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Title: “When You Sketch Me Smiling”

Chapter 1: The Girl in the Art Room

It was raining again. Not the loud, dramatic kind, but the soft drizzle that paints the school windows with streaks like tears. Shizuka Minamoto was walking down the hallway, her violin case in one hand, umbrella in the other. Her club had been canceled due to the weather, and now she was just… wandering.

That’s when she passed the old art room—the one no one really used anymore. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear the soft scratching of a pencil against paper.

Curious, Shizuka peeked inside.

There she was—Jaiko, sitting by the window, completely lost in her sketchbook. Her hair hung over her face, glasses slipping down her nose, and yet her hands moved with such quiet purpose. It was like watching someone breathe life into paper.

Shizuka didn’t mean to make a sound, but the floor creaked beneath her feet.

Jaiko looked up—startled, cheeks instantly flushing pink. “Sh-Shizuka-san?”

“You draw here?” Shizuka asked gently, stepping in. “I didn’t know anyone still used this room.”

Jaiko looked down at her sketchbook, clutching it to her chest. “It’s quiet here. And… no one really comes in, so…”

Shizuka smiled, setting her violin case down and coming closer. “Can I see?”

Jaiko hesitated. For a second, she looked like she might say no—but then, slowly, she opened her sketchbook to a page.

It was Shizuka.

Not exactly as she looked in real life—this Shizuka was laughing, eyes crinkled, joy spilling out of her expression like sunlight. A version of her that felt… freer.

Shizuka’s breath caught. “You drew me?”

Jaiko’s ears turned red. “I… I just draw what’s beautiful.”

For the first time in a long while, Shizuka felt her heart stutter.

No one had ever looked at her like that—not like a model, or a perfect student—but like a person worth capturing in art.

“You should keep drawing me,” she whispered, cheeks warm.

Jaiko’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “Really?”

“Yes,” Shizuka smiled softly, touching her arm. “Maybe I’ll even play you something in return.”

And just like that, something quiet and beautiful began—two girls, slowly stepping into each other’s worlds.

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Title: “When You Sketch Me Smiling”

Chapter 2: Violin Strings and Graphite Smudges

The art room slowly became their place.

Every afternoon, after their clubs ended and the halls emptied, Shizuka would slip inside, violin case in hand. Jaiko would already be there—usually sketching, always a little shy but never asking Shizuka to leave.

And Shizuka never wanted to.

They rarely talked at first. It was a comfortable quiet—the kind that grew between people who didn’t need to fill every second with words. Sometimes, Shizuka would practice her violin softly in the corner while Jaiko drew. Other times, Jaiko would sit silently with her sketchbook, glancing up every now and then to study the curve of Shizuka’s wrist as she played.

One Thursday, as the sky turned golden outside the window, Shizuka finished a short piece and glanced at Jaiko.

“Do you like music?” she asked, wiping rosin from the strings.

Jaiko nodded. “Your music is… calming. It makes the pencil move on its own.”

Shizuka tilted her head. “Draw me while I play something?”

Jaiko blinked. “You don’t mind?”

Shizuka stepped forward, sitting on the stool opposite her. “Not at all. I want to see how I look through your eyes.”

There was something electric in that moment. Not loud—but a hum, like the vibration of a violin string just after the bow lifts.

Jaiko’s pencil danced as Shizuka played again—a slow, haunting melody, like a question held in the air. Her eyes flicked to Jaiko often, studying the way the girl furrowed her brow in concentration, the smudge of graphite on her fingertips, the soft curve of her lip as she focused.

When the final note fell into silence, Jaiko hesitated before turning her sketchbook around.

This Shizuka was different again—eyes closed, lost in her music, but with a softness in her face that she hadn’t known she could show.

Shizuka reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Jaiko’s face without thinking. “You always draw me like I’m… more.”

Jaiko looked up, heart skipping. “Because you are.”

Their eyes locked.

In that moment, something shifted—something unspoken passed between them, fragile and real.

Then the bell rang for late dismissal, and the spell broke.

They both jumped, laughing nervously.

Jaiko stood to pack up. “Um… Do you want to come to the art exhibit next week? At the city gallery?”

Shizuka smiled. “Only if you promise one of your pieces will be there.”

Jaiko blushed. “Maybe…”

Shizuka leaned closer. “Make it the one of me.”

Jaiko nearly dropped her sketchbook.

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Title: “When You Sketch Me Smiling”

Chapter 3: The Gallery and the Glance

The city art gallery was buzzing.

Lights hung low from the ceiling, casting soft halos over each framed piece. A small crowd shuffled from display to display, murmuring appreciatively, sipping punch in plastic cups. Shizuka had never been to an exhibit like this before—it felt like something adults did. But today, her heart beat faster than it ever had before a violin recital.

