Chapter 11: The Night We Chose Each Other (Part 2)

Chapter 11: The Night We Chose Each Other (Part 2)

The campus began to exhale, the frantic energy of the day bleeding out into the cool evening air.

Groups of students peeled away toward the train station, their voices tired but laced with a lingering, satisfied buzz. Even the teachers seemed to sag, their shoulders dropping as they finally relaxed for the first time since sunrise. Near the main gate, the five of them, joined now by a quiet, watchful Ellie, stood in a loose circle. The hanging lights caught the gold and silver of their medals, making them glint like small, captured stars against their uniforms.

Hikari let out a long, happy sigh, clutching her commendation to her chest. “I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight,” she admitted, her face still flushed from the stage. “My head is spinning too fast.”

Ryusei gave a low, tired shrug, his eyes already half-lidded. “I will. I’m going to hit the pillow and cease to exist for ten hours.”

Slightly apart from the group, Ellie adjusted the strap of her bag. She remained quieter than the rest, her gaze drifting. She watched Akane laughing at some nonsense Minato was spewing, then watched Adam. He was standing right beside Akane, not crowding her, not possessive, but positioned with a quiet, natural permanence that spoke volumes.

Suddenly, Minato snapped his fingers, the sound sharp in the evening quiet.

“RAMEN.”

The group turned to him in unison.

“What?” Akane asked, blinking.

“Listen,” Minato said, his expression turning deathly serious, as if he were delivering a state address. “Today was historic. Records were shattered. Art was praised. Emotional trauma was narrowly, and I mean narrowl, avoided. We have reached the peak of human achievement, and we need carbs to sustain it.”

Ryusei didn't even open his eyes as he nodded. “I second the motion. Loudly.”

Hikari smiled shyly, her eyes darting between them. “Tendog’s shop…?”

Adam looked up, his gaze clearing as he checked the time. “He’s still open. He stays late on festival days.”

Akane turned her head, her eyes finding Ellie. There was a moment of silent communication, an invitation that didn't require an apology for the morning's distance. “You coming?”

Ellie hesitated. She looked at the group, at the messy, tired, triumphant circle they had become, and felt the cold weight of the Student Council duties finally lift. She offered a small, tentative nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Minato’s grin returned, wider than ever. “Group celebration locked in. Last one there pays for the extra pork!”

“Don’t you dare!” Akane shouted as he took off, the group finally breaking into a run, their laughter trailing behind them into the night.

Tendog’s ramen shop had always been a sanctuary of steam and salt, but tonight it felt louder, the air thick with an energy that didn't just fill the room, it pushed against the walls. Steam curled in lazy, white ribbons from every bowl, fogging the windows and trapping the sound of their laughter inside, making the small shop feel like the only warm place left in the world.

They claimed the long wooden counter like a conquering army.

Minato immediately slumped back in his stool, arms spread wide as if embracing the ceiling. “Today,” he announced with a dramatic, weary exhale, “I declare myself emotionally fulfilled.”

Ryusei slid into the seat beside him, unimpressed. “Give it ten minutes. Your hunger will reset your personality to 'annoying' soon enough.”

Hikari sat down with careful, deliberate movements, tucking her bag neatly at her feet. She kept darting her eyes around the room, looking at the worn wood and the flickering fluorescent lights as if she were afraid the whole day might dissolve if she blinked too hard.

Beside her, Akane dropped into the stool next to Adam without a second thought. Their shoulders brushed, a solid, steady contact. Neither of them moved away.

Tendog appeared from the kitchen, a stained towel slung over his shoulder. His sharp eyes scanned the group before settling on Adam. He studied the boy for a long moment.

“…You look less dead,” the old man grunted.

Adam huffed a dry, short breath. “High praise.”

“That means you’re healing,” Tendog replied, already turning back to the roaring stove. “Don’t rush it. Scabs itch for a reason.”

Before anyone could process that, Starfox burst out from the back like a controlled explosion. He was a whirlwind of tank tops, sweatbands, and a grin that was far too wide for the small space.

“WHO ORDERED VICTORY RAMEN?” he bellowed.

Minato nearly fell off his stool. “WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!”

