"We don't always fall in love in the sunlight. Sometimes, it happens between raindrops."
The rain came earlier this time.
Before homeroom even started, the windows were already fogged with mist, and puddles had begun to gather beneath the row of sakura trees lining the courtyard. Spring was trying to bloom, but the skies hadn't caught up yet.
Kazuki didn't bring his umbrella again.
He didn't even hesitate when the final bell rang. His body moved on instinct now — bag over shoulder, headphones around his neck, shoes soaked by the third block of pavement. He liked the quiet walk. The way the world muffled itself under rainfall. It made everything feel like it was moving slower, like time was waiting for something.
Maybe someone.
The bus stop came into view, half-shrouded by a curtain of rain.
And she was there.
Ame.
He still hadn't said her name aloud. Not to her. Not to anyone. It felt like a fragile word, like something that would crack if spoken too loudly.
This time, she was standing instead of sitting — staring up into the gray sky, her umbrella hanging loosely in her hand like she'd forgotten it had a purpose. Raindrops slid down her cheeks, but she didn't blink them away.
Kazuki stepped under the shelter and didn't say anything.
Neither did she.
They just listened. The rain was heavier today. Not violent — but thick enough to make the world feel smaller. Like they were standing in a bubble of sound, everything else blurred outside of it.
"I forgot my book," she said after a while.
Her voice was soft, but not uncertain. As if she'd been thinking about saying it for a while and only now decided the rain was loud enough to make it okay.
Kazuki glanced at her. "That the first time you've missed a Thursday?"
She looked at him, and for the first time, really smiled.
"Maybe."
They stood a little closer than before. Still a gap, but not quite a meter this time.
"The vending machine was sold out," he said suddenly.
"Hm?"
"The milk tea. It was gone."
She looked down. "I liked that one."
"You never said."
"You never asked."
He laughed, a small thing in his throat. The kind of laugh you let out only when you realize someone else was thinking about the same moment as you.
"I'll bring two next time. Just in case."
Ame didn't reply, but her fingers tightened around the handle of her umbrella.
Lightning flashed in the distance — enough to light the edges of the clouds, no thunder. The rain thickened again for a moment, like it had been holding back.
Kazuki sat down on the bench.
Ame stayed standing, back facing the street, watching the falling drops with a gaze that felt distant and alive at the same time.
"Do you like the rain?" he asked.
She tilted her head. "I like the space it gives me."
He thought about that. "Space?"
"Mm." She leaned against the pole beside the bench. "When it rains, people move faster. They rush. Go home. Stay inside. It makes the outside feel more… mine."
Kazuki nodded slowly. "You like having places to yourself."
"Don't you?"
He didn't answer immediately. Then: "I think I like them more when you're there."
She turned her head. The rain filled the pause that followed — heavier, but not angry. Just insistent. Like it wanted them to hear it too.
"That was a strange thing to say," Ame said.
"Yeah," Kazuki agreed. "Sorry."
She didn't look away. "Don't be."
Their bus was late. It didn't matter.
They didn't check their phones. Neither of them pulled out books or music or anything else to fill the space. The rain was doing enough.
A car drove past, splashing the edge of the road. Kazuki instinctively stepped forward to shield her legs, even though the splash didn't reach them.
Ame blinked.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing. I thought—"
"You're strange."
He smiled. "Takes one to know one."
The silence that followed wasn't silent at all.
It was rain hitting metal. Tires sloshing through puddles. The rustle of wet leaves behind the fence. And underneath all of it, something like warmth.
The bus came fifteen minutes late.
They got on without a word.
This time, Kazuki sat beside her.
He didn't ask. She didn't invite. It just happened.
The bus was nearly empty anyway. The driver glanced in the mirror and didn't seem to care.
They sat quietly.
Rain streaked the windows. Ame's shoulder brushed his for a moment when the bus turned. She didn't move away.
Kazuki didn't breathe.
When the bus stopped at her stop, she didn't stand immediately. She looked down at her umbrella, then out the window.
"I'll see you next Thursday," she said.
He didn't say anything back. Didn't need to.
As she stepped off the bus, Kazuki reached up to the fogged window.
He wrote her name.
Just once.
雨
Ame.
This time, she turned around on the sidewalk. Saw it.
And smiled.