-AURORA ACADEMY, MAIN BUILDING-
-8:11 AM, JANUARY 5, 2017-
Winter break had ended.
The academy buzzed again with polished shoes against marble floors, expensive perfumes mixing with cold morning air, and conversations about ski trips and overseas vacations.
Rikuu walked through the entrance alone.
The bruise on his cheek had darkened into a faint purple shadow. The cut on his lip had healed — mostly.
He didn't bother covering it.
He never did.
Whispers started before he even reached the staircase.
"…Is that from a fight?"
"He looks like he got hit hard."
"Does Komori-san know?"
He ignored it.
Until—
"Arakawa."
He stopped.
A tall third-year from the basketball team stood nearby, arms crossed.
"You should be more careful," the boy said casually. "It's embarrassing to walk around like that."
Rikuu didn't respond.
He simply walked past him.
But that was enough.
By lunchtime, the rumor had twisted.
Not just that he fought.
But that he fought violently.
Dangerously.
That Ichika — refined, elegant Ichika — was dating someone "like that."
-THEATRE CLUB ROOM-
-12:48 PM-
Ichika entered quietly, carrying a small paper bag.
She noticed it immediately.
The way two girls stopped talking when she walked in.
The way someone glanced at Rikuu's face, then at her.
She set the bag on the table.
Inside were antiseptic wipes and ointment.
Rikuu noticed.
"You didn't have to bring that."
"I wanted to."
He leaned back in his chair.
"…They're talking."
"I know."
He studied her expression.
She wasn't upset.
She wasn't ashamed.
Just… aware.
"Does it bother you?" he asked.
She looked at him directly.
"No."
The firmness in her tone made him blink.
"People talk when they don't understand something," she continued calmly. "It doesn't change what I understand."
"And what's that?"
"That you fight because you feel responsible."
He looked away slightly.
She stepped closer and gently applied ointment to the fading bruise.
Her touch was careful.
Public.
Visible.
Let them see.
One of the girls watching from the corner whispered, "She's not even embarrassed…"
Ichika heard it.
And chose not to react.
Because she wasn't.
-RIKUU'S APARTMENT DISTRICT-
-4:36 PM-
Two days later.
Ichika stood outside his apartment building again.
Alone.
She had messaged him earlier:
Are you busy after club?
His reply:
Yeah. Alley. Don't wait.
So she didn't.
Instead—
She came here.
The door opened after her gentle knock.
Rikuu's grandmother smiled faintly.
"Oh… Komori-chan."
Ichika bowed politely.
"I hope it's not too sudden."
"Not at all. Come in."
The apartment felt slightly colder today.
The heater hummed louder than before.
Ichika noticed something immediately.
The medicine bottles on the table had increased.
Two new prescriptions.
The grandmother's breathing sounded thinner.
"How are you feeling?" Ichika asked gently.
"Old," she replied with a small smile.
Ichika knelt beside her.
"I brought oranges."
"How thoughtful."
They spoke quietly for a while.
About school.
About winter.
About Rikuu's stubbornness.
Then—
The grandmother's smile faded just slightly.
"He came home bleeding more often lately."
Ichika's chest tightened.
"…Does he tell you why?"
"He thinks I don't know," she said softly. "But I always know."
Snow tapped faintly against the window.
"You care for him," the older woman continued.
"Yes."
"Then tell me honestly."
Ichika's hands folded in her lap.
"Do you plan to stay?"
The question wasn't light.
It wasn't playful.
It carried weight.
"I do," Ichika answered quietly.
The grandmother studied her for a long moment.
Then nodded faintly.
"He looks less tired when he speaks about you."
Ichika felt warmth and ache mix together.
"But…" the grandmother added softly.
Her fingers trembled slightly against the blanket.
"This world he walks in is not gentle."
"I know."
"And sometimes," she continued, voice lowering, "fire doesn't just warm."
The words lingered.
Heavy.
Foreshadowing something neither of them could yet see.
Ichika noticed the woman cough suddenly — deeper than before.
She reached instinctively to steady her.
The grandmother waved it off gently.
"It's winter," she murmured.
But Ichika saw it.
The weakness.
The subtle decline.
The medicine wasn't working the way it once had.
Footsteps approached outside.
Rikuu's.
Ichika stood up quickly.
The door opened.
He froze.
"…What are you doing here?"
"I visited," she said calmly.
His eyes shifted to his grandmother.
"Grandma?"
"She brought oranges," the older woman said lightly. "And conversation."
Rikuu looked between them.
Suspicion.
Concern.
"…Did something happen?"
Ichika stepped closer.
"No."
But her eyes held something new.
Something heavier.
He noticed.
Later, after she left and he walked her to the station—
He asked quietly.
"She's worse, isn't she?"
Ichika didn't lie.
"…A little."
Snow fell between them again.
Silent.
Unforgiving.
Rikuu stared at the ground.
"…I need to win more fights," he muttered.
She grabbed his sleeve gently.
"No."
He looked at her.
"You need to take care of yourself too."
"If I stop—"
"I didn't say stop," she interrupted softly. "But don't destroy yourself trying to save everything alone."
His jaw tightened.
"I don't have a choice."
"You do," she said firmly.
He searched her face.
For doubt.
For regret.
Found none.
Just fear.
Not fear of him.
Fear for him.
Snow covered the street slowly.
Hiding footprints.
Hiding faint stains.
But not erasing them.
And as rumors circled at school—
And illness deepened quietly in a small apartment—
Winter tightened its hold around them.
Unnoticed.
Unstoppable.