

The four friends gathered in the classroom to help finish decorations.

Yuna dramatically collapsed into a chair.

“I’m dying.”

Ren glanced at her.

“You’ve carried one box.”

“It was a heavy box.”

“It was full of paper flowers.”

“It was emotionally heavy.”

Aiko burst into laughter.

Haruto shook his head.

“She has a point.”

Ren stared at him.

“You encourage her too much.”

“That’s my job as a friend.”

Yuna pointed triumphantly.

“See? Haruto understands me.”

Ren sighed.

“I need better friends.”

The group erupted into laughter.

Moments like this had become common.

Comfortable.

Warm.

The kind of memories that quietly became important.

As they worked, Yuna suddenly grinned.

“So.”

Aiko immediately became suspicious.

“So?”

Yuna’s grin widened.

“How’s dating life?”

Aiko nearly dropped her paintbrush.

Ren groaned.

“Here we go.”

Haruto looked amused.

Yuna leaned forward dramatically.

“We need updates.”

“There are no updates.”

“There are always updates.”

Aiko’s face turned pink.

Yuna pointed accusingly.

“See? She’s blushing.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping?”

“I am helping.”

“How?”

“I’m improving morale.”

Ren nodded.

“Unfortunately she’s right.”

The conversation continued until everyone was laughing again.

Even Haruto.

Especially Haruto.

Aiko found herself watching him more than once.

The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The way he listened carefully whenever someone spoke.

The way he always made sure everyone felt included.

Every day she discovered another reason she liked him.

And every day those feelings grew stronger.

⸻

Two days before the festival, trouble arrived.

Aiko entered the classroom carrying her sketch portfolio.

Immediately she noticed something was wrong.

Students were gathered around the display wall.

Whispering.

Confused.

Her stomach dropped.

She rushed forward.

The center artwork was damaged.

A large section had been torn.

Paint smudged across the illustration.

The room fell silent.

Aiko stared at the damage.

Hours of work.

Ruined.

Her chest tightened.

Someone muttered an apology.

Another suggested reprinting it.

But Aiko barely heard them.

All she could think about was how much effort had disappeared overnight.

Suddenly a hand rested gently on her shoulder.

Haruto.

“It’s okay.”

The words finally broke through her shock.

Aiko inhaled shakily.

“It took so long.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I can finish another one.”

“You can.”

His voice remained calm.

Steady.

Certain.

The certainty helped.

A little.

Haruto looked around the room.

“We’ll help.”

Several classmates immediately agreed.

One by one, students volunteered.

Aiko felt emotion rise unexpectedly in her throat.

Maybe the artwork was damaged.

But she wasn’t alone.

And somehow that mattered more.

⸻

That evening, a small group stayed late to recreate the display.

Including Haruto.

Of course.

Hours passed.

The sky darkened.

Eventually the school building grew quiet.

Only their classroom remained illuminated.

Aiko rubbed her eyes.

“I’m exhausted.”

Haruto glanced at the clock.

“You should take a break.”

“So should you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

He laughed.

“Maybe.”

They stepped outside onto the balcony for fresh air.

The evening breeze felt cool.

Comfortable.

Below them, the city lights sparkled.

For a while neither spoke.

The silence wasn’t awkward.

It never was anymore.

Aiko leaned against the railing.

“Thank you.”

Haruto looked at her.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

The words came out softly.

“I would’ve panicked today without you.”

His expression softened.

“You would’ve figured it out.”

“Maybe.”

“But you didn’t have to.”

Aiko smiled.

No.

She didn’t.

Not when he was there.

The thought filled her heart with warmth.

Without thinking, Haruto reached for her hand.

Their fingers intertwined naturally.

Neither pulled away.

The moment felt simple.

Yet somehow unforgettable.

Aiko looked at him.

And for a second the rest of the world disappeared.

No festival.

No deadlines.

No stress.

Just the two of them beneath the evening sky.

Haruto squeezed her hand gently.

“We’ll finish it.”

She nodded.

Together.

⸻

The next morning the recreated artwork received enthusiastic praise.

Everyone celebrated.

The crisis seemed over.

Until lunch.

Aiko entered the classroom unexpectedly.

Voices stopped.

Several classmates exchanged awkward glances.

One student quickly hid something behind her back.

Aiko frowned.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

The answer came too quickly.

Her suspicion immediately grew.

After a few moments everyone resumed talking.

But something felt strange.

Off.

Later that afternoon she noticed Haruto leaving the classroom with several students.

Large papers were tucked under their arms.

When she called his name, he looked surprised.

“Oh.”

Aiko smiled.

“What’s going on?”

For a split second he hesitated.

Then he smiled.

“Nothing important.”

The answer shouldn’t have bothered her.

But it did.

Because Haruto rarely hid things from her.

The uneasy feeling lingered.

Throughout the day she noticed more strange behavior.

Whispered conversations.

Students suddenly changing topics when she approached.

Haruto disappearing repeatedly.

Even Yuna seemed suspiciously secretive.

By evening, confusion had turned into worry.

Had she done something wrong?

Was there another problem with the festival?

Why wouldn’t anyone tell her?

⸻

Festival opening day finally arrived.

The campus buzzed with excitement.

Colorful banners decorated every building.

Students rushed everywhere wearing costumes.

Music drifted through the air.

Visitors filled the grounds.

The manga café looked beautiful.

Even better than Aiko had imagined.

Everyone congratulated her.

The project was a success.

Yet despite the celebration, the strange feeling remained.

Haruto had barely spoken to her all morning.

Every time she approached him, someone dragged him away.

Yuna was equally mysterious.

And Ren kept looking like he wanted to say something.

Aiko’s confusion only deepened.

As afternoon approached, she finally found a moment alone.

She slipped into an empty classroom.

Taking a breath.

Trying to clear her thoughts.

That’s when she noticed it.

A sketchbook resting on a desk.

Her sketchbook.

The one she had been using during festival preparations.

Frowning, she picked it up.

A folded sheet of paper slipped out.

Aiko unfolded it carefully.

Inside was a beautiful drawing.

A portrait.

Her portrait.

She stared in shock.

Every detail was perfect.

The smile.

The eyes.

Even the way her hair moved in the wind.

The artist clearly knew her well.

Very well.

At the bottom corner was a signature.

Just one letter.

“H.”

Aiko’s heart skipped a beat.

Her eyes widened.

Could it be—

Suddenly footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Getting closer.

Closer.

Aiko looked toward the classroom door, clutching the mysterious sketch in trembling hands.

The handle slowly began to turn.

And the door opened.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***