Us, Beneath the Rain

By the time I exited the subway station, the rain had upgraded itself from ‘minor inconvenience’ to ‘biblical event.’
    Cold sheets of water hammered the pavement, carving tiny rivers down gutters, bouncing off manhole covers. Even under the overhang, the damp chill had worked its way through my clothes.
    It was still a decent walk home. Whether I strolled or sprinted, I was getting soaked either way. I’d accepted my fate and let the rain welcome me like an old debt collector.
    The streets had emptied out, save for the occasional car zipping through the downpour across puddle-filled asphalt. I ducked beneath the overhang of an old row of shophouses. The wooden beams creaked overhead under the weight of pooling rainwater, but at least they offered temporary sanctuary.
    A flickering television screen in a shop window caught my eye.
    A music video featuring a certain starry-eyed teenage idol was playing on loop. I recognized that song anywhere—who wouldn’t—it had gone viral enough to brainwash half the nation. Never really clicked with me though.
   Possibly because I had the emotional bandwidth of a toaster most days.
  Anyway—
  The upbeat melody cut out, replaced by a news broadcast.

Breaking News: Suspected Gas Leak Causes Building Explosion—Investigation Ongoing.

  Footage of scorched metal and toasted concrete filled the screen.
  My stomach clenched. Even through the warped imagery, I recognized it immediately.
  Yamada’s office.
  That’s where Chiyo had taken me a couple of days ago.
  No names. No casualty count. Just footage of wreckage, playing on loop like some kind of polite disaster montage.
  Did an asteroid drop on his place over the weekend or something? How did something like that even happen?
  Was this the ‘storm’ Chiyo had mentioned?
  Good god.
  My brain, ever the helpful little disaster machine, insisted on finding new ways to spiral into darker places.
  The next headline had rolled in.

Bus Accident in Miyagi—Severe Weather Conditions a Likely Factor.

  “—Bus is believed to have skidded off the road from heavy rain.”
  “—Possibility of survivors close to none.”
  “…A tragedy.”
  The last comment didn’t come from the TV.
  I wasn’t alone under the awning.
  He stood quietly against the far wall—a man draped in a dark trench coat, cigarette glowing faintly between two fingers. Wisps of smoke drifted upward, dissolving aimlessly into the rain.
  His gaze stayed on the screen.
  “So many misfortunes in one day,” he muttered. “Strange how everything starts to feel connected, doesn’t it?”
  Was he talking to me?
  Sensing my attention, he turned his head just enough for his hat to block his face.
  With a casual flick, he dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his heel.
  “Stay dry, kid.” His voice barely carried through the rain. “Weather like this has a way of catching people off guard.”
  And then he simply walked off into the rain before I could offer a reply.
  Weird dude.
  A low rumble of thunder grumbled overhead, as if chiming in with its own commentary.
  The TV had already switched back to the idol’s performance—her bright, cheery voice blasting through the gloom, completely oblivious to the mood.
  I pulled my hood lower and trudged back into the storm.

At some point, I’d reached the bus stop near my neighborhood. The rain had escalated into full orchestral drama. The world around me had been reduced to sheets of falling water, swirling wind, and the occasional burst of passing headlights.
  My jacket was long past the point of usefulness, clinging to me like soggy regret.
  I just wanted to get home.
  But something made me pause in my tracks.
  Across the street, beneath the opposite shelter of the empty bus stop, sat a familiar figure.
  Even through the curtain of rain, I knew exactly who it could be.
  A lone girl, hunched forward on the bench. White hair clinging to her face in damp strands. Shoulders drawn tight to herself as water pooled beneath her shoes.
  I crossed the road, shoes splashing through the shallow streams.
  The poor girl was like an abandoned cat.
  “Nozomi?”
  Her amber eyes blinked open slowly at my voice—duller than usual, as if she hadn’t quite made it back to reality yet.
  “…Kaoru?” she rasped. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was so thin it barely reached me over the rain.
  “I could ask you the same.”
  “…Bus never came.”
