Under One Roof: Riku's Romantic Ruckus

The Monday after the festival dawned gray and sluggish, mirroring the exhaustion that clung to Riku as he trudged into Yamato High. The weekend's high had faded into a dull ache—hours of setup and teardown, his mom's pointed warnings, and Haruka's fleeting vulnerability all swirling in his head. He rubbed his eyes, wishing for a reset button, and nearly bumped into Aiko at the school gates.

"Morning, knight," she said, her smirk a lifeline in the morning haze. She carried a steaming coffee cup, her hair swept into a loose ponytail that danced in the breeze. "You look like death."

"Feel like it," he grumbled, falling into step beside her. "Festival hangover's brutal."

She handed him the coffee, her fingers brushing his with a spark of warmth. "Here. You earned it after saving the haunted house."

"Team effort," he said, taking a sip and grinning. "But I'll take the caffeine."

Her smirk softened, and they walked in companionable silence, their shoulders brushing as the school loomed ahead. The halls buzzed with post-festival chatter—praise for Class 2-B's haunted house mingling with whispers about Yuna's antics and the inevitable rumors about Riku and Aiko's teamwork. But beneath the noise, a new tension simmered, one Riku couldn't quite name.

---

### Homeroom Hush

Class 2-B was quieter than usual when they slipped in, the festival's aftermath leaving everyone subdued. Haruka sat at her desk, sketching absently in her notebook, her usual brightness dimmed. Mika was already buried in a novel, her presence a steady calm, while Yuna sprawled across two chairs, grinning like she'd won a war.

"Morning, chaos crew!" Yuna chirped, waving a crumpled festival flyer. "Heard we're legends now—haunted house champs!"

"Legends with detention if you don't sit up," Aiko shot back, dropping into her seat beside Riku. Her knee nudged his under the desk—a silent tether.

Yuna straightened with a mock salute, but her grin faltered as Emi entered, her steps hesitant. She offered a small wave, avoiding Riku and Aiko's gaze, and settled near Haruka. The air thickened, a ripple of unease threading through the group.

Mr. Tanaka strode in, clipboard in hand, his grin tempered by fatigue. "Great job at the festival, everyone," he said, tapping the desk. "Class 2-B's a hit. But let's refocus—midterms are coming."

Groans rippled through the room, and Riku sank lower, the coffee doing little to lift his mood. Aiko smirked, whispering, "Think we can haunt our way out of exams?"

"Worth a shot," he muttered, grinning despite himself.

But his eyes drifted to Haruka, who hadn't looked up from her sketch. Something was off—her laughter at the festival had been real, but fleeting, and now she seemed… distant. He nudged Aiko, nodding toward her. "She okay?"

Aiko followed his gaze, her smirk fading. "Dunno. She's been weird since the trip."

Before they could speculate, the bell rang, and class rolled on, the tension simmering beneath the surface.

---

### Lunchtime Tangles

The rooftop at lunch was their refuge, though the gray sky cast a muted pallor over the concrete. Aiko sprawled beside Riku, her bento open, her legs stretched out as she tossed a rice ball into her mouth. Yuna lounged nearby, regaling Mika with exaggerated tales of festival heroics, while Haruka sat apart, picking at her food with a distant look.

Riku nudged Aiko, keeping his voice low. "She's off again."

"Yeah," Aiko murmured, her gaze sharpening. "Something's up."

She stood, brushing off her skirt, and sauntered over to Haruka. "Hey, sunshine," she said, plopping beside her. "What's with the gloom?"

Haruka blinked, forcing a smile. "Oh, nothing. Just tired."

"Bull," Aiko said, her tone playful but firm. "Spill it."

Haruka hesitated, her fingers twisting a chopstick. "It's… silly. Forget it."

"Not forgetting," Aiko pressed, nudging her. "Come on, we're a team."

