-ARAKAWA RESIDENCE, OLD APARTMENT BUILDING-
-4:27 PM, JANUARY 31, 2017-
The Arakawa apartment building stood quietly beneath a gray winter sky.
Snow gathered along the railings of the narrow outdoor staircase.
Ichika climbed the steps carefully, her breath forming soft clouds in the cold air.
She held a small paper bag in her hands.
Inside—
Fresh fruit and warm tea.
Simple things.
But chosen with care.
When she reached the door, she knocked gently.
A moment passed.
Then the door opened.
Rikuu stood there.
"…You came."
Ichika smiled softly.
"You didn't think I would?"
He stepped aside to let her in.
The apartment was small but warm.
The faint scent of medicine and herbal tea lingered in the air.
From the bedroom, a familiar voice called out weakly.
"Riku-chan?"
"It's me," Rikuu replied.
"And… Ichika is here."
A quiet pause followed.
Then—
"Oh? Bring her in."
Ichika removed her shoes before following Rikuu down the short hallway.
-ARAKAWA RESIDENCE, BEDROOM-
-4:33 PM-
Fumiko Arakawa sat propped against her pillows.
She looked smaller than the last time Ichika had seen her.
But her eyes were still warm.
Still bright.
"Well," Fumiko said gently.
"The famous Ichika Komori."
Ichika bowed politely.
"It's good to see you again, Arakawa-san."
"You can call me Grandma if you like."
Ichika blinked slightly.
"…That feels like a big promotion."
Fumiko laughed softly.
"A girl visiting my grandson like this deserves the title."
Rikuu sighed quietly.
"…Grandma."
"What?"
He placed the fruit bag on the small table.
"You're embarrassing."
"That's my job."
Ichika couldn't help smiling.
For a while—
They spoke about simple things.
School.
The theatre play.
The winter weather.
Fumiko listened closely when Ichika described the rehearsal.
"A confession scene?" she said with interest.
Rikuu groaned.
"Grandma."
"What? I'm old, not deaf."
Ichika tried not to laugh.
After a few minutes—
Fumiko looked toward Rikuu.
"Riku-chan, could you get me some water?"
He frowned slightly.
"There's some right here."
"I'd like fresh water."
He studied her for a second.
Then sighed.
"…Alright."
When he left the room—
The apartment grew quiet again.
Fumiko looked at Ichika.
Her expression softened.
"You care about him."
Ichika nodded gently.
"Yes."
"More than just a little?"
A small pause.
Then Ichika answered honestly.
"Yes."
Fumiko smiled.
"That makes me happy."
She adjusted the blanket slightly.
"You know, when Rikuu was younger, he was very different."
Ichika listened closely.
"He laughed more," Fumiko continued.
"Talked more."
"What happened?" Ichika asked quietly.
Fumiko looked toward the window.
"Life happened."
The words were simple.
But heavy.
"After his mother passed away, he decided he had to become strong overnight."
Ichika's heart tightened.
"He stopped being a child," Fumiko said softly.
"And started trying to carry the world."
Silence filled the small room.
"He doesn't know how to lean on people," she continued.
"That's why I'm glad you're here."
Ichika lowered her gaze slightly.
"I'm not very strong either."
Fumiko chuckled.
"You don't need to be strong."
She reached out gently and touched Ichika's hand.
"You just need to stay."
Footsteps approached in the hallway.
Fumiko leaned back against her pillow again.
Rikuu returned with the glass of water.
"Here."
She accepted it with a smile.
"Thank you, Riku-chan."
But before drinking—
She looked between the two of them.
"You should bring her here more often."
Rikuu rubbed the back of his neck.
"…We'll see."
Ichika smiled quietly.
Snow continued falling outside the apartment window.
And for a brief moment—
The small room felt warmer than the winter outside.
-AURORA ACADEMY, THEATRE CLUB ROOM-
-5:46 PM-
Rehearsal had already begun when Rikuu and Ichika arrived the next day.
Takeda stood on stage reading through a scene.
His acting was strong.
Controlled.
Impressive.
But when Hoshino-sensei called for the lead scene—
Something felt off.
"Arakawa, Komori. From the beginning of scene ten."
They stepped into position.
Rikuu delivered his line.
Ichika answered.
But Takeda suddenly interrupted.
"Wait."
The room fell silent.
Hoshino-sensei looked up.
"Yes?"
Takeda pointed toward Rikuu.
"He's rushing the pacing."
Rikuu frowned slightly.
"I followed the script."
"The emotion needs space," Takeda insisted.
Masayoshi whispered from the seats.
"…Here we go."
Hoshino-sensei nodded thoughtfully.
"Try it again."
They restarted.
But again—
Takeda interrupted.
"This isn't working."
This time several students exchanged glances.
The tension was obvious now.
Takeda crossed his arms.
"If the lead actor doesn't understand the scene, the play will fail."
The room grew very quiet.
Rikuu stared at him calmly.
"…Then show me."
Takeda blinked.
"What?"
"You seem confident," Rikuu said.
"So demonstrate."
Masayoshi leaned forward immediately.
"Oh this is getting good."
Takeda hesitated.
But he stepped onto the stage anyway.
And suddenly—
The rehearsal had turned into something else entirely.
Not just acting.
But a quiet challenge.