  Laziest excuse imaginable, but I let it slide.
  Her body slumped as if it was taking a colossal effort just to sit upright. She was clearly exhausted, bordering on the point of fragile.
  I crouched beside her.
  “Are you hurt?”
  “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
  A lie so transparent I could’ve walked through it.
  She attempted to stand, but her knees buckled halfway through. I caught her shoulders before gravity did.
  “Yeah, no. I don’t feel like watching you test how well the pavement handles head trauma.”
  “Go home, Kaoru.”
  “I was going to—except there’s this girl here who looks like she’s about to collapse in the middle of an apocalypse. Kind of hard to ignore, honestly.”
  She made a small, irritated noise—the kind people make when their pride wants to argue but their legs have already called it quits.
  “Why don’t you come to my place? It’s close by, and my sister and I can help you out. Just until you’re feeling better.”
  A bolt of lightning tore across the sky in the distance. I felt her shoulders tense beneath my grip before they finally sagged like the rest of her had conceded.
  “…Fine.”
  I didn’t wait for her to change her mind.
  “Alright. I’m carrying you,” I announced, crouching down before she could argue. Complaints could be filed later—I was prioritizing efficiency.
  I was mildly surprised that she didn’t make an even bigger fuss about it and instead let herself settle against my back.
  What was even more surprising was how unnaturally light she was—I could have been carrying a bundle of damp laundry for all I knew.
  For someone so weightless, she felt like she was carrying the weight of another world.
  And for tonight—
  Just for tonight—
  I’d decided to help carry it with her.

I barely had time to reach for the knob before the door clicked open from the other side.
  Azusa stood in the entryway, her expression shifting rapidly from curiosity to confusion as she took in the extra passenger slumped against my back.
  “Welcome home…?” Her whiteboard hovered mid-air, uncertain. Her eyes flicked between me and Nozomi, blinking like her brain was buffering.
  “Yeah, I, uh—” I adjusted my grip. “Can we get her inside first? Questions later.”
  Azusa nodded and stepped aside, already vanishing down the hall before I could say thanks.
  “I’ll get towels,” she wrote on the fly.
  Carefully, I lowered Nozomi onto her feet, still supporting her by her shoulders as she swayed unsteadily.
  “Just a little more. We’ll get you warm and dry.”
  She gave the barest of nods, which probably took all she had.
  Azusa returned quickly, arms loaded with towels. She immediately slowed when she got a proper look at Nozomi.
  Apparently, she’d caught on to something I didn’t.
  “Something wrong?” I asked.
  She paused—then shook her head with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and handed me the towels without a word.
  I brushed it off for now and gave her the rundown of how I’d found Nozomi soaked and half-frozen at the bus stop.
  “…So I figured she could stay for a bit. At least until dinner.”
  Azusa listened silently, then nodded in agreement.
  “I don’t see why not.”
  “Anyway,” I said, gesturing between them, “this is Nozomi—my classmate. Nozomi, meet my younger sister, Azusa.”
  “…Hello,” Nozomi murmured, dipping her head politely. “Pardon the intrusion.”
  Azusa raised her whiteboard again, neat strokes forming quickly. “Nice to meet you, Nozomi. It’s not much, but please make yourself at home.”
  With introductions done, I turned back to Azusa.
  “Think you can help her get cleaned up while I start dinner?”
  Azusa nodded, this time with more confidence, and moved to Nozomi’s side, offering her arm for support.
  Instead of fighting it—like she always did with me—Nozomi let Azusa lead her without so much as a sigh.
  What’s with this difference in treatment…
  I swear, this girl saves all her energy just for making my life harder.
  Once they disappeared down the hallway, I let out a long breath, towel-drying my own hair while the faint sound of running water filled the apartment.
  I flicked on the TV out of boredom than any actual desire for enlightenment.
  “...Extremely heavy rain is expected to persist overnight, potentially lasting until dawn.”
  I changed the channel.
  “Multiple train delays have left commuters stranded due to severe flooding in—”
  Click.
