-AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-8:11 AM, DECEMBER 6, 2016-
Morning arrived quietly at Aurora Academy of Excellence.
Snow rested neatly along the academy's iron gates, untouched, pristine—like the world the school tried to preserve. Students moved through the grounds in orderly lines, voices polite, footsteps measured.
Ichika Komori walked through the gates with her usual composure.
But today, her thoughts were louder than the morning bells.
"Good morning, Komori-san."
"Good morning."
She returned each greeting with a gentle smile, though her fingers curled lightly around her bag strap.
Her mind wandered despite herself.
Arakawa-kun…
She hadn't seen him since yesterday's rehearsal. Yet the image of his tired eyes—so out of place beneath the academy's clean lights—refused to leave her.
She shook her head faintly.
Focus.
-CLASSROOM 1-B, AURORA ACADEMY-
-8:34 AM-
Ichika sat by the window as sunlight filtered through pale clouds.
The lecture flowed smoothly—dates, notes, careful explanations. She wrote everything down neatly, her handwriting precise.
And yet—
Her gaze drifted toward the courtyard below.
Students from different classes crossed paths, laughter echoing faintly.
She wondered, briefly, what Class 1-A looked like from the inside.
And whether he was paying attention… or staring out a window like she was.
-CLASSROOM 1-A, AURORA ACADEMY-
-8:36 AM-
Rikuu Arakawa leaned back in his seat, chin resting on his hand.
"…Arakawa."
He blinked.
"Yes."
The teacher adjusted his glasses. "If you're finished daydreaming, perhaps you'd like to answer."
Rikuu stood slowly, giving the correct response without hesitation.
A few classmates glanced at him—some impressed, others indifferent.
"Sit down," the teacher said. "Try to stay present."
Rikuu complied.
As if it's that easy, he thought.
His gaze flickered toward the clock.
-THEATRE ARTS CLUB ROOM-
-4:18 PM-
Rehearsal ended with scattered applause and relieved laughter.
"Good work today," the advisor said. "We're making progress."
Students began packing up, voices filling the room.
Rikuu grabbed his bag and headed toward the exit.
And then—
He paused.
Something felt… off.
He glanced back.
Near the doorway, half-hidden behind a tall prop rack, stood Ichika Komori.
She froze.
For half a second, neither of them moved.
"…You're not very good at hiding," Rikuu said flatly.
Ichika stepped out slowly, cheeks coloring. "I— I wasn't— I mean—"
"You were watching," he said, not accusing. Just stating a fact.
"…Yes."
He sighed quietly. "Why?"
Ichika hesitated, fingers tightening around her sleeve.
"Because," she said softly, "you look different when you're acting."
Rikuu's eyes narrowed slightly. "Different how?"
"Lighter," she answered after a moment. "Like… that's where you belong."
The words landed heavier than she intended.
Rikuu looked away.
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know," Ichika said quickly. "That's why I was watching."
Silence stretched between them.
"…You shouldn't," he muttered.
"Why?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked past her.
Ichika turned, watching his back disappear down the hallway.
Her heart felt tight.
-DOWNTOWN SAPPORO, BACK STREET-
-6:02 PM-
Rikuu walked faster than usual.
Snow crunched beneath his steps as neon signs flickered on overhead.
Her words echoed against his ribs.
That's where you belong.
He scoffed quietly.
Belonging was a luxury.
-KOMORI RESIDENCE, SAPPORO-
-9:17 PM-
Ichika sat at her desk, homework finished but untouched.
Her reflection stared back from the window glass.
"…Why did I say that?" she whispered.
She pressed her hand against her chest again.
It was warmer than it should be.
Outside, the snow continued to fall—silent, steady.
Two lives moved through the same cold night.
Separated by comfort and hardship.
By silence and questions.
And yet—
Something unseen was beginning to pull them closer.
Whether either of them was ready… or not.