Sora found the official envelope in her locker after morning homeroom. Thick cream paper, university crest embossed in gold, her name typed in neat black font.
She stared at it for a full minute before shoving it into her bag.
The deadline was two weeks away: decide by March 7, 2026, or the offer expires. Tokyo University of Foreign Studies—full scholarship, one-year preparatory Japanese intensive, then direct entry into their School of Japan Studies. No more rankings. No more second place. A fresh start where no one knew her history with Takahashi Akira.
She didn't tell anyone.
Not Mai. Not Ren. Not her parents.
Especially not Akira.
Rehearsal that afternoon was mechanical.
Akira had arrived early again, lights preset, new cue sheets printed. He handed her one without a word.
Sora took it. "Thanks."
He nodded once.
They ran Act 2.
Akira's timing was flawless. Sora's delivery was flat.
During the wrist-catch block, she pulled away early.
Akira paused the music. "You're off cue."
"I know."
He waited.
Sora looked anywhere but him. "Just tired."
Akira studied her. "You've been tired for three days."
She forced a laugh. "Senior year. Happens."
He didn't buy it.
After rehearsal, Akira lingered while Sora packed.
She zipped her bag. "I'm heading out."
"Wait."
She stopped.
Akira pulled a small notebook from his pocket—her doodle notebook, the one she'd left in the booth last week. He handed it back.
"You forgot this."
Sora took it. Flipped it open. Saw her cartoon of them arguing over a piano—now with a tiny speech bubble added in Akira's precise handwriting: "Your chaos is acceptable. Sometimes."
Her throat tightened.
"You… fixed my doodle."
"I corrected the proportions. The ice cube looked disproportionate."
Sora laughed—real this time. "You're impossible."
Akira's ears went faintly pink. "I also added a note on page 3. Timing adjustment for the narration block. Thought you might want it."
Sora opened to page 3. A neat bullet list in his handwriting—suggestions, not commands. At the bottom: "Your spin works better than original blocking. Keep it."
She stared.
Akira cleared his throat. "If you're staying… we should finalize Act 3 next week."
Sora's fingers tightened on the notebook. "If I'm staying."
Akira went still. "You haven't decided?"
She looked up. "I have to by March 7."
Akira's voice was quiet. "Two weeks."
"Yeah."
Silence.
Then Akira said, "The project needs you."
Sora searched his face. "The project. Right."
Akira hesitated. "And… I need you."
Sora blinked.
He looked away. "For the performance. Your vision. Your energy. It's… necessary."
Sora exhaled. "Necessary."
Akira nodded once. "So. Decide soon."
He walked past her.
Sora watched him go.
She opened the notebook again.
His handwriting stared back: "Keep it."
She closed it.
And felt the weight of two weeks pressing down like never before.