Manager-san knew it was not proper to pry into another's privacy, yet the burning curiosity and anticipation inside her could not be suppressed. After wrestling with herself for a while, she finally broke the silence and asked, unable to hold back,
"Could it be that you're preparing… a piece for the Fantasy Exhibition?"
Of course not.
These days, Haru had been steadily working on a new piece. His body had completely adapted to the rhythm of LV5 painting, and in reality he hadn't… well, he had been in a car accident, but at least his dominant hand hadn't suffered any permanent damage.
Since he was blessed with both a natural dominant hand and a trained "practice hand," his current strength had surpassed even his simulated self. The lack of experience and refinement that he once had had already been filled in through repeated participation in exhibitions.
Now his state could be summed up in 2 words...
Com☆plete☆Per☆fec☆tion
He had resolved himself long before picking up the brush, and now it was time to fulfill that vow completely.
"No, I just want to paint something I like."
His words, cryptic as a riddle, were difficult to grasp. But the sharp-minded Manager-san quickly picked up on a clue. After a moment of silence on her end of the line, she let out a soft sigh, as though she had realized something.
"I understand."
She looked down at the mountain of invitation letters piled on her desk, the gilded letters of the "Louvre Special Art Exhibition" on the topmost one stabbing at her eyes, sending a dull ache through her temples.
The weight of winning two grand prizes in such prestigious exhibitions was far greater than she had described. Foreign media were calling Haru "a spirit stepped out of a 19th century oil painting," and countless art associations were sending invitations to this mysterious new figure.
The problem was, this "Yuuka" had never even attended a single award ceremony in person.
And all of these messy invitations naturally fell on her, the Manager-san, to handle.
"In that case, when you have time, please contact me."
As she said it, she too let out a heavy sigh.
She knew full well the tangled web of relationships around Yuuka-sensei. He was not only engaged to the daughter of the Wakaba family, but was also living under the same roof with several beautiful girls. His private life could only be described as extraordinary.
But to her, that was nothing unusual.
Miss Manager-san, as the East Asia head for the Fantasy Group, had met countless artists over the years, many of them with twisted personalities and eccentric behaviors that could only be called bizarre.
Compared to those European masters, Yuuka-sensei's quirks didn't even count as minor.
If anything, what would have been strange was if a painter not yet of age, who had debuted only a few months ago and already won gold prizes in both England and France, while displaying the mature technique of a legendary old master along with extraordinary talent and vision, didn't have any peculiar traits at all.
"Well then, I'll be counting on you, Miss Manager-san."
After a few more polite words, Haru finally hung up. In his private studio, white canvas lay neatly on a wooden board, fine oil paints lined up in order, with rows of delicate glass bottles surrounding them.
Only two ordinary brushes sat among them, looking out of place.
"Well then, next is…"
Haru drew in a deep breath and picked up his phone, ready to call Ijichi Nijika.
The reason he had turned down Miss Manager-san's suggestion for more exhibitions was because of the promise he had once made to Nijika. That once he had completely mastered this art, he would first paint a portrait of her.
Ding-dong~
The sudden ring of the doorbell froze his hand mid-motion. Slightly puzzled, Haru turned toward the entrance. He recalled that Mutsumi and Umiri had gone out shopping and shouldn't have been back so soon.
The bell had only rung once, long and gentle, which suggested the visitor was shy or restrained.
After all, if it were that pink-haired brat, the bell would be pressed in a frenzy, or repeatedly jabbed after the first went unanswered. If it were Ryo, his Line would already be blowing up.
Of course, there was always the chance it was Ultraman Taro at the door.
With that thought, he went to open it.
The moment the door opened, a small blonde girl came into view. Her lively side ponytail swayed with her slight movements, her crimson eyes like burning embers flashing with a trace of softness, and her face holding a shy expression that was hard to put into words.
Her playful golden dorito swayed lightly in the breeze, as though spilling over with cuteness.
"Haru, good afternoon?"
Her greeting carried a slight upward lilt, her left hand clutching tightly at the strap of her canvas bag, as if to suppress the nervousness inside.
Haru only raised an eyebrow.
"Well now, look who delivered herself right to my door."
He had just been wondering about arranging a time with Nijika, and here she was showing up on her own. He couldn't help but suspect there was some "world's great will" pulling strings behind this.
With that thought, he smoothly reached out and clasped her hand. The shy blonde trembled, caught off guard by the sudden "attack." She didn't know how to react, but she didn't resist either.
Lifting her eyes timidly, she spoke in a flustered tone.
"H-Haru?!"
"Nijika, could you come with me for a bit?"
"Well… I guess I could…"
Her voice softened immediately, her usually energetic face now glowing with a gentle flush.
Led by the dark-haired boy, she instinctively stepped inside. After taking off her red and white sneakers, she revealed pure white socks, then slipped on her fluffy lion slippers that had always been hers, following Haru into the living room.
"Um, can I ask what this is for?"
"You'll find out soon~"
Haru winked at her mischievously, which only deepened Nijika's confusion. But then, as though realizing something, her ears flushed scarlet in an instant.
Perhaps a certain picture had sprung to mind. Her face turned red as she opened her mouth as if to speak, but quickly shut it again, lowering her gaze in shy hesitation. After a long moment of silence, she whispered gently,
"W-well, there's no need to rush, you know? I mean… I'm right here, it's not like I'm going to run away~"
"No. I've been waiting a long time for this."
"Uuuh…"
His firm tone only made her blush deepen. She lowered her head, her golden hair glowing softly in the light, like the warmth of winter sunlight.
She wanted to cover her burning face like before, but one hand was gripping her bag, the other was held in Haru's. All she could do was lower her head like an ostrich, trying to hide her embarrassed expression.
A moment later, he led her into the studio.
"Eh?"
The blonde blinked, dumbfounded, and turned to look at him.
"Haru, you mean… you want me to be your model?"
"Of course. Didn't we agree before? I want to paint a portrait of you myself."
Seeing his smug smile, she finally understood. The realization made her breathe out in relief, but as her tension faded, a faint disappointment crept into her heart, her gaze tinged with helplessness.
Really now, he completely misled her!
Haru only shrugged and said with a playful tone, "I was just about to call you to set a time, but before I even did, you showed up at my door."
"Honestly, I didn't even get to explain why I came…"
Nijika sighed softly, hands on her slender waist, her eyes gentle but helpless, like a mother scolding a restless child.
"Actually, I came today because I wanted to talk about our next live show. After our last performance… everyone's just been practicing and doing street shows, but we don't really have a clear goal right now."
"And… and I also 'accidentally' baked too many cookies, and since I know you like sweets, I thought I'd bring them over."
As she spoke, Nijika pulled a small box from her bag. Inside, rows of neatly arranged cookies rested in perfect order, an exact even number. Clearly, they weren't the result of some "accidental" surplus.
Haru immediately noticed, a subtle look flashing in his eyes.
If it had really just been about band matters, the right time would have been at STARRY, when they all met. Yet Nijika had chosen to come alone, with the flimsiest of excuses about cookies.
"…"
She must have realized how weak her excuse sounded. Her ears flushed crimson, the blush spreading down her cheeks like rose ink bleeding across rice paper.
She couldn't help it!
If it were Ryo, she wouldn't care about appearances at all, and would just march over.
But Nijika was shy and reserved by nature. For her, coming here on her own like this was already pushing her limits. There was no way she could act as boldly as Ryo.