Haruka sighed, her voice dropping. "It's about the festival—and the trip. Seeing you and Riku… it's great, really. But it's also… hard."

Aiko's smirk faltered, understanding dawning. Riku, overhearing, felt a pang in his chest. He'd known Haruka had feelings once, but he'd thought they'd moved past it.

"Hard how?" Aiko asked, her tone gentler.

Haruka shrugged, her smile wistful. "I'm happy for you—honest. But sometimes it stings, you know? Watching you two."

Aiko glanced at Riku, her eyes searching, then back to Haruka. "You don't have to watch. You're part of this mess too."

Haruka laughed softly, the sound fragile. "I know. I'll get over it—just need time."

Riku stood, joining them, his voice steady but careful. "Hey, Haruka. You're not alone in this, okay? We're still friends—always."

Her smile warmed, though her eyes stayed shadowed. "Thanks, Riku. I'll be fine."

Yuna, sensing the shift, swooped in with a grin. "Aw, group hug time? I'm in!"

She tackled them, arms flailing, and the tension broke in a burst of laughter. Mika glanced up, smirking faintly, and the rooftop settled into a tentative peace—though Riku knew Haruka's words would linger.

---

### Homefront Heat

Dinner at the Sato house was a pressure cooker waiting to blow. Hana had been simmering since the festival, her questions sharper each day, and tonight she struck. As she set bowls of miso soup on the table, her gaze pinned Riku and Aiko like a hawk.

"So," she began, her tone deceptively casual, "I heard more about this camping trip. Notes, sneaking—sounds like a soap opera."

Riku nearly choked on his rice, coughing as Aiko's foot nudged his under the table—a silent *brace yourself*. "It's not like that, Mom," he said, recovering. "Just dumb pranks."

"Pranks," Hana echoed, her eyes narrowing. "And Emi's involved again? That girl's name keeps popping up."

Aiko's spoon clinked against her bowl, her smirk tight. "She's a friend, Aunt Hana. That's it."

Hana's gaze flicked to her, unrelenting. "Friends don't write creepy notes. What's really going on, you two?"

Riku's dad lowered his paper, his grunt a rare sign of interest. "Hana, let it go. They're kids."

"Kids who live here," she countered, her voice rising. "I need to know if—"

"We're together," Aiko cut in, her tone firm, her hand finding Riku's under the table. "That's what's going on. We've told you before."

The room went still, the air thick with unspoken words. Hana's eyes widened, then softened, a mix of frustration and resignation settling in. "I know," she said finally, quieter. "But it's not simple, Aiko. Not with family, not with school."

"We're handling it," Riku said, squeezing Aiko's hand. "We're careful—grades are fine, everything's fine."

Hana sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fine doesn't mean easy. Just… don't make it harder than it needs to be."

The silence stretched, broken only by his dad's grunt. "Soup's good," he said, retreating behind his paper.

Aiko's foot brushed Riku's again, her smirk returning—a small victory in the storm.

---

### Nighttime Knots

Later, with the house hushed, Riku and Aiko lingered in the hallway, their doors ajar. She leaned against the wall, her pajamas loose, her hair spilling over one shoulder. "Your mom's relentless," she said, her smirk tired but warm.

"Always," he replied, stepping closer. "But she's softening—maybe."

Aiko snorted, brushing his cheek. "Optimist."

"Realist," he countered, catching her hand. "We're tougher than they think."

Her smirk faded, her eyes searching his. "Haruka's words got to you, didn't they?"

He sighed, nodding. "Yeah. Didn't expect her to still… feel that."

"She'll be okay," Aiko said, her voice firm. "She's strong. And we're us."

"Us," he echoed, pulling her into a slow, steady kiss—a knot tightening, not unraveling. Her hands slid up his back, grounding him, and when they parted, breathless, she grinned.

"Night, knight," she whispered, slipping into her room.

"Night," he murmured, watching her go, the tangles of their lives tightening—but holding firm.

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