Starfox slapped five steaming bowls onto the counter with practiced violence. “BECAUSE SUCCESS REQUIRES VOLUME!”

Ryusei squinted at him through the steam. “I like him. He’s completely unhinged.”

Thick, rich broth swirled around perfectly coiled noodles, topped with soft eggs that glistened under the lights. Akane clasped her hands together, the scent hitting her like a physical force. “I’m actually starving.”

Hikari hesitated, her chopsticks hovering. “Can I… can I really eat this much?”

Minato stared at her as if she’d asked if the sky was blue. “That is the entire point of being alive, Hikari.”

At first, the only sound was the rhythmic slurp of noodles, the kind of sacred silence that only happens when a meal is exactly what the soul requires. But the peace was short-lived.

“ADAM,” Minato said suddenly, slamming his chopsticks down with a clatter. “EXPLAIN YOUR LEGS.”

Adam blinked, a piece of pork mid-air. “What about them?”

“THEY SHOULD NOT MOVE LIKE THAT. It’s unnatural. It’s cheating.”

Akane laughed so hard she nearly choked on her broth. “You should’ve seen him at volleyball. He didn't even look like he was trying.”

Ryusei nodded in somber agreement. “The man jumped like gravity owed him money and he was there to collect.”

Adam chewed slowly, his expression a mask of calm. “You’re all exaggerating.”

Hikari shook her head, her voice quiet but firm. “You didn’t even look tired, Adam.”

He gave a small, indifferent shrug. “I was.”

Akane turned to him, her eyes dancing with a warm, knowing light. “Liar.”

Their gazes held for a second, then two. The noise of the shop seemed to dim for that heartbeat, a private cord vibrating between them.

Minato’s grin turned predatory. “Ohhh. I see it. I definitely see it.”

Akane blinked, her blush returning with a vengeance. “See what?”

“Nothing!” Minato chirped, turning back to his bowl way too fast. “Absolutely nothing at all!”

Suddenly, the counter was a chorus of chimes. Everyone’s phone buzzed in unison.

Adam looked down at his screen. Group: My Buddies Forever Minato has changed the group icon.

It was the selfie from earlier. All of them were squished together—messy, windblown, exhausted, and unmistakably alive. Adam stared at the image longer than he needed to. His thumb hovered over the glass, trembling almost imperceptibly. He didn’t say anything, but the tight, defensive knot that usually sat in the center of his chest finally loosened.

Akane noticed the shift. She leaned closer, her voice a soft murmur beneath the din. “You okay?”

He nodded once, his voice steady. “Yeah.”

Across the counter, Ellie sat quietly, her hands wrapped around her warm bowl. She watched them, not with the jealousy she had felt that morning, or the anger of the past weeks, but with something far more complex. It looked like loss, but with a hint of hope beginning to grow in the cracks.

Starfox leaned over the counter toward her, his shadow looming large. “YOU ARE VERY QUIET!”

Ellie flinched, her shoulders jumping. “I, sorry.”

He laughed, a booming sound that shook the spice shakers. “NO NEED TO BE SORRY. QUIET PEOPLE HAVE THE STRONGEST CORE MUSCLES!”

Ryusei muttered into his soup, “That’s statistically not how humans work.”

Tendog slid fresh glasses of ice water toward them. “Eat more. You all earned it today.”

Akane glanced around the table, taking a mental snapshot of the moment. She saw Minato, mid-story, his hands flying through the air to describe a play; Hikari, laughing freely with her eyes shining; Ryusei, his guard finally down; Ellie, present-really present, for the first time in years. And Adam. Calm, solid, and finally here.

Her chest tightened with a sudden, overwhelming affection. “This feels nice,” she said.

Minato paused, a noodle dangling from his lip. “What does?”

“…This,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the steam and the dirty bowls and the six of them. “Us.”

A quiet beat followed. Then Ryusei nodded slowly. “Yeah. It does.”

Hikari smiled, her voice small but certain. “I don’t want today to end.”

Adam spoke then, his voice quiet but carrying through the room. “It doesn’t have to.”

They finished eating slowly, lingering over the last drops of broth as the night deepened outside. When they finally gathered their things, Tendog watched them from behind the counter, a faint, rare smile touching his lips.