She was here for one reason.

Jaiko.

Shizuka stepped in, scanning the room. There she was—standing awkwardly near the back wall, her oversized sweater sleeves clutched in her hands. Her hair was pinned loosely tonight, a single clip holding her bangs to the side. She looked… adorable. Beautiful in that quiet, earnest way Shizuka was coming to adore.

Their eyes met across the gallery. Jaiko’s face lit up, then immediately turned shy. She looked away like the sunlight had burned her.

Shizuka made her way over, weaving through the soft jazz and murmuring patrons. “Hey.”

“Shizuka-san… You came,” Jaiko whispered, voice like chalk on paper—gentle, but full of color.

“I told you I would,” Shizuka smiled. “Did you really put it up?”

Jaiko’s cheeks pinked. “I did. But don’t laugh, okay?”

“I’d never,” Shizuka whispered.

Jaiko guided her to a quieter corner of the gallery—less crowded, less bright. One frame stood apart from the others.

Shizuka froze.

It was the sketch. Her.

Eyes closed, bow in hand, mid-song. But this time, Jaiko had added watercolor behind her—a swirl of violets and indigo and gold, like music come alive. The title at the bottom read:

“The Girl Who Smiled Through Music”

by Jaiko Gouda

For a moment, Shizuka couldn’t speak. Her chest ached in the most beautiful way.

“You really see me like this?” she asked, turning to Jaiko.

Jaiko’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I see you… even when no one else does.”

Shizuka stepped closer. “Jaiko…”

The world around them faded—noise blurring into silence, lights dimming in their minds. Just the two of them, standing before the art that brought them together.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Shizuka said softly. “Not even with… anyone. But with you, it’s like I can finally breathe.”

Jaiko’s eyes glistened. “Me too.”

There was a pause. A shared breath. A heartbeat.

Then—carefully, nervously, beautifully—Shizuka leaned in.

Their lips met.

It wasn’t perfect. It was trembling and gentle, lips brushing like petals before fully meeting. But it was real. And Jaiko melted into it, the graphite on her fingertips still smudged, but her heart finally clear.

When they parted, Shizuka rested her forehead against Jaiko’s.

“I think I’m falling for you,” she whispered.

Jaiko smiled—the softest, happiest smile Shizuka had ever seen.

“I already did,” Jaiko said.

And somewhere across the gallery, unnoticed by the world, two girls quietly rewrote their story—this time, not as side characters, but as the main ones.

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Title: “When You Sketch Me Smiling”

Chapter 4: Ice Cream, Jealousy, and Scribbled Hearts

It had been exactly three days since the kiss.

Three days since Jaiko’s world shifted—from shadows and sketchbooks to sunlight and Shizuka’s warm hand in hers.

They hadn’t exactly talked about what they were now, but neither of them wanted to label it just yet. It was still delicate, like the inside of a flower—not ready for loud words, only soft moments.

That Sunday, Shizuka texted:

“Wanna go on a not-so-official date with me?”

Jaiko nearly dropped her pencil.

She replied:

“Only if you promise I don’t have to talk too much.”

Shizuka answered:

“Only if I get to pick the ice cream flavor.”

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The park was glowing in golden hour light.

They walked side by side—Jaiko nervously clutching her sketchbook, Shizuka swinging her violin case like it was the lightest thing in the world.

They got double-scoop cones from a quiet little stall—Shizuka picked strawberry for both of them. “It’s pink. Like your cheeks,” she said with a wink, causing Jaiko to almost melt before the ice cream did.

They found a bench under a tree, barely speaking, just being. Jaiko opened her sketchbook and began absentmindedly drawing their feet side-by-side. She didn’t realize she’d added tiny hearts near the edges until Shizuka peeked over and giggled.

“You’re so obvious.”

Jaiko tried to close the book, flustered. “Am not!”

“You drew me with angel wings yesterday,” Shizuka smirked. “Come on.”

Jaiko was about to reply—until a familiar voice interrupted.

“Shizuka-chan?”

They both turned.

It was Nobita, standing there with wide eyes and a half-open bag of snacks.

Jaiko tensed immediately, shrinking back.

Nobita looked between them—two girls sitting closely, sharing a sketchbook, ice cream half-melted between them.

Shizuka stood up. “Hey, Nobita. What’s up?”

“I was just… walking around.” He scratched his head. “Are you two… hanging out?”

Jaiko tried to say something, but the words stuck in her throat.

Shizuka glanced at Jaiko—then turned to Nobita with calm boldness.

“We are. Together, actually.”

Nobita blinked. “Together… like, together together?”

Jaiko’s heart stopped.

Shizuka smiled gently. “Yeah.”

