Raindrops and Remembrance

I turned slowly, eyeing my sister. She wasn't looking at me—her gaze was fixed on the plate in front of her, chopsticks still poised midair.

The air between us felt heavier now.

"What do you mean?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Never mind. Just a weird thought."

A weird thought.

I wanted to press her for more, but something in her tone made me stop. Instead, I just nodded. "You should sleep soon."

She hummed in response, not looking up.

I made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me. The quiet of the house pressed in around me, but my mind was anything but still.

Her question had been too specific. Too… deliberate.

And worst of all, it echoed the same feeling that had been gnawing at me ever since I met Komaru.

I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing my temples.

What the hell was going on?

The next morning, I woke up groggy, the events of last night still circling in my head. My sister was already up, lazily eating toast at the table when I stepped out of my room.

"Morning," I mumbled, grabbing a glass of water.

She nodded, chewing slowly. "You look tired."

"I feel tired," I admitted, leaning against the counter.

She studied me for a moment. "Bad dreams?"

I hesitated. "Something like that."

She didn't push, and I was grateful for that.

---

By the time I reached school, the usual morning chatter filled the air, students moving through the hallways, some still half-asleep, others already full of energy. I made my way to my seat, letting out a long sigh as I dropped into my chair.

"Late night?" Kane's voice cut through my thoughts as she leaned against my desk.

I glanced at her. "Something like that."

Kane raised an eyebrow but didn't push further. Instead, she plopped down in the seat next to me, spinning a pen between her fingers. "By the way, did you hear? There's a festival coming up next week."

"A festival?"

"Yeah, the spring one. You know, stalls, games, food—fun stuff."

I had completely forgotten about that. It was a yearly event, one that most students looked forward to.

Kane smirked. "You should come. Might be a good distraction."

I considered it. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed something to take my mind off things.

The morning passed as usual, classes dragging by in a blur of notes and half-listened lectures. But during lunch, as I stepped outside to get some air, I saw her.

Komaru.

She was standing near the vending machines, scrolling through her phone, completely at ease. A few students from her year passed by, exchanging greetings, but she barely looked up.

And then, just as I was about to turn away—

She glanced up.

Our eyes met.

That same knowing look. That same unreadable expression.

She didn't say anything, didn't even react. Just took a slow sip from the canned coffee in her hand before looking away again.

Like she was waiting.

For what, I still had no idea.

I exhaled, rubbing my temples.

Maybe Kane was right. Maybe I really did need a distraction.

The festival suddenly sounded like a good idea.

The week passed in a blur of routine—classes, lunch breaks, half-hearted conversations. But something about it felt off.

Komaru's absence lingered in the back of my mind. It wasn't just that I hadn't seen her—it was that no one had.

It was like she had vanished.

But tonight, I pushed those thoughts aside.

The festival was in full swing when we arrived. Lanterns lined the streets, casting a soft, golden glow. The scent of grilled food filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and festival music. The place was packed—students, families, couples, all moving through the colorful stalls.

Sayoko stretched her arms above her head. "Alright, where to first?"

"Holding back on food this time?" Haru teased.

Sayoko scoffed. "I make one mistake, and you never let it go."

Kane grinned. "Let's check out the stalls first. Then we can eat."

We started wandering, stopping at different booths along the way. Kane challenged Haru to a ring toss game (and lost). Sayoko, despite her protests, ended up buying a ridiculous amount of festival snacks. I let myself enjoy it—laughing, joking, letting the weight in my chest lift.

But the feeling never fully left.

That nagging feeling.

Like I was being watched.

I turned my head, scanning the crowd. Nothing unusual. Just people enjoying the festival.

Still, my chest felt tight.

"Yuki?" Kane's voice pulled me back. "You okay?"

I forced a small smile. "Yeah. Just spacing out."

She eyed me for a second before nodding. "C'mon, let's check out the shooting game."

I followed, trying to shake off the unease.

But then—

I saw her.

Just for a second.

A flash of familiar dark hair in the distance.

Komaru.

She was standing near a shrine at the edge of the festival, just beyond the paper lanterns' glow. She wasn't looking at me, but I knew she knew I was there.

And then—

She turned and walked away.

I didn't hesitate this time.

"I'll be back," I muttered to the others, already moving.

Kane frowned. "Wait, where—"

But I was already slipping into the crowd, weaving through the festival lights toward the darkened path beyond.

Komaru kept walking, leading me away from the noise and into the quiet shadows of the shrine.

When she finally stopped, she turned to face me.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then—

"You noticed," she said softly.

I exhaled. "Noticed what?"

Her expression didn't change. "That I was gone."

The way she said it—it wasn't a question.

I crossed my arms. "You disappeared for a week. Of course I noticed."

A small, almost amused smile flickered across her lips. "I was wondering if you would."

Something about the way she said it made my stomach twist.

