Canvas of Silent Colors

The last week of April carried a different kind of quiet.

Some of the cherry trees along the path had already lost their petals, their branches thinning as if shedding the last traces of spring. The breeze was light but damp, the sky wrapped in a soft gray. 

The light rain hadn't let up since dawn.

So, I ended up cutting my morning routine shorter than usual.

It wasn't heavy... just steady enough to keep my umbrella up. The soft patter against the fabric was oddly calming, like a rhythm only I could hear.

I walked alone. The school was still a few blocks ahead.

Some upperclassmen were a few paces in front of me. A second-year couple, maybe. The girl had her hand looped around the boy's arm as they shared an umbrella, steps slow, laughter soft.

Another student jogged past, holding their bag over their head instead of using an umbrella. The drizzle didn't seem to bother anyone. If anything, the rain made the morning feel a little more alive.

I didn't mind the quiet.

After last night, it was welcome.

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

The aroma still lingered faintly in the air... vinegar, coconut milk, garlic, and something just a little sweet.

Dinner had been something a little different... Bicol Express with tender pork simmered in coconut milk and chili, paired with a light ensaladang talong, grilled eggplant salad with tomato and citrus, and served alongside fluffy Japanese rice and a warm bowl of Chinese-style winter melon soup.

Not traditional, but it all fit.

"Ren-kun, this is seriously amazing," Nanami-senpai said, eyes widening as she took another bite. "Like, restaurant-level amazing. How do you even think of these combinations?"

"Reading helps," I replied, wiping my hands on the dish towel. "That and trial and error."

Sorata-senpai was already halfway through his second plate.

"Okay but seriously... when are we doing another lesson? It's been three days," he said between bites. "Don't think I forgot."

Nanami-senpai froze for a second, her gaze flicking toward the kitchen counter where a closed recipe notebook sat. She didn't speak up, but I saw the way her fingers tapped lightly against her bowl.

She wanted to ask too.

But not with Sorata-senpai right there.

"You've improved," came a quiet voice from the far end of the table.

Ryūnosuke-senpai, surprisingly offline and in person, sat with his arms folded, plate already half-cleared. No headset, no Maid-chan interface. Just him.

That alone said enough.

Chihiro-sensei let out a soft breath and leaned back in her chair, swirling her glass of iced tea. "Now that's how you know dinner was worth coming out of your cave for."

"It's not a cave," Ryūnosuke-senpai said without looking up. "It's a highly optimized digital environment."

Nanami-senpai rolled her eyes. "Still smells like a cave."

Mashiro-senpai sat across from me, quiet as usual. She hadn't said much, but she hadn't stopped eating either. Her spoon moved slowly, methodically, eyes not on her plate, but on me.

Sorata-senpai chuckled. "You only come out for food, fire drills, or… certain international calls."

Ryūnnosuke-senpai froze for just half a second, barely enough for most people to notice... but Sorata-senpai caught it, and Nanami-senpai's eyes lit up.

"Oh... Calls?" Nanami-senpai echoed, tilting her head slightly. There was something almost smug in her voice, a rare glint behind her eyes.

Chihiro-sensei raised her glass in a half-salute. "You should've seen him before, Natsuki. Didn't even come out when the power went out. But now? Because certain someone, He's eating dinner with the rest of us like an actual human being."

Ryūnosuke-senpai muttered something into his tea.

"I didn't catch that," Sorata-senpai said, nudging his arm with a grin.

"She said she'd hang up if I didn't start sleeping and eating at normal hours," Ryūnosuke-senpai admitted, still looking at his cup.

"She, huh....?" Nanami-senpai lifted an eyebrow, elbowing him lightly. 

"...It's not like that."

I looked at him. "When you said she'd hang up if you didn't fix your sleep and eat... who's she?"

He paused mid-sip, and then set the cup down slowly.

Nanami-senpai opened her mouth to answer,

"R—"

"Don't."

He didn't raise his voice, but that one word was enough to make her blink and close her mouth again.

Sorata-senpai looked like he was about to jump in, but thought better of it.

Ryūnosuke-senpai tapped his glass with one finger. "Information exchange is a mutual system. Violate the terms, and receive a complimentary virus in your Drive"

Nanami-senpai muttered, "That sounds like a threat."

