Canvas of Silent Colors

I thought walking out of the principal's office would feel like a weight off my chest.

It didn't.

Chihiro-sensei had left with a lazy wave and a muttered promise of beer.

It seemed like the talk drained her more than she let on, maybe she needed something to take the edge off.

And just like that, I was alone in the hallway.

"Family, huh…"

I stood there for a while, checking the time on my phone.

Then I took a breath, turned, and made my way toward Class 1-B.

I was already late for the lecture.

The sliding door groaned open, and just like that, the room froze.

The teacher stopped mid-sentence, marker held awkwardly in the air.

Dozens of heads turned.

"…Ren?!"

"What were you talking about with the principal?"

"What happened? What'd you say?!"

"You're not expelled, right?!"

I barely had time to step inside before the voices came crashing over me. Half the class leaned out of their seats like I'd just returned from a war.

It was... kind of expected.

But one voice cut through the rest, clearer than the noise.

"Ren," Tomoya called, brows furrowed. "You okay?"

He looked genuinely worried. 

I gave him a small nod.

"Yeah," I said. "All good. Just... kind of blew up faster than I thought."

Tomoya looked like he wanted to say more, but the noise around us kept spiraling.

The teacher tried to regain control, slapping the board with his marker.

"Settle down, everyone! We're in the middle of a class!"

It didn't help. The moment I walked in, I became the headline.

But then, another figure rose from her seat.

Kurosawa-san

She didn't yell. Just stood up and walked forward with quiet confidence.... like someone who knew the room would follow.

It was impressive, honestly. We were barely four weeks into the school year, and somehow she already had the kind of presence people listened to.

Maybe that's why I handed the class leader role to her, even though I got the most votes on the first day.

She stopped near the front row, turned toward me, and said, with calm and sharp voice.

"Ren. Sit down."

That was all it took. The noise died in seconds.

Even the teacher looked relieved.

I gave her a calm smile, and a polite nod.

"…Yes, Kurosawa-san."

I walked to my seat by the window and sat down without fuss, the familiar clatter of chair and desk helping things feel normal again. Tomoya, seated to my left, glanced at me but said nothing... at least for now.

Kurosawa-san returned to her place as well, nodding once to the teacher with that same composed efficiency.

"Here, sensei," she said softly.

The teacher offered a tired but sincere response. "Thank you, Kurosawa."

He turned back to the rest of the class, who were still fidgeting and murmuring like the tension hadn't fully worn off yet.

"Seriously now," the teacher said, adjusting his glasses. "I don't care if someone just came back from the principal or fought a bear on the roof, you don't turn my class into a circus."

That earned a few guilty chuckles, and one or two apologies mumbled into sleeves.

He sighed again, rubbing his forehead. "That being said… I get it. I'd probably react the same way if someone I knew suddenly got their name called over the PA like that."

His eyes moved to me, not harsh, but definitely focused.

"A first-year student. Not even a full month in. Called to the principal's office by name, loud and clear, over the intercom. You do realize the whole school heard it, right? Stuff like that tends to... raise eyebrows, Natsuki. Most people assume it's bad news."

There was no accusation in his voice. Just quiet honesty.

I gave a faint smile and straightened a little in my seat. "I'll try not to make it a habit, sensei."

He exhaled, arms crossing.

"But…" the teacher continued, crossing his arms. "Knowing the principal, I suppose it shouldn't be that surprising. He's always been a little dramatic. Eccentric, even. Still don't know why he couldn't just send a student council to fetch you like a normal person."

A few students chuckled, and I caught Tomoya letting out a tired sigh beside me.

The teacher's gaze softened just slightly.

"And frankly, I doubt it was for anything bad. You've already been helpful around here, not just with your classmates or students, but with some of us teachers too."

He gave a short nod, as if that settled it.

"Alright, enough drama. Let's get back to work."

The teacher cleared his throat and turned back to the board.

"Let's get back to it. Open Page forty-two, you can see a quadratic functions...."

The classroom slowly settled into something like order. Pages rustled, pens scribbled. The usual rhythm returned.

Except for Tomoya.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low.

"You sure you're okay?"

I didn't glance his way. Just opened the textbook and scanned the first equation, calm and measured.

"Yeah. It wasn't bad."

"You say that too easily," he muttered. "It's like... weirdly convincing."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

He narrowed his eyes, watching me carefully, and then he clicked his tongue.

"See? That face. I know that face."

"What face?" I asked, turning the page without looking at him.

"That face," he said, jabbing his pen lightly against the desk between us. "The one you use when you're holding a royal flush and pretending you've got nothing, or lesser card."

I chuckled softly under my breath.

He sighed again. "So what, you're not gonna tell me?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because," I said, still watching the page, "it's more fun this way."

