I don't know how long I stood in front of that blank canvas.
Maybe it was only a few seconds.
Maybe it was longer.
There was something strangely intimidating about an empty canvas. It wasn't like looking at a finished painting, where every color had already been chosen and every line had already found its place.
A blank canvas expected something from you.
It asked you what you wanted to say.
And I wasn't sure I had an answer.
"You're really staring at it."
I heard Himeya's voice from behind me.
I turned slightly.
He was still standing near the doorway, his shoulder resting lightly against the frame.
"You've been looking at that canvas for almost five minutes."
"Have you been counting?"
"No."
"Then how do you know?"
"I guessed."
I narrowed my eyes.
"That's cheating."
He smiled.
It was small.
Almost invisible.
But I noticed it.
"Maybe."
I turned back toward the canvas.
For some reason, hearing his voice like this made the room feel less unfamiliar.
It reminded me of when we were younger.
Back then, Himeya had always been like this.
He rarely said exactly what he was thinking, but he always seemed to notice things.
When I was drawing, he would sit beside me without asking.
When I became frustrated with a painting, he wouldn't tell me to try harder.
He would simply put a carton of milk beside me and say,
"Take a break."
Sometimes, that was enough.
"Do you still draw?" he asked.
I hesitated.
"A little."
"A little?"
I nodded.
"I stopped for a while."
His expression changed slightly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for me to notice.
"Why?"
I looked at the blank canvas again.
"I don't know."
That was only half the truth.
The other half was harder to explain.
After my mother passed away, painting became complicated.
Every time I picked up a brush, I remembered her.
Every color reminded me of something.
The smell of paint.
The sound of a brush being washed.
The sunlight falling across the floor of her studio.
Even the way she used to hold a palette in one hand while looking at a painting with that quiet smile.
Painting didn't feel like something that belonged to me anymore.
It felt like something I had inherited without asking for it.
"I guess I just didn't know what to paint anymore."
Himeya didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked into the room.
His footsteps were quiet against the floor.
He stopped beside me, looking at the canvas.
"Then don't paint."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Don't paint."
He pointed toward the canvas.
"You don't have to."
I stared at him.
"You brought me here because you wanted me to join the art club."
"I brought you here because you said you might like it."
"That's basically the same thing."
"No, it isn't."
He looked at me.
"You don't have to do something just because you're good at it."
I didn't know how to respond.
That sounded exactly like something Himeya would say.
Simple.
Almost annoyingly simple.
But somehow, it made sense.
Before I could say anything, the senpai from earlier approached us.
"Your friend is right."
I turned toward her.
She smiled.
"Sometimes, the hardest part of art is accepting that you don't have to create anything."
She picked up a small sketchbook from the table.
"You can just sit here."
She gestured toward the room.
"Look around. Draw something when you feel like it."
I looked around again.
The room was filled with unfinished things.
Half-drawn portraits.
Landscapes.
Random sketches.
A cup sitting beside an easel.
A pair of shoes near the window.
Nothing seemed perfect.
And somehow, that made me feel better.
"Can I come again tomorrow?"
The question left my mouth before I had time to think.
The senpai's smile widened.
"Of course."
I nodded.
"Then I'll come tomorrow."
Himeya glanced at me.
"Looks like you've decided."
"Maybe."
"That's quick."
"You said I didn't have to decide."
"I did."
"So I'm deciding."
He laughed quietly.
For some reason, that made me smile too.
We left the art room a little later.
The afternoon sun had already begun to soften by the time we stepped into the hallway.
The school felt different now.
Most students had already gone home.
The noisy energy from earlier had faded into scattered footsteps and distant voices.
Himeya walked beside me.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Then my stomach growled.
Loudly.
I stopped.
Himeya stopped too.
We stared at each other.
My face heated immediately.
"...You didn't hear that."
"I definitely heard that."
"You didn't."
"It was pretty loud."
"Himeya."
"Yeah?"
"Forget it."
He smiled.
"You're hungry."
"I'm not."
Another growl answered for me.
Himeya looked toward the window.
Then back at me.
"There's a convenience store near the station."
"I can go by myself."
"I know."
"Then why are you coming?"
He shrugged.
"I'm hungry too."
"You didn't say anything."
"I wasn't."
"Then why did you decide you're hungry now?"
"Because you reminded me."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Then we both started laughing.
It was strange.
We had spent years apart.
There were so many things we hadn't shared.
So many birthdays.
So many ordinary afternoons.
So many stupid conversations that should have happened but didn't.
And yet, walking beside him like this felt strangely easy.
As if those missing years had simply been placed somewhere outside of us.
We walked toward the station.
The streets around the school were beginning to fill with the usual afternoon crowd.
Students in uniforms.
Office workers returning home.
A grandmother carrying groceries.
A child dragging his mother toward a toy store.
Bicycles passing by.
Cars stopping at intersections.
Nothing special.
Nothing worth remembering.
And yet, I found myself enjoying it.
"Do you always walk home this way?"
"Usually."
"Alone?"
"Most of the time."
"You don't have many friends?"
"I do."
"Then why alone?"
He thought about it.
"I guess our schedules don't always match."
"Oh."
I looked ahead.
Then I realized something.
"You never asked me how Canada was."
He glanced at me.
"I did."
"When?"
"On the rooftop."
"That was different."
"How?"
"You asked about school."
"That's part of Canada."
"That's not what I meant."
He smiled slightly.
"Then tell me."
