Chapter 7: Rainy Day Umbrella

The forecast had promised sun. Haruto distinctly remembered the weatherman’s cheerful voice assuring everyone that today would be clear skies with a gentle breeze. So of course, halfway through the school day, the clouds rolled in, dark and heavy, before splitting open with sheets of rain.

By the time classes ended, the school courtyard was a blur of umbrellas—bright colors, patterns of polka dots, stripes, and plain blacks all bobbing toward the gates. The steady rhythm of raindrops against the roof filled the hallways as students groaned at the sudden downpour.

Haruto sighed, tightening the strap of his bag. He had forgotten his umbrella. Again.

“Haruto-kun~!”

He turned, and there was Yui, of course. She stood by the window, her translucent figure framed by raindrops sliding down the glass. Somehow, she didn’t look out of place. Like the rain belonged with her, clinging to her presence.

“You’re going to get soaked,” she said, pouting. “Didn’t bring one, huh?”

“Don’t remind me,” Haruto muttered.

But then, rummaging in the side pocket of his bag, his fingers brushed something. He pulled it out, blinking in surprise.

“…Wait. I do have one?”

It was small—a compact folding umbrella his mother must have slipped into his bag. Navy blue with frayed edges, barely big enough for one person.

Yui clapped her hands. “Lucky! You’ll survive.”

Haruto sighed in relief. Then paused. Because Yui was still there, looking longingly at the students below as they huddled under umbrellas, laughing and running through puddles.

“You…” Haruto began, then stopped himself. She wasn’t really there. She didn’t need an umbrella. Rain couldn’t touch her.

But Yui tilted her head at him, lips curved in a gentle smile. “What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing,” he said quickly, snapping the umbrella open.

The courtyard smelled of wet concrete and earth as he stepped outside. The umbrella was, unsurprisingly, too small. Within seconds, his shoulder was damp, water sneaking past the edge.

Yui skipped along beside him, not a single drop clinging to her hair or uniform. She looked down at the puddles with fascination, as if each reflection held some secret only she could read.

Then, softly, she said, “Haruto-kun… Can I?”

He turned, confused. “Can you what?”

Yui stepped closer, so close he could see the tiny droplets of rain refracting through her like she was glass. “Share the umbrella with you.”

Haruto nearly tripped. “Wh-what? You don’t even need it.”

“I know.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “But I want to.”

His throat went dry. The umbrella already barely covered him, but she slid closer anyway, leaning in until their shoulders nearly touched—except they didn’t. She had no weight, no warmth. Yet somehow, the closeness was enough to send heat rushing to his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, adjusting the umbrella unnecessarily.

“Maybe.” Her eyes softened as she looked up at him, her lashes long and glistening despite being untouched by rain. “But this feels nice.”

For a moment, Haruto forgot the cold drizzle sneaking onto his shirt. All he could see was the way Yui’s face lit up as though the umbrella really did protect her.

They walked like that, two figures beneath one small navy umbrella—though only one of them truly sheltered.

---

The streets were quieter than usual, the rain muffling the usual chatter of shopkeepers and the clatter of bicycles. Haruto focused on the rhythm of droplets against the umbrella, trying to ignore how self-conscious he felt.

“Haruto-kun,” Yui said after a while, her voice quieter now, almost uncertain.

“Hm?”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the gray sky before settling on him. “…Do you think I’m strange?”

The question hung between them, heavier than the rain.

Haruto blinked. “Strange? Why would you think that?”

Yui laughed softly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Because no one else talks to me. No one else sees me. Only you.”

Haruto felt his chest tighten. He wanted to tell her the truth—that yes, it was strange, terrifying even, that he might be losing his mind. But looking at her—her hopeful smile, her delicate presence—he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“You’re not strange,” he said firmly, surprising even himself. “You’re… Yui.”

She tilted her head, her expression unreadable for a second. Then, slowly, her smile bloomed again. This time, it was warm, like sunlight piercing through clouds.

“…Thank you,” she whispered.

Haruto rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly flustered. “I mean, you’re a little strange. But in a good way.”

She giggled, the sound light and sweet, like bells in the rain.

For the rest of the walk, they didn’t speak much. But the silence wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, filled with the sound of raindrops, the patter of shoes splashing through puddles, and the quiet closeness of two people who had no business sharing an umbrella, yet somehow made it feel perfectly right.

---

By the time they reached the corner near Haruto’s house, the rain had thinned into a drizzle. Yui stopped, her hands clasped behind her back.

“This is your stop,” she said softly.

“You’re not coming in?” Haruto asked before he could stop himself.

Her smile was gentle, wistful. “Not today. Besides, I’ll just get in the way.”

“You wouldn’t.” The words slipped out, and Haruto immediately felt embarrassed.

Yui’s cheeks turned pink—not that anyone else could see. “You’re kind, Haruto-kun. Too kind.”

She stepped back, her form shimmering faintly as if the drizzle itself carried her. “Tomorrow?”

“…Yeah. Tomorrow.”

And then she was gone, vanishing like a mist as the rain cleared.

Haruto stood there a while longer, staring at the empty space beside him beneath the umbrella. He was damp, chilled, and utterly bewildered.

But for the first time in a long while, he felt strangely warm inside.