Without hesitation, Haari bolted. His feet barely touched the pavement before he launched himself off the bridge after her, plunging into the freezing depths.
The river swallowed him whole. The cold was immediate and unforgiving, piercing through his clothes, constricting his lungs. He forced himself to push through, his arms slicing through the current as he scanned the darkness for her.
Then—a few feet ahead—a flailing figure.
Ashi.
Her sobs were muffled beneath the water's surface, her movements frantic as she struggled to stay afloat. Without thinking, Haari surged forward and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him.
"Hold on to me!" he shouted over the roar of the current.
She clung to him weakly, her body trembling. He could feel the exhaustion in her grip, her energy nearly spent.
With all the strength he had left, Haari kicked against the current, dragging them both toward the riverbank. The cold gnawed at his muscles, exhaustion weighing down on him like lead, but he refused to stop.
The moment they reached solid ground, he collapsed onto his knees, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. The world spun slightly, but he barely noticed.
Beside him, Ashi coughed violently, her breath ragged and uneven. Her soaked hair clung to her pale face, her body trembling uncontrollably. The dim glow of the streetlights barely illuminated the raw despair in her eyes, but Haari could feel it—the crushing weight of something much deeper than just the cold.
He swallowed hard, trying to steady his own breath before finally turning to her.
"Why?" His voice came out hoarse, thick with emotion. "Why would you do this?"
Ashi's lips quivered, and then—like a dam breaking—tears flooded her eyes. She clenched her fists, her entire body shaking.
"Where have you been?" she sobbed, her voice cracking. "Why did you leave me there alone?"
Haari's eyes widened. The weight of her words hit him harder than any icy wave ever could.
Ashi gritted her teeth, her shoulders trembling. "I was standing there, in front of everyone, and you… you were gone. You promised you'd be there, but when I looked up—" Her voice broke into another choked sob. "You left. You left me alone."
Haari's throat tightened. Guilt clawed at his chest, sharp and unforgiving.
"Nicawa-san…" he whispered.
Tears streamed down her face, her body curling inward as if she were trying to make herself disappear. "I… I lost, Kichiro-san. After everything, after all the effort you put in to support me… I still couldn't win. I felt like such a failure. I couldn't bear to face any of you."
Haari's heart ached at the sheer pain in her voice. Slowly, he reached out, pulling her into a tight embrace. His soaked jacket did little to shield her from the cold, but he held her anyway, as if somehow, his warmth could undo the hurt she had felt.
"So what if you lost?" he murmured against her hair. "Winning isn't everything. What matters is that you gave it your all." He pulled back slightly, cupping her face gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Nicawa-san, I'm proud of you. Not because of some trophy, but because you fought for something you loved. That alone makes you a winner."
Ashi's lip quivered. The weight of his words, the warmth in his voice—it shattered something inside her.
Her hands clutched the fabric of his shirt as she buried her face in his chest, fresh tears soaking through the material.
Haari held her close, his hand running soothingly over her back.
Ashi sniffled against him, nodding weakly.
The night stretched around them, the sounds of the city distant and muffled, the river still and dark behind them. But in that moment, with the weight of sorrow slowly lifting, Ashi felt something she hadn't in a long time.
Hope.
Haari exhaled, his breath visible in the cold night air. He was completely drenched, his body shivering from head to toe. But despite it all, he didn't mind.
Because tonight, saving her was the only thing that mattered.
Comforted by Haari's words, Ashi began to calm down. He guided her back to her apartment and said, "And listen, Nicawa-san—don't you ever do something like this again." His voice was firm but filled with warmth. "Your life is precious. One loss doesn't define you. As long as you're breathing, you still have a infinte chances to chase your dreams."
Ensuring she was safe and settled, Haari finally headed back to his own place. Exhausted and drenched, he collapsed into bed, feeling the chill from the river water seep into his bones. Despite catching a cold, he didn't mind. The day's events had reinforced a powerful lesson: true victory lies not in accolades or titles but in the courage to face challenges and the strength to support one another.
The morning after the competition, Ashi stepped into the office, clutching a warm coffee in both hands. The usual hum of activity filled the air—the distant tapping of keyboards, hushed conversations, and the occasional ring of a phone. The familiarity of it all was oddly comforting.
Her steps were a little slower than usual, the exhaustion from the previous night still weighing on her body. But even so, a determined, albeit weary, smile rested on her lips. She had made peace with the outcome of the competition. She had given it her all.
As she made her way to her desk, Rafta and Oki looked up from their desk, their expressions shifting from surprise to curiosity.
"Nicawa-san! You're here," Rafta exclaimed, he leaned back in his chair. "How did it go?"
Ashi exhaled, setting her coffee down. "I didn't win, Densi-san," she admitted, though there was no bitterness in her tone. "I gave it my best, but it wasn't enough. Still, I have no regrets. I'm just happy I got to experience it and learn so much."
Oki, who had been listening with her chin resting on her palm, gave her a nod of genuine admiration. "That's a good mindset. Competitions can be brutal, but it sounds like you handled it well."
Ashi's smile faltered slightly as she glanced around. Something felt… off. She hesitated for a moment before asking, "By the way, isn't Kichiro-san here today?"
Rafta's expression shifted, his brows furrowing slightly. "He called me this morning. Said he was feeling under the weather. He didn't go into details."
Ashi's fingers curled slightly on her jacket. "I hope he's okay," she murmured under her breath.
