Chapter 1: Umbrella

Welcome to high school life, where every single one of us wants to leave our best marks before we get into adulthood. For us, every second is another new thing. It's a chance for a fresh adventure and a new experience. Every day we wake up in the same environment but with different experiences as days go by. We're at that perfect, volatile age where the world is both a terrifying mystery and an open invitation. Every mundane moment feels charged with destiny, no matter where your place on the social ladder is.

Never had I heard something derogatory about high school life. The term itself is something to be proud of. Highschool is mainstream—we're at the center of the world. I have read novels and mangas where every protagonist was a highschooler, and even the strongest characters were at the same ages as ours. It's such a gift being part of this crowd, and I'm glad that I was able to make the most out of the past two years I've been here.

Hmmm, no. You might be thinking that I'm a popular guy because I was able to narrate a story in such a fine detail. Mind you, I am not part of any elite circle of friends or I'm a high ranker at the school. That's definitely not the best fit for me.

What I meant by making the most out of it—was maintaining my inner peace.

I prefer observing everything on the sidelines with strangers that pass through my life and never becoming friends with them.

Not only are they people I know nothing of, but strangers also leave behind an unpleasant feeling whenever I look at them. So I just keep myself brooding behind my dango stall and always ponder over the life outside, waiting for it to finally knock on my door.

I pulled out my phone in my apron and glanced at the weather app on it.

“November 5: 15°. Weather Today at Kobe: Clear Skies, 18°/10°”

That's what it said. I took it as a sign of a good time to sell at Yuenchi park. Clouds are heavy above, but that didn't stop life moving at the park. I had one hand rolling rice flour, the other holding a social study reviewer.

“Two mitarashi sets, please—I need an extra glaze,” a female student with silver hair said, leaning against the counter with an exhausted sigh.

Behind her, a group of students wearing the same uniform and blazers effortlessly discussed things towards one another. Right, another conversation that I can listen to but never be part of.

"Okay, on it." I immediately worked over her order with a smile on my face. My job philosophy is simple: A simple trading pattern. I'll take orders from the customers and serve it. In return, I would receive their payment. I'm used to it as it doesn't require me to think about anything else. This way, I can concentrate solely on the customer's request then move onto another one. But it seemed that this particular group of friends had different plans.

"Here's your order. The extra glaze would cost an additional 10 yen." I said, handing her the dango wrap.

She reached out for her wallet and paid. But as soon as she put away her money, another female friend of hers came rushing from the side and leaned on her shoulder gently.

“Thank you, Shonan cutie. Yunacchi needs it! Want to know why?”

I'm not in the right position to hear this. I mean, this is supposed to be a private conversation between girls. Besides, I'm not really curious, so I'll just assume that knowing why won't do me harm.

“Why?” I asked.

“You know, Yunnachi just got rejected!”

"Huh?!"

I don't know who reacted appalled first, the Yunacchi girl or me. All I knew was that she was already fuming with her cheeks puffing.

"Shiina-chan!" she protested. "Can you not say it like that right in front of him?”

“I mean, it’s not like he cares,” Shiina said, gesturing to me casually. “Right?”

I blinked in confusion. Technically, they were correct. I never really cared about customers' discussions in front of me, and they always treated me like I never had ears at all, but today was an exception.

“It’s fine. Extra glaze, right?”

The rejected girl took hers with a strained smile. “Thank you so much.”

I bowed briefly to send them off. However, as I rose up, I remained staring as she took the first bite.

“The balance of flavors is supreme! The cute vendor right there is a walking kitchen!”

“Already interested in him, Yunacchi?”

“Of course not! It's not like it's him that got my attention or anything. It's the dango, okay?! The dango!”

“Right, you can never reject it, unlike the basketball captain.”

“Shiina-chan!!!”

Their bickering trailed off into laughter, leaving behind the faint scent of citrus shampoo and heartbreak as they walked away. That's high school life for you.

Rejections, successes, happinesses, sadnesses, it's all part of it.

I thought the unusual day of me having extra interaction with customers ended there, but alas, it didn't. My grip on the saucepan tightened when I heard a trio of boys throwing insults and arguing over approaching the stall quickly.

"Why am I getting pinned here?! I already told you that Sawada punched me first!"

"Dude, he's soft. I'm only trying to spare you from the consequences."

"Damn it, you call him a softie after throwing a chair at me? Are you serious?"

The third one, who is calmly observing them, dropped 360 yen coins at the counter. I already knew what to do without them mouthing a word at all. It must be three sets of Hanami dango, which thugs like them really preferred. I prepared it with my usual speed and dexterity.

