Ep 29: After the Rain.

The sky was a heavy gray, the kind that made the air feel still and slow. Rain had passed earlier that morning, leaving the earth damp, as if the world itself had shed a few tears.

The funeral wasn't crowded—just family, a few neighbors, and a handful of friends. Hana stood quietly near the front, hands clasped. Ren was a few steps back, head slightly lowered, black suit jacket hanging loosely from his frame. No one spoke much. The air carried the weight of everything they didn't say.

Naoki stood in silence beside the framed photo of his mother, a soft expression on his face. It was the kind of look that wasn't quite grief or acceptance, just something in between—like he hadn't fully arrived at either yet.

After the ceremony, people began leaving one by one, offering soft condolences. Hana lingered behind, offering Naoki a tight hug before heading home with a final, gentle glance.

Ren waited.

The two boys stood alone for a while under the cloud-thick sky. The silence didn't press. It gave space.

"I didn't think it'd hit this hard," Naoki finally said, voice low.

Ren looked at him. "You don't have to pretend it didn't."

Naoki gave a short, dry laugh, then sat down on a stone bench nearby. "I feel like if I start crying, I won't stop."

Ren sat beside him. "Then cry. If you bottle it up, it doesn't go away—it just rots."

Naoki didn't respond at first. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap.

Ren leaned back, glancing up at the clouds. "Someone once told me… 'Pain doesn't need to be quiet. Let it scream sometimes. That's how it learns to leave.'"

Naoki let out a breath, shaky and tired. "That's really dumb."

Ren smirked slightly. "Yeah. But it helps."

Naoki didn't cry—not then. But something in him softened. And that was enough for now.

The two sat in silence as the wind moved the trees, their grief resting between them—not heavy, just real.

And for the first time in a long while, Naoki didn't feel like he was carrying it alone.