March 12, 2026. Three days until the cultural festival main stage performance.
The auditorium had become a second home. Lights were permanently set to performance levels, props organized in neat rows, the piano tuned. The cast ran the full show twice a day now—morning before classes, evening until curfew.
Sora arrived at 07:15, coffee in one hand, script in the other. Akira was already center stage, reviewing cue sheets with the lighting tech.
He looked up. "You're on time."
"Miracle of the century."
Akira's mouth twitched—almost a smile.
They ran Act 1.
Sora's spin was sharper. Akira's narration steadier. Their eye contact lingered longer than scripted.
During the wrist-catch, Sora whispered off-mic: "Don't let go too fast this time."
Akira's fingers tightened—just a fraction.
The cast noticed.
Mai stage-whispered from the wings: "Get a room, you two!"
Sora flipped her off without missing a line.
Akira's ears went pink.
After the run, Sora grabbed water. Akira approached—hesitant.
"You're ready," he said.
Sora raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."
"I'm… proud."
Sora blinked.
Akira continued. "Your chaos works. It's not chaos anymore. It's… controlled energy."
Sora laughed softly. "High praise from the king of order."
Akira looked down. "I mean it."
Sora stepped closer. "I know."
Their hands brushed—deliberate this time.
Mai appeared. "Okay, lovebirds. Break's over. Act 3."
Sora rolled her eyes. "We're not lovebirds."
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."
The afternoon run went smoother.
But nerves were creeping in.
During the "breath before resolution" freeze, Sora's voice cracked—just once.
She pulled back too early.
Akira noticed. "You okay?"
Sora nodded. "Just… tomorrow's the real thing. Everyone watching. No do-overs."
Akira's voice was quiet. "We've got this."
Sora met his eyes. "Together?"
"Together."
She smiled—small, real.
After rehearsal, they walked out together.
At the gate Sora stopped.
"Tomorrow… after the show. Walk me home again?"
Akira nodded. "Always."
She rose on tiptoes—kissed his cheek quickly.
Akira's hand rose—cupped her face gently.
He leaned in—kissed her forehead.
Lingering.
Sora closed her eyes.
They pulled back—smiling.
"See you tomorrow," she whispered.
Akira watched her go.
The festival was almost here.
And for the first time, he wasn't afraid of what came after.