Photo of a Rainy Day

The lecture hall smelled faintly of chalk dust, coffee, and the collective despair of students pretending to understand visual theory.

I sat near the back, half-listening to the professor ramble about “emotional semiotics in modern advertising,” while sketching camera angles in the corner of my notes. It wasn’t that I didn’t care — I just couldn’t focus when my brain still felt like it was buffering from lack of sleep.

“Bro, bro! You’re spacing out again.”

The seat beside me creaked as Ryo Saitou turned on it — a walking caffeine dependency in human form. His hair was an uneven mess of brown strands that looked permanently windblown, his bright hoodie wrinkled. His eyes, however, had that dangerous sparkle of a man about to say something profoundly stupid.

“Did you see the new Rin Tsukishiro commercial?” he whisper-shouted, like we weren’t in a lecture. “She was glowing, man! Like, divine intervention glowing! I think I ascended for three seconds.”

“You also said that about your ramen last week,” I murmured without looking up.

“I stand by that. It was transcendent.” Ryo slammed his hands on his desk, causing a few of our classmates to turn around and shush him like a pack of snakes.

“No, seriously! She’s divine. I’m telling you, man, if I ever met her in person—”

Before I could respond, another voice cut in. It was calm, clipped, and absolutely done with our existence.

“You’d faint,” She said flatly. That was Kanae Fujimoto — short black bob, round glasses, immaculate posture, and the emotional range of a tax auditor. If Ryo was the fire, she was the ice that refused to melt in the face of his stupidity.

“And then sue yourself for emotional damage.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Ryo shot back dramatically, pointing a finger at her like an anime protagonist. “I have charisma.”

As was evident together, they formed the perfect storm of chaos and deadpan.

“Why don’t you pay attention for once? I’m pretty sure you confuse enlightenment with high cholesterol,” she added.

“Hey! Don’t ruin art with logic,” Ryo protested.

“Then stop calling your stomach ‘a temple.’”

I stifled a laugh. These two could turn a funeral into a stand-up show.

“Anyway,” Ryo said, ignoring her, “you still doing that internship at Arclight, right? Dude, that’s the dream. You’re literally breathing the same air as idols. You lucky bastard.”

I took a lazy sip of canned coffee. “Yeah, I’m inhaling dreams of stardom and unpaid overtime.”

“Come on, man! Have you seen any celebrities yet? Even a distant glimpse of Tsukishiro Rin? Just once, that’s all I need!”

I gulped slightly but kept my cool. Naturally there was no way I could actually tell anyone I was THE Tsukishiro Rin photographer lest I wanted my head on a pike by sundown. Especially to this lunatic.

“They keep us in separate areas,” I said, “Security reasons.”

Kanae gave me a side glance. “You said that last week…”

“Because it’s still true.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“No!” Ryo vehemently disagreed, “If you had seen Rin-chan, your aura would’ve changed. You’d be glowing, too!”

“I’m glowing from stress.”

“The idol glow has properties you can’t comprehend!”

The professor dismissed us soon after, and the room erupted into stretching, chatter, and the sound of collective freedom.

Ryo turned to me instantly. “Alright, drinks tonight. Izakaya, my treat.”

“Your treat?” Kanae blinked. “You have money?”

“I have faith in my washing dishes skill,” he countered.

“That’s not legal tender.”

I was halfway through zipping my bag when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen.

*Nakahara Saya*

My stomach dropped a little.

I opened the message quietly beneath the desk.

“Are you available this evening? Rin-san needs assistance calibrating her home camera setup for tomorrow’s indoor test shoot. Shouldn’t take long. Please confirm.”

I groaned internally.

Of course. Because why rest when you can suffer from embarrassment and worry about becoming a scapegoat?

“Can’t,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Got work.”

“Again?” Ryo gasped like I’d announced my engagement. “What kind of internship tortures you this much?!”

“The creative kind, pal.”

Kanae squinted. “You look… guilty.”

Her bullshit detector was the last thing I needed right now.

“Guilty of wanting a stable job, yeah…” I sighed dramatically, “cut me some slack!”

Ryo pointed at me dramatically. “You better not be lying to us, man. If you secretly met Rin Tsukishiro and didn’t tell me, our friendship would be over!”

“Relax. If that ever happens, you’ll be the first person I don’t tell.”

“And your life too!”

“Valid. I wouldn’t trust Ryo with kindergarten gossip.” Kanae nodded, standing up.

I checked the time — 5:43 p.m. Clouds outside were darkening, and thunder murmured faintly in the distance. Did I pack my umbrella again?

