A Single Umbrella

Rain fell over Tokyo, the kind that blurred the city lights into a soft, glowing haze. The streets were slick, reflecting the neon signs of the bustling shops and cafes. Aoi pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, shivering as the cold seeped through her. She hadn't expected the rain to come so suddenly and, as always, had forgotten her umbrella.

She ducked beneath the awning of a convenience store, watching as pedestrians hurried past with their umbrellas held high. Just as she was debating whether to make a run for it, she heard a familiar voice.

"Aoi."

She turned to see Haruki standing a few feet away, an umbrella in his hand. His dark hair was damp, stray drops clinging to his face.

"You'll catch a cold like this," he said, stepping closer and holding the umbrella out to her.

She blinked at him, surprised. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "I'll manage."

She frowned, hesitating for a moment before grabbing his sleeve. "We'll share," she said firmly, pulling him under the umbrella with her.

---

The two of them walked through the rain, their steps synchronized, though the umbrella was just barely big enough to cover them both. Aoi felt the warmth of his shoulder against hers, and for a fleeting moment, she wished the rain would never stop.

"Why are you always like this?" she asked suddenly.

"Like what?"

"Putting others first," she said, her voice quiet. "It's like you don't care about yourself at all."

Haruki was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground ahead. "It's not that I don't care," he said finally. "I just... I guess I don't see the point in worrying about myself when there are people I care about more."

Aoi's chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, that he deserved to be cared for too. But the words caught in her throat, tangled with emotions she didn't fully understand.

"You're an idiot," she said instead, her voice softer than she intended.

Haruki glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe," he said.

---

By the time they reached her apartment, the rain had lightened to a drizzle, the city quiet and subdued. Aoi stopped at the entrance, turning to face him.

"Thanks for walking me home," she said, though the words felt inadequate.

Haruki nodded, stepping back into the rain. "Take care, Aoi."

"Wait."

He paused, looking back at her.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, her voice hesitant.

"Of course."

"Do you ever... feel lonely?"

Haruki's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—something Aoi couldn't quite place.

"Sometimes," he admitted, his voice so soft she almost didn't hear him. "But it's okay. I'm used to it."

Aoi's heart ached at his words, but before she could say anything, he gave her one last faint smile and turned to walk away, the rain falling softly around him.

---

That night, as Aoi sat by her window, listening to the rain patter against the glass, she wrote in her notebook:

"Loneliness is a quiet ache, but when shared, it becomes a bridge—a way to connect hearts that might otherwise drift apart."

Across the city, Haruki sat in his own room, staring at the unopened umbrella on the floor. He picked up his notebook and wrote:

"Even in the rain, I find myself chasing the warmth of her smile."

---