-AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-8:02 AM, DECEMBER 15, 2016-
Morning arrived wrapped in a heavier cold.
The kind that settled deep into stone and skin alike.
Ichika Komori stepped through the academy gates, her pace steady, her posture composed. Everything looked as it always did—the pristine paths, the quiet prestige, the familiar order.
And yet, she felt it again.
That subtle anticipation.
She found him near the lockers this time.
Rikuu Arakawa stood alone, head slightly bowed as he adjusted the strap of his bag. He looked tired—more than usual. There was a faint bruise along his jaw, half-hidden, already fading.
Ichika slowed without realizing it.
"…Arakawa," she said softly.
He glanced up. "Morning."
"You look exhausted," she added before she could stop herself.
"…You say that a lot."
"Because you always are," she replied gently.
He didn't deny it.
-AURORA ACADEMY HALLWAY-
-10:36 AM-
Between classes, the halls filled with movement and noise.
Ichika passed by Class 1-A on her way back from the faculty office, her steps slowing instinctively.
The door was open.
Rikuu sat near the window, chin resting against his hand, eyes unfocused as the teacher spoke. Snow drifted past the glass outside, catching his attention more than the lesson.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
He blinked—surprised.
Ichika quickly looked away and continued walking, her heart beating faster than necessary.
He noticed.
-AURORA ACADEMY CAFETERIA-
-12:03 PM-
Lunch felt quieter today.
Kiyomi stirred her soup absentmindedly. "You're thinking again."
Ichika sighed. "Am I really that obvious?"
"Yes," Kiyomi replied. "Very."
Misuzu watched her carefully. "Did something happen?"
"…No," Ichika said after a moment. "Nothing happened."
Misuzu smiled knowingly. "That can mean a lot."
Ichika didn't argue.
-THEATRE ARTS CLUB ROOM-
-3:29 PM-
Rehearsal ended earlier than expected.
The director dismissed them with a nod. "We'll continue tomorrow."
Students began packing up, voices low, tired but satisfied.
Ichika lingered, folding her script carefully.
Rikuu was the last to leave the stage.
"…Komori."
She looked up. "Yes?"
"You don't have to wait behind all the time," he said. "You can take the front row."
She smiled. "I like where I can see everything."
He studied her for a second. "…That suits you."
Her breath caught—just slightly.
-HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE CLUB ROOM-
-4:11 PM-
They walked side by side again, steps unhurried.
"Arakawa," Ichika said quietly, "does acting ever stay with you after rehearsal?"
He considered the question.
"…Yeah," he answered. "Sometimes longer than I want it to."
She nodded. "I think I understand that."
He glanced at her, surprised. "Do you?"
"I think… some things linger because they matter," she said.
They stopped near the exit.
Snow pressed softly against the glass.
Rikuu exhaled. "…You're strange."
Ichika laughed softly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"…It is."
They parted once more, no promises spoken.
But as Rikuu walked away, he realized something unsettled him—not in a bad way.
Her words didn't fade when the door closed.
They lingered.
And Ichika, watching him disappear into the falling snow, felt it too—
That silence between them was no longer empty.
It was full of things neither of them had learned how to say yet.