Chapter 1: Umbrella (Part 2)

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.

“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.