Chapter 9: A Canvas of Scars

[Heroine Route: Rika Tachibana | Trust Level: 21% → 26%]

[System Flag: Emotional Block Present – Vulnerability Challenge Required]

[Note: Heroine Classified as "Layered Core" – Progress Dependent on Emotional Insight]

Some girls wear their hearts on their sleeves.

Rika wears hers on canvas—buried under layers of paint, distortion, and metaphor.

Three days had passed since I saw the painting of me—tangled in red threads, faceless and screaming.

She hadn't spoken to me since.

Not out of cruelty.

Out of fear.

I saw it in her eyes the next morning when we passed in the corridor: that flicker of hesitation. Like a child who accidentally left the door to her secret world ajar and was now terrified of what I might do with the key.

And I knew better than to barge in.

So I waited.

Watched from a distance.

Studied her silences.

[Wednesday – Library Archive Wing | Time: 16:31]

[Event Trigger: "Echoes of the Past" – Memory Data Point Unlocked]

I was sorting a stack of outdated textbooks when I found it: a forgotten sketchbook tucked between two volumes of art history. The cover was cracked, edges frayed. But the moment I touched it, something prickled in my chest.

It was hers.

I knew it before I opened it.

Not because it had her name—there was none—but because of what was inside.

Page after page of ink sketches. All drawn in a style that screamed Rika.

Most were abstract. Expressionist. But one page near the back stopped me cold.

It was a small, rough drawing of a girl in a hospital bed—hooked to IVs, eyes closed, body thin as bone. Alone.

Beside it, a single line in tiny, jagged handwriting:

"I was easier to draw when I was dying."

[System Warning: Trauma Node Detected – Dialogue Required to Proceed]

[New Keyword Unlocked: "Hospital"]

I closed the sketchbook gently, heart pounding.

Whatever Rika carried inside her—this was part of it. And if I was serious about breaking through her silence, I couldn't pretend I hadn't seen it.

[Thursday – South Garden Bench | Time: 17:08]

[Major Event Triggered: "Fragile Confrontation"]

I found her near the south gardens, tucked beneath the willow tree, sketchbook in hand. Again, lost in her world.

This time, she didn't flinch when I approached.

But she didn't smile either.

I sat beside her, letting the silence settle.

After a moment, I said, "I found something."

She paused her sketching. "What?"

"A book. In the archives. Yours, I think."

She stiffened.

"You read it?" she asked quietly.

"I did."

A long silence.

Then: "You weren't supposed to."

"I know."

Rika shut her sketchbook. Her knuckles whitened.

"That was from… a long time ago," she said.

I hesitated. Then spoke the word I knew mattered.

"Hospital."

Her head turned sharply. Her eyes—cold, hard, wounded.

I met them without flinching.

"I'm not asking for an explanation. Just… if that girl was you."

Rika didn't speak for nearly a full minute. I could hear her breath, tight and uneven. Then, finally:

"I was thirteen. Leukemia."

My chest tightened.

"Chemo didn't work at first. I was in bed for months. Couldn't walk. Couldn't eat. I used to draw to stay sane."

Her voice cracked slightly—but not her posture.

"I started sketching myself. Because I thought… if I disappeared, I wanted something left behind."

I didn't interrupt.

"I didn't expect to survive," she said. "But I did. Barely."

I swallowed hard. "That's why you don't like hospitals."

She nodded.

And then said something that broke me.

"I don't like living things I can't control."

[System Flag Breached – Emotional Core Accessed | Trust Level: 32%]

[New Trait Unlocked: "Precision Mask" – Rika's need for control acknowledged]

We didn't talk much after that.

She stood, gave me a long look, and simply said:

"Thank you. For not turning it into pity."

I didn't.

Because pity was never what she needed.

[Friday – Art Room | Time: 18:20]

[Event: "Glass and Color" – Passive Affinity Boost in Progress]

I returned to the art room uninvited. This time, she didn't question it.

We painted side by side.

Not dragons.

Not broken faces.

Just color.

She taught me how to layer strokes. How to mix skin tones without muddiness. How to make eyes glow without making them look like anime sparkle clichés.

It was oddly intimate—like she was letting me touch parts of her soul through brush and pigment.

And for the first time, she let herself relax.

"I hate the way people talk about trauma," she said, not looking at me.

"Like?"

"Like it's a badge. Or a scar to flaunt. But it's not. It's rot. You just… learn to walk without a limb."

I said nothing.

Instead, I painted a streak of crimson across the sky.

And she smiled—just faintly.

[Saturday – Kurono Festival Planning Room | Time: 15:00]

[Quest Triggered: "Festival Collaboration – Design the Mural"]

A surprise announcement came during morning homeroom: each class had to contribute to the upcoming Kurono Arts Festival. Ours? A mural.

Naturally, everyone turned to Rika.

She looked… exhausted.

"I'll draft it," she said quickly. "Just don't get in my way."

But the student council wasn't satisfied with that.

"Mural work's collaborative, Tachibana," the president said. "You can't do it alone."

Cue thirty pairs of eyes turning to me.

And just like that—

[System Update: New Bonded Event – Partnered with Rika for Project Completion]

[Affinity Bonus Active: Teamwork Tension Event]

She cornered me afterward.

"You're going to slow me down," she muttered.

"I'll try not to."

"You will. You don't know color balance. Or wall prep. Or layout scaling."

"I learn fast."

She stared at me.

And then, with a sigh: "If you mess up the base coat, I'm stabbing you with a palette knife."

"Noted."

[Sunday – Day One of Painting | Rooftop Mural Site]

[Weather: Overcast | Trust Status: Developing]

We started early.

The wall was cold concrete. Unforgiving.

But as we worked—me rolling base paint, her outlining figures—I could feel something shift.

We weren't just two people working.

We were syncing.

She stopped mid-line once, looked at me, and said:

"You're not bad. For a fake."

I blinked. "Fake?"

"You don't belong in this world. I can see it."

I froze.

Rika's eyes narrowed.

"You act too freely. You talk like you've read the script. Like you know where things are going."

I said nothing.

She leaned in.

"You're not like the others."

Then—without warning—she dipped her fingers in blue paint and streaked it across my cheek.

"Which makes you interesting."

I stared at her.

And for the first time—truly—she laughed.

Not a smirk. Not a scoff.

A real, human laugh.

Light. Crisp. Unfiltered.

[System Log: Critical Affection Spike – +9]

[New Route Milestone Achieved – "First Laughter"]

We painted until sundown.

By the time we packed up, we were covered in paint. Tired. And something unspoken had begun to form between us.

Not love.

Not yet.

But something that might survive long enough to become it.

When we reached the stairs, she paused.

Looked at me.

Then held up her hand—still stained with crimson and cobalt.

I high-fived it.

She smirked.

"I'll let you help again. Try not to ruin it."

"I'm honored."

"You should be."