Chapter 6 : The Rain

Chapter 6 : The Rain
"Sometimes, kindness is just a trap with softer teeth." — Adam

The amusement park buzzed with color and chaos, neon lights flickering against the overcast sky, laughter rising above the shrieks of coasters overhead. Akane had woken up unsure about today, but Riku bailed last minute for cram school, and somehow that left her, Adam, and Ellie stepping into a world that felt too bright for what any of them were carrying inside.

 They tried everything. Bumper cars, target shooting, the haunted house that made Ellie scream and grab Adam’s arm,  he flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away. Akane laughed at a stall, winning a tiny plush bear and giving it to the nearest child who stared at her wide-eyed. Even Adam, in his quiet, withdrawn way, seemed softer. Less sharp-edged. Like maybe, just maybe, this boy wasn’t all thorns.

They ate yakisoba, shared takoyaki, and Adam surprisingly paid for taiyaki shaped like fish. Ellie joked about teachers. Akane smiled, watching them banter lightly. The tension between them hadn’t disappeared, but it had… shifted.

When Akane excused herself to use the restroom, Ellie and Adam remained on the bench by the fountain, the day softening around them. Ellie tapped her juice with her thumb, silent for a moment. Then, without turning to face her, Adam spoke.

“Komamura was using you.”

Ellie froze mid-sip. “Excuse me?”

“He never loved you. He just liked owning you. That’s the difference.”

“You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know cages. You were in one. I broke it. You should be thanking me.”

She finally turned to him. “You’re insane.”

Adam tilted his head slightly. “No. Just more honest than you’re used to.”

“You should’ve minded your own business.”

 “I don’t do that.”

The fountain gurgled between them. Ellie stared at him like trying to decide if he was a villain or just broken beyond repair. But before she could answer, Akane returned, brushing hair from her eyes, and neither said another word about it.

 They walked Ellie home together. Her house was close, and she gave them a small, awkward wave before stepping inside. The sky had dimmed, painted in a deep slate hue, clouds swelling above them

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” Akane murmured.

 They didn’t even make it three blocks before the downpour began. A quiet patter at first, then a sudden roar. They darted beneath a tree, but Adam looked toward the road, water already soaking his shirt.

“My place is close,” he said. “Unless you want to get pneumonia.”

She hesitated, then nodded. There was something about the way he said it, not demanding, not gentle. Just a simple truth. So she followed. 

They passed a park. Under the swingset, a high school boy had a girl by the arm. She couldn’t have been older than eight. The boy’s voice was low, threatening, muttering something about her giving him what she had in her pocket. Akane grabbed Adam’s sleeve.

“Let’s not get involved.”

 But he was already walking. Silent, direct, eyes locked on the scene like a loaded gun.

“Oi,” Adam called, voice calm but sharp. “You picking on little girls now? That what makes you feel big?”

The boy turned, startled. Adam stepped forward, expression unreadable. The older kid mumbled a curse and backed off quickly, mumbling something about ‘not worth it,’ and disappeared into the rain. The little girl looked up at Adam, sniffling, shivering.

 He knelt and handed her the chocolate bar he’d won earlier.

“Eat this. And go home.”

She nodded, bowed quickly, and ran off

Akane stood behind him, watching. That smile he gave the girl, small, sincere, it didn’t look like a mask. It looked real.

She stared at him like seeing him for the first time. How could the same person who had humiliated her in front of class, who bit her like a predator claiming prey, be the one kneeling in the rain giving a crying girl chocolate?

 The wind howled louder, and the rain doubled.

“We should go,” he said.

She followed him silently to a narrow apartment building. Inside, the air smelled like soap and faint lavender. His place was clean. Not neat, obsessively tidy. Everything had its place. The floors gleamed. His bookshelf was color-coded. The knives in the kitchen were aligned perfectly

He handed her a towel. “You’re soaked. Bathroom’s down the hall. There’s a hoodie and pants you can wear.”

Akane nodded, flustered. “T-Thanks.”

The bathroom was warm. She undressed quickly, wringing water from her shirt, and slipped into the oversized hoodie. It smelled like him, something like mint and smoke. She stared at herself in the fogged mirror.

He helped that girl. He gave her food. He cooked. He kept his home spotless. So why was he so… twisted?

When she stepped out, she saw him in the kitchen, wearing an apron, sleeves rolled up, whisking eggs in a bowl.

Her heart stuttered. It was absurd, but cute. The apron was too big. His expression was focused, serious, like he was defusing a bomb instead of making omurice. 

She blinked, stunned, caught between chibi thoughts and dread

“Omu rice okay?” he asked without looking

“Y-Yeah. Orange juice too?”

 “Already poured. Call your parents. Let them know you’re staying. Power lines might go down.”

She called. Her mother sounded worried but told her to stay safe, even if it meant staying the night. She hung up, cheeks burning.

 Dinner was quiet. The food was good. Better than good. She couldn’t stop staring at his hands, until he reached for the soy sauce and she saw them clearly.

Burns. Cigarette marks. Dozens of them

He noticed her staring. Slowly rolled his sleeves down

The silence returned.

Later, he laid a futon on the floor, told her she could take the bed. She was too dazed to argue. He said he’d go take a bath and pointed to the shelf stacked with manga

The lights flickered once, then died. Complete darkness

She screamed

“Adam!” she yelled, running through the hallway, barefoot, terrified.

She crashed into him just as he stepped out of the bathroom, steam still clinging to his skin.

The emergency lights flicked on

Her scream died in her throat.

His body, it wasn’t just cigarette burns. There were scars. Deep ones. Ugly. Crosshatched on his back, his chest. Like someone had carved him into pieces and stitched him back together. 

She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

“What… is that?” she whispered, horror-struck.

 Adam looked at her. Eyes dark. Void of emotion

“The past,” he said.

And the storm outside roared louder, like it too remembered everything that hurt.

 TO BE CONTINUED…………..