The Name I Didn’t Say

The sound of rain striking the windows woke him before the alarm went off. Haruto lay in bed, watching the droplets form small rivers that slowly trailed down the glass. It was a gray day, and he didn’t mind. Gray days seemed to demand less from a person.

He arrived at school a little earlier than usual—not because he wanted to, but because his grandmother had made him leave sooner “so you don’t get too wet.” He wore his school jacket, his hair slightly damp, with a few drops still clinging to the strands.

As he left his umbrella at the entrance, he remembered the girl from yesterday. He didn’t know why. Maybe because, in the midst of the gray, her image still appeared in his mind in clear and vivid colors.

In history class, Haruto barely listened to the teacher. He was staring out the window, following the path of the rain on the glass, when a shadow stopped beside his desk.

“Um…” —a gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

It was her. She had the same calm expression as before, but this time she wasn’t carrying books in her arms. She held out a folded sheet of paper.

—“I saw this fall in the hallway yesterday. I think it was inside one of your notebooks.”

Haruto carefully took the sheet. It was a math assignment, with his name clumsily written at the top.

—“Thanks… again,” —he said, realizing his heart was beating faster than he wanted to admit.

She nodded, as if there was nothing special about the situation, and returned to her seat on the other side of the classroom.

The rest of the day, Haruto kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Not because he wanted to start a conversation, but because he felt a strange curiosity, as if every one of her gestures revealed something he couldn’t quite figure out.

At dismissal, when he finally decided to say something more, she was already too far away, walking through the rain with a white umbrella. Haruto followed her with his eyes until she turned the corner and disappeared.

It was then he realized—he hadn’t even asked her name.

And for some reason, that bothered him.

That night, before falling asleep, he thought of only one thing:

Tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll ask her.