(The Spark of Collaboration Ignites!)
Shirai Shiori remained still as a winter statue, her gloved hands conspicuously folded in her lap. She turned her head away with a dignified, icy finality."I have no interest in such things."
In that moment of prickling tension, the ever-graceful Class President, Asato Hitomi, stepped in to mediate.
"Now, now, Shiori. You shouldn't dismiss it so quickly." Her voice was a gentle, calming stream. "Kuroha-kun truly can read palms, you know? It's not merely a flimsy pretext for hand-holding."
She delivered the last line with a knowing, almost teasing lilt, expertly defusing the implied accusation.
Shirai Shiori offered no verbal reply, only a silence that hung heavier than words. Her posture remained one of elegant refusal.
Finally, the soft-hearted Aizono Moe, unable to bear the stiffening atmosphere any longer, acted. Suppressing the instinctive shyness that flared whenever she interacted with a boy, she summoned her courage. With the solemn air of a knight approaching a dragon, she timidly extended her hand.
"Um… th-then… Kuroha-san… p-please, take a look at mine…"
The way her hand trembled slightly, as if mounting the steps to her own execution, prompted a wry, internal chuckle from Kuroha Akira.
Her dramatic tension is worthy of a stage play.
"Alright, let's see your right hand first, then your left," he said, keeping his tone deliberately light and clinical.
"Y-yes! Please, take care of me!"
In her nervousness, Aizono Moe slipped into overly formal honorifics, her mind awhirl. A boy… is going to look at my hand… On one side, a flutter of shyness; on the other, a pang of fear… What if he finds them… unpleasant?She knew her hands were 'stained.'
Sensing her palpable anxiety, Kuroha Akira made no move to touch her. Instead, he simply scooted his chair a bit closer, crossed his arms thoughtfully, and offered a concession."If you'd prefer no contact, just hold your palm up where I can see it clearly. That's enough."
"…Okay."The permission to avoid physical touch eased a fraction of Aizono Moe's tension. She carefully presented her open palm before him, like a rare specimen under glass.
"…"This simple act made Shirai Shiori's head turn back subtly, her observant eyes narrowing just a fraction.
He… really isn't trying to touch her? He's genuinely just… looking?
A flicker of confusion passed through her. Kuroha Akira wasn't like the other boys their age, whose intentions were often as transparent as clean water. He was an enigma—clearly possessing a certain… appreciative gaze, yet understanding boundaries. It was perplexing.
Just what is his true objective here?
Meanwhile, Kuroha Akira's full attention was laser-focused on the canvas of Aizono Moe's palm. The world around them seemed to fade into a soft blur.Talent… let's see…There it is.Not the blinding, S-rank genius tier, but a solid, admirable B. A genuine gift.And more importantly… this specific talent is perfect!
[Painting B]
An artist!A B-rank talented artist!
His gaze then shifted to the proficiencies listed beside it.[Art lv3]
A level 3 proficiency, while not astronomical, was certainly impressive for a high school first-year. After all, basic artistic skill was a common ground—even the Class President's profile included [Art lv1]. This indicated a better-than-average grasp of fundamentals: sketching, perspective, shadow, color theory. Simply put, they could translate the image in their mind onto paper—a feat far beyond Kuroha Akira, whose brilliant mental landscapes were tragically condemned to be expressed as stiff stick figures.
But this alone only meant high marks in art class. It didn't predestine one to become a professional painter.
However… it was the next three proficiencies that caused Kuroha Akira's eyes to widen ever so slightly.[Composition Design lv2][Character Design lv2][Background Design lv1]
Design proficiencies! And not just one, but three!
Creative abilities rarely manifested as concrete "proficiencies," as true creation wasn't a simple matter of "practice makes perfect." It was bound to era, culture, and intangible spark. For instance, despite his past life experience, Akira had no proficiency titled [Novel Writing].The closest measurable skills to pure creation were in design fields—[Architectural Design], [Fashion Design]—things he'd seen before, but only on the profiles of actual professionals.
Yet, Aizono Moe was just a first-year high school student!
This… is genuinely astonishing.
