March 4, 2026. Three days left.
Sora skipped rehearsal.
Akira waited until 16:30.
Then he went looking.
He found her on the roof—same spot they'd sat before.
She was curled against the fence, knees to chest, staring at the city.
Akira stepped out quietly.
She didn't look up. "You came."
"I always come."
Sora laughed—hollow. "Not lately."
Akira sat beside her. Not touching. Close enough to feel her warmth.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Sora glanced at him. "For what?"
"For assuming. For pushing. For making you feel like you're already gone."
Sora exhaled. "I almost said yes to Tokyo yesterday."
Akira went still.
"I filled out the acceptance form. Held it over the mailbox. Then I thought about the festival. About the narration block. About your stupid cue sheets in my favorite color."
Akira's voice was quiet. "And?"
"And I tore it up."
Akira looked at her.
Sora continued. "But I still haven't said no. They're calling tomorrow for confirmation."
Akira swallowed. "What are you waiting for?"
Sora met his eyes. "You."
Akira blinked.
Sora continued. "I'm waiting for you to stop being scared. To stop treating me like I'm a flight risk. To stop acting like feelings are a weakness."
Akira looked down at his hands.
Sora reached over—hesitant—and covered his hand with hers.
Akira froze.
She spoke softly. "I like you. Not just as a rival. Not just as a partner. I like you. The arrogant, controlling, coffee-drinking, cue-sheet-making you."
Akira's breath hitched.
Sora continued. "But if you can't say it back—if you can't meet me even halfway—then I have to go. Because staying and pretending we're just partners… that hurts more than leaving."
Akira stared at their joined hands.
Then he turned his palm up.
Laced his fingers through hers.
Sora's eyes widened.
Akira spoke—voice rough. "I like you too."
Sora's breath caught.
Akira continued. "I've liked you for longer than I want to admit. Since middle school. When you first beat me in debate and laughed in my face. I hated it. Then I hated that I didn't hate it."
Sora laughed—shaky.
Akira squeezed her hand. "I don't want you to go. I want you here. Fighting with me. Fixing with me. Staying."
Sora's eyes filled.
Akira leaned closer—forehead against hers.
"I'm scared. But I'm more scared of losing you."
Sora closed her eyes.
They stayed like that—hands clasped, foreheads touching—until the sun dipped lower.
Then Sora whispered, "I'm staying."
Akira exhaled—like he'd been holding his breath for years.
Sora pulled back just enough to look at him.
"But we take it slow. No rushing. No walls. Just… us. Figuring it out."
Akira nodded. "Slow."
She smiled—small, real.
Then she leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.
Akira froze.
Sora pulled back, blushing. "That's for trying."
Akira's ears went scarlet.
He didn't let go of her hand.
They sat on the roof until the stars came out.
And for the first time, the silence between them felt like peace.