Kaito

Fermari was different. Her way of seeing the world, of feeling it, didn't match that of others. She didn't talk much, avoided direct gazes, and often walked alone through the school hallways, listening to the echo of her own footsteps as if they were part of a melody only she understood.

The others didn't understand. And so, they made fun of him.

"Can't you talk or something?" they asked him. —How strange you are, Fermari!

She didn't respond. She took refuge in her sketchbook, where she captured her vision of the universe with gentle strokes. A quiet place, without shouting, without teasing. Just shapes, colors, and peace.

What Fermari didn't know was that someone did understand her. Or at least, tried to.

Kaito, her older brother's best friend, used to stop by her house every day. At first, he just greeted her with a shy smile. But over time, he began to notice her more. Not out of pity, but because there was something in her silence that spoke louder than words.

One day, Fermari ran out of school. Tears blurred her vision. Kaito was standing at the door, waiting for his brother, when he saw her. Without thinking, he ran after her.

"Fermari…" he said gently, without frightening her. "You don't have to say anything, but… I'm here."

She didn't look at him right away. She just hugged her notebook to her chest.

"I'm not normal," he whispered for the first time. "I'm not like the others."

Kaito knelt in front of her, without invading her space, and said:

—I don't want you to be like the others. I like you just the way you are. And believe it or not, I have for a long time.

Fermari looked at him, for the first time without fear. And in that instant, without touching her, he felt her letting him into her world.

A silent world, yes. But full of tenderness.