Chapter 10: The Mural That Watched Her Bleed

[Heroine Route – Rika Tachibana]

[Affinity: 41% | Trust Level: Tier 1 → Tier 2]

[System Alert: Introspective Barrier Softened – Heroine Self-Reflection Event Triggered]

[Time Remaining to Route Lock: 3 Events]

There was something about the third day of mural painting that didn't feel right.

It wasn't the weather—it was clear and warm.

It wasn't the paint—we were well-stocked and ahead of schedule.

And it wasn't Rika.

No, it was how quiet she had become.

Not the usual, comfortable silence that lingered when she was focused—but something heavier. Denser. Like she was talking to herself in her head and losing the argument.

She hadn't made eye contact with me all morning. And when I asked if she wanted water, she said, "I'm fine," without looking up from the wall.

[Observation Note: Emotional Disengagement Detected – Internal Conflict Suspected]

The mural itself had taken shape beautifully. Rika's vision was abstract but emotional: a fractured city skyline painted in soft, watercolor tones, with streaks of red crossing the sky like ribbons—or wounds.

In the center, a single figure: faceless, arms outstretched. Rising or falling. We hadn't decided yet.

Rika was painting the hands.

She always painted the hands last.

But now, she just stared at the spot where they were supposed to be.

[Time Skip – Late Afternoon | Rooftop Site | 17:38]

[Trigger: "Incomplete Gesture"]

I approached her carefully.

"Still stuck on the hands?"

Rika didn't flinch. Just muttered, "They won't come out right."

"Want help?"

She turned slowly. Her face was pale. Her lips dry.

"Do you know what it feels like to want to reach for something," she said, "but be terrified you'll ruin it if you do?"

I didn't answer immediately.

Because yes. I did know.

"Every day since I got here," I replied quietly.

She looked at me. Really looked.

And for the first time since the hospital conversation, I saw it again—the fracture.

Not broken. Just… fragile.

Rika sighed and sat down on the tarp-covered rooftop floor.

I followed.

She picked at a speck of dried paint on her hand.

Then said, "When I was sick, people treated me like I was already dead. Like I was something tragic. Delicate. Breakable."

"But you weren't?"

"Oh, I was," she said, almost laughing. "But I didn't want to be."

Silence.

Then:

"After I got better, I promised myself I'd never let anyone see that version of me again."

She glanced at the mural.

"So I became perfect. The best grades. The best paintings. The best mask."

[System Prompt: Empathy Branch Open – Select Response]

→ "You don't need the mask anymore."

→ "It's okay to still be scared."

→ Remain silent.

Selected: "It's okay to still be scared."

Rika blinked. "Is it?"

"It is."

She laughed. Short. Bitter.

"I don't know how to be anything but scared. I just hide it better than most."

I nodded slowly.

And then, quietly: "Do you want me to stay with you while you figure out the hands?"

Rika stared at me.

Then nodded once.

"Yeah. Don't say anything. Just… stay."

So I did.

We sat together for another twenty minutes in silence.

Eventually, she picked up her brush.

And without a word, she started painting the hands.

Not perfect. Not symmetrical.

But real.

Trembling.

Reaching.

Wanting.

Bleeding into the sky.

[System Alert: Emotional Milestone Reached – "Art as Confession"]

[Trust Increased: Tier 2 Achieved – Rika Will Now Open Optional Dialogue Threads]

[Route Milestone: 52%]

[Evening – Observatory Wing | Private Location]

[Unlocked: "Art Room After Hours" – Heroine Only Event]

Later that night, I got a text.

[From: Rika Tachibana]

Message: If you're not busy. Come to the art room. Now.

I didn't hesitate.

She was waiting by the door, hoodie over her uniform, her long hair tied in a messy bun. She didn't speak when I arrived. Just unlocked the door and walked in.

The room was dimly lit.

She gestured to a blank canvas in the corner.

"I want you to paint something."

I froze. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I'm not an artist."

"Doesn't matter."

I looked at her. "Why?"

She didn't answer right away.

Then she said, "Because I want to see what you look like when you're not hiding behind someone else's story."

I swallowed.

[System Prompt: Forced Expression Event – Cannot Decline]

I picked up a brush.

And started painting.

Not a city. Not a figure. Just color. Messy, raw, chaotic.

When I was done, I turned to her.

She looked at the canvas. Then at me.

Then whispered, "That's what I thought."

"What?"

"You're angry."

I flinched.

"Not at me," she added. "At this world."

"You're not wrong."

She stepped closer. "I am too."

We stood there, facing our respective truths—mine in reckless color, hers in practiced poise.

Then, without warning, she leaned in. Her forehead rested lightly against my chest.

"Don't fall for me," she said softly.

I blinked. "What?"

"You'll regret it."

"Why?"

"Because I destroy things I care about."

I lifted her chin gently.

"You won't destroy me."

She didn't respond.

But she didn't pull away either.

[System Event: Moment of Suspension – Intimacy Window (Emotional)]

[Player Action: Wait]

She finally stepped back.

Not cold. Not withdrawn.

Just afraid.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said. "And… thanks for painting."

[System Snapshot Saved: "The Night She Let You See Her"]

[Affection: 61% | Route Continuation Confirmed]