“What do you think, stall guy?” one of them said suddenly.

I paused wrapping their dango order. I am clueless what the latter part of their discussion tackled and heck, this was the part where a person like me would struggle giving an answer. It's an open ended question.

What should I tell them? Would I lie to their faces? Say that he was too kind to punch people out of the blue?

“I think chairs should stay where they are,” I replied.

For a moment, they stared. I wasn't prepared for a muffled "Pfft!" from the angriest guy in the group followed up by a burst of laughter from the rest.

"Ahhh hahaha! Nice joke there, bud!"

“Seems like ya’ mood flipped, huh?”

“Betcha.”

I'm not surprised when they just threw the wrappers on the store front, disregarding the trash bin prepared for them. Good riddance.

In the middle of the chaos that ensued, my peripheral vision caught a golden trail from a distance, moving gracefully and standing out against the crowd.

It was her, Kousaka Akari.

She walked past the line of students, her long golden hair catching the fragments of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Even in a sea of burgundy blazers and black backpacks, the colors struck like a brushstroke on a blank canvas—bold, emphasized, and impossible to ignore.

She casually sat on that bench and opened her sketchpad.

I paused mid-motion, looking at my watch. It was already 4:30 PM, the usual time of her arrival. The sea of students didn’t notice her at first, but the bystanders on my stall did.

“No, you're no match for a beauty like her, Yuki-kun. You'll just be another one of the countless victims of her rejection.”

I immediately turned to see a group of three students, two boys and a girl, having their glances locked towards the park bench where Kousaka-san sat.

“It’s not like that… I just…”

“Just?”

“Just want to know why she's always right here. It's kinda weird, you know?”

I would've asked the same question but I already made peace with it left unanswered.

Finally, the girl spoke up.

"Kousaka Akari is Shonan's bad news, right? She's probably secluding herself here because everyone knows how violent she is in the rumors.”

“You mean… when she knocked her delinquent classmate?”

"Un. And many more. I also remembered that incident at the sports festival preparations last month. That always gives me chills.”

Seriously, aren't they aware that a schoolmate, let alone her classmate, was just behind them? I'm not the one who typically reacts to these sorts of incidents yet I wanted to say:

She’s not bothering anyone. Sit somewhere else if you don’t like her presence. She's just drawing, how is that taken like a crime now? And can you stop cussing pathetically behind people?

Maybe they haven't taken into account that if rumors are all about the people I'm aware of, then I have the right to step out of business.

I'm not a fan of rumors, let alone bullies, because they're total pieces of crap.

Those thoughts stayed in my throat, pinned down by years of knowing better. I'd rather lose my valuables than my image—so instead, I just handed them their orders with a polite bow.

“Thanks,” one of them said, barely looking.

They walked away, taking the noise with them.

I've become concerned about the state of unease I am feeling after hearing what they just said, so I decided to wash my face at the public faucet.

"Damn, what's up with them?" I thought as the tap water rippled between the spaces of my fingers. I splashed it to my face, but neither could peel away the troubling feeling.

There were days that Kousaka-san drew stares from boys because of her beauty, and no one seemed to mind her then. But other days—like today—they acted like she was some kind of walking disturbance. I don't even see a reason why, because she just simply ignores anyone that tries to approach her.

As if her circumstances dictate how she should behave. As if she's obligated to smile, to wave, to be approachable. As if she owes anyone the effort of being “comfortable to be around.”

Ah, society is such a backpedalling concept.

As I rose from the sink, a drop landed on my uniform sleeve. I thought that was just a stray splash of water from the faucet but I was wrong.

It was raining.

It started slowly but steadily, with small droplets falling from the dark grey skies.

"Well..."

With one last look at my pocket mirror, I turned around and walked back.

My initial course of action was to continue my store operations—I had weathered storms so many times before, so I wasn’t worried at all. Besides, I hadn’t hit my quota for a net income yet, I would end up being tight on budget if I ever forced closure.

Patience is a great virtue itself, but it seems that the dark skies don't have that kind of attitude.

The rain immediately went torrential, making me withdraw back to the stall with feverish steps. The raindrops sizzled upon hitting the grill, and most of the park emptied in seconds—umbrellas bloomed like flowers, and shoes slapped wet pavement as people scurried for shelter.

Seeing all of this, I sighed in surrender and moved on instinct.

Remove the hairnet.

Hang up the apron.

Stack the skewers.

Seal the glazes.

Cover the baskets.

Close the grill.

Roll the shutters down.

