-AURORA ACADEMY, THEATRE CLUB ROOM-
-9:18 PM, FEBRUARY 21, 2017-
The theatre club room was louder than it had ever been.
Snacks covered the tables.
Drinks passed from hand to hand.
Laughter echoed against the walls.
The performance had ended—
But the energy remained.
"We actually did it," one student said.
"That was insane."
Masayoshi stood on a chair, raising a juice box.
"A speech!"
"No," multiple people replied immediately.
"I'm giving one anyway."
Groans filled the room.
Takeda leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with a faint smile.
"Despite certain people," Masayoshi continued dramatically, "this production was a success."
"You weren't even in the lead," someone pointed out.
"I was emotionally involved."
"That's not a role."
Ichika sat near the window, holding a warm cup in her hands.
She watched the room quietly.
Content.
Across from her—
Rikuu leaned back in his chair, unusually relaxed.
Masayoshi dropped down beside him.
"You know," he said, "people are calling you 'the guy who made everyone cry.'"
"…That's embarrassing."
"It's impressive."
Rikuu shook his head slightly.
"I just said lines."
Takeda spoke from across the room.
"No."
Everyone glanced at him.
"You told a story."
The room quieted slightly.
Rikuu didn't respond.
But he understood.
-AURORA ACADEMY COURTYARD-
-10:07 PM-
The celebration slowly ended.
Students began heading home.
Snow continued falling lightly.
The campus grew quieter with each passing minute.
Rikuu and Ichika walked toward the school gate.
Their footsteps soft against the snow-covered ground.
"…Are you going to the hospital?" Ichika asked.
"Yes."
"May I come?"
He looked at her briefly.
Then nodded.
"…Yeah."
-HOKKAIDO UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL, PRIVATE ROOM 314-
-10:42 PM-
The hospital room was dimly lit.
Fumiko rested quietly against her pillows.
But when the door opened—
Her eyes lit up immediately.
"Riku-chan."
"…We just finished."
"And you brought her," Fumiko said warmly.
Ichika stepped forward.
"We wanted to see you."
Fumiko smiled.
"So? Did you win awards?"
"There were no awards," Rikuu said.
"Then I'll make one."
She raised her hand weakly.
"Best grandson performance."
Ichika laughed softly.
"And best leading lady," Fumiko added.
Ichika bowed slightly.
"Thank you."
Rikuu sat beside the bed.
"It went well."
"I knew it would," Fumiko replied.
"You always do well when you care about something."
Rikuu didn't argue.
Because this time—
It felt true.
Ichika sat on the other side.
"You should have seen it," she said gently.
Fumiko smiled.
"I already can."
They both looked at her.
"In my mind," she added softly.
Silence settled in the room.
But it wasn't heavy.
It was warm.
Fumiko looked between them.
"You look happy."
Ichika's expression softened.
"…I am."
Rikuu didn't say anything.
But his hand rested quietly near hers.
Close enough.
Fumiko nodded slowly.
"That's good."
Outside the window—
Snow continued falling over Sapporo.
Soft.
Endless.
But inside the small hospital room—
There was warmth.
The kind that didn't come from blankets or heaters.
The kind that came from people.
-HOSPITAL CORRIDOR-
-11:18 PM-
Rikuu and Ichika stepped out of the room quietly.
The hallway lights were dim.
Nurses moved softly in the distance.
For a moment—
They stood side by side in silence.
Then Ichika spoke.
"…Today felt important."
"…Yeah."
"Like something ended."
Rikuu looked ahead.
"…Or something started."
She smiled faintly.
"I like that better."
Snow tapped lightly against the window at the end of the corridor.
And somewhere beyond the quiet night—
The story was beginning to shift.
Not loudly.
Not suddenly.
But inevitably.