-AURORA ACADEMY, EAST CORRIDOR-
-10:17 AM, JANUARY 10, 2017-
Rumors didn't explode.
They spread.
Slow.
Persistent.
Like frost crawling across glass.
Ichika closed her locker gently when she heard her name.
"Komori-san."
She turned.
Three girls stood near the windows — well-dressed, polished, daughters of executives and politicians. Not cruel. Just curious.
Too curious.
One of them stepped forward.
"…Can we ask you something?"
"You just did," Ichika replied calmly.
A faint awkward laugh.
"It's about Arakawa-kun."
Ichika's posture remained composed.
"What about him?"
The girl hesitated, then continued, "Is it true he fights for money?"
The corridor felt colder.
Students slowed subtly, pretending not to listen.
Ichika didn't flinch.
"Yes."
The honesty startled them.
"You're not… concerned?" another asked carefully.
"I am," Ichika answered.
"But that concern is mine."
The first girl frowned slightly.
"He could be dangerous."
Ichika's gaze sharpened just enough.
"He has never been dangerous to me."
Silence.
"And if he fights," she added softly, "it's because he feels responsible for someone."
They didn't know what to say to that.
Responsibility wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't scandalous.
It was heavy.
The girls exchanged glances.
"…We just don't want you getting hurt," one muttered.
Ichika's expression softened slightly.
"I appreciate that."
And with that—
She walked away.
Back straight.
Unshaken.
But inside—
Her chest felt tight.
Not from shame.
From the quiet realization that this would not stop.
-BEHIND COMMERCIAL BUILDINGS, NIGHT-
-7:48 PM-
Rikuu moved like someone trying to outrun something invisible.
Punch.
Dodge.
Strike.
He didn't speak much during fights anymore.
Didn't waste energy.
Money changed hands quickly tonight.
More than usual.
He didn't smile.
Didn't celebrate.
He wiped blood from his knuckles with snow.
His phone buzzed.
Komori:
Are you done?
He stared at the message.
Then typed:
Yeah.
It was a lie.
He wasn't done.
He had accepted another match.
And another.
Because medicine costs were rising.
Because the cough was deeper.
Because he was afraid.
-RIKUU'S APARTMENT-
-9:12 PM-
The heater hummed loudly.
Too loudly.
The room felt wrong.
Rikuu entered quietly.
"…Grandma?"
No answer.
He stepped further inside.
The blanket had slipped to the floor.
Medicine bottles lay tilted.
And—
She was on the ground.
Collapsed beside the low table.
"Grandma."
His voice didn't rise.
It dropped.
He knelt instantly, lifting her gently.
Her skin felt colder than it should.
Her breathing shallow.
"…Hey."
No response.
His heartbeat pounded violently.
For a second—
He froze.
Just like when he was younger.
Just like the first time she had fainted years ago.
But this time felt different.
Worse.
He grabbed his phone.
Hands shaking.
Dialed emergency services.
Gave the address.
Voice steady despite the storm inside him.
He stayed kneeling beside her, holding her hand.
Snow tapped faintly against the window.
Red lights reflected across the walls minutes later.
-HOKKAIDO UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, EMERGENCY ENTRANCE-
-9:47 PM-
Ichika arrived ten minutes after his message.
He hadn't told her to come.
But she knew.
He stood outside the emergency room doors.
Blood dried faintly on his sleeve.
Bruises forming again along his jaw.
He looked smaller under hospital lights.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
She approached quietly.
He didn't look at her at first.
"…They're checking her lungs," he said flatly.
"I see."
Silence.
Machines beeped faintly beyond the doors.
"I should've come home earlier," he muttered.
"You didn't cause this."
"I wasn't there."
She stepped closer.
"You were fighting for her."
"That doesn't matter if she—"
His voice stopped.
He couldn't finish.
Ichika gently took his hand.
He didn't resist.
Didn't pull away.
He held on.
Tightly.
For the first time since they started dating—
He looked afraid.
Not embarrassed.
Not stubborn.
Afraid.
"I can't lose her," he said quietly.
The words weren't dramatic.
They were raw.
"You won't tonight," Ichika said softly.
"You don't know that."
"No," she admitted.
"But you're not alone here."
He closed his eyes briefly.
Just for a second.
Allowing himself to lean slightly toward her presence.
The emergency doors opened.
A doctor stepped out.
Rikuu straightened immediately.
The doctor's expression was calm but serious.
"She has pneumonia complications," he explained. "We've stabilized her for now, but her immune system is weak. She'll need to stay for observation."
For now.
Not cured.
Not safe.
Just—
For now.
Rikuu nodded once.
Controlled.
"Can I see her?"
"In a few minutes."
The doctor left.
Silence returned.
Ichika squeezed his hand gently.
"Rikuu."
He didn't look at her.
"If you keep taking more fights like this," she said softly, "you'll collapse too."
He didn't deny it.
Because she was right.
He had overworked himself.
Bruises layered over healing skin.
Fatigue hiding behind anger.
"I don't know how to do this any other way," he admitted quietly.
She stepped in front of him so he had to look at her.
"Then we learn another way."
"We?"
"Yes."
The word settled between them.
Not fragile.
Not dramatic.
Just firm.
A nurse called his name.
He looked at Ichika.
"…Stay?"
She nodded.
"I'm not going anywhere."
And as hospital lights flickered against white walls—
As winter deepened outside—
As rumors whispered through warm school corridors—
Something else began forming.
Not a break.
Not yet.
But a crack.
Small.
Almost invisible.
Running quietly beneath the ice.