I looked at him.
"Tell you what?"
"Anything."
I thought about it.
"The winters were cold."
"That's it?"
"No."
I smiled.
"The snow was pretty."
"That sounds more like you."
"What does that mean?"
"You always liked pretty things."
I stared at him for a second.
"You remember that?"
"Of course."
I looked away.
Something warm settled in my chest.
"Canada was nice," I continued. "I made friends. I learned a lot. I even started getting used to the food."
"That's good."
"But..."
I stopped.
Himeya looked at me.
"But?"
I smiled faintly.
"I missed Japanese food."
He laughed.
"That's what you missed?"
"Among other things."
"What else?"
I thought for a moment.
"Haruka and Auntie Marie?"
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"That's what you missed?"
"You don't understand."
I raised my hand dramatically.
"Being able to talk and play with them, it makes make happy."
Himeya laughed.
A real laugh this time.
Not the small one from before.
I smiled.
"See?"
"You're still weird."
"You used to like that about me."
He stopped walking.
I stopped too.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled.
"I still do."
My heart skipped.
It was such a simple sentence.
He probably didn't even realize how easily it had slipped out.
But I did.
I looked away quickly.
"You're still weird too."
"I never said I wasn't, ya know."
We continued walking.
A few minutes later, we reached the convenience store.
The automatic doors opened with a soft chime.
Cool air greeted us.
I immediately headed toward the food section.
Himeya followed.
"You weren't kidding."
"I told you."
I picked up a rice ball.
"Salmon."
"That's your favorite?"
"One of them."
"You used to like tuna mayo."
I turned around.
"You remember that too?"
"Yeah."
"You're scary."
"Why?"
"Because you remember everything."
He shrugged.
"I don't think I remember everything."
"You remember things about me."
There was a short silence.
Then he answered quietly.
"Some things are easy to remember."
I didn't know what to say.
So I held up the rice ball.
"Do you want one?"
"Sure."
"What kind?"
"Whatever."
"That's not an answer."
"Salmon."
"Copycat."
"You chose it first."
"Exactly."
He rolled his eyes.
We ended up buying far more than we needed.
Two rice balls each.
Drinks.
A bag of chips.
And a small dessert that Himeya insisted was worth trying.
We sat outside the convenience store on a bench.
The afternoon sun was warmer now.
I opened my rice ball and took a bite.
I closed my eyes.
"This is good."
Himeya looked at me.
"You look way too happy."
"I am."
"Over an onigiri."
"Yes."
He took a bite of his own.
Then he nodded.
"Not bad."
"Not bad?"
"It's good."
"That's more like it."
We sat quietly for a while.
It wasn't awkward.
That surprised me.
There was something comfortable about eating beside someone without having to constantly fill the silence.
I looked at him from the corner of my eye.
His hair moved slightly in the breeze.
He was looking at the road.
For some reason, I suddenly remembered something from years ago.
A summer afternoon.
The two of us sitting outside my house.
Sharing a popsicle.
Arguing about which flavor was better.
It was such a meaningless memory.
But it was one of the ones I had missed the most.
"Himeya."
"Hm?"
"Do you remember when we used to eat ice cream outside my house?"
He thought for a moment.
Then smiled.
"You dropped yours."
I frowned.
"I did not."
"You did."
"You distracted me."
"I didn't."
"You definitely did."
"I was enjoying mine."
"That doesn't prove anything."
He laughed.
I laughed too.
For a moment, we weren't Junior high school students.
We weren't people who had spent years apart.
We were just two kids sitting outside a house, arguing about ice cream.
Maybe that was what I had been missing.
Not Canada.
Not Japan.
Not even the art room.
It was this.
The ordinary moments.
The ones that didn't matter enough to become stories.
The ones that somehow became the memories you carried forever.
After we finished eating, Himeya stood up.
"I'll walk you home."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because you keep saying I don't have to."
I sighed.
"Fine."
We walked together again.
This time, the distance between us was smaller.
Our shoulders almost touched several times.
Neither of us moved away.
As we approached my new neighborhood, I suddenly realized something.
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"I was worried about today."
He looked at me.
"Why?"
"I didn't know what it would be like seeing you again."
He remained quiet.
"So?"
I smiled.
"It's not as scary as I thought."
He looked ahead.
"Good."
I nudged his arm lightly.
"That's all you have to say?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know."
He thought for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"Then I'll say this."
He stopped walking.
I stopped too.
"Welcome home, Alicia."
I stared at him.
The same words from the rooftop.
But this time, they felt different.
Warmer.
Closer.
I smiled.
"Thank you, Himeya."
"Maybe you should come to my house for dinner, Mom and Haru-nee would be excited to see you."
"I'll ask my dad."
The wind moved gently between us.
And for the first time since returning to Japan, I didn't feel like someone who had come back after being away.
Memories of my mother... I felt it.
I felt like someone who had finally found the place she had been looking for.
Not a country.
Not a house.
Not a school.
Just a person.
Someone who remembered the little things.
Someone who could make an ordinary afternoon feel like something worth keeping.
We started walking again.
Tomorrow, I would return to the art club.
I would probably meet more people.
Maybe I would pick up a brush.
Maybe I wouldn't.
Maybe I would draw something.
Maybe the canvas would remain blank.
For once, I didn't feel the need to know.
Because tomorrow would come whether I was ready or not.
And if Himeya was there somewhere along the way...
Then perhaps I could take my time.
Perhaps I could finally begin again.