Houkago no Salome

Naomi turns to me with a hopeful smile after the final bell rings. “Would you mind helping me with my painting today?” she asks. We make our way to the abandoned art supply closet at the end of the hallway, a place most students avoid. Without a word, I take my place as her helper, handing brushes and mixing colors. She transferred to our Osaka arts academy without warning, her presence stirring whispers among the students. Watching her effortless skill, I feel my own confidence as an artist crumbling. The gap between her natural brilliance and my determined efforts grows painfully clear with every stroke of her brush. My once-solid pride in my craft now feels fragile under the weight of her unsettling genius. The quiet storage room becomes our secret studio, where her talent shines and my doubts multiply. Each session leaves me questioning whether hard work can ever truly compete with raw, undeniable ability. The more I assist her, the more I realize how vast the difference between us really is.