"Technically, it's just cause and effect." he said without blinking.

Chihiro-sensei let out a snort of laughter. "There he is. The cave-dweller in love."

Ryūnosuke-senpai didn't react. Just sipped his tea again, as if the topic had nothing to do with him.

Mashiro-senpai, still chewing slowly, glanced up. "That's Rita."

Everyone turned to her, and look surprised. Especially Ryūnosuke-senpai who seems regretting to talk about himself.

She blinked slowly, as if she wasn't sure why they were surprised. "She's his… person."

I raised an eyebrow. "His person?"

"She helps him become better," Mashiro-senpai said, still looking at her plate. "He was worse before."

Sorata-senpai coughed to cover a laugh. Nanami-senpai reached for her water, trying not to smile too wide.

Chihiro-sensei leaned back, grinning. "Well, she's not wrong."

Ryūnosuke-senpai's ears turned faintly red, but he didn't say anything.

The table went quiet for a moment, broken only by the soft clink of chopsticks and spoons.

Mashiro-senpai lifted another spoonful to her mouth. "The eggplant is good."

It came out flat, matter-of-fact, like everything else she said. But somehow it shifted the air just enough.

Sorata-senpai laughed again, shaking his head. Nanami-senpai smiled, clearly used to this kind of timing from her.

Ryūnosuke-senpai just kept eating, eyes on his bowl, quiet as ever. He didn't look upset—just... not ready to talk more.

Chihiro-sensei, maybe sensing that, poured herself another glass of iced tea. "Well, Natsuki," she said, her tone easing back into something casual, "you'll probably meet her soon enough."

I glanced up. "Rita-san?"

She shrugged. "Who knows. But at the rate things are going... maybe not too far off."

Ryūnosuke-senpai made no comment.

Mashiro-senpai went back to her food.

And the rest of us followed.

As dinner plates slowly emptied and the warm mood lingered, the conversation shifted.

"Well," Sorata-senpai started, glancing toward Chihiro-sensei, "we've been dancing around it, but… that announcement earlier. About Ren. What was that about?"

Nanami-senpai leaned in a little, brow furrowed. "Yeah, you were in the meeting with the principal, right, Chihiro-sensei?"

Chihiro-sensei took her time sipping from her glass before answering. "I figured this would come up."

She set the glass down and looked around at the table. "You all heard the PA, didn't you? You'll find out tomorrow."

Sorata-senpai let out a groan. "Seriously? You're pulling the 'just wait' card on us too?"

"Mm-hmm," Chihiro-sensei said with a teasing smile. "Consider it a lesson in patience."

Even Ryūnosuke-senpai stirred at that, setting down his spoon,

"I admit," he said, calm as ever, "the announcement caught my attention. It's rare enough to hear something that vague come from the school broadcast, especially about a first-year."

Ryūnosuke-senpai turning to me. "Natsuki Ren. What did you discuss with the principal? Or should I also wait until tomorrow?"

All eyes drifted toward me.

I met them calmly, offering a polite smile. "It's not something bad. If anything, it's… strange. Good, maybe. You'll understand soon."

Sorata-senpai groaned again. "You're all the same."

"You'll survive," Chihiro-sensei said, pushing back her chair and standing. "Alright, enough interrogation. Clear your plates, and no complaints."

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

As I turned the last corner toward the front gate of Suimei High, I couldn't help but chuckle softly to myself.

Even after Chihiro-sensei's clear "just wait until tomorrow" at dinner, Sorata-senpai and Nanami-senpai still tried to pull me aside afterward. I think they were hoping I'd give them something.

But Chihiro-sensei knew them too well. She intercepted them on the way to my room like it was all part of her plan.

"No spoilers," she'd said, waving them off with a smirk and a half-empty can of beer in hand.

And Ryūnosuke-senpai? He didn't press any further at the table, but I had a feeling he wasn't going to let it go. 

He even muttered something about trying to access the faculty database once he got back to his room.

Unfortunately for him, Chihiro-sensei also caught that before he even finished the sentence.

She just laughed and told me later, in private, "Don't worry, Natsuki, that lazy Kagami and Switch were the ones who built the school's network security. Not even a national-level agency's getting through that fortress."

Honestly, with those two involved, I didn't doubt it.