I narrowed my eyes. "Why did you disappear?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if deciding how much to say. Then—

"I was giving you time," she murmured.

I frowned. "Time for what?"

She studied me for a long moment. Then she reached into her pocket—

And pulled out a key.

Small. Metallic.

Familiar.

My breath caught.

Because I knew that key.

I knew it.

But I had no idea why.

The sight of that key sent a chill down my spine.

It was familiar. Too familiar.

And yet, I couldn't remember why.

The distant hum of the festival felt like a world away now. Here, in the quiet shadow of the shrine, only the sound of leaves rustling in the night breeze filled the space between us.

I swallowed, my voice steady but uncertain. "What is that?"

Komaru didn't answer right away. Instead, she stepped forward, closing the distance between us. The usual unreadable expression on her face had softened—just slightly.

"You don't remember, do you?" she asked.

I clenched my jaw. "Remember what?"

A pause.

Then—

She reached out, taking my hand.

The moment her fingers brushed against my palm, a sharp ache bloomed in my chest—like something buried deep inside me was clawing its way to the surface.

A flash of something.

The scent of rain.

Cold pavement beneath my knees.

The distant sound of a temple bell.

And—

A voice.

"Don't forget me, okay?"

I sucked in a breath, my grip tightening around her wrist. My head pounded, fragments of a memory just out of reach.

The sky rumbled above us.

A single drop of rain landed on my cheek.

Then another.

Within seconds, the drizzle turned into a downpour, the sound of raindrops hitting the stone pavement echoing around us. The festival lights in the distance blurred, their glow distorted by the falling rain.

Komaru didn't move. She just stood there, watching me.

"Why do I know that key?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the rain.

She looked at me for a long moment.

Then she finally spoke.

"Because you gave it to me."

My breath hitched.

I opened my mouth to speak—but before I could, another memory slammed into me.

The rain.

That same downpour.

Me, standing in front of someone.

Someone crying.

And in my hand—

That very same key.

The weight in my chest deepened.

I looked at Komaru, my heart pounding. "Who were you to me?"

She exhaled, stepping even closer. The rain dripped from her hair, her eyes locked onto mine.

Then, softly—

"You once told me," she murmured, "that you'd never forget me."

The ache in my chest twisted into something almost unbearable.

Because deep down—

I knew she was telling the truth.

And yet—

I had forgotten.

The rain poured harder, drumming against the stone path beneath us. My clothes clung to my skin, my breath uneven as I stared at her.

I wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn't come.

Komaru stood there, her face unreadable, but there was something in her eyes now. Something I hadn't seen before.

Hurt.

"You really don't remember, do you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching at my sides. "I… I don't know."

Another memory flickered at the edge of my mind.

A temple.

A promise.

The sound of a train leaving.

I pressed a hand to my forehead, my head throbbing. "Why did I forget?"

Komaru let out a breath, shaking her head. "I don't know. But I remembered everything."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Everything?

I looked at her, standing there in the rain, the water sliding down her face. I wanted to remember. I needed to remember.

But the memories wouldn't come fast enough.

Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a low rumble of thunder. The festival in the distance felt a thousand miles away.

Then—

Komaru took a step back.

"I shouldn't have said anything," she muttered, turning away. "Forget it, Yuki."

She started walking, the rain swallowing the sound of her footsteps.

Panic tightened in my chest.

No.

I didn't understand everything yet, but one thing was clear—if I let her walk away now, I'd lose something important.

Something I'd already lost once before.

"Wait!" I called out, reaching for her wrist.

She flinched, stopping in her tracks.

Slowly, she turned to face me again.

I met her gaze, rain dripping from my hair, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"...Tell me," I said. "Tell me what I forgot."

She stared at me for what felt like an eternity.

Then, at last, she sighed.

And with a voice laced with something heavy—nostalgia, sadness, maybe even relief—she said,

"It started six years ago, on a rainy afternoon just like this one."

Komaru's gaze didn't waver as she spoke.

"It started six years ago, on a rainy afternoon just like this one."

The words sent a shiver down my spine, not from the cold, but from something deeper—something clawing at the edges of my mind.

Six years ago.

The rain.

A promise.

Something I had forgotten. Someone I had forgotten.

The fragmented memories blurred together, just out of reach. I clenched my fists, willing my mind to grasp at them, to remember her.

But before I could say anything—

She took a step closer.

And then, in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the downpour, she whispered—

"You promised you'd never forget me, Yuki."

My breath hitched.

The world around me seemed to still.

And then—

A sharp, searing memory crashed into me like a wave, knocking the air from my lungs.

A temple.

A sunset.

Komaru standing there, younger but with the same knowing gaze.

And me—holding her hand.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating her face for just a moment.

I staggered back, my pulse roaring in my ears.

Because in that instant, I remembered.

And I wished I hadn't.