Pull the umbrella from beneath the counter.

This is my routine. It wasn’t the anticipation of something bad happening under the rain, but the set of motions I’ve memorized in case it comes. It was the kind of muscle memory you build when you live alone—move first, ask questions later.

I’m halfway through tying down the tarp when I noticed her—

"Kousaka… san?"

The golden light was still there, and she hadn't moved an inch. I don't know why she was sitting there without an umbrella, or if she was waiting for someone. I withdrew the latter thought because she was always alone here and at school.

As far as I could tell, her sketchpad is still open. Pencil still in her hand, charcoal still dancing. Her bag is still laying quietly low below the bench.

The rain already soaked her dark blue Tokyo Yakult Swallows baseball jacket and the school blouse beneath it. For a normal person, that might’ve been a precursor to a high fever. But she doesn’t seem to mind the danger at all.

I told myself to look away. This isn’t my business. We had no common ground between the two worlds where we existed—between school and the outside, between being a classmate and a stranger.

She probably has an umbrella in her bag.

She probably likes the rain.

That’s what I said to myself. It’s an introvert’s instinct, see. I don’t need a psychology certification to guess accurately because I spent days being one myself.

Besides, she’s the kind of girl who would curse me out for assuming otherwise. She isn't hostile when left alone, but the moment someone crosses her line, that changes.

I'm her classmate after all, so I could say that the rumors were true. I could still remember the humiliation our class rep, Tsurugi-san, received after accidentally holding her wrist mid-argument, or the neck injury the delinquent Yuuya endured after she floored him with a clean roundhouse after hitting up on her.

I told myself these over and over—she’s a bomb that will explode at a moment’s notice. I had to thread carefully or I'll be the next victim.

But that caution seems to have failed me in the realization. Drizzles and thunderstorms are frequent especially in autumn, and I've seen her prepared for it before. She'll close the sketchpad, open her umbrella then casually walk away. Today was contrary to my expectations—it’s the first time she's staying below it. Was that the sole reason I was this emotional towards a stranger just across?

The rain blurred the distance between us, and she’s still not moving. It only gets stronger and stronger, dangerously cold even. I had to endure the internal battle—slip out of the scene and run back home, or succumb to pity and get decked like the people I mentioned before.

Yet everything tilted when I saw her hands. They were still drawing—but now… shivering.

I don’t know if that’s serene dedication or comic absurdity, either way, I found the situation amiss. There’s something about it—about the stubborn, stupid stillness of it—that breaks whatever numb logic I’ve built up.

Ah, fine. I found my body moving before my brain caught up.

I unwrapped the umbrella, its familiar weight in my hand feeling foreign now. It was heavy with doubt and impending danger.

I stepped into the rain. Not once I had thought crossing this invisible line between us.

Ten meters. That was all.

But this short distance between us might as well have been a gorge to cross.

I slowly approached with calm and measured steps, as if I was walking on water, and she’s a remnant of a sea creature that will pounce on her prey at a little miscalculation.

Then I stopped at a cautious distance in front of her, but still enough to cover her in the protection of my black umbrella.

This is the first time I had seen her this close. Gemstone earrings, branded necklace wrapped around her neck, luxury sandals, partially buttoned uniform exposing the line between contours of dignity and dishonor, and brown checkered school skirt inches shorter than regulation.

She should’ve earned herself a lot of romantic advances just on the first glance, but I knew better. I wouldn’t be easily fooled by external appearances.

For me, Kousaka Akari is a porcupine with golden spikes.

And what's more sharper than her spikes, was the blue eyes she sharply carried as she looked up at me.

Blue meets hazel, with Kousaka-san staring at me like I’ve just rewritten the rules of the world.

“…Who are you?”

My stomach dropped. Even though we had months of cohabitation in the classroom since she transferred, Kousaka Akari hasn't acknowledged my existence. I get it, I am a wallflower, an invisible observer, but her words sounded accusatory rather than a genuine question.

“I’m…”

A classmate?

A random stranger?

For a second, I feel like the Shonan High School uniform I was wearing was mere cosplay. Answers didn't come right away. I’m not good with words when it mattered.

“Answer me.” she spoke again, voice chiseled with frustration. “What are you doing?”

She watched me with a confused expression, as if it was a spectacle that a boy of her age did something decent like this.

“It’s raining.” I said finally.

“I can see and feel that, crystal clear.”

“But why are you still here?” I questioned. “You’ll catch a cold.”

I’m such a sick person for trying to conclude that to her, but that’s how science works. When your body temperature drops, it can temporarily weaken your immune system's response, making it harder to fight off viruses and bacteria. Did I explain that right?

