-AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-8:01 AM, DECEMBER 19, 2016-
Monday returned with a quiet weight, the kind that settled into the bones after a weekend of snowfall.
The academy grounds were blanketed in white.
Ichika Komori walked carefully along the cleared path, her steps measured, her thoughts unsteady in a way she hadn't learned how to organize yet. The past few days lingered in her mind—shared silences, passing glances, words that felt heavier than they sounded.
She noticed him near the shoe lockers before he noticed her.
Rikuu Arakawa leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed on nothing in particular. A faint bruise shadowed his cheek again, subtle but unmistakable.
Ichika slowed.
"…Arakawa."
He lifted his head. "Morning."
"You're early," she said.
"You already said that once," he replied dryly.
She smiled. "I still mean it."
He exhaled, then nodded toward the building. "You heading in?"
"Yes."
They walked together—no rush, no need to fill the quiet.
-AURORA ACADEMY CLASSROOM, CLASS 1-B-
-10:11 AM-
Ichika listened as the teacher spoke, but her attention slipped again.
Her eyes drifted to the window.
Snow continued to fall, slow and persistent.
She wondered what kind of thoughts followed Rikuu when he stared outside. Whether he noticed the cold the same way she did—or if he'd grown used to it long ago.
The idea made her chest tighten.
-AURORA ACADEMY COURTYARD-
-12:06 PM-
Lunch passed beneath a gray sky.
Misuzu sipped her tea quietly. "You look distracted."
Ichika nodded slightly. "I am."
Kiyomi grinned. "Let me guess—Class 1-A."
Ichika didn't deny it.
Misuzu's smile softened. "You're changing."
Ichika looked up. "Is that bad?"
"No," Misuzu replied. "Just… noticeable."
Ichika thought of Rikuu's tired eyes. His short answers. The way he lingered even when he could've walked away.
"I think," Ichika said carefully, "I want to understand him."
Kiyomi blinked. "…Oh. That's serious."
-THEATRE ARTS CLUB ROOM-
-3:35 PM-
Rehearsal that afternoon focused on paired scenes.
When the director called names, Ichika felt her breath hitch.
"Komori. Arakawa."
Rikuu looked up.
Their eyes met.
"…Guess that's us," he said quietly.
They took their places on stage, standing closer than usual.
The scene was simple—two characters waiting for something that never arrived.
"Begin."
Silence filled the room.
Ichika looked at Rikuu, searching his face—not acting, not pretending.
He met her gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
When he spoke his line, it wasn't loud.
But it was steady.
And when Ichika answered, her voice didn't shake.
The director didn't interrupt.
When the scene ended, the room remained quiet.
"…That was good," someone whispered.
Rikuu exhaled slowly.
Ichika realized her hands were trembling.
-HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE CLUB ROOM-
-4:17 PM-
They walked out together again.
"You didn't look away," Rikuu said.
Ichika tilted her head. "Neither did you."
"…Guess we're even."
She hesitated, then spoke. "Arakawa… are you tired of being strong all the time?"
He stopped.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
"…Why do you ask?"
"Because," she said softly, "you don't look weak. You look worn."
His jaw tightened.
Then—slowly—he looked at her.
"…You see too much."
She didn't apologize.
"I just want to understand."
Snow pressed against the windows again, soft and endless.
Rikuu turned away first. "…Careful, Komori."
"Of what?"
"Getting burned."
She smiled faintly. "I don't mind warmth."
He didn't respond—but he didn't walk away immediately either.
And that pause—
that hesitation—
told Ichika everything she needed to know.
Winter was still there.
But somewhere beneath it, warmth had begun to show.