Chapter 9: Fading Echoes

Aika's Perspective: A Pause in the Rhythm

The school rooftop was quiet, save for the occasional whisper of the wind and the soft, uneven melody coming from Riku's guitar. The golden hues of the setting sun painted long shadows across the concrete, and the sky above them bled into shades of purple and orange.

Aika pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her sketchbook against her legs as she gazed at the view before her. There was something about rooftops that always made things feel lighter, as if she could breathe just a little easier up here.

She glanced sideways at Riku, who sat cross-legged beside her, the curve of his guitar resting against his knee. He wasn't really playing a song—just picking out soft, wandering notes, like he was searching for something in the sound. It was unlike him. Usually, his playing had a purpose, even if it was just to show off or annoy her.

But now, it felt… lost.

Aika frowned.

Her eyes traced his hands, noticing the slight hesitation in his fingers, the way they faltered between notes as if they weren't quite keeping up with his mind. And then there was his posture—normally relaxed, almost lazy, but today, there was something different about it. His shoulders slumped just slightly, his breathing a little slower than usual.

He looked—

"…You look tired."

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Riku's fingers stilled on the strings for a fraction of a second before he resumed playing, his smirk appearing like it had never left.

"Hah? That's a new one." He glanced at her, his golden-brown eyes glinting with amusement. "Didn't know you were so worried about me."

Aika scoffed, shifting her gaze back to her sketchbook. "I'm not. You just look worse than usual."

"Ouch." He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. "My fragile heart can't take this kind of abuse."

"Your ego will survive." She tapped her pencil against the paper, pretending to focus on her sketch.

But she wasn't.

Instead, she kept stealing glances at him. At the way his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. At the way his fingers curled around the neck of his guitar, looser than usual. At the way his breath seemed just a little too controlled, like he was making sure it didn't waver.

It was subtle.

Barely noticeable.

But it was there.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

"…Seriously though."

Riku stopped playing.

She didn't look up, but she felt the weight of his gaze settle on her.

"…Are you okay?"

The question came out softer than she intended, laced with something she wasn't sure she could name.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"…You're asking a lot of weird questions today."

His voice was light, teasing. But there was something else there. Something just beneath the surface, something unspoken.

Aika finally looked at him.

His expression was the same as always—lazy grin, sharp eyes, that signature cockiness that never seemed to fade. But now, she noticed it again. That flicker of something she couldn't quite place. A tiredness not in his body, but somewhere deeper.

Something about it unsettled her.

But before she could press further, Riku stretched his arms with a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright. If it makes you feel better, I'll go home early and get some beauty sleep."

Aika narrowed her eyes.

It was too smooth.

Too quick.

Like he was deflecting.

Still, she rolled her eyes. "That'd take more than one night."

"Wow. First you say I look tired, and now you're calling me ugly?" He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. "You really know how to hurt a guy."

Despite herself, Aika felt the corner of her lips twitch.

It was always like this.

He never let things stay serious for too long.

And yet—

As Riku leaned back against the railing, closing his eyes, guitar resting loosely in his lap, Aika couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

That there was something he wasn't telling her.

---

Riku's Perspective: A Song Without an Ending

The wind carried the crisp scent of autumn, rustling through his hair as Riku let his head rest against the railing. His guitar sat against his leg, silent now, the notes lingering in the air before fading into nothing.

His fingers twitched slightly.

They ached.

Just a little.

It wasn't enough to stop him from playing, but enough to remind him that time was slipping through his grasp.

He exhaled through his nose.

Today had been a mistake.

He had pushed himself too hard, let the exhaustion creep into his movements, let his body betray him in ways Aika had started to notice.

She was too sharp.

Too perceptive.

The way she had looked at him today… It was different.

She had always been stubborn, always questioning him when she thought he was being stupid. But today, there was something else in her voice. A quiet kind of concern.

She was starting to see it.

Riku swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

It wasn't time yet.

Not yet.

He shifted slightly, adjusting his position as casually as possible, forcing himself to relax.

For now, he just had to keep going.

Even if his fingers hesitated.

Even if his body felt heavier than before.

Even if the songs in his head remained unfinished.

Even if, someday soon, he would have to say goodbye.

For now—

As long as he could still play, as long as he could still sit beside Aika and listen to the scratch of her pencil against paper—

That was enough.