Chapter-6

[Chapter 6: That Rainy Day] 

Yuri Shinomiya remembered everything. 

The sharp scent of rain in the air. The ache in her scraped knee. The quiet sound of water hitting the metal swings. 

And him. 

She had been Five, maybe six, clinging to her pink umbrella after falling on the slippery path in the park. Her mother had gone to the restroom for just a moment—but to a child, even a minute alone in the rain felt like an eternity. 

She hadn't cried. Not until the pain settled in and the cold started to bite. 

That's when he appeared. 

A boy around her age, with messy black hair and an umbrella patterned with cartoon dogs. He didn't say much—just looked at her for a second, then walked over and held out his umbrella, covering her from the rain. 

"You okay?" he had asked, his voice quiet, uncertain. 

She didn't answer at first. But when he knelt beside her and gently offered a small pack of tissues, she blinked through her tears and nodded. 

"You're weird," she'd murmured, clutching the tissues to her chest. 

He gave a small shrug. "So are you. You're sitting in the rain." 

[Yuri]

"I fell." 

[Takumi]

"Then sit somewhere dry." 

She'd giggled. Even now, she could still remember that moment clearly—his awkwardness, the way he spoke bluntly without any hint of meanness. She found it comforting, in a strange way. 

He had sat beside her on the swing, his umbrella barely covering them both, and they stayed like that until her mother returned. 

When she stood up to leave, she turned to wave at him. He waved back with a slightly confused smile on his face, as if unsure whether it had all actually happened. 

She never saw him again after that. 

Not until high school. 

When she walked into her new classroom on the first day and saw him sitting by the window, resting his chin on his hand, staring out like the world didn't matter—she froze. 

It's him, she'd thought. The boy from the rain.

But he didn't recognize her. Not even a flicker of familiarity in his eyes. It stung—more than she thought it would. 

So she stayed silent. 

If he didn't remember, then maybe it was better to pretend they were just strangers. She told herself it was childish to cling to something that only she remembered. After all, it was just one afternoon. One act of kindness. 

But for her, it had meant the world. 

It was the first time someone had reached out to her when she was alone. 

The first time someone sat beside her without asking anything in return. 

And as the weeks passed and she got to know this version of Takumi—the quiet, intelligent boy who avoided attention, who hid behind dry sarcasm and half-hearted laziness—she realized he hadn't changed much at all. 

Still blunt. Still kind in ways he didn't know how to express. 

And without meaning to, her feelings started to grow again. 

This time, not from a childhood memory, but from who he was now. 

So when he placed that photo on her desk, her heart nearly stopped. 

She had guarded that memory for so long, unsure if it even mattered anymore. But now... 

Now he remembered. 

Not everything. But enough. 

And that was more than she'd ever dared to hope for.