“Worry about yourself or your dango stall. I don't need anything from you.” as she looked down and started sketching again.

Alright, suit yourself, Itsuki.

“I’m afraid that it wouldn't be possible.”

“Because?”

“You’re already part of my surroundings.”

That made her pause for a moment, giving me the time to spot her sharpened eyebrows.

“Huh? What kind of logic is that?”

“I hate seeing anomalies in the environment.”

“Huh?” as she sent me a questioning look.

My own words sounded foreign. I hadn’t prepared anything beforehand because I never expected to get this far.

I looked at my miserable state of being soaked in the rain—but it’s better than nothing. I have no valuables in my possession, and I feel that the sketchpad on her knees was a divine collection of her unspoken thoughts undeserving to crumble below the rain.

I shifted my glance to the trees, to the sky, everywhere but her.

“Sketching below the rain is anomalous. You don't see anyone doing it given the rain’s effects on paper. So I came in to correct that.”

I didn't know why I was explaining the science of paper to the most distant person in my class, but here goes nothing.

“I understand the motivation, and I am also aware that I shouldn't meddle in other people's business. But at least let your business stay dry.” I followed up.

“Why do you care this much?”

“Like I said, I’m correcting anomalies that I see. And I'm fighting the atmosphere, I guess.”

I heard the scribbles and scratches scroll down, sparing me from the consequences of this waiting game. I said it before that the only real weapon of weak people is silence, but now I know that it is just an option we psychologically retreat on.

“Stop that. You’re creeping me.”

As expected. That's what you get for being ambiguous, Itsuki. Simple phrases that strike down like lightning.

I leaned the umbrella closer to her, unhinged by her aggression.

“I’m just holding an umbrella.”

“And you’re too close.”

“I’m trying to reach you.”

“Tch, that’s even worse.”

Seeing that I didn't move at all, her glare only intensified.

She shut her sketchpad close. I didn’t have a chance to know what she’s drawing. That's not even why I'm here.

“You’re a dirty bug in the proximity of my personal space. Back away before you turn to the very paper you're prattling about.”

“If I backed away, you’ll get soaked and sick. We're both going to be hospitalized either way.”

"I’m aware," she countered. "I'm giving you one last chance."

"I'll only comply after you take this."

Her eyes narrowed, too uninviting. "Why are you insistent on this? I didn’t ask for help."

"Yup, and you're reacting as if I'm offering kindness. I didn’t offer kindness. It’s just an umbrella."

She scoffed. “So what, charity? Trying to look good on me or what?”

"No, efficiency. I’m already damp. You’re just half-drenched. This costs me less than it does you."

Indeed, I was hitting her with the same dry counterargument. But that didn't stop her from probing me.

"What comes after then? I’m indebted by a half-assed logic?"

“Not really. It's at your discretion. I don't care how you feel. If I need to feel good about what happened, that’s my problem, not yours.”

The rain kept pattering between us. She was still studying me—unsure if I was mocking her.

"You’re ridiculous."

"I received statements worse than that."

She blinked at the impasse. Then, she turned to the umbrella, to my soaked sleeves, to the drops trailing down my jaw.

"...Fine. Give it to me then go."

Good, pressing the issue won't get us anywhere. Besides, I take pride in not losing in arguments, so there you go.

I handed it to her slowly. She grabbed the stem of the umbrella, and took it away from me. One would expect this gesture as romantic, straight out of movies—but if you looked at how stone-cold our faces were, it was more like handing over dirty money.

Our hands didn't brush against one another, and that's another thing to celebrate.

Perfect execution, Shimizu Itsuki.

"Thanks," she said, barely above the rain. “I’ll return it tomorrow at school.”

“Un.”

A thank you from her is the least of my expectations. It was just a simple word said to me a thousand times by my customers, yet when it came from her, I had to gulp, as if I was blessed by some sort of a fallen angel.

I felt the warmth that spreads to my chest, shielding me from the cold of the rain. I wanted to stay, to check up on her for longer, but she already redrawn the line that I had crossed.

I nodded and turned back toward the stall.

The rain hit me harder than I expected. But I didn’t look back.

She already had it.

That’s all I needed.

That umbrella was everything I had needed to weather the storm, but the thought of Kousaka Akari, of all people, taking it, felt better than anything.

November 5th—I'll remember this day, for sure.

It's the day when the golden porcupine stole my shield against the rain, but remembering the gesture of doing something for her, I feel like I’m being pulled out of the rain, too.