-HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE THEATRE ARTS CLUBROOM, AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-4:41 PM, NOVEMBER 25, 2016-
The hallway outside the clubroom was quiet, save for the faint hum of lights overhead and the distant echo of students heading home.
Ichika stepped out first, her breath steady but her thoughts anything but. The door closed softly behind her.
A second later, Rikuu followed.
"Komori."
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned around.
"Yes?"
He stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, posture casual in the way that never truly meant relaxed. His eyes searched her face, as if weighing something unspoken.
"You didn't answer earlier," he said.
Ichika blinked. "About…?"
"Why you're asking," Rikuu clarified. "Why you keep watching. Why you joined."
Her fingers curled lightly around the strap of her bag.
"I didn't think I needed a reason," she said carefully. "Is that wrong?"
He clicked his tongue under his breath. "Most people want something."
"Do you?" she asked.
The question caught him off guard.
"…What?"
"Do you act because you want something?" Ichika continued. "Applause? Recognition?"
Rikuu looked away, gaze landing on the window at the end of the hall where snow pressed softly against the glass.
"No," he said. "I act because it's the only place things make sense."
Ichika stepped closer—just one step. Not invading. Not retreating.
"That's enough of a reason," she said.
He glanced back at her. "You don't even know what that means."
"I don't," she admitted. "But I know how it feels to carry something quietly."
Rikuu's expression shifted—subtle, but real.
"…You're different," he said.
Ichika smiled faintly. "You've said that before."
"Yeah," he muttered. "And I don't like repeating myself."
She almost laughed.
Almost.
They stood there, neither in a hurry, the hallway slowly emptying until they were the only ones left.
"Arakawa," Ichika said softly.
He stiffened slightly at his name.
"If I ever cross a line," she continued, "tell me. I don't want to pry. I just… want to understand."
Rikuu exhaled slowly.
"…You're already closer than you think."
Her heart skipped.
Before she could respond, he turned away, taking a step back toward the stairs.
"Go home," he said again. Gentler this time. "It's cold."
Ichika nodded. "You too."
He paused—just briefly—then added, "Komori."
"Yes?"
"…Don't stop coming to the club."
Her smile this time was unmistakable. "I won't."
Rikuu left first, footsteps fading down the stairwell.
Ichika remained in the hallway for a moment longer, placing a hand over her chest.
Something had shifted.
Not loudly. Not suddenly.
But enough to linger.
Enough to stay.