Chapter Text
The morning sun poured through the wide windows of the university assembly hall, spilling gold across the polished wooden floors. I walked in with my friends, sketchbook clutched tightly to my chest, nerves thrumming in my chest like a frantic drum. Today wasn’t just another lecture—it was the annual arts program assembly, where legendary artists came to scout exceptional students for their studios. And today, Kouyou Ozaki herself would be here, along with her prodigy, Higuchi.
My heart raced uncontrollably. I’d dreamed of this moment for months—maybe years. To meet Kouyou. To be noticed. To learn. To work alongside the sun itself—Higuchi.
My friends whispered excitedly around me, but I barely heard them. My gaze was fixed on the far end of the hall, where Kouyou’s tall, composed figure surveyed the room with quiet authority, flanked by Higuchi, radiant as ever. Golden light seemed to cling to her like a halo, drawing my eyes irresistibly.
The assembly began as usual—students murmuring, professors speaking about vision, dedication, and the courage to explore new artistic boundaries. I leaned forward, hands clasped tightly over my sketchbook, heart hammering with anticipation. Higuchi sat a few rows ahead, her presence warm, spilling sunlight even into the shadowed edges of the hall.
Then the lights flickered.
A hush fell over the room. The projector clicked to life, and the image filling the screen made my stomach drop.
“What…?” I whispered, my hand tightening around my sketchbook.
A police officer at the podium cleared his throat. “Students, we regret to interrupt, but this is urgent. What you are about to see concerns the recent missing persons cases in the city.”
The photographs appeared—some blurred, some clear, all horrifying. College girls, forced into poses they never consented to. Nude. Vulnerable. Eyes wide with terror. The images were raw, brutal, unflinching. The officer’s voice explained the crimes, the obsession behind them, the psychological damage inflicted.
I felt bile rise in my throat. I couldn’t look away. My friends murmured in horror beside me:
“This… this is insane.”
“Why would someone… why would they do this?”
“Art… it shouldn’t be like this…”
“People… people really go mad over art,” I muttered, barely audible, my voice trembling.
The officer continued, describing the investigation, the possibility of accomplices, urging anyone with information to come forward. Then more images flashed, showing the grotesque expressions the girls were forced to make—twisted mouths, tense limbs, tears streaking pale faces. The room felt suffocating.
Then the lights returned, but the silence remained. The images lingered in our minds. Even knowing the victims were now safe at home did little to ease the weight; their trauma hung in the air like smoke.
Heads bowed, whispers hushed, some students pressed trembling hands to their mouths, as if to stifle the reality forced upon us. Others leaned against walls, pale, legs quivering. The room, usually alive with chatter and the rustle of notebooks, hovered in disbelief and horror.
I hugged my sketchbook closer, letting the familiar leather and pages anchor me. My friends were silent, their usual banter replaced by a muted quiet.
“It… it’s unbearable,” whispered Mariko, burying her face in her hands. “To think… they went through that…”
“I… I can’t even imagine,” another student murmured.
I felt the cold knot in my chest tighten. Art, I realised with a shiver, could illuminate the soul—but in the wrong hands, it could twist it into something monstrous.
Then, as if the universe had decided to shift the balance, the double doors at the front opened. Light spilled across the hall, a subtle sunbeam piercing the lingering gloom. Every eye turned.
In walked Kouyou Ozaki, legendary artist. Her presence was magnetic. She moved with effortless poise, a perfect blend of elegance and authority. Even the oppressive heaviness of the room lifted slightly, drawn upward by her aura.
At her side walked Higuchi, glowing like the sun itself—radiant, confident, but soft where Kouyou’s presence was formidable. Together, they were a study in balance—light and warmth interwoven with precision.
Kouyou’s voice rang out, firm and clear:
“Good morning. Today, despite recent events, we gather here for what art should always be: a force of creation, a channel for vision, and a pursuit of truth.”
A murmur ran through the room, half awe, half relief. Higuchi added softly:
“Art can be light or dark, gentle or forceful. It shapes, reflects, and challenges us. What matters is dedication, insight, and the courage to express your own voice.”
I felt my back straighten instinctively. Even in the shadow of the morning’s horrors, there was hope—a spark they had ignited. It was sunlight brushing a moonlit landscape—subtle, undeniable.
Kouyou gestured toward a screen. This time, the images were different: student submissions, alive with colour and imagination, individuality splashed boldly across each canvas.
“Now,” Kouyou said, “we will announce the students selected to join our program. These are the artists we believe have the potential, discipline, and passion to grow under our guidance.” Her eyes scanned the room, piercing yet kind, as if she could see the heart behind every sketchbook and brushstroke.
Higuchi’s gaze drifted over the audience, sunlight in motion. When her eyes landed on me, she offered a small, encouraging smile—a quiet acknowledgment of the moon she had noticed before anyone else.
“Your dedication brought you here,” she whispered. “We hope you will continue to challenge yourself, explore your vision, and learn everything you can.”
Names were called. Gasps and whispers echoed. Then, finally:
“Gin Akutagawa,” Kouyou intoned. “Welcome to the program.”
Time seemed to pause. My heart leapt. My hands shook. A thrill coursed through me like electricity.
Higuchi approached afterward, her radiant eyes meeting mine. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly, a private warmth just for me. “We’ll learn a lot together.”
“I… I can’t believe it,” I whispered. “I’m… really here?”
She chuckled, sunlight spilling over her expression. “You earned it. And this is only the beginning.”
Despite the darkness I had seen today, I had found a light to follow. Under Kouyou’s guidance, alongside Higuchi, I would step into a world where shadow and light could coexist—where sun and moon could complement each other—and where my own artistry could finally shine.
For the first time, I felt certain: no matter the darkness outside, I had a place in the light.