“Come back anytime,” he said.

“We will,” Akane promised.

Adam lingered a second longer than the rest. He looked at the Tendog, the one who had seen him at his worst, and gave a small, respectful nod. “…Thanks,” he said simply.

Tendog nodded back. “Anytime, kid.”

They stepped out together, the cool night air hitting their warm skin. The shop door slid shut with a rattle, sealing the warmth inside, but the feeling followed them. The park lights glowed faintly down the street, casting long, overlapping shadows.

And that, that was where the night truly waited for them.

The street outside the ramen shop was a stark contrast to the daylight chaos of the school.

Neon signs buzzed with a lazy, electric drone, and a nearby vending machine hummed as if it were half-asleep. Their footsteps echoed in an easy, syncopated rhythm, unhurried now that the weight of the festival had finally lifted. There was nowhere urgent to be, and for the first time in weeks, no one was running away.

Minato walked backward, his hands laced behind his head, balancing on the edge of the curb. “I maintain,” he declared, looking at the dark sky, “that today was the absolute peak of our youth. It’s all downhill from here, boys.”

Ryusei snorted, not missing a beat. “You say that every time something mildly good happens.”

“That’s because ‘mildly good’ is a rare resource, Ryusei! We have to mine it while we can.”

Hikari laughed softly, her voice melodic in the quiet street. “I think I liked the art room more than the matches. Even with the nerves.”

Akane nodded in agreement. “Yeah. It felt… calm. Like we were in our own little world.”

Adam walked beside her, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. “You thrive in chaos,” he noted, his voice low. “The art room was just a different kind of loud.”

“Excuse you,” she said, bumping her shoulder firmly against his. “I don't thrive in it. I balance it.”

Ellie trailed a step behind the group, her eyes moving from one to the other, listening to the easy friction of their friendship.

Minato suddenly skidded to a halt in front of a rusted lamppost. “HEY.”

Everyone stopped.

“This,” he announced with a flourish of his hand, “is the park.”

Ryusei squinted at the familiar silhouette of the playground. “We’ve been here a hundred times, Minato. It’s a sandbox and some swings.”

“YES,” Minato countered, “but not like this.”

Akane smiled as the park opened up before them—the quiet swings, the sandbox long abandoned by the neighborhood children, and the trees rustling softly above like they were sharing a secret. “Oh,” she murmured, her voice filled with a sudden, sharp memory. “I forgot about this place.”

Ellie spoke for the first time in a while, her voice carrying a hint of a smile. “You used to lose your shoes here.”

Akane turned, surprised. “I did not.”

“You did. You’d kick them off to try and swing higher,” Ellie said, stepping ahead of the group now. “Then you’d forget where they landed and we’d spend twenty minutes hunting through the bushes.”

Minato grinned, pointing at Akane. “ICONIC. I knew you were trouble even back then.”

Hikari tilted her head, looking between the two girls. “You two came here together? Even before high school?”

Ellie nodded, her gaze fixed on the swings. “Middle school. Usually after cram school when we were too tired to go straight home.”

Akane followed her gaze, her expression softening. “We fed the kittens,” she said quietly. “There was a whole litter living under that bench.”

Ryusei blinked. “There were kittens in this park? Why was I not informed?”

“Yes,” Ellie said, a small, genuine laugh escaping her. “And she was thorough. She named every single one of them.”

Akane shrugged, though her cheeks were pink. “Consistency is key.”

They drifted deeper into the park’s shadows. Minato flopped onto a bench with a dramatic groan. “I am emotionally exhausted. My soul needs a nap.”

Hikari sat beside him, looking tired but content. “You didn’t even compete in the matches, Minato.”

“Cheering is cardio, Hikari! The stress alone burned a thousand calories.”

Adam didn't sit. He leaned against the cold metal frame of the swing set, his eyes tracking Akane and Ellie as they approached the two center swings. Ellie sat first, the chains creaking softly as she pushed off. She started slow, then pumped her legs harder, her laughter bubbling out unexpectedly—a sound that felt like it had been trapped behind a dam for a long time.

