Chapter 129: What I Want to Draw

Reading Settings

Translator: Soafp

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While Ginji and Sora were on their beach date, Aika was at a venue in another prefecture—having traveled there by bullet train—receiving critiques on a painting she had submitted to an art exhibition.

It was her first national-level art competition since entering high school and a critical event she couldn't afford to fail. She had already passed the prefectural preliminaries, so this time, her work would be evaluated on a national stage. Interviews like the one she was participating in, and even presentations by the artists themselves, were not uncommon in such settings.

“…The subject is a bird… a thrush, correct? What made you decide to paint this?”

The question came from a bespectacled woman—an associate professor from a prestigious art university that everyone had heard of, and one of the judges.

Aika clicked her tongue internally. She would have preferred the judge to be a man—it would've been easier that way.

“Yes. The thrush's way of walking was particularly charming and left a strong impression on me, so I wanted to capture that cuteness in my painting.”

She smiled a captivating smile—one that had charmed many before—and answered smoothly.

However, the female judge, adjusting her glasses, was gazing at the painting with an analytical eye, seemingly uninterested in Aika herself.

“…The tail feathers during its hopping motion—the direction and movement—are very well done. In particular, the sense of weight and body tilt suggest a solid understanding of avian anatomy. Even the skeletal aspects are handled naturally. I rate this piece quite highly.”

“Thank you very much. I'm honored.”

“As a side note… while this work is extremely detailed and photo-realistic, where exactly is the ‘cuteness' you felt represented in it?”

Aika's expression stiffened.

The truth was, the painting had been done by Sora. Aika had only chosen the subject and composition. She had made Sora draw multiple sketches, picked the one that would most likely appeal to the judges, and had her finish it.

Therefore, Aika held no particular attachment to the painting. And Sora had simply followed her instructions.

“…I tried to capture the charm I saw in the thrush through the depiction itself.”

“I see—so you believe in portraying nature as it is, without embellishment…”

The judge scribbled something on her notepad.

After that, Aika spoke to several other judges before the interviews came to an end.

Later, she returned to a nearby hotel, where Mio greeted her.

“Welcome back, Aika-sama.”

“Thank you, Mio.”

Once in her room, Aika—without concern for Mio's presence—began changing clothes. Mio blushed slightly and averted her gaze, pulling out her phone to go over the day's schedule.

“…There's nothing else on your agenda today. Preparations for the sister-school exchange are proceeding smoothly. Please, take your time and rest. Your father also sent word encouraging you to relax.”

Aika checked her phone and found a concerned message from her father.

“…Alright, I'll do that. You can rest as well.”

“I'm fine. Would you like something to drink?”

Aika shook her head.

“…I think I'll sleep for a bit.”

“Understood. Um…”

“What is it?”

“…No, it's nothing. Please excuse me.”

After Mio left, Aika changed into loungewear and collapsed backward onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in silence.

Today had gone well—she was sure of it.

She'd received some pointed questions, yes, but the painting had been chosen and directed by her. It had a good chance at winning an award.

There had also been a useful insight: the weakness in Sora's painting. That monster of a girl might be able to render pictures as precise as photographs, but she struggled to draw intangible things—things without form.

Aika had seen it: the judge had spotted it.

And Aika could do it. She could draw those things. She could do it better.

That girl had always been like that. Even when adults would've preferred something conventional, she would paint rusty screws, or empty lots, or other odd things.

That kind of art would never be valued in competitions.

If it wasn't recognized, it was meaningless.

You shouldn't draw what you want to draw—you should draw what others want to see.

That's fine.

That's how everyone will praise me.

“…Come to think of it… what is it that I want to draw?”

The question rose up—but she didn't need an answer.

She only needed to draw what was expected of her.

Just like Sora had drawn what Aika wanted her to…

“Tch! No. I'm not like her!”

Aika sat up abruptly, walked to the fridge, and chugged a bottle of mineral water.

“…That girl did have something she wanted to draw, didn't she? Not that I care.”

She couldn't remember what had been in that painting she tore up.

If Sora had been able to draw what she truly wanted, would it have been infused with her feelings?

If a judge had seen that painting… what would they have said?

Washing away the thought with water, Aika crawled back into bed and fell asleep as if collapsing.

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Meanwhile, floating in the sea, Sora was riding an inflatable ring, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at Ginji pulling her along.

“…Muscles… I have to draw them later… Maybe cast them in plaster… Ehehe…”

Sora had too many things she wanted to draw.

Ever since she met Ginji, she had been painting—learning—so he would understand her better.

The thrush painting she drew upon request had been back in April. The Sora of today—who had met Ginji—was already on a different path of growth.

Aika didn't know that yet.