Outside the window, fat snowflakes tumbled through the amber streetlight, piling onto the already knee-deep drifts that had swallowed Sapporo's residential streets. The radiator ticked and hissed in the corner, fighting December's grip.
The bedroom door clicked open without a knock.
(It's past eleven. He should be winding down… but I can't let this wait.)
أنت lay flat on his back atop the futon-style bed, paperback held overhead between both hands. He didn't look up as the door opened……On the wall above his desk, a high-school diploma hung slightly crooked ––the ink barely eleven months old, its gold seal still catching the desk-lamp's light.
"Reading in that position will ruin your eyes."
Koharu stepped inside, closing the door with deliberate softness. Her beige hair caught the warm light as she moved, house slippers barely whispering against the hardwood. She wore an oversized university hoodie (probably stolen from the laundry) and fleece pajama pants patterned with tiny penguins.
She settled into his desk chair without invitation, spinning it to face him. The wheels squeaked.
"أنت-kun," she began, voice barely above the heater's noise, "I heard something today." A breath misted faintly in the chill that crept around the window frame. "Apparently you've been… involving yourself in quite a few people's problems on campus……especially the girls." She tilted her head, expression concerned rather than scolding. "Problems big enough that word leaks outside the faculty seldom resolve just because one kind first-year decides to shoulder them."
"Listen. I'm not saying you should ignore someone in pain. But there's a difference between lending an ear and taking responsibility for outcomes you can't control."
"If you keep chasing every crisis, you might end up the one who needs rescuing."
(…I know……)