As the evening settled in, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the streets. A gentle breeze swept through the air, crisp and cool, carrying with it the faint scent of street food from vendors wrapping up their day.
Ashi walked briskly, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. The thought of Haari being sick gnawed at her. Was it because of last night? Because he had jumped into the freezing river to save her? Guilt settled deep in her chest.
When she reached his apartment, she took a steadying breath and knocked softly. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, after some faint shuffling from inside, the door creaked open.
Haari stood there, his posture slouched, his face pale beneath the dim hallway light. A mask covered his mouth, and his usually sharp eyes were heavy with exhaustion. His messy hair looked even more unkempt than usual, sticking up in odd directions.
Ashi's heart clenched at the sight. "Kichiro-san!" she gasped. "Are you okay!"
Haari attempted a weak smile under his mask, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nicawa-san, what are you doing here?"
"I came to check on you," Ashi said, her brows knitting together in concern. "You didn't come to the office today, and I was worried."
Haari waved a shaky hand dismissively. "It's just a little fever. I took the day off, I told Rafta. Nothing to worry about."
Ashi frowned, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The apartment was dimly lit, the air slightly warm, likely from the heater he had switched on.
Her gaze softened as she turned back to him. "Is this because of me?" she asked quietly. "Because you jumped into the river to save me last night?"
Haari shook his head, though even that seemed to take effort. "No, it's not because of that," he assured her. "I just caught a cold. I'll be fine soon."
Ashi crossed her arms, unconvinced. "I was a fool for letting you go home last night while you were soaking wet," she murmured, guilt creeping into her tone. "It's my fault."
Haari sighed, shaking his head again. "Not at all. I took some medicine, and I'll recover soon enough. You don't have to—"
"Did you eat anything?" Ashi interrupted, her tone sharp.
Haari hesitated before muttering, "I ordered some food. It should be here soon."
Ashi's eyes narrowed. "No."
Haari blinked. "Huh?"
"No," she repeated, firmer this time. "Outside food isn't good for you when you're sick. You need something healthy."
She set her bag down and rolled up her sleeves. "I'll make something for you. Now, sit back and rest."
Haari opened his mouth to argue, but Ashi shot him a look that left no room for negotiation.
"Just lie down to your bed," she said simply.
With a resigned sigh, Haari shuffled back to his bed and slumped onto it, exhaling softly.
Ashi moved efficiently in his small kitchen, the faint sounds of chopping and the bubbling of broth filling the quiet apartment. The warm scent of miso and ginger soon replaced the stale air, bringing a sense of comfort to the space.
When she was done, she carefully carried the steaming bowl over to Haari's bedside, setting it down with a quiet clink.
"Here," she said, her voice gentler now. "Eat this. It'll help."
Haari pushed himself up slightly, his movements sluggish. "Nicawa-san, you didn't have to go this far…"
"Don't worry I did this because I wanted to," she said simply. "Now, stop talking and eat."
Haari sighed but relented, reaching for the bowl. His fingers brushed against the warm ceramic, and for the first time since the morning, he felt a little more like himself.
As he took slow spoonfuls, Ashi watched him closely. The warmth of the soup seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders, his complexion still pale but slightly better than before.
Once he finished, she collected the dishes and cleaned up, moving with the quiet efficiency of someone who cared more than they let on.
Returning to his bedside, she placed a water bottle and some medicine on the table. "Take these when you wake up. And get some rest."
Haari managed a weak but grateful smile. "Thanks, Nicawa-san."
Ashi's lips curved into a small, soft smile of her own. She shifted slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she looked at him. "We're friends, and it's normal for us to look out for each other," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You saved me twice… What I did today is nothing compared to that."
Haari's tired eyes flickered with something unreadable—perhaps gratitude, perhaps something deeper.
"Just focus on getting better," Ashi continued as she stood up, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Rest well, and don't hesitate to reach out if you need help."
With that, she picked up her bag and headed for the door.
As she stepped outside, the cool night air wrapped around her, but for once, it didn't feel so heavy. There was still worry lingering in her heart, but at least she knew Haari would rest properly now.
And as she walked away, she found comfort in the thought that, for once, she had been the one looking after him.
Haari was slowly recovering from his illness. His fever had broken, and he was beginning to regain his strength, thanks in part to Ashi's diligent care. Though still weak, he was determined to return to his routine.
The air clung damp and heavy to Haari as he shuffled into the office, his steps slower than usual, a faint flush still lingering on his cheeks. The fever had cracked like a storm breaking, thanks to Ashi's relentless care—bowls of soup, cool cloths, her quiet fussing a lifeline through his haze. Strength trickled back, but he was a warrior too stubborn to rest, dragging himself back to the grind.
Rafta spotted him first, leaning against a desk, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced with a furrowed brow. "Dude, you should be flat on your back, not waltzing in here," he said, voice thick with worry, eyes narrowing like a protective big brother. "You're still a wreck—rest up!"
"I'm fine," Haari shot back, forcing a grin, though his voice rasped like a worn-out blade. "Almost good as new—just a pesky cold hanging on. No biggie."
Oki breezed in, her sleek ponytail swishing, a stack of files under her arm. She froze mid-step, eyes widening at Haari's pale face. "Kichiro-san?! You're here?!" Her tone sharpened, concern flashing like a warning light. "How's the fever? Still recovering?"
"Just a little cold left," Haari said, painting his words bright, though his shoulders sagged slightly. "I'm good, really."