Sasuke's words left a brief, awkward pause in the air. Kurama Yakumo hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Then his calm voice continued.
"Everyone is born with a purpose. Talent isn't uniform. If something is taken from you, something else is given in return."
As he spoke, his gaze drifted to her sketch set aside on the grass.
The painting showed a lone figure on a wooden raft, tossed by a vast, dark sea. The waves surged violently, heavy with fear and suffocation, as if ready to crush the person at any moment. Yet above that endless darkness, the sky was clear and bright, sunlight pouring down without a trace of cloud.
Light and shadow. Calm sky and oppressive ocean.
The contrast was stark.
Yakumo followed his line of sight. Something stirred in her expression, as if a knot inside her had loosened.
"So… you mean that if heaven closes one door, it opens another?" she asked quietly.
She thought of her bloodline. Of the power she carried, and the body that could barely support it.
If that was true, then Sasuke's own talent—
The thought made her chest ache. She looked at him with unconcealed sympathy.
Sasuke met her gaze briefly. "Not always," he said. "Sometimes heaven closes the door and the window."
Her eye twitched.
She stared at him, then sighed. "You really have a way of killing the mood."
"But yours seems to be the better case," Sasuke added, glancing back at the painting. "You don't need to worry."
He paused, then said lightly, "Try drawing brighter things. A girl your age shouldn't carry so much weight."
"I'm not a kid," Yakumo shot back, puffing her cheeks. "I'm older than you."
"Maybe," Sasuke replied, already reaching for another stone.
He began carving again, focused and unhurried.
Yakumo stayed quiet, sitting nearby. She watched him work for several minutes before he finally stopped and examined the finished piece.
"Your painting is good," Sasuke said. "Trade with me?"
He held up the small stone tablet. "This, in exchange for one of your drawings."
Yakumo blinked, then smiled. "Alright. I like your carving too."
They exchanged their works.
When Sasuke stood to leave, Yakumo hesitated, then asked softly, "Will you come back here again?"
"If nothing changes," he said, gesturing toward the scattered stones, "often."
She nodded, visibly relieved. "Then… see you next time, Sasuke-kun."
"Next time."
After he left, Yakumo finally looked down at the stone tablet in her hands.
She read the words slowly.
Those entrusted with great responsibility must first endure hardship of the heart, strain of the body, and trials of spirit.
She froze.
The meaning sank in, deep and steady. The words felt as if they had been written for her alone.
"Is this… encouragement?" she murmured.
She smiled.
The bitterness that had lingered inside her for years quietly dissolved, like mist under sunlight. Picking up her brush again, she began to paint.
This time, the canvas showed a slender boy standing in green fields, the sun rising behind him. Warm light touched his face, a faint smile forming at the corner of his lips.
She painted it that way, even though he hadn't smiled once.
Sasuke walked down the mountain path alone, eyes scanning the trees as his thoughts settled.
Yakumo Kurama.
Her talent was extraordinary.
Her paintings weren't just lifelike. They carried presence. Weight. As if they possessed a will of their own.
That wasn't skill alone.
That was something far rarer.