Akane joined her, the two of them moving in a rhythmic, silver arc under the moonlight. For a moment, the years of tension and the silence of the past months seemed to dissolve. It felt like nothing had changed.

Ellie kicked her legs forward, reaching for the sky. “Remember when you tried to jump off mid-swing to see if you could land on the slide?”

Akane groaned at the memory. “I was fearless back then.”

“You sprained your ankle and cried for ten minutes.”

“Minor detail!”

Ellie laughed again, real, bright, and unburdened. It was a sound that slipped out before she could catch it, before her professional mask could stop it.

Adam watched from a distance, a silent witness. He didn't intrude. He never had.

Hikari moved closer to him, whispering so only he could hear. “They were really close, weren't they?”

Adam nodded, his eyes fixed on the two silhouettes in the air. “I know.”

Minato leaned in from the bench, his usual playfulness replaced by a rare moment of perception. “You okay with that, Adam?”

Adam’s voice was steady, as unshakeable as the frame he leaned against. “Why wouldn’t I be.”

The swings began to slow. Ellie dragged her feet against the dirt, carving two parallel lines in the earth as she brought herself to a stop. Her laughter faded, replaced by something quieter, something nostalgic and heavy.

She looked at Akane, the smile still on her lips, but her eyes were wet, reflecting the dim park lights.

“Do you ever think,” Ellie said, her voice light but trembling, “that things were just… simpler before?”

Akane hesitated, her grip tightening on the chains. “Sometimes.”

Ellie laughed again, but it was a softer, more fragile sound this time. “Yeah. Me too.”

Adam straightened slightly. The air had thinned. The easy warmth of the ramen shop was being replaced by the cold reality of the night. Something had shifted, a tectonic plate of their friendship moving just an inch.

But for now, the park was silent. The night still held its breath, waiting for whatever came next.

The swings creaked a slow, rhythmic protest against the silence.

Ellie had come to a dead stop, her shoes dragging deep parallel lines into the dirt as if she were trying to anchor herself to a version of the world that had already vanished. She didn't look at Akane. She didn't look at the boys. Her gaze was fixed on the hollow space between her feet.

“…Do you know what I miss?” she asked. Her voice was light, but it had the fragile quality of thin glass.

Akane tilted her head, her grip tightening on the cold chains. “What?”

“Not thinking,” Ellie replied. “Just… doing.” She let out a short, sharp laugh that came out wrong, jagged and far too fast. “We used to sit right here. You’d talk about art. About stupid boys. About how we’d leave this town together someday.”

Akane’s expression softened into a pained, distant smile. “You said you wanted to open a café.”

Ellie nodded, a ghost of a memory flitting across her face. “Yeah. And you promised you’d design the logo. You said it had to be bold.” Her voice dropped an octave. “…You don’t talk like that anymore.”

“Ellie...”

Ellie finally looked at her. There was no anger in her eyes, and no accusation. There was only a profound, soul-deep exhaustion.

“You changed,” Ellie said. “And I know people are supposed to. I know that.” Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the chains. “But it feels like you changed directions, and I just stayed behind on the curb, waving at a car that wasn't stopping.”

The atmosphere in the park curdled. Minato shifted uncomfortably on the bench; Hikari looked down at her lap; Ryusei remained an unmoving shadow.

Adam stayed exactly where he was, leaning against the frame, his gaze steady but distant. He knew this wasn't about him. Not yet.

Ellie stood up abruptly, the swing set groaning as she shed its weight. She brushed the dirt from her skirt with trembling hands. “And then he showed up.”

Her eyes snapped to Adam. The word he carried the weight of a thousand unspoken resentments, a physical blow delivered in a single syllable.

“The biggest mistake of our lives, Akane,” Ellie said, a hysterical edge to her laughter, “was Adam.”

Akane stiffened, her voice rising in defense. “Ellie, that’s not fair. He didn't...”

“I hate you,” Ellie interrupted, turning fully toward Adam. Her voice cracked on the last word, raw and bleeding. “I hate you to my absolute guts.”

The park went dead quiet. Even the wind seemed to stall in the trees.

“You walked into our lives,” Ellie continued, beginning to pace like a caged animal, the words spilling out in a frantic rush. “And suddenly everything revolved around you. The fights. The rumors. Komamura. The fear. You were always the storm, Adam. Even when you weren't doing anything, you were just there. Standing between us.”