Then again, I think I had bigger things to worry about right about now.

“Drinks are on rain check,” I said. “If I survive tonight, maybe tomorrow.”

“Bro, one day you’ll take a photo so good the universe gives you a vacation,” Ryo called as I walked off.

“That’s a given,” I muttered, “I’ll frame it.”

ΧΧ

Saya insisted on driving me instead of sending a courier. “It’s faster,” she said — but her tone made it sound like she was technically forced to.

The sky was already bruising when we stopped in front of Rin’s building. “She knows you’re coming,” Saya added, her hand resting on the wheel. “Just calibrate the equipment and leave when you’re done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, grabbing my bag.

She gave me a long look before adding, “And don’t touch anything you don’t have to.”

Right. No pressure.

I took a breath and hit the intercom.

“…Yes?” her voice crackled through, warm but slightly surprised.

“It’s Mikazuki. Saya-san asked me to check the camera setup.”

A short pause, then—

“Oh! Right. Please come up.”

Please come up.

Those three words alone nearly short-circuited me more than the gear I came to fix.

There was no way I’d believe you if you told me I was paying a visit to Tsukishiro Rin a few days ago.

The elevator hummed softly as I ascended, each ding feeling like a countdown to something I wasn’t mentally prepared for.

Her door opened before I could even knock twice.

“Ah, Mikazuki-san,” Rin greeted, wearing a loose cream sweater and beige shorts — casual, simple, but somehow effortlessly graceful. Her hair was tied in a lazy side ponytail, a few strands framing her face.

She didn’t look like the idol on posters. She looked… human. Comfortable.

“Good evening,” I said, trying to remember how language worked. “Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s okay. Please, come in.”

I stepped inside, yet I couldn’t shale the image of her in home clothes out of my mind. She was absolutely adorable damn it!

Almost as if on cue, she looked down at herself.

“Ah—sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone to actually come this late. I didn’t think to change.”

“Hey, you’re at home…” I scratched my cheek, “You don’t have to look like you’re on a movie set.”

“Still… I’ll be right back.” She smiled politely and strode down the hallway.

Phew, I exhaled. Maybe it was for the best. I don’t think I’d have much focus calibrating that camera with her looking like that around my peripheral vision.

I took my time to look around her apartment. It was clean. Not sterile-clean, but tidy in a lived-in way.

A couch, a few books stacked neatly, a TV she probably never had time to use.

And in the corner, the culprit: a half-assembled camera tripod beside a large LED ring light that looked like it had declared war on her patience.

“Hm…” I looked at it. Soon, Rin arrived, standing beside me.

“Sorry for the wait.” She followed my line of sight.

“I tried to set it up,” she admitted, scratching her cheek with a shy laugh. “But it… blinked at me and made a bad sound.”

“Yeah, sounds like a camera alright,” I said, crouching down to inspect it. “It’s basically a toddler that costs ten grand.”

“Oh…” she exhaled, smiling, “That explains it…”

I smiled faintly. “But don’t worry, I’ve tamed worse.”

For a few minutes, the only sound was quiet tapping and clicking — me adjusting focus rings, her hovering nearby, probably wondering if I knew what I was doing. Spoiler: I actually did for once.

“Could you turn off the light for a sec?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said, walking over and flicking the switch. The room dimmed instantly, lit now only by the window glow of the approaching storm.

“Perfect,” I muttered, running one last test shot.

A soft click.

The image on the screen looked balanced, warm, natural.

Done.

“Well,” I said, standing. “Mission accomplished. You officially have a fully operational recording setup. Congratulations on leveling up.”

Rin clasped her hands together lightly. “Thank you, Mikazuki-san! You really are reliable.”

“Careful saying that,” I said, unplugging a cord. “You’ll jinx it.”

She laughed — a soft, tired sound that still managed to fill the space.

Then a flash of lightning illuminated the entire apartment.

We both turned toward the window.

Outside, the previous drizzle had evolved into a downpour — fat raindrops hammering the glass, wind hissing through the balcony rails.

“Ah…” Rin murmured, frowning slightly. “It’s gotten worse.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Too bad I forgot my boat at home.”

Rin giggled a little. She quickly checked her phone.

“Oh, no! Trains are delayed.”

I blinked. “Really? That fast?”

“I’m sorry…” she said immediately, like she caused it herself. “You can wait until it settles, if you’d like. It’s dangerous to go out now.”

I looked at the storm. Then at her.

Right. Totally normal evening. Just chilling with Rin Tsukishiro at her apartment.

Could my camera bag function as a life raft?