-SCHOOL COURTYARD, AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-7:58 AM, NOVEMBER 16, 2016-
Morning arrived gently over Aurora Academy of Excellence.
The courtyard was dusted with thin frost, the stone pathways glistening faintly beneath the pale sky. Students moved through the gates in steady waves, conversations soft, footsteps unhurried.
Ichika Komori walked beside the garden railing, her breath slow, her thoughts quieter than usual.
She hadn't slept badly.
But she hadn't slept peacefully either.
Her mind kept returning to yesterday—the stage lights, the silence between lines, the way Rikuu Arakawa had looked at her as if he had almost said something… and then didn't.
She spotted him near the far side of the courtyard.
Rikuu stood alone, leaning against a low wall, eyes half-lidded as he watched the morning pass. His posture was loose, hands in his pockets, uniform slightly rumpled—as if the day had already weighed on him.
Ichika slowed.
She didn't plan to approach him.
Her feet simply… changed direction.
"Good morning," she said softly.
Rikuu glanced up, surprised for only half a second.
"…Morning."
They stood there—side by side, not facing each other.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It was careful.
"You're early," Ichika noted.
"So are you."
She smiled faintly. "I like quiet mornings."
"…Yeah," Rikuu replied. "They don't ask much from you."
She turned her head slightly, studying him—not boldly, not secretly. Just enough to notice the faint shadows under his eyes, the bruise near his collarbone that hadn't fully faded.
"You look tired," she said gently.
Rikuu stiffened for a fraction of a second. Then he exhaled.
"I'm fine."
Ichika didn't argue.
Instead, she said, "You still came."
His eyes flickered toward her. "So did you."
They shared a small, almost-smile.
A bell rang in the distance.
"I should go," Ichika said, adjusting her bag strap. "Class 1-B's on the other side."
"…Right," Rikuu replied. "1-A."
She took a step away—then paused.
"Arakawa," she said, turning back.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're in the theatre club."
Rikuu blinked. "Why?"
Ichika thought for a moment, then answered honestly.
"Because when you act… you don't look tired anymore."
She walked away before he could respond.
Rikuu remained where he was, eyes following her retreating figure until she disappeared into the building.
He let out a quiet breath.
"…That's unfair," he muttered.
-THEATRE ARTS CLUB ROOM, AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE-
-4:06 PM, NOVEMBER 16, 2016-
The club room was calmer today.
No auditions.
No pressure.
Just practice.
Ichika sat near the edge of the room, script resting on her lap. She wasn't reading—just listening. Watching.
Rikuu stood on stage, running lines with another member. His voice was controlled, his movements deliberate—but there was warmth there now, something quieter than intensity.
Ichika noticed it immediately.
When rehearsal paused, Rikuu stepped down from the stage.
Without thinking, he stopped beside her.
"You're not practicing," he said.
"I am," she replied lightly. "Just… like this."
He raised an eyebrow. "Watching?"
"Listening," she corrected.
He hesitated. "…Is it helping?"
She nodded. "More than you think."
Rikuu looked away, scratching the back of his neck.
"You're strange, Komori."
She smiled. "You're honest, Arakawa."
That earned a short, breathy laugh from him—quick and surprised, like it had slipped out by accident.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
They didn't touch.
They didn't speak.
But the space between them felt smaller than it had yesterday.
Not because they tried.
But because neither of them stepped back.