Chapter 11: Mika’s Moment

Sunday morning dawned gray and dreary, a perfect excuse for Riku to stay holed up in his room. After yesterday's cooking clash, he needed a break—from Haruka's relentless cheer, Aiko's sharp-edged smirks, and the growing knot in his chest whenever his cousin got too close. He sprawled on his bed, a half-read manga splayed across his stomach, letting the patter of rain against his window lull him into a rare moment of peace. His parents were out again—some weekend errand—and Aiko had vanished to her room after breakfast, leaving the house mercifully quiet.

The doorbell jolted him upright, the manga sliding to the floor with a soft thud. He groaned, dragging himself downstairs, half-expecting Haruka with another basket of chaos. Instead, he opened the door to find Mika Fujimoto standing on the porch, her umbrella dripping and her glasses fogged with mist. She clutched a folder to her chest, her usual schoolbag slung over one shoulder, and her cheeks were flushed—whether from the cold or nerves, he couldn't tell.

"Mika?" Riku blinked, tugging his hoodie tighter against the damp chill. "What are you doing here?"

"Um… hi," she said, her voice barely audible over the rain. She pushed her glasses up, peering at him through the fog. "I… I needed help with something. For school. If you're not busy."

He stepped aside, gesturing her in. "No, I'm free. Come in—you're soaked."

She hesitated, then slipped off her shoes and followed him inside, leaving a trail of tiny water droplets on the floor. Riku led her to the living room, where she set her umbrella by the door and perched on the edge of the couch, still clutching her folder like a lifeline. He sat across from her on the armchair, rubbing his hands together to shake off the chill.

"So, what's up?" he asked, leaning forward. "Homework?"

"Not exactly." Mika opened the folder, revealing a stack of papers covered in neat handwriting and diagrams. "It's a project. For the library club. We're doing a display on local history, and I'm supposed to finish these notes, but… I'm stuck. You're good at explaining things, so I thought…" She trailed off, her fingers twisting the edge of a page.

Riku scratched the back of his neck, flattered despite himself. "I'm not *that* good, but I'll try. What's the problem?"

She slid the folder toward him, pointing to a section about Edo-period trade routes. "This part. I can't figure out how to connect it to the modern town layout. It's all jumbled in my head."

He took the papers, scanning her notes. Her handwriting was meticulous—small, precise loops and arrows linking dates and names—but the connections were indeed a mess. "Okay," he said, grabbing a pencil from the coffee table. "Let's break it down. The old trade roads mostly followed rivers, right? So if we map those to today's streets…"

They dove in, heads bent over the papers as Riku sketched a rough diagram. Mika listened intently, nodding as he traced lines between past and present, her shy smile peeking out whenever he glanced up. She scooted closer on the couch, pointing at his drawing, and their shoulders brushed—once, then twice. Riku flinched each time, but she didn't seem to notice, too absorbed in the work.

"You make it sound so simple," she said after a while, pushing her glasses up again. "I was overthinking it."

"Nah, you had most of it already," he replied, tapping the pencil against his chin. "You just needed to untangle it."

She shook her head, her hair falling forward. "No, it's you. You're… kind. And patient. Not everyone would sit here on a Sunday helping me."

"It's not a big deal," he said, his standard deflection, but her eyes locked onto his, soft and earnest behind her lenses.

"It is to me," she murmured. She reached for the pencil in his hand, her fingers brushing his longer than necessary, and he froze, the air between them thickening. "Riku, I… I've always noticed how you help people. It's why I…" She stopped, biting her lip, then pressed on. "You're the kindest person I know."

His throat went dry. "Uh… thanks?" he managed, his voice cracking. Was she just being nice, or was there more? Before he could process it, footsteps thumped down the stairs.

Aiko appeared in the doorway, still in her sleep shirt and shorts, her hair a messy tangle. She froze, taking in the scene—Mika's closeness, the papers strewn across the table, Riku's deer-in-headlights stare. "What's this?" she asked, her tone light but edged with something sharp.

Mika jolted, pulling back. "Oh! Um, hi, Aiko. I—I asked Riku to help with a project. I didn't mean to intrude."

"You're not," Riku said quickly, shoving the pencil into the folder. "We're just working."

Aiko sauntered over, peering at the papers with exaggerated interest. "History, huh? Fascinating." She plucked a cookie from Haruka's leftover basket on the counter—still there from yesterday—and took a deliberate bite. "Didn't know you were running a tutoring service now, Riku-kun."

"It's not—" he started, but Mika cut in, her voice small.

"I should go. Thanks, Riku. Really." She gathered her things, bowing slightly to Aiko. "Sorry for bothering you."

"You're fine," Aiko said, waving a hand, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. Mika grabbed her umbrella and slipped out, leaving Riku alone with his cousin's simmering presence.

"She's sweet," Aiko said, flopping onto the couch where Mika had sat. "Quiet, though. Not your usual type."

"My type?" Riku echoed, bewildered. "I don't have a type! She just needed help!"

"Sure." Aiko munched her cookie, watching him with a gaze that felt like a spotlight. "You're racking up quite the list—Haruka, Mika… who's next?"

"No one!" he snapped, standing to escape. "Stop making it sound like that!"

She smirked, stretching out on the couch. "Whatever you say, hero." Riku fled to his room, heart pounding, wondering why every kind act seemed to tighten the knot around him—and why Aiko's jabs stung more than they should.