  “Citizens are urged to stay indoors and monitor emergency broadcasts for further updates—”
  Another click.
  “Authorities caution against unnecessary travel due to worsening conditions—”
  Amazing. Journalism was truly peaking tonight.
  Annoyed, I shut the TV off altogether and headed to the kitchen instead.
  Not exactly the night for culinary ambition.
  I wasn’t about to pretend I was some kind of kitchen god just because we had a guest.
  A quick fridge raid later, I settled on ramen and stew.
  Perfect for when you don’t feel like holding a conversation—or thinking too hard.
  Well then.
  Let’s get started.

I was setting the table when I sensed movement behind me.
  Turning, I spotted Nozomi standing at the corner of the room, watching in silence.
  Her damp hair clung softly to her shoulders, and an oversized shirt hung off her frame—slightly askew, one shoulder exposed.
  Hold up… That shirt looks familiar—
  My eyes travelled down. The hem reached well past her waist, brushing against her thighs. On her, it looked less like a borrowed shirt and more like an emergency oversized nightgown.
  And for some reason, that particular mental comparison was enough to make my brain blue-screen for a second.
  Azusa popped up behind her, entirely unaware of my ongoing internal meltdown. She tapped her whiteboard and shot me a mildly troubled look.
  “She couldn’t fit my clothes. Had to borrow yours.”
  Now it all made sense.
  A rumble echoed across the room.
  Azusa and I both turned toward Nozomi, who quickly lowered her head. Her arms shifted over her stomach—a subtle, but unmistakably embarrassed gesture.
  “Come sit,” I said with a chuckle, motioning toward the table. “I made enough for everyone.”
  “Are you sure…?” Nozomi asked hesitantly.
  Azusa didn’t bother writing this time—just gently tugged her sleeve in silent insistence.
  “You heard her. Get over here already.”
  After a moment’s pause, Nozomi relented, taking the seat beside Azusa, who was already eyeing the food like it was a seasonal limited-time offering.
  “It’s nothing fancy,” I said, setting her plate down. “But I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
  Nozomi glanced between the dishes, then at Azusa, who clapped her hands together in silent thanks before diving in.
  “Thank you for the food,” Nozomi murmured, following suit.
  I watched her take her first bite.
  She paused after swallowing, her expression unreadable.
  “…Was it that bad?”
  She shook her head.
  “It’s good.”
  “My brother may be a problem child in various ways, but he’s a pretty good cook,” Azusa wrote with an exaggerated nod.
  “The first half wasn’t necessary, dear sister.”
  Azusa stuck out her tongue like the little gremlin she was.
  Partway through dinner, she scribbled another question.
  “What were you doing earlier, Nozomi?”
  Nozomi’s hand paused mid-reach for another bite. She lowered her spoon slightly.
  “I… had work.”
  “You mean like a part-time job?”
  She responded with a small, stiff nod.
  “What kind of job has you running around alone in weather like that?”
  A long silence followed. When she finally spoke again, her voice was a tad lower.
  “…It was something only I could do.”
  Azusa and I exchanged a quick look.
  “Can you… elaborate?” I asked, keeping my tone careful.
  A faint tension flickered across Nozomi’s face.
  “You don’t have to answer,” I added quickly, sensing her hesitation.
  Azusa frowned, clearly debating whether to press further. Her fingers hovered above the board like she was considering her next move.
  I gave her a tiny shake of my head—an unspoken not now. She paused, then quietly lowered her marker with a slight, reluctant nod.
  “I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. That really wasn’t the intention here.”
  “No… it’s alright.”
  Her words came out thin, as if she was trying to compress herself smaller than the space she occupied.
  Then, after a fragile pause, she dropped the next part like loose change falling out of a pocket.
  “…I’ll leave after dinner.”
  “You can stay as long as you need,” I said, keeping my tone light, like I was offering the obvious choice. “The weather’s not exactly letting up.”
  “But… I can’t impose on you.”