Tomoya groaned quietly, clearly unconvinced. "Seriously? You're pulling the 'wait and see' card on your best friend?"

"I promise," I said, finally glancing his way, my voice softer, "it's nothing bad. It's actually... good news, even great if you think objectively."

Tomoya stared at me for a beat, studying my expression.

I let him.

No mask this time.

Just me, meeting his gaze with steady eyes.

"Just wait until tomorrow," I added. "You'll get it then."

He leaned back in his seat with a skeptical grunt. "It better not be something weird."

I didn't answer.

But the faint curve of my smile probably gave me away anyway.

"Tomoya-kun."

We both froze.

The teacher turned from the board slowly, marker still in hand.

"If you're going to whisper so much, you must be confident with the answer to this one."

Tomoya straightened in his seat like he'd just been caught sneaking snacks in an exam room.

"Uh—sorry, sensei?"

"Quadratic roots," the teacher said plainly. "From the function on the board. Walk us through it."

Tomoya looked at the board, then at his textbook, then at me.

"Ren... help," he whispered, panic rising.

I met his gaze and gave him a calm, pleasant smile.

"Nope."

He let out a breath that sounded like betrayal.

"You're the worst."

"Appreciate you too."

The teacher didn't look amused. He just adjusted his glasses.

"See, Natsuki-kun can afford to sit there smiling because he's already answered half these in his sleep. But you?"

He gave Tomoya a pointed look.

"You were the one taking initiative to chat. So now you can take initiative to solve it."

"But I was—! I mean, I just... he's my best friend, I was worried—"

"I understand," the teacher cut in, flat but not unkind. "And it's good to care about your friends. But try to do it without derailing the lesson next time."

"Yes, sensei," Tomoya mumbled.

A few students snickered. Someone whispered something about friendship trials and betrayal arc, earning more laughter.

Tomoya sank a little lower in his chair, clearly regretting everything.

The teacher turned back to the board.

"Now. The key is factoring this into two binomials. Watch closely..."

Tomoya gave me a long, silent glare from the side.

I glanced back at him, calm as ever, and offered a soft smile.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "But… you probably need to review this more than I do. We'll go over it later."

His expression twisted slightly, part shock, part despair.

"No, Ren. Please no."

I closed my book and leaned back in my chair.

"I want the best for my best friend. So don't resist."

Tomoya slumped, defeated. "Goddamn it, Ren…"

But even as he muttered, I can see the corner of his lips curved just a little.

I let out a quiet sigh and smiled, just a little.

Then we both turned back to the board, finally giving the lecture the attention it deserved.

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

After school.

I took the usual path toward Sakurasou. The air was still warm, carrying the faint scent of sakura petals beginning to wither, but I wasn't really paying attention to the scenery.

Just... everything else.

A few minutes earlier, there had been another announcement. This time from the student council.

"Attention all students. This is Sumiji Kurokami, Vice President of Suimei High Student Council. There will be a morning assembly tomorrow in the auditorium to address the matter involving first-year Natsuki Ren, who was called to the principal's office earlier today. We ask all students to attend. Thank you."

They didn't sugarcoat it.

No explanation. Just my name, broadcast again. Enough to stir things up worse than before.

If I stayed on campus any longer, I'd be surrounded again.

Even Tomoya, who already knew it wasn't anything bad, had looked uneasy when the announcement ended.

I told him it was fine.

It was.

Still, I didn't check in with any clubs after class, or even help anyone for mundane stuff like usual.

Too many eyes.

For today, It was a good day to leave quietly.

I walked the side path toward the gate, thinking I might get out unnoticed.

I didn't.

"Ren-kun! See you!"

"Bye-bye~!"

Sakuraba-san and Tachibana-san waved as they passed, cheerful as always. Yamamoto-san threw in a playful finger-gun, like I was off on a top-secret mission.

I returned a small wave. Nothing big.

A few guys from class... Ryuji-kun, and Takuya-kun were hanging by the shoe lockers. They gave me nods and quiet goodbyes. Some were curious, but no one asked.

And then there was Tomoya.

He stood by the gate, arms loosely folded, waiting.

We didn't say much.

Just a small nod between us.

He held out a hand. I tapped it once.

"You'll see," I said under my breath.

He let out a short laugh and shook his head. "I better."

I smiled a little, then turned and stepped through the gate.

The door clacked shut behind me.

I was quietly thankful the teacher wrapped up the lecture fifteen minutes early.

He didn't say anything, just capped his marker, gave a vague "that's all for today," and stepped out. But I had a feeling it wasn't random. 

That small gesture didn't go unnoticed.

The walk to Sakurasou was uneventful as usual. Just the sound of my own footsteps and the faint rustle of petals along the sidewalk. 

I didn't head straight back.