The rain had thinned out now, more of a mist than a drizzle. I kept my umbrella open anyway, watching drops scatter against the fabric.

Around me, students were arriving in small groups. Some first-years under shared umbrellas, second-years yawning into their sleeves, a few upperclassmen already gossiping in low voices.

A handful of eyes landed on me as I walked past.

No one said anything, but I could feel it in the air. The stir from yesterday's announcement hadn't faded.

I tilted my umbrella slightly and looked up at the cloudy sky.

"...Well."

A breath out.

"It's Showtime."

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

The auditorium was packed.

Rows upon rows of students filled every seat, voices low and buzzing, like a swarm trying to stay polite. Some leaned over the backs of chairs to whisper, others craned their necks to see who was coming in next. 

I sat near the back with Tomoya, both of us tucked into our seats with barely a word at first.

Tomoya glanced around, tugging at the hem of his blazer. "Jeez… this is even more crowded than the club exhibition."

I gave a slight nod. "That one was just for first-years. This is the whole school. Makes sense it feels different."

He exhaled sharply. "And all for you, huh?"

I didn't respond to that. Just adjusted my posture and let the soft buzz of voices fill the silence.

He made a noise under his breath, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

Then he turned to me, brows furrowed.

"You're way too calm. Seriously, why the hell am I more nervous than you? You're the one everyone's here to see."

I tilted my head a little, resting my hands loosely on my knees. "Is that how it looks?"

Tomoya just gave me a look.

I glanced at him, the corner of my mouth lifting just a little. "Panicking wouldn't help. And it's not the first time I've been in front of a crowd."

He blinked at me, clearly not expecting that kind of answer.

I added, "I just take it one step at a time. Today's no different."

Tomoya leaned in a bit. "When'd you even get experience like that?"

I glanced at him. He wasn't teasing... just curious, in that usual way of his.

"In middle school," I said. "I used to enter music composition contests. Mostly original track that just beats and arrangements, not vocal. Some of them even ended up on national radio."

His eyebrows shot up. "Like… NHK?"

"Nothing that big, but still broadcast nationwide."

I shifted in my seat, eyes flicking to the dimly lit stage ahead.

"Studios are a different kind of pressure," I added. "There's no audience, but no margin for error either. If your timing's off, if you click a pen, even breathe too loud, it gets picked up. The broadcast schedule doesn't wait. You can't retake things forever. You fix it. Fast."

Tomoya gave a low whistle. "That honestly sounds more stressful than standing up here."

I nodded slightly, the corner of my mouth tugging up. "It taught me how to sit still when it matters."

He scratched the back of his head. "It was anonymous, right? I mean, I've never heard your name on any radio programs."

"Yeah. You can use your real name if you want, or a stage alias. Most indie artists at least leave some kind of profile behind... makes it easier to be found."

He looked at me expectantly.

"I didn't," I said. "Even when they offered interviews, I asked them to modulate my voice and use my profile ID. Just numbers and initials."

Tomoya let out another quiet whistle. "So you went full secret agent. Respect."

I laughed under my breath.

"You ever do any other competitions?"

"Writing," I said. "And a few math ones."

He blinked. "Math? Why would you do that to yourself?"

"It's useful. Structure, logic and of course real-life application."

He made a face. "Yeah, like one percent of it actually shows up in real life."

"Still more than nothing."

"Still cursed."

We both fell into silence for a moment. The soft murmur of the auditorium filled the space around us.

I caught Tomoya hiding a grin behind his hand.

I smiled too, just a little.

Then he elbowed me lightly. "So, what's your music profile name? Maybe I've heard it somewhere. You on YouTube? NicoNico? Spotify?"

I glanced at him, a little surprised. "You want to look it up?"

"Obviously," he said. "You're not dropping a secret middle school radio career and walking away without showing receipts."

I chuckled. "Fair enough."

"EmoBento," I said.

Tomoya blinked. "...What?"

"That's the channel name. EmoBento."

He stared at me for a second, and then burst out laughing. "Seriously? That's what you went with? Emo—Bento?"

"It stuck," I said, shrugging. "Sounded stupid enough to be memorable."

"Stupid is right," he said, still laughing. "You sound like a sad lunchbox with feelings."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean, like the ones you've been eating lately?"

