The after-school chime felt twice as loud as usual today. I gripped the wheels of my wheelchair with both hands, and before Asuna could say "Wait, I'll push you," I was already zooming out into the hallway. "[excited]Wahoo! Straight to the Art Club!" The orange and yellow reflective tape sparkled, bouncing back the slightly orange-tinted evening sunlight. The wheelchair's wheels were squeaking and squealing, but my heart was even louder. Yesterday ended the way it did. That girl, Silica, looked at me with such cold eyes. (But today, I'm definitely going to become friends with her!) I made that promise in my heart and slid the art room door open with a burst of energy. I held my breath. I thought no one would be here. But there, by the window at the back of the art room, was a small figure sitting alone in front of an easel. Beautiful black hair that reached her waist. The sides were braided and tied with red ribbons. "[surprised]Ah, it's Silica!" The words slipped out before I could stop them. She'd been so cold to me yesterday, but I was just so happy to see her. Silica's hand, holding a pencil, stopped dead. She slowly turned around. Her large, violet-gray eyes wavered just a little. "...Hello." Her voice was quieter than yesterday, but it didn't feel as unpleasant as yesterday either. She just seemed a little tired, somehow. "[excited]What are you drawing?! Can I see?!" Restraint and stuff like that—I don't really get it. Before I knew it, I'd pulled my wheelchair right up next to her easel. Silica flinched a little, almost hiding her sketchbook against her chest. But maybe my eyes were sparkling too much, because after a moment of hesitation, she shyly showed me her sketchbook. "Whoaaaaa!!" I seriously screamed. There, on the page, was a drawing of a white plaster statue. Just that, really—but the pencil lines were so incredibly fine, the lit areas and the shadows so distinct, it looked like it could start moving at any moment. "[excited]Amazing, amazing! Silica, you're so good! How do you do these lines?! The shadows are so black they look real—and this slightly blurred feeling here, it's like, even more incredible than a photo!" I forgot to breathe and just gushed all at once, and Silica brought the plastic bottle she was holding to her lips. She was probably trying to calm herself down. But. "[laughing]And then, and then, right here!" She leaned in close to look at the center of the drawing where I was pointing— Pffffft!!! "[surprised]Whoa!" "[crying]Cough, hack, ah, aah...!" Silica spat out the carbonated juice she'd been drinking with full force, splashing it all over the easel and the floor. Not only that, it splattered onto some nearby paint tubes, mixing red and blue into a purple puddle. "[scared]I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Silica turned pale, flustered as she clutched her sketchbook. But. "[laughing]Pfft... ahahahaha! Amazing! Is this the first time someone's praised you so much you spat out your drink?! Yay for me!" I burst out laughing. I mean, this has never happened before. Just because I praised someone's drawing, they shot juice out of their mouth like a fountain. "[sad]N-No, it's not... that was just an accident..." "[laughing]Yeah, yeah, I know! Ah, tissues, tissues! You can use mine too!" I hurriedly pulled a pack of pocket tissues from my wheelchair pouch and handed them to Silica. I also tried to pick up the paint tubes that had fallen on the floor—but my arms were too short to reach. "[serious]Ah, please don't strain yourself. I'll do it." Silica quickly came over and started wiping the floor. Her hands were trembling just a little. But when she turned her face toward me, the corners of her mouth had relaxed ever so slightly. (Oh. She smiled.) Even though she was so cold yesterday. "[gentle]Silica, are you okay?" "I-I'm fine..." Silica was still looking down, but she didn't seem to be putting up a wall like she did yesterday. That's when it happened. "...Oh my. Quite lively, aren't we?" A quiet, slightly sleepy voice came from the entrance of the art room. I turned around to see a senior standing there, her long purple hair tied carelessly at the nape of her neck, her sleepy, droopy eyes looking at us. "[gentle]Ah, Club President." "[surprised]Huh? This person is the club president?!" "[gentle]That's right. Third-year Asahina Sonoko. I'm the president of the Art Club. Nice to meet you, Yuuki." Asahina-senpai walked slowly toward us, staring intently at the purple puddle on the floor, then looking back and forth between my face and Silica's. "[gentle]...I see. Things seem to be getting rather interesting from day one." "I-I'm sorry! I spat out my juice..." "[laughing]No, no! It's because I suddenly praised her! Silica didn't do anything wrong!" Senpai just said "...I see," and then spread a large sheet of paper out on the desk. "Both of you, come here. I have something important to discuss today. The theme for the cultural festival's collaborative project has been decided." The cultural festival—!!! Just hearing those words made my heart start pounding like crazy. I mean, that's the biggest reason I wanted to join the Art Club. "[excited]The theme! What's the theme?!" "[calm]'Connection.'" Senpai said that, took a sip from the tea bottle she'd brought, and continued. "I want you to create a piece where the visitors to the cultural festival can connect with the artist's feelings. And this year, I'm thinking of entrusting the collaborative project to the two of you—Silica and Yuuki." "[surprised]Huh?! Me and Silica?!" "[shocked]...Me, and Yuuki... together?" Silica's voice stiffened in an instant. "Yes. I thought the two of you were the most perfect fit for this theme." Senpai said that and went back to sipping her tea. She seemed so relaxed, but her eyes were incredibly serious, and