Instead, I made a short detour to the market near the station. It was a quiet spot, mostly old regulars picking up groceries for dinner. I wasn't here for that—Sorata-senpai and I already took care of food yesterday.

Today, I just wanted something simple.

Warabi mochi

The moment I stepped into the market street, I was greeted by a mix of warm food smells, soft chatter, and the clatter of rolling crates.

It's filled with open-front row of shops with colorful banners overhead and customers weaving through narrow walkways.

"Ren-kun! You're early today. What happened?" one of the aunties called from the produce stand, her apron faded and slightly dusted with flour.

"I just wanted to take it easy today. There's no point in overextending myself," I said with a small bow, stepping aside as an old man on a bicycle slowly passed behind me.

"Eeh? Ren-kun, you're still young. What do you mean tired?" she huffed. "When you're my age, then it's okay to start saying things like that. Youth is supposed to be full of energy, you know."

I smiled. "I've been busy lately, Auntie. And I still have a few things to work on tonight."

She sighed dramatically, tossing a dough into a basket. "Hah… if you were my son, maybe this old auntie could die happy. My boy just lies around all day playing on his phone. If he's not doing that, he's off hanging out with his friends."

She leaned on the counter, squinting at me. "How about it? Want to be adopted?"

"Auntie… you're joking again," I replied, calm as ever, though my voice had the faintest trace of awkward laughter.

Before she could push it further, one of the uncles from the butcher stall came walking over, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder.

"Oi, Riko, stop trying to recruit Ren-kun," he said with a grin. "I was about to ask him to help out at my stall first."

"Eh? You wish!" the auntie shot back, planting a hand on her hip. "He'd be wasted dealing with raw meat all day. At least here, he'd be surrounded by sweets and my charming company."

"Haah? Charm? You'd scare him off with all that complaining!"

They went back and forth a few more rounds, voices rising with mock outrage, until a few other shopkeepers nearby started laughing. Even a couple of passing customers chuckled as they walked by.

I just stood there with a small smile, letting them go at it.

It was always like this. Light, harmless teasing.

"Still," the auntie said as the laughter around us faded, "it's rare to see you this early, Ren-kun. So let me tell you something while you're here."

She leaned in a little, voice dropping just enough to feel like a secret.

"You didn't hear it from me, okay? But there's been some talk near the pastry shop. The one with the good shortcake, and tea."

I glanced at her, waiting.

"You know their daughter? She's started taking over the front more often lately. Her parents are thinking of passing the shop to her in the future."

"Already?" the butcher uncle chimed in, rubbing his chin. "She's still in high school, right?"

"Sixteen, I think," the auntie said. "But that's not the interesting part."

She gave the uncle a look, like she was waiting for him to lean closer. He didn't, but she continued anyway.

"They've got a boy helping her. Same age. Not family. Living with them for now."

"Ah," the uncle said, catching on. "So it's like that."

The auntie grinned. "Well, the way people talk, you'd think they were already picking out wedding cakes."

"Parents setting up a bakery and a love story at the same time, huh?"

"Who knows. Maybe it'll work out. They say the two of them get along pretty well."

I listened quietly, offering nothing more than a polite nod.

'This new life really is something else, stories like that… they're everywhere here.'

Simple, sweet, and somehow real.

If someone actually measured it, I was pretty sure the happiness index in this world would outrank anything I'd known before... something I could say now with a strange kind of certainty, thanks to both the internet and a few too many hours spent in local libraries.

And just like that, it became another ordinary day at the market.

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

Sakurasou was quiet.

Too quiet.

It was rare for me to be the first one back, especially this early in the afternoon. No TV in the common room, no distant bickering between senpai or Chihiro-sensei.

And no one quietly drawing in the backyard.

I slipped off my shoes and walked to the kitchen. The light through the window was soft, just starting to turn golden.

I placed the bag on the counter and carefully took out the ingredients, warabi starch, kinako powder, brown sugar syrup. Like usual, I grabbed a small notepad and wrote my name on a sticky note before placing it on top. 

I stared at it for a moment, then let out a quiet breath.

'It really is rare for me to come home this early.'

Maybe it was a good thing. At least today, I could breathe.

Eight hours of sleep for once.

I headed upstairs, the floorboards creaking lightly under my steps. Once inside my room, I closed the door, took off my uniform jacket, and swapped into a black T-shirt and white joggers.

The laptop was still in my bag.

I pulled it out, along with the charger, and set it on the desk. The familiar weight of it felt oddly grounding.

I sat down, opened the lid, and waited for the soft hum to kick in. After a moment, I reached into the drawer, took out the main drive, and swapped the internal HDD for my 1TB—the one I used strictly for development.

The familiar folder blinked open.

UNDERTALE_REV_DEV

I cracked my knuckles once, quiet and focused.

Time to keep going.

