Pinkie

Hikarigaoka High School, Tokyo – Afternoon

Rain painted the streets in rippling reflections of streetlights. Chisa stood beneath the school gate, hugging her bag, damp hair clinging to her cheeks. The soft patter against the pavement swallowed the silence—until footsteps approached.

“Hey.” His voice was calm, steady. The umbrella tilted toward her.

Her lips parted. “Ryu-kun?”

“Need help?” His gaze held hers, cool but warm enough to cut through the storm.

She hesitated. “Is it… okay? Miku-chan isn’t with you…”

Ryu chuckled, the sound low, effortless. He stepped closer, shifting the umbrella so she was covered, his own shoulder catching the rain.
“It’s fine. She has… ‘club’ practice.”

Chisa’s lips curved faintly. “Thank you. I need to go to the station.”

“I’ll walk you. It’s not that far.” His voice was quiet, certain.

They set off side by side. The world shrank to the rhythm of raindrops, the click of wet shoes, the umbrella a small shelter against the storm. Chisa kept her eyes ahead, but she felt it—how he angled the umbrella to shield her, how his presence dulled the loneliness of the rain.

For a long while, neither spoke. Only the storm filled the silence. Ryu found himself watching her—the way her lashes clung together, the way she hugged her bag as if it held her heart, the way her smile lingered despite the cold.

She really was adorable.

“Chisa-san,” he murmured at last. “Why do you want to be an idol?”

Her head tilted, curiosity sparking. “Why…?”

He nodded once, waiting.

Chisa’s voice softened, nearly drowned by the rain. “When I was little, I thought performing was my destiny. I love the camera. I love being seen. I want people to remember me… the brightest star anyone’s ever known.”

Her smile bloomed, fragile and genuine. “It’s not bad to dream like that, right?”

Ryu’s chest tightened. He shook his head lightly, lips tugging upward. “Not bad at all. Most people just….drift through life, you know? You’re aiming for ‘something’ higher—that’s… admirable.”

Her smile widened, the rain seeming to hush around them.

“Still,” she admitted, fingers tightening on her strap, “I’ve never performed before a big crowd. It’s scary. But if I work hard enough, I’ll make it.”

The faint rumble of a train echoed in the distance.

Then she glanced at him. “What about you, Ryu-kun? Why boxing?”

His steps slowed. For a moment, he said nothing. A blush rose on his cheeks—not from the cold, but from what he was about to share.

“...It’s not because I love fighting. It’s discipline. Control. Strength.” His voice dipped lower. “My old man was a pro wrestler. Got hurt, couldn’t fight again. Died not long after.”

Chisa’s eyes widened, lips parting, but she stayed silent, letting him speak.

“He lived for the ring… and died in it. Never made it to the top.” Ryu’s jaw tightened, but his gaze burned with resolve. “So I train. I’ll be the man he couldn’t be. I’ll finish his fight.”

Chisa’s grip on her bag eased. She looked at him with quiet warmth, as though gathering his grief into her chest.
“You must have loved him a lot,” she said softly. “To carry his dream like that. It’s… wonderful.”

Ryu rubbed the back of his neck, flustered by her sincerity. “Yeah… he was my role model. I guess I don’t know how to stop. I don’t want to quit. Ever.”

The umbrella shifted, drawing them closer. The storm blurred the world outside, leaving only the two of them in its quiet shelter.

Ryu chuckled awkwardly. “What a boring dream, huh? I should’ve said I’m in it for the money.”

Chisa giggled. “No… I kind of relate.”

He arched a brow. “You have someone to fight for?”

“Perhaps… perhaps not.” She winked.

Then she held out her hand, pinkie lifted like a child daring him to play along.
“Let’s make a promise. We’ll reach our dreams. No failure.”

Ryu blinked. A pinkie swear? His chest tightened. Ridiculous. But when she tilted her head, giggling at his hesitation—
“…Too cool for promises, Ryu-kun?”

He exhaled, caught between a laugh and a sigh. Slowly, he hooked his pinkie with hers.
“We’ll reach them. Promise.”

It was silly. Fragile. Yet under the umbrella, it felt like something larger—like fate shifting.

Then Chisa’s gaze sharpened. Her voice dropped, silk over steel.
“Tell me… have you ever wanted something so badly you’d do anything to get it?”

The rain filled the silence. Her pinkie stayed linked with his, burning like a chain.

“No matter the cost?”

Ryu blinked. Something in her tone prickled his skin. Her eyes—deep, shimmering—caught the lamplight red, like hidden fire.

“…Yeah,” he said carefully. “I know that feeling.”

“How far would you go?” she pressed, her words drawn out. “Would you break yourself for it?”

Ryu swallowed. “…If I had to.”

“And if it meant stepping on someone else’s dream? Crushing it so only yours remained? Would you do that?”

His throat went dry. “…That’s… extreme.”

“Extremely fair,” she whispered, tilting her head. Rain dripped from her ribbon, clinging to her hair. “After all… There are no two champions in one ring, right?”

Her smile softened again, bright and flawless. The crimson in her eyes faded, returning to a warm red. She slipped her hand free, the pinkie promise breaking as if it had never been. But her words lingered, heavy as stone.

Ryu blinked. Had he imagined it? The crimson eyes? The venom in her tone? Or had the storm played tricks on him?

The station lights came into view. Chisa waved, voice cheerful again. “Thanks for walking me, Ryu-kun! You’re so kind. Miku-chan is lucky.”

Her warmth was real, but Ryu’s chest tightened with unease. The echo of her ambition gnawed at him.

A star brighter than anyone else… even if it burns everything to ash.