He paused. "Hey—"

I smiled. "Remember who's been making your bentos since school started?"

Tomoya narrowed his eyes. "Okay, okay. Ren, you've got to stop using food as leverage. It's getting old."

"But it works."

He groaned. "You basically hold my soul hostage in those side dishes."

I didn't deny it.

Tomoya laughed again, shaking his head. "Damn it. You're not even wrong."

He pulled out his phone, already typing with a smirk. "Alright, let's see… EmoBento. This is on YouTube, right?"

"Yeah. And NicoNico, too," I said. "Spotify as well, but most indie stuff in Japan still leans toward NicoNico, so I upload there too."

A few taps. Scrolling. Then—

"Found it."

I heard the soft ding of him opening the page.

A pause.

"…Holy crap," he muttered.

I glanced at him.

"Dude, two million views? On just a soundtrack?" He turned the screen toward me. "This one's got like, 834k alone! You only have five uploads!"

He scrolled again. "And sixty-eight thousand subscribers? What the hell, Ren?!"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah, I guess a few tracks picked up some traction."

"A few?!" Tomoya stared at me like I'd just confessed to being a secret idol. "Why didn't you keep uploading?"

"I was busy," I said, trying not to sound defensive. "Third year was chaos. Final exams, entrance apps, portfolio submissions... not to mention trying to find a high school that wouldn't suck the life out of me."

He narrowed his eyes, clearly not satisfied.

"And now?" he pressed.

I shrugged. "Now I'm adapting."

"…Still a half-answer," he muttered.

I didn't reply.

He scrolled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "This channel looks professional. Your banner's clean, the mix quality's insane. You've got comments in both English and Japanese. Do people think you're foreign?"

I shrugged again. "Maybe. I kept my identity vague on purpose."

He lowered the phone slightly, watching me. "Ren… you're kinda famous."

"Not really."

"You're the kind of famous that's just hidden enough to be cool. The underground favorite everyone claims they found first."

I huffed a quiet laugh. "That's oddly specific."

"It's a compliment, idiot."

Tomoya leaned back a little, eyes still on the phone screen. "Well, guess that's fair. I've been feeling the 'busy' too… especially after yesterday."

"Yesterday?" I asked, then realized. "Oh right... It's your first day at the literature club, yeah? How was it?" I gave him a sideways glance. "Completely different from your middle school club where you could just slack off?"

He scoffed. "Hey, I did some reading back then."

"That wasn't reading," I said, grinning. "That was skipping through lines in visual novels."

Tomoya smirked, but didn't deny it. "Well, yeah, but this one's seriously different. The advisor's an actual published author. Pretty well-known too in modern Japanese lit."

"And a bunch of the upperclassmen already have novels out," he added. "Most of them in the light novel circuit."

I raised an eyebrow. "Light novels, huh?"

He nodded, his expression turning a little more serious. "Yeah. Like you said before, I want to make my own visual novel someday. Maybe even an anime, if I can get that far. It's a lot, but… I don't know. It feels right."

"Sounds like you found your calling," I said quietly.

He looked over at me, eyes steady. "Thanks to you, Ren."

I blinked. "Just… make sure you actually mean that, okay? I hope it's not just some burst of motivation that fades in a few weeks. I want you to stick with it, not because I said something, but because you really love it."

Tomoya paused for a second, then nodded, more firmly this time. "No, really. I don't know why, but something about it just clicked. So… yeah. I think I'll stay with it."

The conversation paused after that, a comfortable silence settling between us.

I glanced over. "Well, if you ever hit a wall or need help, just call me, okay? That's what we do."

I casually lifted my right hand, fist raised.

Tomoya smiled, lifting his left to meet mine. "Yeah, bro."

We bumped fists, casual but solid.

Tomoya smirked, already spinning it into drama. "Oh, right! There's this second-year senpai at the club. Kind of a mystery. They say she's the best writer there, but she barely shows up."

I tilted my head. "Elusive genius trope?"

"Exactly," he said. "People talk about her like she's a ghost or something."

I chuckled. "Hmm… I see."

Tomoya glanced at me sideways. "You're not curious?"

I leaned back slightly. "Not really. But you know, Tomoya... this kind of thing feels straight out of a visual novel. Hidden route. Secret heroine. Maybe your real spring has finally arrived."