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

For a while, I stayed working.

Fixing hitboxes. Adjusting the flow of dialogue. Tinkering with timing here and there. Just small edits, nothing groundbreaking.

Eventually, I recompiled and ran the build.

Asriel's final form appeared on screen... bright, layered, dramatic. But something still felt off. The rhythm didn't land. The emotion I wanted to hit... wasn't there yet.

I stopped the simulation and sat back a little, eyes lingering on the screen.

In the background, the script log kept rolling. Line after line of GML output slid by, state checks, triggers, and debug notes.

I didn't move. Just watched it scroll and letting the silence settle around me.

At least now… they knew.

The principal, the student council, Kagami-sensei, Chihiro-sensei. Maybe not every detail, but enough to understand where I was heading.

It was about Mashiro, and my games.

Still, my thoughts kept circling back to her. And Chihiro-sensei.

Their family… it isn't normal.

The laid-back, half-drunken act Chihiro-sensei puts on... it's just a mask. A coping mechanism, maybe. Something to make the weight easier to carry. But whatever's behind it… it doesn't feel healthy.

Mashiro didn't grow up in what I'd call a stable home. That much is clear. You don't become that emotionally detached without something being wrong from the start.

And yet… she's special. In ways most people can't even process.

I opened a browser tab, half without thinking, and typed,

"elite art families japan"

"England nobility family that have prestigious art achievement"

"prestigious English art schools"

"nobility and patronage in modern art"

I wasn't looking for concrete answers. Just… hints.

Because if Mashiro came from that kind of background... if she really was pushed into this life by people who saw her as talent first and human second, it would explain a lot.

Even the principal never explained why she transferred to Suimei. He just let the moment pass, like it wasn't his place to say.

Maybe… that's fair. Maybe I want to hear it from Mashiro herself.

Still... her dream.

To become a mangaka.

That night in the common room… the way she said it, the way her voice caught, there was something raw in it. Something real. More than just the title of "artist."

It felt like rebellion. Like the first step she chose for herself.

And yet… in the ending I read back in my past life, the light novel version of Sakurasou Petna Kanojo, her future always felt vague. Not defined the way Sorata or all other Sakurasou member was. It was like they wrapped it up without ever really asking what she wanted.

As if the dream never truly belonged to her in the first place.

If I were still in my past life, I probably would've said the author just rushed the ending. Maybe they didn't know how to write something more grounded, more real.

But this isn't a story anymore.

Mashiro exists, and the more I think about it, the more uneasy it feels.

If her family allowed this... let her transfer to Japan, let her chase to become mangaka, even let her date someone, maybe even marry someday... what are they really after?

Because families like that… they don't let go so easily.

Maybe they're not supporting her. Maybe they're setting her up to fail.

Failure comes in all forms. Giving up quietly. Burning out. Losing yourself before you even start.

And once she fails… they get what they want. Their "genius" daughter comes home, humbler, more obedient. A prodigy who knows her place. Drawing not for herself, but for their legacy.

If they're that powerful in the art world… they could interfere with anything. Publishing, serialization, even her name. Control her through silence, through pressure no one else sees.

It's not a wild theory. Not in this world.

There are too many possibilities. Too many ways a person like her could be used.

Even though I'd thought it earlier... how the happiness index in this world felt higher than my old one—maybe the sadness cuts deeper too. Darker. More insidious than anything I knew before.

After searching for a while, I found nothing concrete.

No official mention of Mashiro's family. Not even a link to Chihiro-sensei. Just scattered articles and videos about Shiina Mashiro, the prestigious genius from England.

Some sites speculated about her background. A few guessed she might come from old money, maybe even a noble family. Most agreed she wasn't from a regular household.

And maybe that's exactly the point.

If her name is scrubbed clean on purpose, if there's nothing left online, no history, no trail—then whatever she's tied to… it's powerful. And they want it kept quiet.

It fits too well.

Which makes this harder than I thought.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the dim screen.

"…Shit."

It wasn't loud. Just a whisper, slipping through before I could catch it.

But yeah. That one word said enough.

If what I'm up against is something that deep-rooted, something that controls where she goes, what she does, even who she becomes... then this isn't just about helping her grow.

It's about protecting her from something she was never given a choice in.

For a while silence and then—

A soft click echoed from downstairs and the sound of the front door opening.

I glanced at my smartphone.

Five and a half.

Looks like they're home.

I closed the last tab on the screen and let the laptop rest. The quiet hum of it faded as I stood, stretching my arms out.

My mind was still circling, but the house wouldn't stay quiet for long.

Time to make dinner again.

Something normal. 

As I walked toward the stairs, I let the thoughts linger... just enough to keep them sharp.

'I really hope I'm wrong about all of this.'

But if I'm not…

Then at least—I'll have a plan.