I'm Airi Kotori, a high school sophomore. People say I'm the cutest in class, but that's the last thing on my mind right now. Today, my childhood friend Haruto confessed to the most popular girl at school, Toto Kozakura, and got shot down in spectacular fashion.
Haruto's been my hero since we were kids. He protected me from bullies, made me laugh with his silly jokes. But his eyes were always fixed somewhere far away. I knew he was looking at Kozakura-san since middle school.
I've been by Haru
Until the Snow Melts, I'll Think of You - The world's most delicious, broken cookie.
The doorbell rang, echoing through the dark house.
On the cold kitchen tiles, Airi's fingers twitched faintly. In the distance, she could hear someone talking to her mother. But her body wouldn't move. The shattered cookie crumbs pressed rough and gritty against her cheek.
*(Is it morning already...?)*
Her consciousness surfaced hazily, but she didn't even have the energy to open her eyes. Her eyelids, swollen from crying, felt as heavy as lead.
"[surprised]Oh my, Ryuuji-kun...? What brings you here at this hour?"
Her mother's voice. Slightly surprised.
"[serious]...Sorry for the late visit. I'm in her class. I was worried about Airi."
A low, calm voice.
Airi's heart gave a sudden, violent thump.
*(Ryuuji-kun...?)*
Why was he here?
"[gentle]Oh, I see... Something seems to have happened with that girl. She wouldn't go to her room — she's been shut up in the kitchen this whole time. Would you mind checking on her?"
"[serious]...Excuse me."
The sound of slippered footsteps drew closer.
The kitchen door opened quietly.
The room light didn't come on. Only a thin sliver of light from the hallway slipped through, illuminating the floor.
Airi kept her eyes closed, unable to move.
*(Don't look.)*
*(Don't look at me like this.)*
Cookie crumbs scattered across the entire floor. A shattered white plate. And herself, curled up in the middle of it all, sleeping — a pitiful sight.
It should have been an obviously abnormal scene, but Ryuuji said nothing.
She just heard the rustle of fabric and knew he had crouched down.
*Click.*
A small sound. He had picked up one of the fragments from the floor.
*Click.*
Again. The sound of him gathering the pieces echoed with quiet regularity through the silent kitchen.
Wordlessly, he began picking up the cookies scattered around Airi, one by one.
His movements showed no anger, nor did they seem pitying. He was simply calm, as if doing the most natural thing in the world.
The corners of Airi's eyes grew hot again.
Slowly, she lifted her heavy eyelids.
Her vision blurred.
Ryuuji's hand was right in front of her.
His faintly bluish-black hair gleamed dully, catching the light from the hallway. Behind his carelessly long bangs, only his left eye was visible. A narrow, cold-seeming gray eye stared down at her steadily.
"...You're awake."
Ryuuji spoke curtly, then stopped moving, the collected fragments still resting in his palm.
Airi forced out a hoarse voice.
"[sad]...Why did you come?"
Ryuuji didn't answer.
Instead, from his palm, he picked up a single piece of cookie. A cocoa-colored cookie, its heart shape split clean in two.
Without a moment's hesitation, he tossed it into his mouth.
Through her tear-blurred vision, Airi desperately looked up at him.
*(Why?)*
*(Didn't you say you hated sweet things?)*
*(And besides, it fell on the floor. It's broken.)*
Ryuuji chewed slowly.
A single beat of silence.
And then, for the first time, he let emotion color his voice.
"[serious]It's the best in the world."
Airi's thoughts stopped.
"[serious]Something this good... only you can make it."
His voice was completely different from its usual cold tone. It was a strong declaration, almost feverish, yet filled with absolute certainty.
"[crying]...What are you saying?"
Airi shot back, her voice trembling.
"[crying]It's broken. It fell on the floor. There's no way it could taste good...!"
As she shouted, the tears overflowed again.
No. That wasn't it. She wasn't angry at Ryuuji.
It was just that, when she felt so utterly empty, when everything seemed worthless, being told "it's the best in the world" had pierced her heart in a way she couldn't bear.
Ryuuji listened to her sobs in silence for a while.
Then, quietly, he opened his mouth.
"[gentle]...My mother was a culinary researcher."
At the sudden confession, Airi lifted her tear-drenched face.
"[gentle]She was always working, hardly ever home. But a few times a year, she would bake cookies at home. Not even on special days — just suddenly, on a whim."
Ryuuji's gray eyes weren't looking at Airi, but at something much farther away.
