Their stomachs were full. The ramen had done its job.
The air outside was warm, golden with sunset, but with just enough of a breeze to make Ryunosuke shiver as he walked beside William. It was the kind of late afternoon where the sky still held light, but shadows stretched long and thoughtful.
William pointed up ahead. "That pop-up art thing's still going. Wanna check it out?"
Ryunosuke hesitated. "I'm not really—"
"I know," William said. "But you should."
He didn't say more. He didn't have to.
So they went.
The pop-up event was tucked into a courtyard behind a row of boutiques, draped in string lights and scattered with easels. Some people painted quietly. Others were just watching, music humming softly from hidden speakers. A few artists sold small prints at folding tables.
Ryunosuke kept his hands in his hoodie pockets, scanning the displays. His eyes lingered on the blank canvas at one unclaimed easel near the center.
And then—he felt it.
That strange, invisible pull.Not pressure.Not urgency.
Just a subtle gravity.Like something waiting to be remembered.
He moved before he could think too hard about it.
William handed him a brush and sat on a low bench nearby, giving him space.
Ryunosuke stared at the blank canvas.
The moment he dipped the brush into the paint, the rest of the world dimmed.
He didn't know what he was painting. His hands moved without thought, like the image had been there all along, waiting beneath the surface.
Soft tones. Cool shadows.Something standing in the middle of a dream.
When he stepped back, he blinked. His chest tightened.
It was a rooftop—or maybe a bridge. Or a station walkway. Somewhere suspended between places.
And standing at its center, facing away, her coat caught in a wind that wasn't there—
Lilith.
Even without her face, the shape of her shoulders, the slope of her neck, the curl of her hair—they were exact.
Violet eyes glanced back through the strokes.
Watching him.
Waiting.
William stood beside him, stunned. "Dude… that's incredible. Who is she?"
Ryunosuke swallowed.
He didn't answer.
He just stared at the painting.
The brush in his hand still trembled slightly.Like whatever he'd opened hadn't fully closed.