-CLASSROOM 1-B, AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-9:18 AM, NOVEMBER 18, 2016-
The classroom was warm despite the frost clinging to the windows.
Ichika Komori sat by the aisle, pen moving steadily across her notebook. The lesson flowed on, uninterrupted—but her attention drifted, pulled elsewhere.
"…Komori-san."
She looked up.
"Yes, sensei?"
"Please solve the problem on the board."
Ichika stood, composure intact as she completed the solution. The answer was correct. Applause followed—polite, brief.
She returned to her seat.
Everything looked normal.
But inside, she felt unbalanced.
Her thoughts kept circling back to last night—the quiet street, the falling snow, the way Rikuu Arakawa had brushed that flake from her hair and pulled away too quickly.
It wasn't what he did.
It was what he didn't say.
-SCHOOL HALLWAY, AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE-
-12:07 PM, NOVEMBER 18, 2016-
Lunch break brought noise and motion.
"Ichika," Misuzu Kanzaki said softly as they walked, "are you busy after club today?"
Ichika hesitated. "I… don't think so."
Kiyomi Mizuhara leaned in immediately. "Good! There's a small café near Odori that just opened. We're going after school."
Ichika smiled. "That sounds nice."
Her voice didn't waver.
But when she glanced down the hallway toward the theatre wing, her steps slowed.
Rikuu passed by with a few other students—laughing quietly at something said offhand.
She stopped.
He didn't see her.
Or maybe he did, and chose not to.
Her chest tightened—not sharply, but enough to hurt.
Misuzu noticed. "Ichika?"
"It's nothing," she replied, quickly. "I just remembered something."
She forced herself to keep walking.
-THEATRE ARTS CLUB ROOM, AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE-
-4:22 PM, NOVEMBER 18, 2016-
Rehearsal was full today.
Voices overlapped. Chairs scraped. Scripts rustled.
Ichika sat among the others, focused on her lines, not on the way Rikuu stood across the room—close to others, laughing once more.
She reminded herself she wasn't owed anything.
He hadn't promised her attention. He hadn't invited her into his life.
Still…
When rehearsal ended, Ichika packed her bag quickly.
She almost left without looking back.
Almost.
"…Komori."
Her steps faltered.
Rikuu stood near the door, expression neutral.
"You heading out?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered.
A pause.
"You okay?" he added.
Ichika met his gaze.
She could lie. She could smile.
Instead, she said, "…I am."
Not fine.
Not great.
Just I am.
Rikuu studied her for a moment, as if searching for the rest of the sentence she didn't say.
"…Okay," he replied.
They walked out together, but not as close as before.
And Ichika realized something important as the distance stretched—
Liking him meant accepting the spaces he kept.
The test wasn't whether he would step closer.
It was whether she would stay, even when he didn't.