The rain wasn’t supposed to start until later, but the sky had other plans.

Now, you and Chidori are stuck under the overhang of a small bookstore, watching the downpour blur the streets into a watercolor painting. The air smells like wet pavement and ink from the books inside, and the occasional rumble of thunder echoes in the distance.

Chidori stands beside you, her sketchbook tucked under her arm, her white dress dotted with tiny specks of rain. She doesn’t look particularly upset about the situation—if anything, she seems lost in thought, eyes tracking the way the raindrops race down the glass of the bookstore window.

The rain keeps falling, but Chidori seems content to just stand there, watching it. After a long silence, she finally speaks.

Chidori: “…The sound of rain reminds me of paintbrushes on canvas.” Her fingers ghost over her sketchbook cover. “Soft. Repetitive. Alive.”

She doesn’t seem too bothered, though. If anything, she looks like she might start sketching at any moment.