-THEATRE ARTS CLUBROOM, AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-4:16 PM, DECEMBER 22, 2016-
The clubroom was nearly empty.
Chairs were stacked. Scripts were closed. Only the stage lights remained on, casting a warm glow across the wooden floor.
Ichika Komori sat near the front row, waiting.
She didn't know why she hadn't gone home yet.
Maybe because yesterday still lingered in her chest.
Maybe because she wanted to see him again before winter break began.
The door slid open.
Rikuu Arakawa stepped inside, a little late, shoulders dusted with snow.
He stopped when he saw her.
"…You're still here."
"Yes," Ichika replied softly. "I was just leaving."
Neither moved.
Rikuu set his bag down near the stage. "You don't have to wait."
"I wasn't waiting," she said automatically.
He raised an eyebrow.
She sighed quietly. "…Maybe a little."
A faint huff escaped him — almost a laugh.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable anymore.
It was familiar.
Warm.
Rikuu stepped onto the stage, looking down at her.
"What?" he asked after a moment.
Ichika blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You keep looking at me like you want to say something."
Her breath caught.
She hadn't planned anything.
No speech. No preparation.
The words simply… rose.
Before she could stop them.
"I like you."
The room went perfectly still.
Even the heater's soft hum felt distant.
Rikuu stared at her.
"…What?"
Ichika's cheeks warmed instantly, but she didn't look away.
"I like you," she repeated, quieter now but steady. "Not just as a friend. Not just because of acting."
Her hands trembled slightly.
"I didn't mean to say it today," she admitted. "It just… happened."
Silence stretched.
Rikuu looked down at the stage floor, like he was trying to understand what he had just heard.
"This isn't funny," he said quietly.
"I'm not joking."
He exhaled slowly.
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I do," Ichika replied. "I've been careful for a long time. But… I don't want to pretend anymore."
Rikuu stepped down from the stage.
Now they stood almost eye level.
Close.
Too close for comfort.
He looked at her like she had handed him something fragile he didn't trust himself to hold.
"…You shouldn't," he murmured.
"Why?"
"Because people like me don't…" He stopped himself. "You don't understand what comes with it."
Ichika shook her head gently. "Maybe I don't. But I still feel this."
Another long pause.
Then—
Rikuu laughed softly. Not mocking. Just disbelieving.
"You really are dangerous."
Her lips curved faintly. "You already told me that."
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.
"…You're supposed to wait," he muttered.
"For what?"
"For me to figure things out first."
Her eyes widened slightly.
Rikuu finally looked back at her.
His voice was quiet.
"…I like you too."
The words were simple.
Barely above a whisper.
But they landed like fire.
Ichika's breath caught.
"You… do?"
He nodded once.
"Yeah."
No dramatic confession.
No grand gesture.
Just honesty.
Raw and unpolished.
"But," he added carefully, "I don't know how to do this."
Ichika smiled softly.
"We can learn."
He stared at her for a moment longer.
Then — very slowly — he nodded.
"…Okay."
Snow tapped softly against the windows.
The stage lights glowed warm behind them.
And somewhere between winter and fire—
two people stopped pretending distance was safer.