To have not one, but three design-related proficiencies recorded at her age, with two already at level 2… Just how profound was her passion?
Does she dream in storyboards? Sketch in her sleep?
This seemingly delicate, well-endowed beauty… her fair complexion likely came from countless hours indoors, bathed in the light of a desk lamp, not the sun. Almost all her time was poured into her craft!
These proficiency levels weren't just skills; they were a testament to a burning, all-consuming love!
Weak? Timid? Not at all! Beneath that shy exterior is the heart of a passionate artist!
Internally reeling, a new, thrilling plan began to crystallize in Kuroha Akira's mind."Aizono-san… you're incredibly skilled at drawing, aren't you?"
"Eh? Ah… y-yes… Kuroha-san is truly amazing… you can really tell from a palm?" Aizono Moe blinked, processing the sudden accuracy, before her expression melted into one of awed admiration.
Don't be fooled, Moe!
Shirai Shiori screamed internally. The evidence was all there for anyone moderately observant: slightly worn fingerprints from constant pencil grip, faint lead residue under the nails, the telltale calluses on the side of the middle finger and the pinky where it pressed against the paper… It was elementary deduction!
Aizono Moe, ever humble to a fault, ducked her head shyly. "I… I just draw a little, as a hobby…""Judging by your hands, it's far more than 'a little,'" Kuroha Akira countered, his voice firm. "Are you planning to apply to Tokyo University of the Arts?""Huh? N-no way! Someone like me could never get into Tokyo Geidai…!""I believe you can."His tone held no empty encouragement; it was a statement of absolute certainty. To an ordinary ear, it would sound like madness.
Tokyo University of the Arts—Geidai—was a palace for artistic geniuses. A fortress where average aspirants often faced years of ronin life, and many never breached its gates at all. Kuroha Akira recalled the brutal depiction from a manga called Blue Period. The acceptance rate was a mere 5%, a far cry from even the prestigious Tokyo University's 30%.
But Aizono Moe had the talent. More importantly, she had already forged that talent into tangible skill. For someone with her gift and dedication, a university—even that university—should be within reach.
Asato Hitomi watched Kuroha Akira, that peculiar aura she'd sensed before surrounding him once more. This undeniable, seeing-through-people quality was identical to when he'd assessed her cooking. It was as if he could glimpse fragments of a person's future through such simple means.
"While our school's art club might not be the most renowned, if you're willing to attend a proper art preparatory school, you should be able to pass the entrance exams as a fresh graduate," he continued logically.
"Mmm…" Aizono Moe was clearly the type who short-circuited under direct praise. Her face flushed a deep scarlet, and she fumbled for words, utterly flustered.
She really is easy to handle, Akira noted.
But his goal wasn't to guide her toward a fine arts degree. This was merely the setup for the true pitch.
"However," he pivoted, his tone lowering a notch, adopting a graver quality. "Getting into Geidai doesn't guarantee a smooth future. The path of a pure artist is perilously narrow—a tightrope walk over an abyss. The number of artists who can make a stable living solely from their canvases while they're still alive is vanishingly small."
He was deliberately painting a stark, slightly exaggerated picture, aiming to gently steer her away from any rigid dreams of becoming a traditional painter… if such dreams existed.
"I… I know that…" Aizono Moe mumbled, her fingers curling slightly. "Um, Kuroha-san, I haven't really decided my future path yet… Painting really is… just a hobby for me…"
There it is!
The words he'd been waiting for. A spark ignited in Kuroha Akira's eyes, a surge of impulsive ambition cutting through his usual calculated demeanor.
Before anyone could react, he reached out and firmly, but not aggressively, grasped both of Aizono Moe's hands in his own, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her flinch.The atmosphere in the clubroom shifted instantly, charged with a new, electric potential.
"Then," Kuroha Akira declared, his voice filled with a fervent, irresistible conviction, "let's collaborate on a light novel together!"
The declaration hung in the air. Shirai Shiori's eyes went wide. Asato Hitomi's serene smile deepened into one of intrigued anticipation. And Aizono Moe could only stare, stunned, her mind trying desperately to catch up with the sudden, dramatic turn this quiet afternoon had taken.