On winter mornings, the window panes in the library quietly fogged up.
Yūto, a third‑year high school student, arrived at the library almost every day the moment it opened, studying for exams. His favorite seat: the far left by the window. It got just enough light to see, and the quiet helped him focus.
One day, however, that seat was taken.
A girl with shoulder‑length black hair sat there, hunched over a thick reference book. He didn’t know her name—but something about her seemed familiar.
At first, her presence felt like an obstacle. But the next day, and the day after, he kept seeing her sitting in the same seat, silently studying. Slowly, Yūto found himself drawn to her.
Then one day, she dropped her eraser.
“Here you go.”
When he handed it back, she looked up for the first time. Her finely shaped brows, a slightly nervous expression, and a quiet voice:
“Thanks… I’m Shiho.”
Her name echoed quietly in Yūto’s mind.
From then on, they exchanged words—though modest ones: recommended vocabulary books, math formulas, how to fight off sleepiness. Comfortable in their simplicity.
Shiho said she was aiming for a national university’s education department.
“I want to become a teacher. But… I’m kind of unsure.”
“Why?”
“My mom… she raised me alone. She wants me to go stable—public servant or something. But… I’ve always been drawn to art. I’ve loved drawing since I was little.”
She pulled out a sketchbook. On its page: the library scene, the window seat, Yūto and Shiho facing each other.
“…It might be the first time someone drew me so well.”
Yūto said with a shy smile. Shiho blushed faintly and opened her book again.
They kept meeting at the same seat.
And finally, exam‑result day arrived.
The morning sky was cloudy. As Yūto walked through the school gates, his heart pounded harder than ever.
In front of the results board. Among the crowd, Yūto searched for his number.
There it was.
“Ah…here.”
He froze with his eyes wide. Someone tapped his shoulder.
Turning, he saw Shiho.
“Congratulations, Yūto–kun.”
“…And you, Shiho?”
She smiled a little and shook her head.
“I quit. I didn’t take the test. …I decided to go to an art school.”
“What?”
“If I’d passed, I don’t think I could’ve said this. But that day, when you told me, ‘If you like it, just do it’—it hit me hard.”
Her eyes were clearer than before.
“I’ve worked this far, so I feel like I can go anywhere.”
A breeze stirred. The paper on the board fluttered.
“Will we meet again?”
At Shiho’s words, Yūto nodded straight.
“Definitely. Somewhere. Again.”
That day, the library seat was free.
But in his mind remained her sketch—and the words of that morning.
Their futures would begin from different places.
Yet under the same sky, they were both meeting the same spring.
