The rain came suddenly, without warning—heavy, merciless, soaking.
Aoi stood at the entrance of the school building, gripping the strap of her bag. She hadn't brought an umbrella. She never checked the weather.
She wasn't alone.
Mizuki stood a few steps away, untouched by the rain under a black umbrella. The fabric stretched above her like a shadow, and for a moment, she looked like she belonged to another world entirely. Her white shirt clung slightly to her collar, damp at the edges. She didn't seem to mind.
She didn't look at Aoi either.
Until she did.
Their eyes met. It was only a second—but it felt like being pinned down, like being seen too clearly.
Aoi looked away first.
"Forgot your umbrella?" Mizuki's voice broke the silence. It was smooth, the kind that didn't ask questions—it pulled you in before you realized you'd answered.
Aoi nodded.
Mizuki didn't move. She didn't offer. Just stared at her, as if waiting for something.
"What?" Aoi asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Mizuki stepped forward slowly. "You could ask."
Aoi blinked. "Ask what?"
"To share."
It wasn't fair how easily Mizuki could turn anything into a dare.
Aoi opened her mouth, then closed it. She hated how warm her face felt, how unsure her hands were. "…Can I walk with you?"
Mizuki smirked.
She lifted the umbrella slightly and took one small step closer. Close enough that their shoulders brushed. Close enough that Aoi could smell the faint trace of something sweet—like peaches or soft shampoo. Her hand was gripping the umbrella handle loosely, and the other—free, ungloved—rested by her side.
Aoi shifted under the umbrella, feeling her breath catch as Mizuki tilted it ever so slightly toward her. The small gesture made her chest tighten.
They walked in silence, their steps strangely synchronized. Each drop of rain that hit the pavement echoed like a beat between them. Aoi kept her eyes forward, but every part of her was aware—of the way their hands almost touched, of Mizuki's faint breath near her ear, of the warmth radiating between them in the narrow space.
"Is this how you always walk with strangers?" Aoi whispered, more to herself than to Mizuki.
"I don't walk with strangers," Mizuki replied.
Aoi glanced at her.
"And what am I?"
Mizuki looked straight ahead. "You're not a stranger."
It wasn't a confession. It wasn't anything that simple. But it was enough to make Aoi's pulse quicken.
By the time they reached the train station, the rain had slowed, but the air was still heavy with something unsaid.
Aoi stepped out from under the umbrella and turned to Mizuki. "Thanks."
Mizuki didn't say anything. She just leaned slightly forward, close—too close—and used her thumb to brush away a single raindrop from Aoi's cheek.
Their eyes met. Again.
And again, Aoi felt like she was standing at the edge of something she didn't understand. Something she might fall into.
Mizuki pulled back first.
"Don't forget your umbrella next time," she murmured. "I don't always share."
And with that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Aoi stood still for a long time, heart pounding beneath soaked fabric, her cheek still burning from a touch that wasn't supposed to matter—but did.