  Azusa tapped her shoulder gently, then pointed at her whiteboard with emphasis, leaving little room for argument.
  “You should stay the night! It’s not safe outside.”
  Nozomi hovered on the edge — her pride clearly prepping an objection while her better judgment was busy waving tiny surrender flags.
  “Look. It’s really not a big deal. We’ve got space, warm food, dry clothes. The alternative is you going out there and earning yourself a one-on-one interview with hypothermia. I don’t recommend it.”
  Azusa delivered the finisher: “Also, your clothes are still in the wash.”
  Nice one, sis. I gave her a subtle thumbs-up.
  “…Only if it’s not a bother,” Nozomi finally whispered after having been convinced.
  “Of course it’s not,” Azusa wrote, smiling. “We’re friends, right?”
  Nozomi looked a little surprised at the word friends—almost like it hadn’t occurred to her until now that someone might use it for her. Even I was caught off guard. My sister, of all people, landing the emotional heavy-hitter first.
  She didn’t respond immediately, but she didn’t object either.
  “Well then,” I said, taking the non-response as agreement. “That’s settled. Now eat while it’s still warm.”
  Azusa grinned like she’d just won a minor skirmish. Nozomi stayed quiet, but the tension in her shoulders eased ever so slightly. Dinner continued without further issue.
  Once we’d finished, Nozomi offered to help with cleanup, but I waved her off.
  “Go rest. You’ve had a rough day.”
  “But—”
  “I’m not letting our guest do the dishes. Shoo.”
  Azusa, reliable as ever, tugged gently on her sleeve. He’s right. Come with me, her body language practically said.
  With no choice but to relent, the two disappeared down the hall.
  I let out a quiet chuckle, rolling up my sleeves.
  A minute later, I felt rapid taps against my back.
  Azusa was back alone. Her whiteboard tucked behind her back, and a mischievous grin plastered across her face.
  “What now?”
  She flipped the board around.
  “I’ve left the bathwater for you, so enjoy your private bath~”
  Then she darted off like some chaotic gremlin who’d just pulled off a perfect heist.
  “…That was oddly specific.”
  Not that it was weird—we’d shared bathwater plenty of times before. The way she phrased it though practically made it sound like there was a blinking trap activated sign floating above her head.
  Still puzzled, I grabbed a towel and headed for my well-earned bath.
  The moment I opened the door to the bathroom, I was immediately hit by lingering scent of shampoo. A single damp white strand clung to the tiles near the drain like an incriminating piece of forensic evidence.
  Oh.
  That’s when Azusa’s earlier charade made a whole lot more sense.
  And that’s where my traitorous brain decided to seize control.
  Images flashed through like some forbidden slideshow: white hair, porcelain skin, steam curling off barely-covered curves—
  NOPE. No. Absolutely not. Abort. Immediately— 
  I practically slammed the emergency shutdown button inside my head.
  Rubbing my face like I was physically trying to wipe away the mental damage, I muttered a prayer—or maybe a cease-and-desist letter—to my subconscious and sank into the bath.
  …And somehow, despite everything, I ended up soaking longer than I meant to.
  For… reasons.
  The kind of reasons only teenage boys armed with questionable self-control and overactive imaginations would fully understand.

Good thing my brain had finally adjourned its late-night committee meetings by the time I stepped out of the shower.
  After quickly herding my scattered brain cells back into place, I knocked on Azusa’s door.
  A muffled shuffle came from inside, and the door cracked open slightly. Azusa peeked out, eyes already gleaming with mischief, whiteboard in hand.
  “Did you enjoy your bath?”
  “Yes, I did, thank you very much.”
  She stifled a giggle behind her sleeve, clearly pleased for some reason.
  “You’re very welcome.”
  I peeked past her into the room and found Nozomi seated on Azusa’s futon, hair freshly brushed and flowing neatly over her shoulders. She seemed more relaxed—though still stiff enough to pass for a slightly misplaced museum exhibit. Azusa’s pillow sat in her lap, offering its services as emotional backup.
