-SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-6:48 PM, DECEMBER 3, 2016-
Saturday evenings in Sapporo carried a different weight.
The streets were quieter, yet heavier—lights glowing warmer, shadows stretching longer. Snow gathered in soft layers along the sidewalks, untouched in places where no one bothered to walk.
Rikuu Arakawa moved through the city with familiarity.
He had already finished rehearsal earlier that afternoon. The theatre club rarely met on weekends, but when they did, it was intense—focused. He liked that. No wasted time. No unnecessary words.
Now, he headed somewhere else entirely.
-NARROW ALLEYWAY, CENTRAL SAPPORO-
-7:12 PM-
The alley smelled of cold metal and damp concrete.
Rikuu rolled his shoulders once, loosening the stiffness from rehearsal. His breath came out steady, controlled.
"You're late."
A voice echoed from the shadows.
Rikuu didn't respond. He stepped forward, eyes sharp.
The man emerged—older than Rikuu, broader, smirk already in place.
"Took up acting, huh?" the man sneered. "Thought you quit playing pretend."
Rikuu's jaw tightened.
"I'm here," he said flatly. "That's what matters."
The fight was short.
It always was.
Snow scattered under their feet. Fists met flesh. Breath turned sharp, ragged.
Rikuu moved with efficiency—not anger, not pride. Just necessity.
When it was over, he stood alone again, chest rising slowly, knuckles stinging.
He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and exhaled.
Enough.
-PHARMACY NEAR ODORI PARK-
-7:49 PM-
The warmth inside the pharmacy fogged his vision for a moment.
Rikuu stood in line, shoulders hunched slightly, cap pulled low. He ignored the dull ache in his ribs.
"Next."
He stepped forward and slid a small list across the counter.
The pharmacist glanced at it, then at him. "She's been coughing again?"
Rikuu nodded once.
"Make sure she eats before taking this," the woman said gently.
"I know."
He paid, took the bag, and bowed slightly before leaving.
-SUBURBAN HOUSE, OUTSKIRTS OF SAPPORO-
-8:31 PM-
The house was small, old, and quiet.
A single light glowed in the living room.
"I'm home."
No answer at first.
Then—"Rikuu?"
"In the kitchen."
He removed his shoes carefully, as if loud movements might break something fragile.
His grandmother sat wrapped in a blanket, eyes tired but kind.
"You're late," she said softly.
"Rehearsal ran long."
She smiled, unconvinced—but said nothing.
Rikuu prepared her medicine with practiced care. When he handed it to her, she squeezed his wrist.
"You look exhausted."
"I'm fine."
She studied him for a moment longer. "You've been smiling more lately."
He froze.
"…Have I?"
"Yes," she said. "It suits you."
He looked away.
-KOMORI RESIDENCE, SAPPORO-
-8:46 PM-
Ichika's world was quieter—but no less heavy.
The Komori residence glowed with warm lights and polished floors. Dinner had been elegant, conversations polite.
Her father spoke briefly about business. Her mother asked about school.
Ichika answered perfectly.
Afterward, she retreated to her room.
Snow pressed against the window, the city distant and muted.
She sat at her desk, script open—but unread.
Her thoughts wandered somewhere else entirely.
Rikuu.
The way he corrected her tone gently. The way his eyes sharpened when he talked about acting. The way he looked tired—always tired.
Her chest tightened.
What kind of life do you live when you're not here?
She pressed a hand over her heart.
It was warm.
Too warm for winter.
-SAPPORO NIGHT SKY-
-10:02 PM-
Two lives moved separately beneath the same falling snow.
One walked a path lined with shadow and responsibility.
The other stood surrounded by comfort, longing for something unnamed.
Neither knew it yet—
—but the distance between them was no longer safe.
Winter watched in silence.
And somewhere beneath the ice,
a flame continued to grow.