It had been two weeks since Hana left, and Kaito was still struggling to adjust to the quiet absence she left behind. The days felt longer without her sharp wit, her calm presence, and her subtle way of making everything feel just a little more bearable. It had become a routine now—wake up, go to school, return home, sit in his room, and think about what could have been. It felt like living on autopilot, stuck in a world where something precious was lost, and no one seemed to understand.
One rainy afternoon, Kaito was rummaging through his desk, searching for a notebook for a homework assignment when his hand brushed against something soft. It was a small, worn sketchbook, tucked behind a pile of papers. He frowned, not recognizing it at first, and then it hit him.
It was Hana's.
His heart skipped a beat as he carefully pulled the book out. He could still remember the day she had shown him her first sketch, hesitantly revealing her hidden talent. She had always kept her drawings close, but this... this was something different. It felt almost like fate that he'd stumbled upon it.
He sat down on his bed, turning the sketchbook over in his hands. The cover was a little scuffed, and the pages were well-worn, a sign that it had been with her for a long time. Kaito's fingers hesitated for a moment before he opened the first page.
The first drawing was simple—a self-portrait of Hana, her face framed by soft, flowing lines. She was smiling, her expression serene. But it wasn't just a portrait. Surrounding the edges of the drawing were tiny sketches: a coffee cup, a bench under a tree, a bird in flight. It was a collection of little moments, memories captured in her unique style.
Kaito's throat tightened as he traced his fingers over the page. The memories came flooding back—sitting in the park with Hana, watching her sketch the world around them, the way she had drawn everything with such delicate detail. It had never been just about the art. It was about how she saw the world, how she made the mundane seem beautiful.
As he flipped through the next pages, he was hit by wave after wave of memories.
One page showed a sketch of the mural they had worked on together. It wasn't just a wall of paint—it was a reflection of their time together, their laughter, their struggles, and their growing bond. There, in the corner of the page, was a small doodle of him, standing next to her, a grin on his face.
Another page was filled with drawings of the park—the place where they had spent so many afternoons. Hana had captured the bench where they had sat, the trees they had talked under, even the dog that had wandered by one day. But what stood out the most were the tiny sketches of Kaito, drawn from different angles, sometimes laughing, sometimes deep in thought.
Kaito let out a shaky breath as he flipped to the next page.
The sketches here were different. They were of moments they'd shared—moments that Kaito had almost forgotten. There was a drawing of the two of them on the late-night bike ride, Kaito's face full of surprise and Hana's soft smile just beneath the stars. Another sketch was of the school festival, where they had eaten candy apples together, laughing at some inside joke Kaito couldn't quite remember.
But there, at the very back of the book, was a page that made Kaito's chest tighten. It was a drawing of the two of them at the park, their backs to the trees, the sun setting behind them. In the sketch, Hana had drawn a small heart between them, a tiny, delicate thing that Kaito hadn't noticed before.
Kaito stared at the drawing, his heart pounding in his chest. Had Hana felt the same way he did? Had she seen what he'd seen in their time together? Or was this just her way of capturing a fleeting moment, something beautiful that could never last?
He traced the heart with his fingers, a smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his heart.
As he flipped through the last few pages, he noticed something different—something that hadn't been there before. There was a drawing of a cityscape, tall buildings outlined against a sunset. It wasn't just any city, though—it was the place Hana had been moving to. The drawing was unfinished, with a note written underneath:
"This is where I'm going. I hope it's beautiful, but I'll miss the moments here the most."
Kaito's eyes stung as he read the words. The raw honesty in them, the quiet sadness she had never fully voiced, struck him deeply. He knew then that Hana hadn't wanted to leave—she had to, but she hadn't wanted to. And even though they couldn't be together anymore, she had carried him with her in her art, in her heart.
The rain outside had started to fall heavier, the soft tapping against the window a gentle reminder of the world moving on. Kaito closed the sketchbook, holding it close to his chest.
In a way, it felt like Hana had left him a piece of her, something he could hold onto when the silence threatened to swallow him whole. It wasn't just about the drawings—it was about everything they had shared. The laughter, the moments of silence, the small, fleeting experiences that had shaped their time together.
Kaito wiped his eyes, realizing that tears had welled up without him noticing. He wasn't sure why he was crying—whether it was because he missed her or because he was finally starting to accept the reality that she was gone.
But one thing was clear: Hana hadn't forgotten him. And, in a way, she never would.
With a sigh, Kaito tucked the sketchbook under his arm and stood up. It was time to move forward. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew that he couldn't let Hana's memory slip away.
She had given him so much. Now it was his turn to carry that with him.