The Snow-Thawing Sunshine

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"Really? That's awesome!"

"... Like, she thinks that she's so pretty and all..."

"... Ah, for this question, you should use this formula first..."

Colors. Oh, well, not the visible kind of colors. What I was trying to refer to were those which represent each person. It could be a wild splatter of a spectrum, orderly stripes of different shades, any pattern at all, you name them. Mine? Well...

You could say mine is no different than a blank canvas. Pure white, so easily tainted by a single drop of dye, and yet nothing seems to stick on. I suppose I slathered painting varnish over this untouched sheet long ago without noticing. Really, truly, befitting of the name that sounds like "a thousand winters".

But maybe it's because of that trait of mine, that I can somewhat label each person with their respective color schemes.

Chifuyu Ibaraki. The name that represents a thorny tree of a distant, detached winter. Bearing no leaves, its bark will only bear the dull, dark colors a dead tree bark would, sporting uninviting spikes that would only drive away anything that would approach it as it stands upon a field of naught but white, if anyone wants to even come close to it, that is.

That being said, it is definitely not that I don't like being alone either. It has its benefits, such as giving you near-limitless freedom, not accounting for your own restraints on yourself, and a little too much free time to boot. Loneliness here can be described as my very own miracle worker, especially with my current status and my desire to keep the fact that I am considered working already from the academy faculty, since part-time jobs are pretty much illegal here in this school for the students.

It may sound odd, but someone like me working as a light novel author, what's more is that I am the author of one of the best-selling series so far, is writing a slice of life, while being a loner. Yes, I do observe people quite often for writing purposes, but I don't really interact with others unless necessary, save for a few people. In fact, I find it draining to pump up any initiative motivation to initiate a conversation with anyone, as I lack experience in human interaction as a whole.

No longer able to cope with the overbearing "normie-ness" that is my class, I silently headed towards the stairs leading to the rooftop. Yes, so cliched of me. It's not like I have the protagonist's aversion to such locations, though. I just like the lack of people there, so I can write my work's next volume without much disturbance. The said area could provide me with observations for a couple's daily interactions, which I greatly need as a writer of the romance genre.

"Nobody's here... perfect." I muttered to myself, peering through the gap I created from slightly hinging the heavy, creaky metal door open. Directly after confirming my statement, I barged to the beautiful, garden-like space, its borders lined with tall metal railings to prevent accidents from occurring, should there be a visitor.

Making my leisurely way the shelter, designed to be simple, classy, yet give off a rustic feel, a body of warmth suddenly brushed past my leg, which I, in response, jumped. Quickly setting the clipped stack of paper on the table present in the shelter, I began to search among the bushes, rummaging through the flowering plants in attempt to discover the source of the odd stimulus my limb sensed a moment ago.

After what seemed to be a few minutes of searching, I stumbled upon a stray kitten, sporting jet black fur and sapphire-like eyes, one at the age when they separate with their mother. Despite its young age, it seemed to be friendly towards humans, evident by how it immediately sprung towards me.