-DOWNTOWN ALLEY, SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-6:20 PM, NOVEMBER 1, 2017-
He passed her with steady steps, the cold air shifting faintly around him.
Ichika remained still for a heartbeat, watching the bruised boy walk further into the dimly lit alley — the soft crunch of snow under his shoes the only sound between them.
Her pulse fluttered in her chest.
She wasn't sure why.
She only knew one thing:
She couldn't let him walk away.
Not again.
Ichika tightened her gloved hands, took a quiet breath, and stepped forward.
"H–Wait…"
Her voice was small, nearly lost beneath the wind — but it reached him.
The boy halted.
He didn't turn at first.
Just stopped.
As if deciding whether the sound behind him mattered.
Then, slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
Ichika froze.
Those red eyes felt sharper up close — tired but focused, as if he saw through everything without trying.
She swallowed softly.
"Um… excuse me," she said, her tone gentle but hesitant. "Are you… okay?"
The boy blinked once.
No surprise.
No irritation.
Just… a blank, unreadable calm.
"Why?"
His voice was low — not cold, but flat like someone who didn't use words unless necessary.
Ichika fidgeted, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear.
"I… I saw you earlier. Twice, actually… And you looked hurt."
He glanced down at the small pharmacy bag in his hand, then at his bandaged knuckles.
"…It's nothing."
Ichika bit her lip.
"It… doesn't look like nothing."
He raised an eyebrow slightly — a faint, almost invisible reaction — before turning his body fully toward her.
Snowflakes drifted between them, catching in the faint light.
"You shouldn't worry about someone you don't know," he said quietly.
"I know," Ichika replied, her voice softer now. "But I still do."
A small pause.
Something in his eyes shifted — not emotion, exactly, but recognition that she was genuinely concerned.
"…Why?"
Ichika's breath caught.
She didn't have a logical answer.
Just an honest one.
"Because you looked like you were in pain," she admitted.
"And… because you were alone."
Her cheeks reddened the moment she said it.
Too direct.
Too revealing for someone like her.
The boy stared at her for a moment — unreadable, silent.
"…I'm fine," he said eventually.
Ichika nodded slowly, but her gaze lingered on the bruise along his jaw.
"You cleaned it."
"Yeah."
"Does it… hurt?"
He shrugged. "Not really."
That clearly wasn't true.
But he didn't seem like someone who would ever admit weakness.
Ichika hesitated, gathering the smallest bit of courage.
"Did someone… hurt you?"
His eyes flickered — the first real movement of emotion, brief and sharp.
Not directed at her, but at the question itself.
"No."
He paused.
"Not in a way that matters."
Ichika didn't understand what that meant — but she heard the finality in his tone.
Still, she stepped closer, her voice gentle.
"If something happened, you don't have to tell me. I just…"
Her hands tightened around each other.
"…didn't want to ignore you."
He looked down at her — truly looked this time.
A girl with soft eyes and a trembling voice, standing in the cold asking after someone she didn't know at all.
"…You're strange," he said quietly.
Ichika stiffened.
"O–Oh… I'm sorry."
"I didn't say it was bad."
She blinked up at him.
The corner of his mouth shifted — not a smile, but the faintest softening.
Barely there.
"Most people look away," he continued. "You didn't."
Ichika felt warmth rise to her cheeks, embarrassed yet relieved.
"I'm… not good at letting things go," she said shyly.
"…I can see that."
She looked down, her boots pressing lightly into the snow.
"Can I at least know if you're heading home?"
He tilted his head slightly, considering.
"…Eventually."
"That's…" She let out a tiny breath. "That's not a real answer."
He gave a soft exhale — not quite a laugh, but close enough that her heart skipped.
"You're persistent," he said.
Ichika's face turned even redder.
"I–I'm sorry… I just…"
"Worried. Yeah."
He shifted the pharmacy bag.
"You said that already."
She nodded, but then hesitated once more.
"…Will you be alright walking alone?" she asked.
His eyes studied her, quiet and steady.
"You shouldn't ask strangers things like that."
"But I am," Ichika whispered.
Snowflakes fell between them again, drifting slowly in the dim alley light.
The boy lowered his gaze — thoughtful, almost conflicted — before lifting his eyes to meet hers once more.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "I'll be fine."
Ichika exhaled softly — something easing in her chest.
"Okay…"
She lowered her head politely.
"Then… goodnight."
He stepped past her again, slow and steady.
For a moment, she thought that was it — the end.
But just as he passed her shoulder, his voice reached her again.
"Hey."
Ichika turned, startled.
The boy didn't look back — just kept walking, hands in his pockets, breath rising in faint white clouds.
"…Thanks," he said.
A single word.
Barely audible.
Yet it warmed her more than the streetlights ever could.
Ichika stood there, heart fluttering softly in the falling snow — watching the boy disappear into the night.
And for the first time,
she realized something:
That quiet ember inside her chest…
had begun to burn just a little brighter.