-HOKKAIDO UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, PRIVATE ROOM 314-
-11:43 PM, FEBRUARY 8, 2017-
The hospital room was quiet again.
The emergency equipment had been removed.
Only the steady monitor remained, blinking soft green lights in the dim room.
Outside the window—
Snow fell heavily across Sapporo.
The city lights shimmered beneath the storm.
Rikuu sat beside the bed.
His elbows rested on his knees.
Hands loosely clasped together.
He hadn't moved much in the last hour.
Fumiko rested against the pillows, breathing slowly through the oxygen line.
When she finally opened her eyes—
She saw him immediately.
"Riku-chan."
"…You're awake."
"You look like you fought a bear."
"I didn't."
"Good."
Her voice was weaker tonight.
But still warm.
"You should go home and sleep," she murmured.
"…No."
"You have school."
"…Doesn't matter."
She smiled faintly.
"You always say that."
Rikuu looked down at the floor.
Snow tapped softly against the glass.
After a moment—
Fumiko spoke again.
"Do you remember the winter when you were ten?"
"…No."
"You tried to shovel the entire apartment parking lot."
Rikuu frowned slightly.
"That was stupid."
"You said the neighbors shouldn't slip on ice."
He didn't reply.
"You came back inside with frozen hands," she continued.
"And still insisted you weren't cold."
A faint chuckle escaped her.
"You've always been like that."
Rikuu leaned back slightly in the chair.
"…Like what?"
"Trying to protect everything."
Silence filled the room.
"Even when you were small," she said softly.
"You believed you had to be strong for everyone."
Rikuu's jaw tightened slightly.
"That's not a bad thing."
"No," she agreed gently.
"But sometimes strong people forget they're allowed to rest."
The monitor beeped quietly.
Outside—
The snowstorm thickened.
Fumiko looked toward the window.
"You have someone now."
Rikuu glanced at her.
"…Ichika."
"She's kind."
"Yes."
"And brave."
He didn't argue.
"She worries about you," Fumiko said.
"I know."
A small pause.
"Do you love her?"
The question lingered quietly.
Rikuu looked down at his hands.
Then nodded.
"…Yeah."
Fumiko smiled softly.
"Good."
Her voice grew a little quieter.
"Then promise me something."
He looked up again.
"…What?"
"Don't let your life become only responsibility."
The words were simple.
But heavy.
"You deserve happiness too, Riku-chan."
He didn't answer immediately.
Because that idea felt unfamiliar.
Uncomfortable.
"…I'll try."
Fumiko reached out slightly.
Her hand rested gently over his.
"That's enough."
The room grew quiet again.
Snow continued falling outside the hospital window.
And for the first time that night—
Rikuu leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes briefly.
Just for a moment.
-AURORA ACADEMY OF EXCELLENCE, THEATRE CLUB ROOM-
-3:32 PM, FEBRUARY 9, 2017-
Rehearsal had started again.
But something felt incomplete.
Students practiced their lines quietly.
Takeda adjusted a prop table.
Masayoshi sat in the back row, staring at his phone.
"…Still nothing."
Hoshino-sensei looked up from her notes.
"No message?"
Masayoshi shook his head.
"He's probably still at the hospital."
The room grew a little quieter.
Ichika stood near the stage steps.
Holding her script.
But not reading.
Takeda noticed first.
"He'll come back," he said calmly.
Masayoshi looked up.
"You sound confident."
Takeda shrugged slightly.
"Actors like him don't abandon a stage."
Ichika smiled faintly.
"…You're right."
Because she knew something the others only suspected.
Rikuu never walked away from things he cared about.
And this—
The play.
The club.
The people.
He cared about all of it more than he admitted.
-HOKKAIDO UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, CORRIDOR-
-6:14 AM, FEBRUARY 9, 2017-
Morning light slowly crept through the hospital windows.
The snowstorm had calmed overnight.
Rikuu stood near the vending machines with a cup of coffee in his hand.
He hadn't slept much.
But his expression looked calmer than yesterday.
His phone vibrated.
A message.
Ichika:
How is she?
He typed back.
Stable.
Three dots appeared immediately.
I'm glad.
Another message followed.
Rehearsal starts at 3:30 today.
He stared at the screen for a moment.
Then replied.
I'll be there.
Across the hallway—
The rising sun painted pale gold across the hospital floor.
And somewhere far away—
A theatre stage was waiting.