The classroom looked like a battlefield.
Markers without caps, crumpled drafts, open laptops, and a tragic number of empty snack wrappers covered every surface. Someone's jacket was draped over the teacher's chair; someone else's notebook had a half-drawn doodle of a cat threatening to quit the group.
The clock above the whiteboard glared down at them like a disappointed god — 7:43 p.m.
"Five more minutes," Aoi said, tapping her clipboard with the precision of a drill sergeant. Her ponytail was loose now, a few strands sticking to her face. "If we don't finish by eight, I'm docking everyone's sanity points."
Suki groaned, sprawled across two chairs like a dying starfish. "Aoi, my creative flow is being strangled by capitalism!"
Ryuzí didn't even look up from his laptop. "It's strangled by your incompetence."
Suki sat up, gasping. "Excuse you! I'm the soul of this project."
Kenji raised an eyebrow from the corner. "More like the chaos."
"Chaos is still a soul!"
Miyako snorted softly behind her notes, hiding the smile that had begun to reappear over the past few days.
Aoi exhaled through her nose, muttering something about "babysitting clowns."
At the back of the room, Haruto sat quietly by the projector, his stylus moving in soft, rhythmic strokes across his tablet. The glow of the screen illuminated his face — tired, focused, but calm.
Aoi turned to him. "How's the final backdrop coming?"
"Almost done," he murmured.
"Define 'almost.'"
He didn't look up. "Ninety-eight percent."
She leaned over his shoulder — close enough for her breath to fog the screen slightly. The illustration was breathtaking: paper-like silhouettes of people standing beneath a rising sun, their shadows stretching toward the light.
Aoi smiled, her voice softening. "It's perfect."
Haruto blinked, turning his head slightly. "You mean that?"
"I don't waste compliments," she said, straightening. "Good work."
From across the room, Kenji stage-whispered, "Is anyone else witnessing character development right now?"
Suki cupped his hands around his mouth. "Aoi gave emotional validation!"
Aoi's eye twitched. "Both of you, out."
Kenji grinned. "Love you too."
Ryuzí sighed, saving the group's files onto a flash drive. "You'd think after surviving near-expulsion, you people would've learned discipline."
"Discipline is overrated," Suki replied, tossing a paper ball at him.
Ryuzí caught it midair without looking. "So is your aim."
Miyako giggled — soft, light, genuine. The sound drew everyone's attention, and Suki gasped dramatically.
"She laughs! The prodigal smile returns!"
Miyako flushed, covering her face with her notebook. "Don't make it weird."
Kenji leaned toward her, grinning. "You know, your laugh has, like, healing properties."
"I'll test them by throwing you out the window," she deadpanned, though the corner of her mouth curved up.
Aoi rubbed her temples. "Focus. Or so help me, I'll replace all your roles with cardboard cutouts."
Suki slumped. "At least my cutout will be better looking."
"Debatable," Ryuzí muttered.
"Betrayal!"
✦ Rehearsal Chaos
By the time they began the full run-through, the classroom looked half-alive again — the air thick with laughter and late-night exhaustion.
Suki, of course, was their designated narrator. "Our presentation," he announced proudly, "is the product of pure genius, zero sleep, and mild trauma bonding."
Ryuzí pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stick to the script."
"Scripts are for cowards."
"Then you're a menace."
Kenji clapped from the side. "Menace with flair, though."
Aoi's glare silenced them all in one look. "Restart."
They ran through it again — Suki toning down his dramatics (barely), Ryuzí managing transitions, Miyako organizing cue cards, and Kenji syncing sound effects on his phone.
Haruto's backdrops projected against the whiteboard — glowing scenes of dreamlike color, each frame telling its own story.
When the final image — a sunrise over a city — filled the room, everyone went quiet.
Suki whispered, "Whoa."
Aoi crossed her arms, nodding slightly. "Okay. That's… actually beautiful."
Ryuzí smirked. "Told you he's good."
Haruto scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "It's just colors."
"Then the world needs more of your colors," Suki said softly.
The moment hung there, fragile but warm, before Kenji ruined it by clapping loudly. "Alright, team, let's not get emotional. We still have to survive Aoi's checklist."
"I heard that," Aoi said.
"You were meant to."
✦ After Rehearsal
It was nearly 9:00 p.m. when they packed up. The school hallways were empty, echoing faintly with their footsteps.
Suki slung his bag over his shoulder. "We should form a band after this."
Ryuzí frowned. "Why?"
"We already have chaos, pain, and emotional lyrics. We're practically halfway there!"
Kenji laughed. "What would we call it?"
Suki grinned. "Midnight Masochists."
Aoi didn't even look up. "Denied."
Miyako chuckled softly. "Maybe 'Group 6.' Simple."
"Boring," Suki said.
"Accurate," Ryuzí added.
They reached the gate, pausing under the streetlight where the warm glow made the rain-slick pavement shine.
Aoi checked her clipboard again. "Final submission tomorrow morning. Everyone needs to be on time. Especially you, Suki."
He saluted. "Aye, Captain Serious."
"Don't make me replace you with Ryuzí."
"You wouldn't dare."
"I would."
Suki pretended to cry. "My own girlfriend betrays me daily."
Ryuzí deadpanned. "You've brought this on yourself."
Kenji nudged Miyako playfully. "See what we have to live with?"
She smiled faintly. "I think it's kind of nice."
"Stockholm syndrome," he said solemnly.
She laughed again — softer this time, but with color in it.
✦ The Walk Home
The group split into pairs naturally — Suki and Ryuzí walking ahead, arguing over snacks; Kenji and Miyako following, bickering about fonts; Aoi and Haruto trailing quietly behind.
The city hummed with night sounds — vending machines clicking, cicadas buzzing, the distant chatter of a ramen shop.
Haruto glanced at Aoi. "You didn't have to stay this late."
She shrugged. "Someone has to make sure you don't overwork."
He smiled, tired but genuine. "I'm not used to that."
"What? People caring?"
He hesitated. "…Yeah."
Aoi slowed her pace, the lamplight catching in her eyes. "Then start getting used to it."
He laughed softly, embarrassed. "You say things so easily."
"That's because I mean them."
Haruto turned pink immediately, looking away. "You're… too honest sometimes."
"And you blush too easily," she said, smiling.
"I can't help it."
"Good. Don't."
He blinked at her. "What?"
She smirked. "It's cute."
He groaned, hiding his face. "Aoi, you can't just say stuff like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes my brain short-circuit."
"Mission accomplished," she said proudly.
He laughed again, this time without hesitation.
✦ Late Night Reflections
By the time he got home, Haruto's eyes were heavy but his chest felt lighter. He booted up his tablet again — not to finish anything, just to draw.
The sketch began as six messy outlines — Suki with exaggerated hair, Ryuzí frowning, Kenji posing dramatically, Miyako mid-eye-roll, Aoi looking calm but kind, and himself — smiling a little too widely.
He stared at the page for a long time, then added one last touch: a paper sun behind them, glowing gold.
At the bottom, he wrote quietly:"Our Future, Our Voice."
He saved the file, closed his tablet, and let the quiet fill the room.
Somewhere, he could still hear Aoi's voice — soft but sure.Start getting used to it.
For the first time in a long while, he thought maybe he could.