As Shampoo carefully applied the last strokes of paint to her canvas, she paused, staring at the image she had created. Ling-ling and Lung-lung were painted elegantly, their features soft and detailed, with their proud expressions exuding the quiet strength that Shampoo admired. But in the corner, in a much smaller, less refined part of the canvas, was the little black pig—a depiction of Ryoga in his pig form. Shampoo squinted at the painting, her thoughts conflicted.
"Why Shampoo draw Pig-boy?!" she thought, her brow furrowing in frustration. She hadn't planned to add him, but somehow, there he was, sitting as an unexpected addition to her artwork. She had no intention of painting Ryoga. No intention of thinking about him, either, yet he found his way into her mind and her art.
Shampoo leaned back in her chair, staring at the canvas, feeling a flush creeping up her cheeks. Why had she chosen to put him there? It wasn't just that Ryoga had been a part of her life lately—there was something more, something deeper that she couldn't quite pinpoint. Her thoughts were muddled, and she couldn't ignore the strange feeling stirring inside her. Was it because he was stubborn? Or was it because, despite his clumsiness and frustration, he had a certain kind of strength that stood out to her? She sighed, frustrated by her own mind.
"Focus, Shampoo," she muttered under her breath. She tried to turn her attention back to the painting, but her gaze kept drifting back to the little pig. She couldn't stop thinking about him, even in this quiet, artistic moment. She shook her head, hoping the distraction would fade.
But it didn't. And Shampoo couldn't help but wonder: Was it really just a passing thought, or was there something more to this strange connection with Ryoga?
"You'll be leaving your paintings here so they can dry," the teacher said with a smile.
The teacher's voice broke through Shampoo's reverie. "You'll be leaving your paintings here so they can dry," she announced, moving around the classroom, collecting the students' work. Shampoo blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and looked down at her painting.
She glanced at the small corner of the canvas where she had painted Ryoga's pig form. The little black pig was barely noticeable compared to the portraits of Ling-ling and Lung-lung, but it was there, unmissable. With a deep breath, Shampoo carefully lifted her painting and set it on the drying rack, trying to ignore the twinge of unease that flared up in her chest.
"Just another silly thing," she muttered to herself, shrugging it off as best as she could. There was no reason to dwell on it. It was just a painting, a random thought. Nothing more.
Shampoo left the classroom, feeling the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. She wasn't sure what to make of the way her thoughts kept circling back to Ryoga. The more she tried to push him out of her mind, the more stubbornly he remained there.
As she walked through the halls, she found herself glancing around the corners, half-expecting to bump into him. She caught herself, stopping in her tracks and shaking her head.
"Why do I even care?" she thought, quickly moving to her next class, trying to focus on anything but the confusing thoughts that kept swirling around in her mind.