Sora met him in the genkan—hair down, wearing an oversized hoodie and shorts.
She took one look at his face and pulled him into the living room.
"Sit."
Akira sat on the couch.
Sora knelt in front of him—hands on his knees.
"What happened?"
Akira exhaled. "My parents saw the festival clips. They know about us."
Sora's stomach dropped. "And?"
"They want me to end it."
Sora went still.
Akira continued. "They think you're a distraction. That you'll ruin my future. My exams. My university path."
Sora's voice was quiet. "And what did you say?"
Akira met her eyes. "I said no."
Sora blinked.
Akira continued. "I told them I won't hurt you. That you're more important than their plan."
Sora's eyes filled.
Akira reached for her hand. "I chose you."
Sora's voice cracked. "You didn't have to."
"I did."
Sora leaned forward—forehead against his.
Akira cupped her face.
They stayed like that—breathing each other in.
Sora whispered, "Your parents hate me."
"They don't know you."
"They know enough to be scared."
Akira's thumb brushed her cheek. "Then we'll show them."
Sora laughed—shaky. "You think they'll come around?"
"I think they'll have to. Because I'm not letting go."
Sora pulled back—just enough to look at him.
Akira leaned in—slow.
Their lips met—soft, certain.
Deeper than before.
Sora's hands slid to his shoulders.
Akira's arms circled her waist.
They kissed—gentle, then urgent, then gentle again.
When they pulled back—foreheads touching—Sora whispered, "We have to face them. Together."
Akira nodded. "Together."
Sora smiled—teary. "Your parents are going to hate me more after this."
Akira's mouth curved. "They'll get over it."
Sora laughed softly.
They sat on the couch—her head on his shoulder, his arm around her.
Sora spoke quietly. "What if they make you choose?"
Akira's voice was steady. "I already chose."
Sora closed her eyes.
The house was quiet.
The world outside was waiting.
But for now, they had this.
And it was enough.