  “Something wrong, dear brother?” Azusa scribbled quickly. “Do you perhaps want to join in on our girl talk?”
  I returned a flat stare.
  “Not even remotely.”
  “Then what is it?”
  “Just checking if you two needed anything. Fruits? Drinks? Early rescue operation?”
  Azusa tilted her head, feigning deep contemplation. Then scribbled her verdict with expert timing:
  “Is this about Nozomi?”
  “You know what, I’m going back to my room before you start getting ideas.”
  She giggled in absolute silence, flashing a two-finger salute before sliding the door shut behind her with a little too much flair.
  …I could still remember how she was when she first met Chiyo. That woman’s chaotic energy must have rubbed off on my sister somehow.
  In any case, there was no denying it—Nozomi was definitely in good hands tonight.
  With that settled, I headed back to my room.
  Plopping down at my desk, I flipped open my notebook, determined to make at least some progress on summer homework.
  Time, as always, slipped out the back door while I pretended to be productive.

One blink, and reality came knocking, rudely evicting me from my unplanned desk nap. The clock was less than subtle about it. Its digits glowed like an accusation against my existence.
  2:08 AM.
  The incandescent halo of my study lamp draped shadows across the half-finished worksheet crumpled beneath my elbow.
  Outside, the rain had simmered down to a deceptive hush, but the air still retained its humidity, like wearing a damp towel over my skin. Suppressing a yawn, I stretched, joints popping in protest, and decided to get a drink.
  Nozomi had quietly slipped out of Azusa’s room, easing the door shut behind her.
  “Can’t sleep?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
  She flinched slightly, amber eyes wide—like a midnight-cookie-thief caught in the act—before smoothing her expression back into its usual guarded calm.
  “…Something like that.”
  “You need anything? I was about to grab a drink.”
  “Me too.”
  “Go have a seat then. I’ll bring something.” I said, gesturing her to the couch.
  Nozomi nodded and padded over while I disappeared into the kitchen.
  A few minutes later, I returned with two steaming mugs and offered one to her, which she accepted wordlessly.
  She gave it a cautious sip, then lowered the mug slightly, brows furrowing in surprise.
  “…It’s sweet?”
  “Honeyed milk,” I explained. “Works wonders when you’re trying to bribe your brain into sleeping. Especially for my sister when she was younger…”
  “I see…”
  She glanced toward Azusa’s room, probably picturing her sisterly host peacefully unconscious on the other side of the door, then took another sip.
  “From the way your sister sleeps now, it’s hard to imagine she ever struggled with it.”
  “She had a rough patch growing up,” I admitted. “Took a while before things quieted down.”
  Nozomi blew gently over her mug, gaze still lowered.
  “…And you?”
  “Me?”
  “Do you struggle to fall asleep as well?”
  “Sometimes. Not so much lately.” I rolled my shoulders, swirling the liquid gently inside my cup. “Lately, I’ve been trying to finally move forward. Letting the past camp rent-free on my shoulders isn’t exactly a long-term lifestyle.”
  Nozomi studied me silently with an indiscernible expression.
  “…That must be nice,” she said eventually. “Being able to decide something like that. I find it… admirable.”
  I let out a soft chuckle. “I can’t take full credit. If it weren’t for the people around me, I probably wouldn’t have gotten this far.”
  Nozomi lowered her mug slightly, taking on a more distant tone.
  “…I wonder.”
  “Hm?”
  “What’s it like?” she murmured, like she was borrowing the question from someone else’s life. “To have people like that?”
  She didn’t sound like she expected an answer.
  “What about you?” I asked instead. She tilted her head lightly.
  “What about me?”
  “Do you ever think about the future? What you want for yourself?”
  She exhaled a short, humourless breath.
  “For as long as I can remember… I’ve never thought about it. It never felt like an option.”
  I frowned, lowering my mug onto the table.
  “Do you not have any goals? Something you want to do?”
  She leaned back against the couch, gazing up at the ceiling like searching for constellations in an imaginary sky.