Tomoya blinked. Then his face twisted. "No. Nope. Don't you dare flag my arc like that."

"Too late," I said, grinning.

He groaned. "You can't just drop secret heroine energy on me like it's some fate mechanic. This is real life."

"And yet, you're reacting exactly like a protagonist."

"Shut up," he muttered, but he was smiling.

The overhead lights in the auditorium dimmed, one by one, until only the stage lights remained.

The soft hum of voices quieted like a curtain falling.

A spotlight clicked on. From the side of the stage, a group of figures stepped out in perfect sync.

"The student council core leaders…" someone whispered nearby.

Then, I see them.

Bossun-senpai led the group with that same laid-back confidence, hands in his pockets and a half-grin that looked like he was ready to joke or lead a revolution. Beside him, Sumiji-senpai walked with silent precision, posture straight, eyes sharp behind his glasses.

Uzui-senpai trailed just slightly behind, typing something casually on his laptop even as he walked, completely unfazed by the attention they were drawing.

Yonagi-senpai was composed, crisp in her appearance down to the way her ribbon was tied, graceful and almost untouchable.

Then came Hime-senpai, blazer-less in her neatly pressed uniform, the red armband of the disciplinary committee bright on her left sleeve. 

At the center, walking a pace ahead of them, was Chiyoko-senpai.

She took the mic, her voice ringing clear and confident through the auditorium. "Please rise. Principal Tsukishima is arriving shortly."

The room shifted almost instantly. Chairs scraped lightly as students stood, the buzz of conversation fading into quiet. It wasn't like the club exhibition or opening ceremony last week. Back then, people barely looked up when the principal talked... some didn't even pretend to care.

But this time, everyone was watching.

Even the first-years.

The doors opened at the back of the hall. Principal Ichinose entered, walking slowly, hands tucked neatly behind his back. His white hair looked softer than usual under the overhead lights.

To someone seeing him for the first time, he probably looked like the stereotypical quiet old man. Polite, a little hunched, maybe too slow for a place like Suimei.

But the silence that followed him said something else entirely.

I glanced around. Every senior stood still, eyes locked forward. Even the rowdy second-years were unusually quiet. There was a tension in the air... not fear exactly, but attention.

Like when someone enters the room and changes the atmosphere just by being there.

I let out a soft breath.

"Dramatic and eccentric," I murmured to myself. "Should've figured."

Because no matter how calm or harmless he looked on normal days, everyone at Suimei knew Principal Tsukishima was not the type to step in unless something serious was on the table. And when he did, people listened.

Even the students who'd never seen this side of him could feel it now.

The principal stepped up to the podium. Behind him, the student council stood in a steady line, their presence sharp but composed. Chiyoko-senpai remained nearest to the stand, with mic on her hands, expression unreadable.

 The Principal adjusted the microphone slightly. "Good morning, students of Suimei."

His voice wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be. The room quieted even more, the air thinning with attention.

"I apologize for calling such a sudden assembly," he continued. "Especially so early in the school year."

There was a slight pause, just enough to let his words settle.

"But I won't waste your time with pleasantries."

Some heads tilted slightly in the crowd. I noticed a few second-years straightening their backs, and even some of the third-years perked up.

"The reason you've all been gathered," the principal said, "is to address the question that's likely been on your minds since yesterday, why Natsuki Ren of Class 1-B was summoned to the principal's office."

A ripple of murmurs moved through the rows of students. The principal waited calmly, letting it die down on its own.

"I understand there's been speculation," he continued. "Naturally so. A first-year, barely a month into the school year, being called in for a private meeting,,, followed by an immediate morning assembly the next day... It's confusing. Even concerning."

His eyes scanned the room slowly.

"So allow me to clarify exactly why Natsuki Ren was called in."

There was a stillness now. Not a breath out of place.

"For the past three weeks, Natsuki Ren has made a rather unique impression on this school. Some of you have met him. Some of you have worked alongside him. And a great many of you have likely heard about him, even if you haven't spoken to him directly."

A few heads turned toward the back, where I was seated. Tomoya stiffened slightly beside me.

"He's helped clubs prepare for exhibitions. Assisted teachers with logistics and last-minute adjustments. Supported classmates and upperclassmen alike... without being asked, and without complaint."