I straightened my back and said, "Y-Yes!" "Now, regarding the direction..." "Ah! About that!" Silica suddenly spoke up. Her eyes, unlike before, were glinting. "[serious]I want to paint the sky and the earth I saw in ALO. The sky looking up from the base of the World Tree, and the grasslands stretching on forever. Two worlds connected at the horizon—a landscape painting like that." Her words made my heart skip a beat. ALO—Silica knows about that game too. But. "[gentle]But, Silica," I couldn't help but speak up too. "Without people, doesn't it feel less like a 'connection'? Even if the sky and the earth are connected, if no one's there... it feels a little lonely, I guess." Silica's face twitched. "[cold]...That's your opinion, Yuuki." "[confused]Huh?" "[cold]Even a landscape painting can express connection. The viewer becoming one with nature—that's also a connection." Silica's voice had become much colder than before. This was the Silica from yesterday, the one I first met. "[gentle]Yeah, maybe so. But I want to paint the faces of the people I met at the hospital. Everyone's suffering, but they're smiling, holding hands with someone—I want to paint faces like that." I conveyed my feelings as best as I could. "[sad]...I understand. Then our opinions don't match, do they?" Silica gripped her sketchbook tightly. Her fingers were turning white. "Wait a moment." There was a clap of hands. I turned around to see Asuna standing at the entrance of the art room, holding a paper bag, though I hadn't noticed her arrive. "[surprised]Asuna!" "[gentle]Good work, everyone. I baked some cookies—how about a little break?" Asuna swayed her long honey-colored hair as she placed a bag of cookies and a thermos of tea on the table. Then, she looked closely at my face and Silica's, and let out a small sigh. "[serious]Hey, you two. Instead of just one idea or the other, how about combining them?" "[confused]Combining them?" "[serious]Yes. Use the magnificent landscape Silica mentioned as the background, and put the people Yuuki mentioned into it. A large painting with figures within a landscape—that way, both ideas can live, right?" "[excited]As expected of Asuna! You're a genius!!!" I pushed my wheelchair with all my might and hugged Asuna tightly. "[embarrassed]G-Geez, cut it out, Yuuki." Asuna's face turned a little red as she patted my back. I love this warm feeling. But when I glanced to the side. Silica was staring intently at Asuna. Her eyes seemed so dark, somehow—. "[quiet]...I think that's fine. That idea." Silica gave a small nod, but the color had drained from her face. "But, you know," I suddenly remembered something. "[gentle]Kirito once told me that a painting reveals the artist's heart as it is. That's why I think Silica's drawing feels so warm—" Snap. A sound rang out. The pencil Silica was holding broke clean in two. "[scared]...Huh?" Silica stood up, her face deathly pale. Her hands, still clutching her sketchbook, were trembling slightly. "[scared]I-I need to go to the bathroom..." Leaving just those words, Silica fled the classroom. Her retreating figure was so small, looking like it might disappear at any moment. "[worried]Silica..." Asuna moved to go after her. But I—before I knew it, I was holding Asuna's hand. "[quiet]...I'm sorry, Asuna. Did I say something bad?" My voice was trembling, which surprised even me. (Why did I have to bring up Kirito?) (Silica, about Kirito—) Unpleasant thoughts swirled around and around in my head. I hurt someone again. I clouded that smile. Asuna was silent for a moment, then she hugged my shoulder tightly. "[sad]...It's not your fault, Yuuki." But her voice sounded like Asuna was in a lot of pain too. And I realized that I'd made Asuna carry this heavy feeling as well. Inside a toilet stall. Silica leaned her back against the door, stifling her sobs as she cried. (Why... why did Kirito's name come out of Yuuki's mouth?) Unstoppable tears spilled from her eyes, making dark stains on her skirt. (Even though I'm supposed to know Kirito the best.) In SAO. Ever since that day he saved my life. I've always, always been close to him. I thought I knew everything—Kirito's strength, his kindness, the weakness he sometimes shows. (But the one beside Kirito is always Asuna.) (I know that. I know, but—!) Her chest hurt as if it were being torn apart. Every time Yuuki's innocent smile flashed through her mind, an ugly jealousy swirled, and she hated herself for it even more. "[crying]...So I was this kind of nasty girl after all." Her voice leaked out. But no one heard it. About ten minutes must have passed. When Silica returned to the art room, her eyes were red and swollen. Seeing that made my chest tighten again, but I didn't know what to say. Asuna didn't say anything either. Only the club president spoke, in her usual sleepy voice. "[gentle]...I see. Let's call it a day here. We'll start on the rough sketches in earnest tomorrow, so I'm counting on both of you." Without a word, Silica clutched her sketchbook and left the classroom. Her back felt so much farther away than it did yesterday. "[quiet]...I just want to be friends with Silica." When I murmured that, Asuna gently placed her hand on my shoulder. "[sad]It'll be okay. Little by little—right?" I think those words were meant for me, and also for Asuna herself. The art room still held the sweet scent of cookies and the slightly sweet-and-sour smell of the carbonated juice from earlier. The large canvas remained pure white, quietly waiting for the next day. Staring at that whiteness, (Just being cheerful can sometimes hurt someone.) I realized that for the first time. Even so, I want to paint. I want to create something together with Silica. Even if it's something incredibly difficult. Outside the window, the wind at the end of winter let out a low howl.