  “…Not really. It’s not something someone like me should think about.”
  That struck a nerve somewhere.
  “You really do talk like someone who signed a legally binding contract to hate themselves.”
  She blinked, clearly thrown off by my sudden tone shift.
  “I have no idea why you insist on punishing yourself for simply existing,” I added with no remorse. “Secretly a masochist, are you?”
  “What? No! Of course not—!”
  Her face flushed instantly. Coupled with the wide-eyed look, she was completely flustered.
  I allowed myself a dry smile.
  “Look…” I softened. “I won’t pry. But you don’t have to act like you don’t deserve normal things. Friends. Safety. People who care.”
  Her fingers tightened subtly around her mug as some difficult-to-parse emotion flickered across her face.
  “Just like the people who helped me,” I continued, “I want to do the same for you. If you’ll let me.”
  She stared at her drink, wearing the same distant expression again.
  “…I don’t think it’s something you can fix,” she whispered. “But… I appreciate you saying it.”
  “Then how about we start simple. Let’s be friends.”
  She looked at me like I’d handed her a pamphlet for a club she didn’t sign up for. But the edge of her expression lightened.
  “…Do whatever you like.”
  I felt my cheek twitch in satisfaction. My first verbally binding agreement with Nozomi.
  “Awesome. Here’s to the start of a lasting friendship.”
  I raised my mug in a toast. Nozomi huffed faintly but followed suit with her own sip.
  “So… what did you and Azusa talk about earlier?” I asked, breaking the silence again. “You two already swapping secrets?”
  “Just some girly things.”
  “Oh really… anything I should know?”
  “…We did discuss a little bit of you.”
  I let out a quiet breath through my nose. “Figures.”
  “You sound surprised,” she said, sounding intrigued.
  “A little. Azusa’s normally shy with strangers. Yet you two got along weirdly fast. I swear, she’s surprised me at least five different times today.”
  Nozomi lowered her eyes, idly tracing the rim of her mug with one finger.
  “She’s kind… and earnest, too.”
  “That she is,” I agreed with a chuckle. “I guess she saw something in you.”
  She glanced up with a sceptical tilt of her head.
  “You’re that confident?”
  “Call it a brother’s gut feeling.”
  She took her sweet time, possibly consulting some internal committee of hers before speaking up again.
  “Azusa also mentioned the summer festival this weekend.”
  “Yeah?” I glanced over my cup.
  “I could tell she’s really looking forward to it.”
  “Oh, absolutely.” I stretched my arms overhead, letting out a yawn. “Been a while since she had something fun to be excited about. Let me guess—she tried roping you into it?”
  “Mm-hm.”
  “Sounds like her,” I pointed out and smirked. “So? Did it work?”
  “I didn’t give her a definite answer.”
  “Are you considering it?”
  She rested her chin on her palm, eyes half-lidded in thought.
  “I don’t know. It’s not really something I’ve ever thought to do before.”
  “Then maybe you should.” I shot her a sideways grin. “First time for everything.”
  Once again, I remembered a certain aunt-niece duo who had convinced me of the same thing.
  Funny how I was now pitching the very thing they’d once dragged me into.
  Hard not to feel like a bit of a hypocrite at this point.
  But I guess I couldn’t really turn them down anymore.
  Her lips parted, then closed again as if she’d lost whatever argument she was preparing.
  “Kotoha’s performing. She’d be happy if you showed up.”
  At this point, I was just tossing out whatever bargaining chips I had left.
  “…Fujimiya too?”
  “Yeah. Is that an issue?”
  “No… not at all,” she said quickly. “I was just… thinking about how close you two seem.”
  “We’ve known each other a long time. She looks out for us.”
  Nozomi let out a vague “Hmm,” but didn’t touch any more on the topic.
  “I think it’d be nice if you could join us.”
  Her fingers curled a little tighter around the mug.
  “…I’ll think about it.”
  Sounds like a hit.
  “Good enough for me.”
  It was nice seeing and conversing with this… less guarded side of Nozomi for a change.