"[gentle]Those cookies were delicious. Completely different from store-bought ones — weird shapes, sometimes a little burnt."
He paused for a moment.
He stared at his own palm.
"[sad]My mother died of an illness two years ago."
Airi's breath stopped.
"[sad]That's when it started. No matter what sweets I ate, I couldn't taste anything but sugar. Famous pastry chefs' cakes, long-established Japanese confectioneries — they all just felt like lumps of sugar."
Ryuuji's voice was matter-of-fact. But the edges of his words seemed to tremble, just a little.
"[serious]But when I ate your cookies for the first time... those cookies you forced on me in that classroom."
He looked straight into Airi's eyes.
"[serious]For the first time, I felt something again. A warm, deeply nostalgic taste. It was different from my mom's. But I thought it came from the same place. A cookie that someone had baked with all their heart, for someone else."
Inside Airi's head, a memory resurfaced.
That's right.
On the first day he transferred in, Ryuuji had said, "I hate sweet things," and refused her cookies. Even behind the gymnasium, when she had begged him to eat them, his hands had been trembling faintly.
*(That trembling back then...)*
*(It wasn't rejection.)*
*(He was afraid to eat them.)*
"[serious]So don't bake for someone else anymore. Bake for yourself."
Ryuuji's voice seemed to resonate directly deep inside Airi's head.
"[serious]Not for that guy. Not to be acknowledged by anyone. You — bake your own cookies."
*For yourself.*
Those words dropped straight down, deep into the shattered depths of her heart.
"[crying]...Uu... uwaaaaaahhh...!"
As if a dam had broken, tears came flooding out.
They were deeper, more violent tears than when Haruto had told her in the gym, "I've never seen you that way."
She wasn't sad. She wasn't suffering.
It was just that, for the first time, someone had so directly affirmed her existence — affirmed her cookies.
*(I wasn't baking my cookies for Haruto.)*
*(It wasn't for anyone else. I just... wanted to bake them.)*
Ryuuji had made her realize that truth.
The tears wouldn't stop.
After a while, when her crying had quieted a little, Ryuuji silently sat down next to Airi on the kitchen floor.
He didn't rub her back or offer any kind words. He simply sat at the same level, on the same floor, staying beside her in silence.
That felt incredibly comforting.
How much time had passed?
With her face still a mess of tears, Airi sniffled.
"[whispers]...I'm going to become a patissier. Not for anyone else — for my own dream."
She declared it out loud.
Ryuuji, still leaning against the wall, closed his eyes.
"[gentle]...Do that."
A short, single phrase.
He stood up and shoved his hands into his slacks pockets.
"[cold]The after-party. You can still make it. Whether you go or not — you decide."
Saying only that, he turned on his heel and started walking toward the front door.
Airi stared blankly at his retreating figure.
At the kitchen doorway, Ryuuji stopped for just a moment. He didn't turn around.
But she caught a glimpse of his profile, just barely.
The corners of his mouth, usually drawn tight and cold, were ever so slightly relaxed.
*(Ah...)*
A sensation like her chest being squeezed tight overwhelmed Airi.
It was completely different from her ten-year unrequited love for Haruto.
This was hotter, more painful — but the warmth at its core was as certain as a cookie fresh out of the oven.
*(What... is this?)*
*(What did I just feel?)*
The sound of the front door closing echoed in the distance.
Airi picked up one of the cookie crumbs from the floor.
A heart shape, split clean in two.
But Ryuuji had said it was "the best in the world."
Airi put the fragment into her own mouth.
A bittersweet cocoa taste.
But just a little bit sweet.
*(I'm going to bake my own cookies.)*
She stood up. Her legs trembled faintly.
She looked at the kitchen clock. It was just past ten at night. The after-party campfire should still be burning.
Airi stared at the kitchen oven.
It was still warm.
She decided against baking the next batch.
Instead, she took off her apron and washed her tear-stained face with cold water.
The face reflected in the mirror was a terrible sight, her eyes swollen bright red.
But deep within her pupils, she felt they shone far stronger than before.
He had said: *Whether you go or not — you decide.*
In that case — she would go.
For herself.
Airi shoved her feet into her sneakers at the front door.
In the living room, her mother was watching her with a worried expression.
"[surprised]Oh, Airi, where are you...?"
"[serious]...School. There's somewhere I have to go."
Saying that, Airi dashed out into the darkness of the night.
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