The principal's voice remained even, but it carried the weight of quiet admiration.

"Some of you may know him better by the nickname that's begun floating around… 'Jack of all Trades.'"

Scattered nods rippled through the room.

"What's most interesting," he continued, "is that Natsuki Ren has never once asked for recognition. He's not joined any club. He's not applied for extra credit. He's helped simply because he could... and because he wanted to."

The murmurs started again, softer this time, filled with surprise and something close to respect.

The principal let the silence settle before speaking again.

"With all the work he's done, you'd think Natsuki Ren would be one of the most sought-after recruits for any club on school. And you'd be right. Several clubs have already tried."

He paused, letting the thought hang for a moment.

"But here's where it gets… unconventional."

A few heads tilted, curious.

"Despite all that, Natsuki Ren has chosen not to join any official club."

A murmur rolled through the hall again, louder this time.

"He has no interest in committing to one. Not because he lacks direction... but because he believes being officially tied to one club would restrict him."

The principal smiled faintly, clearly amused. "And I have to say, it's a baffling stance. Especially here, at Suimei High, where the concept of a 'ghost member', someone unaffiliated—is almost unheard of.

In most schools, maybe, yes. But here? At a place where every first-year is encouraged to chase ambition, build portfolios, and find their place?"

He glanced at the students, letting their surprise sit.

"But Natsuki Ren came to me with a proposal. One that argued, quite convincingly, that he could contribute more by staying unaffiliated. That his ability to support and connect across departments, across clubs, across people, would be limited if he were tied to one."

There was a pause.

"And yes... this means a first-year, less than a month into school, came directly to me, the principal… to negotiate."

Scattered laughter rippled through the room, more out of disbelief than anything.

The principal chuckled too, shaking his head.

"That's why I love this school."

I could feel it... the shift in the room. Students were starting to glance around, craning their necks to look toward the back rows. Toward me.

Tomoya turned in his seat, jaw slightly open. He stared at me like I'd just grown a second head.

"Ren," he whispered. "I thought you were gonna join the cooking club?"

I kept my eyes forward, lips curling into a faint smile. "Sorry, Tomoya. Like I said… I've been busy."

"Busy with what?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

I didn't answer. Just smiled a little wider.

He leaned closer, clearly annoyed. "Don't just smile like that, you—"

But before he could finish, the principal's voice carried through the auditorium again, pulling everyone's attention back to the stage.

"With that kind of initiative… the guts to negotiate with the principal and the creativity to propose a completely unorthodox system...." he let out a short laugh, not unkind, "—I have to admit, I was impressed. And more than a little entertained."

A soft ripple of uneasy laughter moved through the crowd.

"Of course, 'ghost member' isn't something that fits with Suimei High's standards. We value clarity, commitment, and representation. So no, I couldn't allow that… not exactly."

He turned slightly, as if to let the weight of his next words settle in the air.

"But," he continued, voice steady, "what I can allow, what I have decided... is this."

A pause. Then.

"Under extraordinary conditions… with the full support of faculty and unanimous agreement from the student council core leaders…"

He looked out over the rows of stunned students.

"Natsuki Ren, Class 1-B… is hereby appointed as the official Vice President of Suimei High School."

The auditorium exploded.

"What?!"

"No fucking way!"

"A first-year?!"

"Student council core?! You're kidding!"

Chairs squeaked. Voices rose all at once, some shouting in disbelief, others laughing like they thought it was some kind of prank.

I stayed seated, expression calm, though I could feel a hundred eyes drilling into the back of my head. Maybe more.

The principal didn't flinch under the noise. He just stood there with that same gentle look on his face.

And for a second.... just maybe, I thought I saw him wink.

It could've been the angle… or maybe the way the wrinkles folded around his eyes.

Still.

'Hah… maybe that's why Suimei became a prestigious school.'

I exhaled slowly, then turned my head.

Tomoya was staring at me, mouth slightly open. "What the fuck, Ren? How?!"

His voice was a whisper, but the kind that carried.

I scratched my cheek, trying not to laugh.

"Long story," I murmured.

He kept looking at me, utterly flustered. "You're the vice president?!"

I gave him a small shrug, with my calm smile like usual.

'Yeah… today was probably going to be chaotic. And very, very loud.'