Nobita’s mouth opened… then closed. Then opened again. “Oh… Okay. That’s… cool. I mean—yeah! That’s cool. Happy for you.” He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward and squeaky. “I guess I’ll, uh, go find Gian. Bye!”

He walked away faster than a cartoon cat chased by a vacuum cleaner.

There was silence.

Then Jaiko mumbled, “He didn’t take it badly.”

Shizuka reached over and squeezed her hand. “He wouldn’t. And if he did, I’d still hold your hand in public.”

Jaiko looked at their fingers intertwined. “Even when I get ink smudges on your uniform?”

“Even if you draw on my forehead,” Shizuka grinned.

They laughed—soft and real and bubbling from the chest.

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As the sun dipped behind the trees, Jaiko sketched the scene in her book—two ice cream cones, a violin case, and two girls sitting close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat.

And under it, in the corner, she scribbled:

“She made me brave.”

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Title: “When You Sketch Me Smiling”

Chapter 5: The Distance Between Us

It had been almost a month.

Their secret had blossomed in the quietest way, as if the world outside the art room and park didn’t know. But Shizuka didn’t mind. It was their quiet love, wrapped in sketchbook pages and soft violin melodies.

But everything changed one Thursday afternoon when Shizuka received a letter.

The letter was official, embossed with the International Music Academy’s logo in gold. She almost didn’t open it—what if it was a mistake, or just another advertisement? But curiosity got the best of her.

She unfolded the paper slowly.

“We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to perform at the International Violin Exhibition in London, this coming summer.”

The words blurred. London. London. It felt like the whole world was pressing against her chest.

She knew she had to go. It was a dream.

But…

Jaiko.

Shizuka hadn’t realized how much she depended on Jaiko until she thought of the possibility of being apart. The idea of not seeing her every day, of not holding her hand under the tree or playing for her in the art room—Shizuka felt something cold and empty inside her chest.

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Later that day, they met at the art room, as usual.

Jaiko was bent over her sketchbook, half-smiling at a drawing of Shizuka playing the violin, her hair caught in a breeze. The way Jaiko’s pencil moved so easily made Shizuka ache.

Jaiko looked up. “You’re quiet today.”

Shizuka sat down beside her. “I got an invitation.”

Jaiko tilted her head. “Invitation to what?”

Shizuka hesitated. She wanted to say it casually—like it didn’t matter. But it mattered. It mattered more than anything.

“I’ve been invited to perform at an international music exhibition… in London,” Shizuka said, her voice shaking slightly.

Jaiko’s smile faltered for just a second before she masked it. “Wow. That’s… amazing, Shizuka. I’m happy for you.”

But Shizuka could see it—the flicker of sadness behind Jaiko’s glasses, the way she stiffened, even if she didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to go without you,” Shizuka admitted softly.

Jaiko’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Shizuka, you have to go. It’s your dream. This is everything you’ve worked for.”

“I know,” Shizuka whispered. “But… I don’t want to leave you.”

Jaiko bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from gathering. “Shizuka, I don’t want you to stay just because of me. You have to go. You’ve always wanted this.”

There was a beat of silence. Shizuka’s fingers trembled as they reached for Jaiko’s hand. “I know, but I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” Jaiko said softly. “Even if you go, I’ll always be here, okay? It’ll be okay.”

Shizuka clung to her hand, feeling like the world was tugging her in two directions. One was her future—the dream she had worked her whole life for. The other was Jaiko—her Jaiko, the one who had painted her in every shade of soft and warm and had filled the spaces in her heart she didn’t even know were empty.

“I’ll miss you so much,” Shizuka whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Jaiko smiled, but there was a deep sadness behind it. “I’ll miss you too. But I’ll always be here, waiting.”

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The weeks leading up to her departure were full of a quiet, painful ache.

Shizuka practiced with extra care, trying to lose herself in her music. Jaiko spent her days sketching, but it wasn’t the same without Shizuka in the art room with her.

They didn’t talk much about it. It felt too raw, too real. But each time Shizuka saw Jaiko’s face, she knew she would never be the same after leaving her.

The night before Shizuka’s flight, they met at the park again.

Jaiko was quiet, holding a small envelope in her hands. “This is for you.”

Shizuka took the envelope, her heart speeding up. Inside was a small, delicate sketch—a portrait of the two of them, sitting together under the cherry blossom tree. But there was something different about it. In the drawing, Shizuka was playing her violin, but Jaiko had drawn herself close—closer than she ever had before. Their fingers brushed. Their heads tilted toward each other.

“You… you’re always with me,” Shizuka whispered, choking on the words. “Even when I’m not here.”

Jaiko smiled through her tears. “Always.”

They held each other tightly, as if their hearts could make up for the distance that was about to grow between them.

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