-AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-8:07 AM, DECEMBER 14, 2016-
Snow clung to the branches lining the academy grounds, weighing them down just enough to make the morning feel quieter than usual.
Ichika Komori walked through the gates with measured steps, her breath forming small clouds in the cold air. The campus looked the same as always—orderly, elegant, untouched.
Yet something inside her felt different.
"Good morning, Komori-san."
"Good morning," she replied gently, offering her usual smile.
As she entered the main building, she slowed.
Rikuu Arakawa stood by the bulletin board near the stairwell, eyes scanning a posted notice for upcoming performances. His hands were tucked into his pockets, posture loose but attentive.
She hadn't expected to see him there.
"…Arakawa," she greeted.
He turned. "Morning."
They stood side by side, reading the same notice without actually reading it.
"Are you auditioning for that?" Ichika asked.
"Maybe," he replied. "Depends."
"On what?"
"Whether I feel like it."
She smiled. "That sounds like you."
He glanced at her. "You make it sound like a bad thing."
"No," she said quickly. "Just… honest."
That word lingered again.
-AURORA ACADEMY CLASSROOM, CLASS 1-B-
-9:42 AM-
Ichika sat at her desk, listening to the lesson, but her attention drifted more than she liked.
Depends.
She wondered what Rikuu's days depended on. Mood? Time? Something heavier?
She shook the thought away and refocused.
Still, the feeling remained—gentle, persistent.
-AURORA ACADEMY COURTYARD-
-12:01 PM-
Lunch arrived with cold sunlight and scattered laughter.
Ichika sat with Misuzu Kanzaki and Kiyomi Mizuhara, unwrapping her lunch neatly.
Kiyomi squinted at her. "You're thinking again."
Ichika blinked. "Am I?"
"Yes," Kiyomi said confidently. "Your 'thinking' face is very obvious."
Misuzu smiled faintly. "You seem… lighter, though."
Ichika looked down at her hands. "…I think I'm starting to understand something."
"Like what?" Kiyomi leaned closer.
"That not everything warm is loud," Ichika said softly.
Kiyomi paused. "…Wow. That was deep. I'm hungry."
Misuzu chuckled.
-THEATRE ARTS CLUB ROOM-
-3:31 PM-
Rehearsal that day was quieter, focused on movement rather than dialogue.
Rikuu watched from the side as Ichika practiced a scene alone—no lines, just presence.
She moved carefully, deliberately, letting silence fill the space.
When she finished, the director nodded. "Good. You're not rushing anymore."
Ichika exhaled.
Her eyes drifted toward Rikuu.
He met her gaze and gave a small nod.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing loud.
But it warmed her more than applause ever could.
-HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE CLUB ROOM-
-4:14 PM-
As they walked out together, Ichika spoke first.
"You looked like you were thinking during rehearsal."
Rikuu shrugged. "You weren't pretending."
She smiled. "You noticed."
"Hard not to."
They stopped near the exit again.
Snow fell beyond the glass doors, slow and steady.
"…Komori," Rikuu said quietly.
"Yes?"
"You don't act like someone who needs attention."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Is that a compliment?"
"…Probably."
She laughed softly, the sound light in the cold hallway.
"I'll take it."
They parted ways soon after, as always.
But as Ichika stepped into the warmth of her car, she realized something important:
Winter didn't disappear all at once.
It softened.
And somewhere between shared glances and quiet understanding—
her heart had begun to burn, slowly, patiently,
learning warmth without fear.