“You really love shopping streets, don’t you?”
The voice behind me made my brush stop mid-stroke.
I turned around to find Mr. Murakami, the advisor for the art club, standing with his arms crossed as he studied my canvas.
“You should paint something flashier for a change,” he said. “Dragons. Space battles. Something epic.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“I’m just not interested.”
Chuckling, he walked over to the painting.
It showed a shopping street at sunset.
A greengrocer chatting with customers.
An old man walking his dog.
Elementary school kids on their way home.
Nothing extraordinary. Just another ordinary day.
“So,” he said after a moment, “is this lady based on someone?”
“The woman who runs the vegetable shop near the station.”
“And this guy?”
“The owner of the dry cleaner’s.”
He fell silent.
“I thought so.”
“What do you mean?”
He kept his eyes on the painting.
“You think you’re painting landscapes.”
A brief pause.
“But you’re really painting people.”
I frowned.
“…People?”
“The buildings don’t matter. They’re just the stage.” He pointed at the figures scattered across the canvas. “Your paintings become landscapes because they’re filled with people living their lives.”
He gave my shoulder a light pat.
“Take it as a compliment.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
With that, he left the art room.
Alone again, I looked back at the canvas.
No matter how many times I stared at it, it still looked ordinary.
At least, that’s how it looked to me.
⸻
Kenta was waiting outside the school gate when I finally left.
“Took you long enough.”
“Sorry.”
“Stayed behind to paint again?”
“Yeah.”
He laughed, shaking his head.
“You never get tired of it.”
We started walking down the hill toward the station together.
It was late June.
The humid air clung to our uniforms with every step.
As we reached the station plaza, the giant outdoor screen switched to a special news report.
“Nationwide rollout of the advanced career guidance AI, Navi, begins next week.”
“By analyzing each student’s abilities, personality, and values, Navi recommends the career path most likely to maximize lifelong happiness.”
Office workers slowed to a stop.
High school students looked up from their phones.
Everyone’s attention drifted toward the screen.
Kenta kept his eyes on the screen.
“So… next week.”
“Hm?”
“Navi.”
“Oh.”
I’d been trying not to think about it.
“My sister was part of the pilot program.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Navi told her she’d make a great preschool teacher.” He laughed. “She complained nonstop because she said she wasn’t even good with kids.”
“And?”
“Now she loves her job.”
There wasn’t a trace of doubt in his voice.
“In the end,” he said, “maybe AI knows us better than we know ourselves.”
The words stayed with me.
Knows us better than we know ourselves.
Was that really possible?
By the time I got home, the television was already on.
“Experts expect Navi to significantly reduce career mismatches and early resignations among young workers after its nationwide introduction.”
Dad sat on the sofa, arms folded, watching the report with unusual focus.
“I’m home.”
“Hey.”
His eyes never left the screen.
“Next week.”
There it was again.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Well, of course they do.”
He picked up the remote and turned the TV off.
“It’s the day people’s lives are going to change.”
I let out a small laugh.
“You’re making it sound way bigger than it is.”
“I’m not.”
His expression remained completely serious.
“When I was your age, we had to figure everything out ourselves.”
He paused for a moment.
“And we made a lot of mistakes.”
After graduating from high school, Dad had gone straight to work at a small factory.
When the economy took a downturn, the company went bankrupt.
He spent years moving from one job to another before finally settling into the one he has now.
“You don’t always know what you’re good at,” he said quietly.
“So if something does know…”
He looked straight at me.
“…why not listen to it?”
“You mean Navi?”
“Exactly.”
Just then, Mom stepped out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.
“I don’t agree.”
Dad glanced over with a weary smile.
“Here we go again.”
“I’m not against asking Navi for advice,” she said calmly. “But I don’t think anyone should follow its answer without question.”
“Making life decisions based on feelings is far more dangerous.”
“It’s not just feelings.”
She looked at me.
“It’s his life.”
Dad’s voice grew firmer.
“And that’s exactly why I don’t want him to fail.”
Mom didn’t answer.
Neither did I.
They were both saying it because they cared about me.
That only made it harder to know what to say.
That night, I opened my sketchbook in my room.
I stared at the blank page, pencil in hand.
A few hours earlier, I’d known exactly what I wanted to draw.
Now…
I couldn’t remember.
The pencil hovered over the paper.
Not a single line appeared.
On my desk, my phone lit up with a notification from Navi.
Career Guidance Session
7 Days Remaining
I turned off the screen.
But the words stayed with me long after the room had gone dark.
Seven days.
Until the day that might decide the rest of my life.