In Aoi's room, the glow from her laptop casting a soft light across her face, she's been staring at the blinking cursor for hours, unable to get a single sentence down. Her notebooks lie scattered across her desk, filled with unfinished drafts and half-baked ideas. Once overflowing with inspiration and creativity, Aoi feels stuck—creatively paralyzed.
"Why is this so hard now? I've written before, but it feels like the words won't come anymore."
She frowns at the screen, her frustration growing. The play she wrote for the festival was a success, but in its aftermath, she's finding it impossible to focus. The thrill of the performance is gone, and in its place is a hollow sense of doubt.
"Maybe I've used up all my ideas. Maybe the play was a fluke."
She shuts her laptop with a heavy sigh, sinking back into her chair. For the first time, Aoi begins to wonder if she's lost her spark.
Meanwhile, Yuki stands in front of a mirror, practicing her violin. She plays the same melody over and over, her fingers moving mechanically over the strings. The notes are technically perfect, but something is missing—something she can't quite grasp. As she finishes the piece, she sighs, lowering the violin in frustration.
"Why does it feel so empty?"
She remembers the applause from the cultural festival, the sense of accomplishment she felt when she overcame her stage fear. But now, as she stands here alone, the doubts creep back in. Was her performance really that good, or was she just lucky? Did she truly belong on that stage?
"Maybe I'm not as good as I thought. What if I can't do it again?"
Her grip tightens on the violin, the weight of her insecurities pressing down on her.
At school the next day, Haruto notices that something is off with both Aoi and Yuki. Aoi, who is usually full of energy and witty remarks, seems unusually quiet, her mind elsewhere. Yuki, though smiling, has a distant look in her eyes, as if she's struggling with something.
After the class, Haruto approaches Aoi, leaning against her desk with a concerned expression.
Haruto, gently asks her, "Hey, Aoi. You've been pretty quiet lately. Is everything alright?"
Aoi looks up, startled by his question. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... stuck, I guess."
Haruto raises an eyebrow, sensing that there's more to it than that. "Stuck how?"
Aoi sighs, "I don't know. I haven't been able to write anything since the festival. It's like... the words are there, but I can't reach them." running a hand through her hair.
Haruto frowns, concerned. He's always admired Aoi's passion for writing, and seeing her struggle like this feels out of character. "Maybe you're just putting too much pressure on yourself. You know, the play was amazing, but it doesn't mean you have to outdo yourself every time."
Aoi nods, but she still looks uncertain. Haruto, sensing she needs time to process, pats her on the shoulder. "Take it easy on yourself, Aoi. The inspiration will come back when you least expect it."
Later that afternoon, Haruto finds Yuki sitting by herself in the music room, staring at her violin. Her posture is tense, and there's a heaviness in her expression that catches Haruto's attention.
"Yuki?"
She jumps slightly, not having heard him enter. She tries to smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hey, Haruto."
Haruto takes a seat beside her, noticing the way her hands tremble slightly as she fiddles with the bow. "You don't look okay. Is something bothering you?"
Yuki hesitates, the words caught in her throat. She's not used to opening up about her feelings, especially not the ones that make her feel vulnerable. But there's something about Haruto's steady presence that makes her want to confide in him. "I don't know if I'm good enough."
Haruto's brow furrows in confusion. "Good enough for what?"
Yuki looks down at her violin, her voice barely above a whisper. "For this. For music. I thought the festival would prove that I could do it, but now I'm just... I don't know. I feel like I've lost my confidence."
Haruto listens quietly, his heart aching for her. He knows how hard Yuki has worked to overcome her stage fright, and hearing her doubt herself now feels wrong.
"Yuki, you were incredible at the festival. Everyone saw it. But you don't have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to yourself. Music isn't about being perfect—it's about expressing yourself. And you do that better than anyone I know."
Meanwhile, Kaito spawns again behind them, thinking, "Come on, how many times are we going to make her remember that?"
Yuki's eyes widen at Haruto's words, her heart swelling with emotion. She had never seen herself that way, but hearing Haruto's belief in her gave her a glimmer of hope.
"Do you really think so?"
Haruto nods without hesitation. "I know. You've got something special, Yuki. Don't let doubt take that away from you."
That night, Aoi sits on her bed, staring at the blank page on her laptop screen. Haruto's words echo in her mind, reminding her not to put so much pressure on herself. She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to remember why she started writing in the first place.
"I used to write because it made me feel... free. Like I could say things that I couldn't say out loud."
She opens her eyes, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Slowly, almost tentatively, she begins to type. The words come slowly at first, but then they start to flow—one sentence, then another. She doesn't worry about making it perfect. She just writes.
By the time she looks up, she's written three full pages. A smile tugs at her lips, the familiar rush of creativity returning.
"Maybe Haruto was right. I don't have to outdo myself—I just have to write for me."
The next day, Aoi and Yuki meet up at their usual spot in the school courtyard. Both of them seem fresh, as if a weight has been lifted from their shoulders.
"I've been thinking about what you said, Aoi. About doing things for yourself. I think I'm finally ready to perform again—just for me this time."
Aoi nods, understanding exactly what Yuki means. "Yeah, I get it. I started writing again last night. And you know what? It felt good. Really good!"
As they sit together, there's a renewed sense of confidence between them. They don't have everything figured out, but they've taken the first steps toward reclaiming their passions.
To be continued...