Monday crept in beneath a sky swollen with gray, as if the world had decided to whisper instead of speak. It didn't rain yet, but the air held a kind of stillness that always came before a storm. A hush, waiting to break.
Shoya hadn't said anything since he got up. Not during class. Not when Ken cracked a joke about the vending machine swallowing his coins. Not even when he almost tripped over his own shoelaces crossing the courtyard.
He just moved through the day like someone walking through fog. Like a ghost of himself.
By lunchtime, Ken and Taka had retreated to the usual cafeteria table by the long window. Outside, the clouds rolled low over the distant university gardens. Inside, the cafeteria lights hummed softly above trays of curry rice and the click of chopsticks.
Ken leaned on the table, "He's been like that since the basement" he muttered.
Taka, who was nibbling on a cold onigiri, raised an eyebrow. "He's sketching more."
Ken: "So?"
"That means something's bothering him" Taka said, taking a sip from his juice box. "He either fell in love or stared too long into the void. There's no in-between with Shoya."
Just then, Shoya approached—slowly, tray in hand. He didn't smile. Didn't greet. He simply stared at the seat across from Taka, eyes narrowed slightly.
"Where's Asuna?" he asked, voice casual but distant, like he already knew the answer.
Taka glanced up. "Design club trip. Left yesterday for some museum thing in Kanagawa. Why?"
"No reason," Shoya mumbled, sitting down. He peeled the plastic off his sandwich but didn't take a bite. His eyes were unfocused. Like they were somewhere else.
Ken frowned. "Dude, i don't think that basement was scary!"
A pause. Shoya tapped his fingers against the table, slow, rhythmic. Like he was waiting for something to come to him.
Finally, he asked, "Do you guys remember who used the art basement before our batch?"
.
.
"You mean the locked-up one under the sculpture building?" Taka asked. "It's been sealed off since our second year, hasn't it?"
"There were drawings," Shoya said softly. "One of them... looked like her."
Taka paused. "Her... you mean?"
Shoya nodded, "Naomi" eyes heavy with thought.
Ken: "You mean the one we saw?"
Shoya: "She was sitting near a sculpture. Her hair, her posture... it felt exactly like her.
Taka leaned forward slightly. "It was an art club probably they draw what they see in here and maybe she was part of them!"
"I don't know," Shoya admitted. "Maybe you are right"
Ken gave a nervous chuckle. "That's—okay, not gonna lie, you are thinking on something that you don't need to."
Shoya shook his head. "I don't know….but when i saw that sketch and looked at it,something about it didn't feel right, ahhh maybe im exaggerating"
For a moment, the three of them fell into silence.
The storm still hadn't come. But it felt closer now.
As they all parted ways and went to where they wanted, but shoya remained and was looking for her not knowing what he wants to do.
Moments later he found her
It was the same place.
The same curve of stone. The same silent sculpture with its uplifted arms frozen mid-dance. Shoya had seen it yesterday in the drawing—its silhouette shaded carefully behind the girl who sat quietly on the low garden wall.
And now she was here.
Naomi.
.
.
Her hair fell gently over her shoulder, the strands catching the sunlight that pushed through the heavy clouds. She wasn't reading this time. Just staring up, following the slow drift of the sky across the library dome. As if searching for something.
Shoya hesitated from a distance. He didn't want to interrupt. There was something sacred in her stillness. Something fragile.
But still, he walked forward. One quiet step after another.
"Hey," he said.
She turned, eyes meeting his. Calm. Barely surprised.
She gave a small nod—
He sat beside her on the stone, after taking permission. The air was cool, dry.
"Sorry to interrupt your moment of peace it might feel strange but You were in that drawing," he murmured.
She stared forward.
He added, "In the basement. The sketchbook. You were sitting here. By this sculpture. Like you are now."
She glanced at the sculpture, then back at him. "Do you think it was me?"
"I think..." Shoya breathed, "even though it might feel normal after all it was used by art club and maybe you were one of them, but to me something about it didn't feel right Like you didn't belong to any particular time."
Her hands were folded gently in her lap. She looked down at them.
"I used to come here a lot," she said, voice quiet. "Before they planted those new trees. Before they closed the art building. Maybe someone noticed."
"Do you remember anyone watching you? Anyone sketching?"
"No," she replied softly. "I don't remember much from then."
Shoya: " who ever drew it, must be someone with great focus"
He studied her profile. The delicate shadow her lashes made across her cheek. The weight she carried like folded paper inside her chest.
Shoya: " i know it was rude of me to suddenly come and talk like this, by the way I'm SHOYA HYUKASA.
She didn't look at him. Just smiled—a strange, beautiful smile.
"And I'm NAOMI TSUKIHIME " she softly said.
Now for a moment Shoya remained silent he didn't think her name would be same as he guessed it! But he put it the way it was just a coincidence.
.
After saying good bye to her, he left and in his way back to dorm his mind was somehow bothering him, he couldn't understand what he did today! Why he went to her why he dug deep into that sketch! How she might think of it!
---
The rain came at last that evening. Light but constant.
Shoya sat by his window in the dorm, the sketchbook open on his lap. The drawing was there—Naomi in soft lines, framed by silence. But now he understood.
His phone buzzed on the desk.
Unknown Number:
"You've seen her too, haven't you?"
He stared at it.
His fingers hovered, then typed:
"Who is this?"
The reply came almost instantly:
"Don't let her vanish too."
He replied again " who are you? What do you mean?
No answer….
He looked at the number it was unknown, he couldn't find who that was
What did they meant by this message? Could they mean NAOMI?!
Maybe it was just someone sent it wrongly!
He stared at the screen for a long time.
Something inside his mind told him...
this was only the beginning.
---
To be continued in chapter 4...