Chapter 31: Ripple Effects

Sunday morning hit Riku like a freight train of exhaustion. The past week—rumors, confessions, and that kiss—had drained him, and he woke to sunlight streaming through his blinds, his head fuzzy with half-remembered dreams of Aiko's smirk. He groaned, rolling out of bed, and tugged on a T-shirt and sweats, determined to reclaim some normalcy. No school, no drama—just a lazy day.

Downstairs, the kitchen was a battlefield of breakfast chaos. His mom was frying eggs, his dad grumbling over a jammed toaster, and Aiko sat at the table, munching toast with a grin that spelled trouble. She wore a cropped hoodie and leggings—casual, but the way the hoodie hugged her frame made Riku's brain stall for a second too long.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she said, smirking as he shuffled in. "Dream about me?"

"No," he lied, grabbing a mug for coffee, his face warm. "You're not that interesting."

"Liar," she teased, kicking his shin lightly under the table as he sat. Her bare foot lingered against his leg, and he jolted, nearly spilling his coffee.

"Cut it out," he hissed, glaring, but her grin widened, unrepentant.

Hana turned, spatula in hand. "You two are chipper today. What's got you so lively?"

"Nothing," Riku said quickly, shoving toast into his mouth. Aiko's foot nudged him again, and he choked, coughing crumbs onto his plate.

"Riku's just excited for family day," Aiko said smoothly, her tone dripping with mischief. "Right, knight?"

"Family day?" his dad grunted, finally freeing a charred slice from the toaster. "Since when?"

"Since now," Hana chirped, oblivious to the undercurrent. "We should do something fun—maybe the park? It's nice out."

Riku shot Aiko a look—*"Don't you dare"*—but she just smirked, sipping her juice. "Sounds perfect," she said. "Riku can push me on the swings."

"No way," he muttered, but his mom clapped her hands, sold on the idea.

---

The park was a sprawl of green under a clear sky, kids shrieking on slides and couples picnicking by the lake. Riku trailed his parents, hands in his pockets, while Aiko skipped ahead, her ponytail bouncing. She'd swapped her hoodie for a light jacket, but the leggings stayed, hugging her legs in a way that drew his eyes despite his best efforts.

"Swings," she called, darting toward the playground. "Come on, knight!"

He groaned but followed, dodging a rogue soccer ball as his mom set up a blanket nearby. Aiko plopped onto a swing, kicking her legs. "Push me," she demanded, grinning up at him.

"You're not five," he said, but stepped behind her, giving the swing a half-hearted shove. She laughed, leaning back, her hair brushing his hands as he pushed again, harder this time.

"See? Fun," she said, her voice light. The swing arced higher, her jacket flapping open to flash her midriff, and Riku's grip faltered, his face heating. "Eyes on the job, perv," she teased, catching his stare.

"Shut up," he muttered, pushing again, but a smile tugged at his lips. This—playful, easy—was their new rhythm, and it wasn't bad.

Until it wasn't just them. A familiar voice shouted, "Riku!" and he turned to see Haruka jogging over, a picnic basket swinging from her arm. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Haruka?" he said, stepping back as Aiko's swing slowed. "What're you—"

"Family picnic," she said, beaming, then waved at Aiko. "Hi! Didn't expect you guys too!"

Aiko hopped off the swing, her grin tightening. "Yeah, small world," she said, brushing dirt off her hands. "You alone?"

"Nah, my cousins are over there," Haruka said, pointing to a cluster of kids by the lake. "Just saw you and thought I'd say hi."

"Hi," Riku said, awkward but relieved she seemed okay. "Uh, having fun?"

"Totally!" she said, then hesitated, her smile softening. "You two look… good. Together."

Aiko's smirk faltered, and Riku's throat tightened. "We're just—" he started, but Aiko cut in.

"Hanging out," she said, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. "Family stuff."

"Right," Haruka said, nodding. "Cool. Well, see ya!" She bounced off, leaving them in a wake of unspoken tension.

Aiko crossed her arms, staring after her. "She's too nice," she muttered.

"She's fine," Riku said, nudging her back to the swing. "Stop overthinking."

"Me?" she scoffed, but sat, kicking off again. "You're the one blushing."

"Am not," he lied, pushing her harder, and her laugh echoed, easing the knot in his chest.

---

The ripple effects hit harder at school on Monday. The rumors had quieted—mostly—but the stares lingered, sharper now, like everyone was waiting for a crack to show. Riku walked into Class 2-B, Aiko beside him, her shoulder brushing his as they split to their seats. No big gestures, no teasing—just a quiet closeness that felt louder than any fake act.

Haruka waved, her usual cheer back, and handed Riku a cookie from her weekend baking. "For you," she said, smiling. "No pressure."

"Thanks," he said, taking it, and Aiko's knee bumped his under the desk—a silent *"I'm watching"*—but she didn't comment.

Mika slipped in next, her bookmark peeking from her bag, and offered Riku a shy smile. "Morning," she said, her voice soft. "The park looked fun."

"You saw?" he asked, surprised.

"From afar," she said, blushing. "You and Aiko… you're nice together."

Aiko snorted beside him, muttering, "Everyone's a critic," but her smirk was playful, and Riku elbowed her lightly.

Yuna strutted in last, her grin wicked. "Morning, lovebirds!" she sang, dropping into her seat. "Heard you had a park date. Spill!"

"It wasn't a date," Riku said, exasperated, but Aiko leaned forward, smirking.

"Jealous, senpai?" she teased. "Want a swing ride too?"

"Only if Riku's pushing," Yuna shot back, winking. The class snickered, and Riku sank lower, his face red.

Lunch was their refuge. They escaped to the roof again, rain gone, the sky a crisp blue. Aiko sprawled on the concrete, her blazer off, her blouse untucked and riding up slightly. "They're relentless," she said, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"Yeah," Riku agreed, sitting beside her, his bento open. "But it's… less weird now."

She glanced at him, smirking. "You're getting soft, knight."

"Maybe," he said, smirking back. He leaned down, brushing a quick kiss against her forehead—bold, real—and she froze, her blush instant.

"Warn me next time," she muttered, shoving him, but her hand lingered on his arm, warm and steady.

"Deal," he said, grinning, and they ate in comfortable silence, the ripples settling—for now.

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