The track team's end-of-season party was held at a small izakaya near the station. Low tables, grilled skewers, laughter echoing off wooden walls. Sora had come because Mai dragged her—"You need to relax, girl. You've been a zombie all week."
Ren was already there, saving her a seat.
He slid a plate of yakitori toward her when she sat. "You look like you need food more than advice."
Sora managed a smile. "Thanks."
Mai leaned in. "She's stressed about the festival. And other stuff."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Takahashi stuff?"
Sora elbowed Mai. "Not everything is about him."
Ren laughed. "Sure. But half the school thinks you two are basically married already."
Sora rolled her eyes. "They're wrong."
Ren leaned closer. "Good. Because I've been meaning to ask—want to go out sometime? Just us. No festival, no rankings, no rumors."
The table went quiet.
Mai's eyes widened.
Sora stared at Ren. "You're serious."
"Dead serious." His smile was easy, confident. "You're leaving soon anyway, right? Scholarship to Tokyo. Might as well have some fun before you go."
Sora's stomach twisted. "Who told you about Tokyo?"
"Word gets around. Track coach mentioned it—said you're a top candidate."
Sora forced a laugh. "Rumors again."
Ren shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Say yes. One date. No pressure."
Sora opened her mouth.
Then she saw movement at the entrance.
Akira.
He'd come to drop off a forgotten lighting remote Mai had asked for. He froze in the doorway when he saw the table—saw Sora, saw Ren leaning close, saw the way the group was looking at them expectantly.
Their eyes met.
Akira's expression shuttered.
He set the remote on the nearest table, turned, and left.
Sora stood so fast her chair scraped.
"Excuse me."
She ran after him.
Outside, the night air was cold.
Akira was already halfway down the street.
"Takahashi!"
He stopped but didn't turn.
Sora caught up. "Wait."
He looked at her. Voice flat. "You're busy. Go back inside."
"I'm not busy."
Akira's eyes were cold. "Ren seems to think otherwise."
Sora exhaled. "He asked me out. I didn't say yes."
"Yet."
Sora stepped closer. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Akira finally faced her fully. "It means you're leaving. You have options. You don't need to stay here playing second fiddle to me."
Sora's voice rose. "You think that's what this is? You think I'm just waiting for an exit?"
"Aren't you?"
"No!" Sora's hands balled into fists. "I haven't decided anything! But every time I try to talk to you about it, you shut down or assume the worst!"
Akira's jaw tightened. "Because you're already pulling away."
"I'm not pulling away. You are!"
Silence.
Sora's voice cracked. "You think I want to leave? You think I want to walk away from the one person who's ever pushed me to be better—even if he does it by being an arrogant jerk?"
Akira stared.
Sora continued. "But if you're going to treat me like I'm already gone… then maybe I should just go."
She turned to leave.
Akira caught her sleeve.
Not hard. Just enough.
"Don't."
Sora stopped.
He spoke quietly. "I don't want you to go."
She turned back. Eyes shining. "Then stop pushing me away."
Akira released her sleeve.
They stood under the streetlamp.
Neither moved.
Finally Sora whispered, "I need time. To decide."
Akira nodded once.
She walked back inside.
Akira stayed outside until the cold numbed everything.