Ren was cocooned in that quiet hum of the library. The distant whispers of students were fading to nothingness. Still, Ren had not shifted from his position, his gaze occasionally floating back to Aoi, who remained completely focused on her drawing.
After that brief exchange, she had never spoken to him again. Instead, she kept sketching her drawing, her calm, focused facial expression indicating nothing else existed in the whole wide world.
Ren, on the other hand, could not help looking at her.
His fingers lay lightly on the back of the chess book which he held-knowing he had read that book probably more times than he care to admit, its pages now a little worn. In some twisted sense, it wasn't a book; it made up part of his world, after all. Like an anchor.
But today, somehow, everything just wasn't for him in the book's pages.
His fingers now loosened around the book due to heaviness of sleep.
The hum was so calm within the library. The afternoon sun poured golden glow over bookshelves. The only sound that could be heard at this time was Aoi pencil scratching away. It was steady, like a rhythm. Hypnotizing.
And before Ren really knew it...
His eyes were closed.
His grip on the book continued to tighten, clutching it against his chest as something precious. His breaths became slow, steady, until the whole world faded into the quiet pulling of sleep.
On—
Ren woke up; the world around him felt very different.
The lights of the library had dimmed, and the soft orange glow of setting sun seeped through tall white windows, stretching long shadows on the floor.
He blinked groggily as his fingers tightened around the chess book, finally sitting up. He felt immediately lightheaded, as though floating just moments before.
Then, his eyes instinctively flickered to the corner where Aoi had been sitting.
She was gone.
Tightness coiled slightly in Ren's chest: he didn't know why. He looked over to the sketchbook that had been in her hands just before but was concealed; only a small mark on the wooden table remained-the place where her elbow rested.
He exhaled, a rub on his temple as he tried to shake away the sleepy remnants.
Then, he turned towards the large clock hanging near the entrance.
"Almost closing time," Ren sighed, rubbing his temple while trying to evict the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. His fingers gripped the chess book—his anchor, his well familiar. Looking to the chair where Aoi used to be, he could see only the faintest impression left where her elbow had rested.
A feeling of strangeness settled in his chest.
She had left.
Ren frowned gently as he tightened his grip on the book. He had never given any thought to such things before—people coming and going. It was, however, a strange kind of feeling that he was finely aware of the void across from him.
What was that about?
Shaking his head, he turned toward the door. The match against Kenji was coming up, and he had no time for distractions.
Just as he stepped out the door, however, a tiny whisper of a thought floated through his mind.
Would she be here again tomorrow?