-DOWNTOWN SAPPORO, HOKKAIDO, JAPAN-
-6:28 PM, DECEMBER 6, 2016-
The alley was already alive when Rikuu arrived.
Dim lights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows against cracked concrete walls. The air smelled of smoke, metal, and cold sweat—nothing like the clean warmth of Aurora Academy.
This was a world untouched by snow's beauty.
Masayoshi Fujikawa leaned against a vending machine, arms crossed, chewing gum loudly. "You're late."
Rikuu stopped a few steps away. "Had club."
Masayoshi raised an eyebrow. "Theatre again?"
"…Yeah."
A smirk tugged at Masayoshi's lips. "Didn't think you'd stick with that rich-kid stuff."
Rikuu didn't answer.
A few men nearby glanced in his direction—measuring, waiting.
Masayoshi followed his gaze. "Same rules as usual. No weapons. Clean win."
Rikuu rolled his shoulders once. "Just get it over with."
-DOWNTOWN ALLEY-
-6:41 PM-
The fight was quick.
Not because Rikuu rushed—but because he knew exactly when to move.
A swing missed him by inches. He stepped in, drove his elbow forward, then pivoted away before the counter came.
A crack echoed.
The other boy staggered back, breath stolen.
Rikuu didn't chase. He waited.
When the next punch came, he ended it.
Silence followed.
Then money exchanged hands.
Masayoshi exhaled slowly. "Still scary to watch."
Rikuu wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "You said that last time."
"And I'll say it again next time," Masayoshi replied. "You ever think about stopping?"
Rikuu looked away. "No."
Masayoshi didn't push.
He never did.
-PHARMACY, DOWNTOWN SAPPORO-
-7:14 PM-
The pharmacist recognized him instantly.
"Arakawa-kun," she said gently. "You look tired."
"I am."
She didn't scold him. Just prepared the usual items with quiet efficiency.
As she handed him the bag, her voice softened.
"You know… there are other ways to survive."
Rikuu paused.
"…This works."
She watched him go with worried eyes.
-ARAKAWA RESIDENCE, SAPPORO-
-8:02 PM-
The apartment was cold.
Rikuu moved quietly, slipping off his shoes before entering the bedroom.
His grandmother slept lightly, chest rising and falling unevenly.
He placed the medicine on the table, then sat beside her.
"…I'm back," he murmured.
Her eyes fluttered open. "Riku-chan…"
"Sorry I'm late."
She smiled faintly. "You're always busy."
He reached for a blanket and tucked it around her shoulders.
She caught his wrist.
"You smell like winter."
He froze.
"…Is that bad?"
She shook her head. "No. Just means you're still outside, trying."
Her grip loosened as sleep claimed her again.
Rikuu stayed until her breathing evened out.
-KOMORI RESIDENCE, SAPPORO-
-8:19 PM-
Ichika stood in front of the wide glass windows of her home, city lights reflecting in her eyes.
Dinner had been perfect. Warm. Quiet.
Yet her thoughts weren't there.
She pressed her palm lightly against the cold glass.
He said I shouldn't watch.
Her heart tightened.
"But I wanted to understand," she whispered.
Snow fell beyond the window—soft, harmless.
She wondered where Rikuu Arakawa was at this exact moment.
And whether his world ever allowed snow to fall gently.
Two nights.
Two lives.
One hidden in warmth, one hardened by cold.
Yet somewhere between bruises and stage lights—
ice was beginning to crack.
And fire was learning to breathe.