  Now if only this good mood between us would last…
  Without warning, a blinding flash lit up the entire apartment like a camera flash at point blank.
  Less than a second later—
  BOOM.
  A deafening thunderclap detonated outside, loud enough to rattle the windows.
  Before I could register the sound, something soft collided against me.
  Nozomi had instinctively thrown herself toward me, fingers gripping my sleeve tight. I might as well have been a human lightning rod.
  Her body pressed against mine, radiating warmth through the fabric.
  Oh god. She smelled ridiculously good.
  Beneath the sweet scent of shampoo, I could feel the faint rush of her breath somewhere near my collarbone—more than enough to short-circuit my brain.
  Neither of us moved an inch.
  Steady, idiot. Now’s not the time to die from olfactory overload.
  My heartbeat briefly forgot how to pace itself.
  “You okay?” I asked, miraculously able to form a sentence.
  Nozomi stiffened as if just realizing how close she was. Her hands unclenched from my sleeve, retreating as quickly as they’d arrived. She angled her head away, voice barely audible.
  “Sorry… I’m fine.”
  “Right. If you say so.”
  “I should… get some sleep,” she said, clearing her throat.
  “Yeah. Me too,” I nodded in agreement, pretending I wasn’t still hyper-aware of her lingering warmth.
  She hesitated just long enough for my heart to make it weird, then finally whispered, “Goodnight, Kaoru.”
  “Goodnight, Nozomi.”
  Without another word, she turned and slipped back into Azusa’s room, the door clicking shut behind her.
  I sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty couch.
  That was peak awkwardness from teenage proximity between introverts.
  Finally, I let out a slow exhale, rubbed both hands down my face, and shuffled off to return the mugs before retreating to my own room.
  I barely hit the mattress before my brain fired up an unsolicited highlight reel—complete with frame-by-frame commentary and unnecessary zoom-ins.
  Not just the accidental closeness, but the small things. The way she’d been opening up, the way she’d smiled when talking about Azusa.
  And the way I was starting to notice her in ways I really, really shouldn’t.
  I faceplanted into my pillow, mentally screaming at my brain to shut the hell up.
  This was going to be one of those nights.

Morning came late for me.
  The rain had spent itself overnight, leaving only minute beads of morning dew upon the glass. Sunlight barged itself in through the thin gaps of my curtains, prodding at my face with all the subtlety of a restless toddler.
  The surrounding air felt cool but not overly cold—forming a sweet balance where breathing felt oddly therapeutic.
  A much-needed reset, undoubtedly.
  Groaning half-heartedly, I pried myself upright, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes. Surprisingly, my brain was already reporting for duty—more functional than it had any right to be after last night.
  The delicious scent of something buttery and toasted wafted in, confirming that someone else had officially declared today open for business.
  I shuffled out toward the living room, half-dragging the rest of my consciousness along behind me, and found Azusa already stationed at the table, whiteboard standing by like my personal assistant.
  “Good morning, sleepyhead! Breakfast is already ready.”
  At the other end of the table sat Nozomi, still clad in my oversized shirt. She looked up at me, offering a small nod.
  “Good morning, Kaoru.”
  “Oh… morning.” My voice came out scratchy as I pulled out a chair. “You girls didn’t have to wait for me.”
  Azusa shook her head lightly, as if saying it was no trouble at all.
  “We figured you’d be up soon. Azusa also wanted you to praise her for preparing breakfast by herself,” Nozomi added helpfully, acting as Azusa’s translator.
  Azusa huffed loudly, flipping her whiteboard around.
  “You helped too!”
  Nozomi shook her head.
  “It was mostly you. I only set the table.”
  “Well, even so—thanks, Nozomi,” I said.
  Azusa puffed out her cheeks.
  “Me too?”
  “Yes, you too, Azusa,” I added, giving her the full ceremonial head-pat she so clearly craved.
  Satisfied, she happily bit into her toast, swinging her feet under the table.
  As I reached for my cup of juice, my fingers accidentally brushed against Nozomi’s for a split second.
