After classes ended, the three of them separated without speaking much.
They each knew the plan without needing to agree on it:
They would look for him.
Rika Sakurai walked alone, her footsteps quiet on the residential sidewalk.
The evening light was pale and cool—late autumn, where the air smelled faintly of dried leaves and cold metal. She pulled her scarf tighter.
Jousuke was not someone who simply vanished. Not someone who left people behind without a word.
But he had disappeared.
And Rika was the one who couldn't stop replaying the last time she saw him.
That afternoon in the garden near the school grounds—when he had smiled at her in that simple, gentle way he always did, holding a can of warm coffee and passing it to her just because she looked cold.
It was such an ordinary moment.
But ordinary moments were the ones that stayed.
Rika stopped in front of the park. A child's swing swayed softly though there was no wind. The sky was heavy with clouds.
She checked her phone again.
No messages.
No missed calls.
No updates from Leah.
No updates from Miyazaki.
Her chest tightened—not dramatically, but quietly, like something small being pressed slowly out of shape.
She walked deeper into the park, scanning the benches, the walkways, the gazebo where he sometimes sat when he didn't want to go home yet.
Empty.
Rika lowered her head.
A group of boys passed by behind her, laughing loudly.
She didn't turn.
She didn't want anyone to see the way her eyes were beginning to burn.
"Where are you…?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Rika wasn't loud. She wasn't bold. She wasn't the type to demand answers or to chase someone across the city.
But she cared.
Quietly.
Steadily.
Like something that grew without being seen, without asking for anything.
She remembered the time Jousuke helped her carry heavy paint supplies for the cultural festival, even though she never asked.
He just noticed.
He always noticed.
She looked at the sky as if it might hold direction.
"If you're hurting… you don't have to hide from us."
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Leah:
No sign of him at the arcade. I'll check the riverbank.
Another message appeared immediately after.
Miyazaki says she'll search the shopping district.
Rika typed slowly:
I'll keep searching the neighborhoods. Please… let me know if you find anything.
She pressed send, then stood there for a long moment.
Somewhere between the fading day and the strengthening evening, she realized something very quiet and very clear:
She didn't just want him to be safe.
She didn't just want him found.
She wanted to see him again because she missed him.
In a way that felt like something more than just friendship.
Her hand closed around her scarf.
The streetlights flickered on.
And Rika kept walking.
Step after step.
Even if she didn't know where he was.
Even if she didn't know if she would reach him.
She still walked.
Because affection didn't need to be loud.
Or dramatic.
Or spoken.
Sometimes, it was simply the act of trying to reach someone who couldn't be reached yet.
And Rika Sakurai was still trying.