The school day had finally ended.

  Arashi walked home through the familiar streets, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the pavement. The weight of the day sat quietly on his shoulders — not heavy enough to slow him down, but present enough to remind him that today wasn't over yet. Not for him. Not until he had done what needed to be done.

  He arrived home, changed out of his uniform, and moved through the house with the quiet efficiency of someone who had already made up their mind. There was no hesitation, no deliberation. The decision had been made long before he stepped through the front door.

  He sat near the entrance and reached for his shoes.

  The ces were still in his hands when he heard soft footsteps behind him.

  "Arashi."

  Ayane's voice was calm, unhurried — the kind of voice that didn't demand attention but somehow always received it. He gnced over his shoulder without fully turning around.

  "Where are you going?" she asked, leaning lightly against the doorframe, her eyes carrying that quiet observance she always had — the kind that noticed things without making a show of it.

  "The hospital," Arashi said simply, returning his gaze to his shoes. "Mizuki needs someone there. She needs to know someone cares."

  A brief silence settled between them. Not an uncomfortable one — just the kind that comes when two people understand each other well enough that words aren't always necessary.

  "Oh," Ayane said softly. Then, after a small pause — "I'll come with you."

  Arashi finished tying his ces and stood, turning to face her properly for the first time since she'd walked in.

  "No," he said. His tone wasn't cold, but it was firm — the kind of firmness that came not from distance but from certainty. "Stay here. I'll be back by tonight. There's no need for you to come."

  Ayane looked at him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Okay."

  Just that. No argument. No wounded expression. Just quiet acceptance.

  Arashi turned toward the door, but something made him pause — some instinct, subtle and wordless, that made him gnce back at her one st time.

  And that was when he saw it.

  Her smile.

  Not the polite kind. Not the practiced, surface-level expression that people wore to fill silence or smooth over awkwardness. This was different. It reached her eyes — soft and unhurried and entirely real. The kind of smile that didn't ask for anything in return. The kind that simply existed because she meant it.

  It caught him off guard in a way he didn't quite have words for.

  Ayane met his gaze without looking away, that same gentle smile still resting on her face, and spoke with a quiet sincerity that settled somewhere deeper than casual words usually reached.

  "Best of luck," she said. "Take care of her, okay? Everything is in your hands now." A small pause. "And don't worry about me."

  Arashi held her gaze for just a moment longer than he normally would have.

  Then he gave a single, slow nod.

  "Thanks," he said quietly.

  And with that, he turned and walked out the door — carrying with him the image of that smile, and the strange, unhurried warmth it had left behind.

  The hospital wasn't far, but Arashi didn't rush.

  He walked at an easy pace, hands tucked into his pockets, the te afternoon air brushing gently against his face. The streets were quiet at this hour — a few people here and there, the distant hum of the city carrying on as it always did, indifferent to anyone's worries. A light breeze moved through the trees lining the path, rustling the leaves just enough to be heard.

  It should have been a peaceful walk.

  But Arashi's mind was somewhere else entirely.

  What is she doing right now? The thought surfaced without invitation. Is she bored? Is she in pain? Has her condition improved at all since yesterday?

  The questions came one after another, quiet but persistent, filling the spaces between his footsteps. He wasn't the kind of person who worried loudly — he never was. But that didn't mean the worry wasn't there. It simply lived differently in him, settling beneath the surface rather than spilling out, present in the slight furrow of his brow and the way his gaze stayed low as he walked.

  He just needed to see her. That was all. Just see her, and the questions would have answers.

  The hospital came into view not long after.

  Arashi made his way through the familiar corridors, past the quiet hum of fluorescent lights and the faint antiseptic scent that clung to every hospital hallway. His steps were steady, unhurried — but purposeful.

  When he finally reached Mizuki's door, he stopped.

  He stood there for a moment, facing it — just as he had before, the st time he had stood in this exact spot. And just like that time, he closed his eyes briefly, drew a quiet breath, and knocked.

  A beat of silence.

  Then, from inside — "Come in."

  Arashi opened the door slowly and stepped inside.

  The room was calm and softly lit. And there was Mizuki — sitting upright in her bed, a light bnket draped across her p, looking considerably more like herself than the st time he had seen her.

  She turned toward the door as he entered, and the moment her eyes found him, something shifted in her expression — a warmth rising naturally to her face as a smile appeared, unhurried and genuine. She lifted her hand in a small wave.

  "You came," she said simply, her voice carrying that familiar lightness — quieter than usual, still touched by tiredness, but unmistakably hers.

  Arashi crossed the room and came to stand beside her bed, his expression settling into something calm and steady.

  "Of course," he said. Then, without missing a beat — "How are you feeling? Is it any better?"

  Mizuki tilted her head slightly, considering.

  "A little," she admitted. "Still not great, but... better than yesterday. If it keeps going like this, I think I'll be okay."

  "Good," Arashi said, and he meant it — simply and without decoration.

  A small quiet settled between them, the comfortable kind. Then Arashi gnced at her.

  "So," he said, "what do we do now?"

  Mizuki's eyes lit up just slightly — the faint flicker of someone whose mind had already been running ahead.

  "Umm... wait—"

  Mizuki's eyes drifted toward the window for a moment, watching the pale sky outside. Then she looked back at Arashi with a small, almost mischievous smile.

  "Hey," she said softly. "Let's go to the rooftop. I want some fresh air."

  Arashi looked at her for a brief moment, then gave a simple nod.

  "Okay."