The following week, Miyako stood in front of the art room door, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it echo in her ears.
From the other side came laughter, music, and the faint scent of paint.
She took a deep breath and knocked softly.
"Come in!" someone called.
Miyako opened the door. Inside, the room was alive with color — canvases leaning against walls, half-finished portraits, and bright posters taped to the windows. A few students looked up, smiling curiously.
Ethan waved from the back. "Hey, Miyako! Over here!"
She walked over shyly, clutching her sketchbook like it was a shield.
"Everyone, this is Miyako," Ethan said. "She's new, from Japan — and she's really good at drawing."
A girl with short hair and paint smudges on her cheeks grinned. "Cool! I'm Lina. You like manga, right? Ethan said so."
"Yes," Miyako said softly. "I… I want to make my own manga someday."
"That's awesome! You should show us sometime!" Lina said, her eyes sparkling.
Miyako smiled nervously. Show them?
Her drawings had always been something private — pages full of her dreams and fears. Showing them felt like opening her heart. But… maybe this was the moment she needed.
Ethan gave her an encouraging nod. "You've got this."
---
The Sketchbook
With trembling hands, Miyako opened her sketchbook on the table.
The pages were filled with pencil sketches — characters with expressive eyes, scenes of Tokyo streets, and the beginnings of a story about a girl who moves between two worlds: one of light, one of shadow.
Everyone gathered around, quiet for a moment.
Then Lina whispered, "Whoa… this is beautiful."
Another student, Marcus, nodded. "It's got emotion. Like, you can feel it."
Miyako's cheeks warmed. She hadn't expected that reaction — not praise, not understanding.
Ethan leaned closer, pointing at one sketch. "Is this the main character?"
"Yes," she said. "Her name is Sora. She travels between the world of dreams and the real one. But… I don't know how to continue."
"Well," Lina said, tapping her chin, "maybe that's what we can help you with. You've already got something special here."
Miyako looked up, eyes widening slightly. "Help… me?"
Ethan smiled. "Of course. Art's better when you share it."
---
That night, when Miyako returned home, she sat by her window — sketchbook open, pencil in hand. For the first time since leaving Tokyo, the loneliness felt softer, almost distant.
She began sketching again, the lines flowing easily this time.
Sora — her character — now stood in a new place: a bustling city of lights that looked a little like New York.
Miyako smiled to herself.
Maybe Sora's story was her story, too.
On the bottom of the page, she wrote:
> "Every dream begins with one brave line."