  My brain, ever the opportunist, immediately threw last night’s little scene back on the projector.
  Nozomi, meanwhile, seemed completely unbothered.
  Is this how character development arcs begin? One night, one girl, one slightly overcooked piece of toast, and suddenly everything starts to change?
  …It’s just you, idiot.
  I shook it off and focused on breakfast, pretending my ears weren’t mildly overheating.
  Toward the end of the meal, Azusa tapped the table to get our attention.
  “I have something to show you both!”
  "What is it?” I asked, squinting at her with cautionary interest.
  Instead of answering, she hopped up from her seat and disappeared into her room, only to return moments later with a neatly folded bundle in her arms.
  Nozomi, who had been quietly finishing her food, paused with mild interest.
  Azusa unfurled the fabric with the grand ceremony of a game show prize reveal—revealing a pale blue yukata embroidered with delicate floral patterns.
  “…Hang on. Where did that come from?”
  “It was in the package of clothes Chiyo got for us!” Azusa wrote, practically vibrating with pride.
  My neurons took the scenic route before catching up.
  Chiyo.
  A vague memory resurfaced—her quick word with Shigure before we left the store.
  My lips parted slightly in realization. Then pressed together again.
  “That woman…”
  Before I could comment further, Azusa had already moved into Full Stylist Mode, holding the yukata up to Nozomi like a tailor taking measurements.
  “Azusa… maybe now’s not the time—”
  Too late. Azusa was on a mission.
  With a few precise adjustments, she stepped back, eyes sparkling.
  “It’s a perfect fit!”
  “Whoa. It actually does look that way,” I agreed after glancing it over.
  “Now we both have matching outfits!”
  Azusa practically buzzed with excitement.
  Nozomi, on the other hand, looked caught somewhere between flustered and paralyzed—like a cat that had been unexpectedly dressed in doll clothes and wasn’t sure whether to flee or freeze.
  I couldn’t help the faint grin tugging at my lips.
  “Looks like you’ve got even more reason to come to the festival now.”
  “…I’m not so sure about that,” she murmured in partial disagreement.
  Azusa doubled down immediately, unleashing her full arsenal of wide-eyed innocence.
  “Please, Nozomi! I really want to go with you!”
  Nozomi's eyes bounced helplessly between Azusa’s face and her whiteboard, then eventually landed on me—pleading silently for an escape hatch. I crossed my arms, smiling like the cruel bystander I was.
  “You really can't say no to that face, can you?”
  She released the quietest sigh imaginable.
  It wasn’t quite a surrender, but Azusa accepted it as nothing short of victory.

“…Are you sure I should accept this?”
  Nozomi stood at our doorstep, the yukata folded neatly in her arms. She could’ve passed for the same distant girl I first met—except something about her felt a little more… put together now.
  It might’ve just been me projecting, but I hoped this version of her would stick.
  Azusa shot me a look; I barely smothered my grin. We both knew who was responsible for this.
  “Just take the goodwill, courtesy of a certain meddlesome woman I’m not naming,” I said, slipping my hands into my pockets. “It’ll save us all some trouble.”
  Nozomi’s brows drew together for a moment, but she held back from asking more. Instead, she bowed her head slightly.
  “…In that case, thank you for everything.”
  Azusa cheerfully raised her whiteboard like a signboard at a concert.
  “Come hang out with us again!”
  Nozomi paused, amber eyes sweeping between the two of us. For a moment, it looked like she was committing the scene to memory.
  As she stepped into the morning light, I called after her—
  “Then… I’ll see you at the summer festival?”
  She slowed, glancing over her shoulder just long enough for that small, fleeting curve to tug at the corner of her lips.
  “See you.”
  Then she was gone.
  Just like that, I’d officially wrapped up my first non-family sleepover with zero mental breakdowns and one vaguely hopeful morning after.
  History books, take note: I might be actually growing as a person.
  This would probably be where the narrator brings up the turning point of the story, but hey—let’s not jinx it.