“Ellie, please,” Akane pleaded, her voice trembling.

“And don’t you dare say Komamura was the problem,” Ellie snapped. “At least he never became a bridge between us. At least he didn’t replace me.”

The words landed with the force of a physical strike. Akane’s eyes filled with tears instantly. “You were never replaced. Never.”

Ellie laughed bitterly, a sound that held no joy. “Then why does it feel like I’m the only one standing on the old side of the road?”

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. Then, Ellie’s shoulders finally sagged. The fire went out of her, leaving only the ashes. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“…I see it, you know.” She looked at Akane again, really looked at her, searching her face. “The way you smile now. It’s brighter. You laugh like you aren't checking over your shoulder for a shadow anymore.” Her lips trembled. “Maybe some part of me knows you’re happy because of him. But that doesn’t mean I have to forgive him for it.”

Adam finally spoke. His voice was a low, unyielding anchor in the middle of her storm. “I’m not asking you to.”

Ellie spun on him, her eyes burning. “Then why are you still standing there like you care?”

“Because I do,” Adam said simply. “Just not the way you think.”

She scoffed. “You don’t get to pretend you’re part of this..”

“I love Akane,” he interrupted. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't say it with heat. It was just a truth, dropped clean and heavy into the air between them. “And I will always choose her.”

Akane’s breath hitched. Ellie froze, the air leaving her lungs.

Adam stepped forward, not with a threat, but with a presence that was undeniable. “You can hate me. You can blame me for every crack in your friendship. That’s fine. But I won't apologize for loving her. And I won't leave her just to make you feel comfortable.”

Ellie’s eyes blurred with tears. “You think you’re some kind of hero?”

“No,” Adam said. “I think I’m someone who finally knows what he won’t run from.”

Ellie let out a wet, broken laugh. She looked at the ground, then back at them, her defenses finally showing the deep, jagged cracks of a collapsing dam. “…Don’t expect anything from me,” she said, her voice barely holding together. “Not trust. Not kindness.”

Adam nodded once. “I won’t.”

“…But,” he added, his voice softening, “I will protect her. I will cherish the memories she makes, even the ones that don’t include me. And I won’t let her be alone when things get dark. Whether you believe that or not is up to you.”

The last of Ellie’s armor shattered. She turned away sharply, her hand over her mouth. “I hope,” she choked out, “that you both get exactly what you need.”

Then she ran. She didn't look back as she disappeared into the shadows of the park exit.

Akane took a step forward, her hand reaching out. “Ellie!”

Adam caught her wrist, his touch light but grounding. “Let me.”

She hesitated, her eyes searching his, then gave a small, jerky nod.

Adam followed the sound of Ellie's footsteps down the gravel path. When she finally stopped near the park gates, her breath coming in ragged gasps, he stopped a few paces behind her.

“You done running?”

She didn’t turn around. “Why did you even come after me?”

“Because she cares about you,” he said.

Ellie laughed weakly. “Stop pretending you care about what she wants.”

Adam’s voice didn't waver. “Think whatever you want, Ellie. The truth doesn’t need your permission to exist.”

Ellie said nothing for a long, heavy minute. Then, she whispered into the night air: “…Take care of her.”

Adam nodded to her back. “Always.”

She walked away then, her silhouette swallowed by the streetlights. Adam turned back toward the center of the park, and found Akane standing right there.

She was trembling, tears streaming freely down her face. She’d heard every word.

“Adam…” she breathed, her voice breaking.

She didn't give him a chance to speak. She threw herself into him, her arms wrapping around his waist with a desperate, crushing strength, sobbing into the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you!” she cried, the words muffled but fierce. “So much. Very, very, very much.”

Adam held her. He wrapped his arms around her, firm and steady, feeling the frantic beat of her heart against his own. He rested his chin lightly against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of the festival and the night.

“I know,” he said softly, the words a promise. “And I love you, too.”

The park lights hummed overhead, a low, electric lullaby. The ghosts of the past had finally gone quiet. And for the first time since they had met, there was nothing left standing between them.