-DOWNTOWN SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-6:48 PM, DECEMBER 19, 2016-
The alley was louder than usual.
Voices overlapped. Boots scraped against wet pavement. A faint metallic scent lingered in the cold air.
Rikuu Arakawa stepped into the dim light without hesitation.
Masayoshi Fujikawa noticed immediately. "You're late."
"Got held up."
Masayoshi studied him for a moment. "…You look distracted."
Rikuu didn't respond.
A taller opponent stepped forward this time—older, heavier, impatient.
"No weapons," Masayoshi reminded. "Clean win."
The fight began abruptly.
The first hit came fast—Rikuu barely blocking in time. The second connected against his shoulder, forcing him back a step.
He adjusted.
Focused.
End it quickly.
But for a split second—
A pair of steady eyes flashed in his mind.
You don't look weak. You look worn.
That hesitation cost him.
A punch struck his ribs, sharp enough to steal his breath.
The alley roared.
Rikuu clenched his jaw.
And then he moved.
Precise. Efficient. Final.
Silence followed.
Money exchanged hands.
Masayoshi frowned. "You're slipping."
"…No."
"You are."
Rikuu didn't argue.
-AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE-
-7:02 PM-
The theatre club meeting had ended earlier than expected.
Ichika lingered in the hallway longer than usual.
The sky outside had already darkened.
She wasn't sure why she hadn't gone home immediately.
Maybe because of the way he said it.
Careful. Getting burned.
She stepped outside the gates, snow crunching beneath her shoes.
Across the street—
She saw him.
Rikuu stood near the bus stop, posture rigid, one hand pressed briefly against his side before dropping again.
Her breath caught.
He hadn't noticed her.
Not yet.
For a second, she hesitated.
This was the edge.
The place he kept separate.
The place she wasn't supposed to see.
But her feet moved before doubt could stop them.
"Arakawa."
He stiffened.
Turned.
"…Komori?"
Her eyes dropped—just briefly—to the way he stood, slightly angled, protecting one side.
"You're hurt."
"I'm fine."
"That's not what I asked."
A beat of silence.
Snow fell heavier between them.
"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly.
"I know."
"Then go home."
Ichika didn't move.
Instead, she stepped closer.
Not accusing.
Not afraid.
Just steady.
"You said I should be careful," she said softly. "But you're the one walking into fire."
His eyes darkened.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then tell me."
The bus headlights appeared in the distance.
Rikuu looked away first.
"…It's not your world, Komori."
Her voice didn't waver. "Maybe not. But you are."
That stopped him.
The bus pulled up.
Doors hissed open.
Rikuu didn't board immediately.
For a moment—just one—he looked at her like he was deciding something dangerous.
"…You really don't get it," he murmured.
"Then let me."
The doors began to close.
Rikuu stepped back onto the sidewalk instead of boarding.
The bus pulled away without him.
Snow swallowed the sound.
And for the first time—
The line between his world and hers
blurred.