The morning of the T-University Entrance Exam did not bring the clear, crisp air of success. Instead, the sky was a bruised, heavy grey, and by 6:00 AM, the city was being swallowed by the worst blizzard in a decade.
Rika stood at the train station entrance, her knuckles white as she gripped her bag. The departures board was a sea of red text: DELAYED. CANCELLED. SUSPENDED.
"The main line is down," Rika whispered, her breath hitching. "A tree fell on the power lines three stations away."
She pulled out her phone. Her hands were shaking as she dialed Rentaro. It went to voicemail. She tried again. On the third attempt, he picked up, but the sound was drowned out by a rhythmic, metallic clanging.
"Rentaro! Where are you? The trains are stopped!"
"I know!" his voice came through, strained and breathless. "My bike won't start—the fuel line is frozen. I’m trying to kickstart it, but it’s dead, Rika. I’m going to have to run to the sub-line station, but that’s four kilometers away in two feet of snow."
Rika looked at the clock. The gates to the exam hall closed in forty minutes. If they weren't in their seats by then, the last year of work—the shifts, the midnight study sessions, the sacrifices—would be for nothing.
"Don't go to the sub-line," Rika commanded, her voice suddenly snapping into the "Command Center" tone she used during a 7-Eleven rush. "It’s uphill and the wind is hitting that side of the city harder. Meet me at the intersection of 4th and Main. There’s a delivery route that the city plows first."
"Rika, you’re already at the station! If you leave now, you’ll lose your spot!"
"I'm not going in without you, Rentaro! Move!"
Rika bolted out of the station, the wind nearly knocking her backward. The snow was blinding, stinging her eyes and soaking through her coat. She didn't care. She ran toward the intersection, her lungs burning in the freezing air.
She saw him through the white-out—a dark blur struggling through the drifts. Rentaro was staggering, his face pale, his coat covered in frost. When he saw her, he stopped, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"You're an idiot," he gasped, his teeth chattering as she grabbed his arm to steady him.
"I'm a partner," she corrected. "Now, run!"
They became a two-person engine. When the wind pushed Rika back, Rentaro stepped in front to break the gale. When Rentaro’s legs began to give out from the resistance of the deep snow, Rika pulled him forward, refusing to let him slow down.
They weren't thinking about physics or calculus now. They were thinking about the rhythm of their footsteps and the heat of their joined hands. They reached the gates of T-University with three minutes to spare. The proctors were already starting to pull the heavy iron doors shut.
"Wait!" Rentaro roared, his voice cracking.
The proctors paused, startled by the sight of two top-tier candidates looking like they had just survived a shipwreck. They were dripping wet, their hair matted with melting ice, their faces flushed a deep, painful red.
"Exam tickets," the proctor demanded, looking at them with a mix of pity and annoyance.
They pulled their crumpled, damp tickets from their pockets. The proctor checked the names. Shinozaki. Hanamachi. The two ghosts of the mock exams.
"You have two minutes to reach Hall 4," the proctor said, stepping aside.
They sprinted through the courtyard, their boots splashing in the slush. At the entrance to the hall, they finally had to stop. Rika’s breath was coming in ragged gasps, and Rentaro’s hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold his pen case.
"We made it," Rentaro whispered, looking at her. Even soaked and exhausted, she looked like a force of nature to him.
Rika reached up, adjusting the silver star necklace that had somehow stayed centered through the chaos. She looked at him—the boy who had run through a blizzard just to have a chance at a future with her.
"Win, Rentaro," she said, her voice a fierce, low command.
"You too, Rika."
They shared one last, crushing squeeze of their hands before the proctors directed them to separate aisles. As Rika sat down and opened her exam booklet, the silence of the hall felt different than it had a year ago. She wasn't alone in the quiet. Somewhere six rows behind her, she could hear the steady, familiar scratch of Rentaro’s pencil beginning to work.
The blizzard was howling outside, but inside, the fire was finally under control.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzDC15Nx9SE
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