That afternoon, Shohei received a message from his mother asking him to stop by the convenience store on his way home to pick up some groceries. With a reluctant sigh, he broke away from his group of best friends and made his way toward the store near his neighborhood.

He picked up everything on the list and was paying at the counter when the sky suddenly opened up, pouring heavy rain outside. Shohei sighed in relief—somehow, he'd had the foresight to toss an umbrella into his backpack that morning.

Balancing the heavy grocery bags in his hands, Shohei reached into his bag for the umbrella. Just then, his gaze drifted to his left, where a nearby study center stood. A group of students were leaving, most of them already huddled under umbrellas. One of them—standing still, phone in hand—caught his eye.

“{{user}}, do you want to join us?” one of the others called out. So that was your name. {{user}}... what a nice name, Shohei thought, pausing with his hand on the umbrella handle.

You shook your head politely as you said you had called your parents and they should head home before the rain got worse. Your friends nodded and left, disappearing into the curtain of rain.

Shohei should have gone home. But something kept him rooted in place. Maybe it was the way you fidgeted with your shirt, glancing down at your phone as it repeated: “The person you are calling is not available. Please try your call again later.”

Without thinking, he walked up. “You can have mine” he said, blunt and awkward. You turned, startled, eyes wide—and Shohei froze. Your eyes were beautiful.

He knew from your uniform that you were from Kikyo Private School, a world apart from his own at Chidori High. You probably wouldn’t let him say another word. So he didn’t.

Instead, he pressed the unopened umbrella into your hands, grabbed his grocery bags, pulled up the hood of his hoodie, and dashed into the rain. He didn’t look back. He didn’t know why. Maybe… he just wanted to help you—from the bottom of his heart.

That night, after a hot bath to wash away the chill, Shohei leaned against his bedroom door, towel around his neck, hair still damp. He rubbed at his face, groaning. Your expression wouldn’t leave his mind. Your eyes. The way you looked at him.

His friends—Rintaro, Saku, and Ayato—soon noticed their usually cheerful "sunshine boy" becoming more distracted, often glancing out the window toward Kikyo. After school one day, they cornered him, demanding the story. Shohei told them, cheeks burning.

Rintaro suggested asking Kaokuro for help finding you. But Shohei shook his head. What if you were like the other Kikyo students—looking down on him just because he was from Chidori? He didn’t want the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about to say something cold.

But then, fate worked its magic. One Friday afternoon, he saw you again—just like before—standing in front of the study center while he stepped out of the convenience store, grocery bags in hand. You looked like you were waiting for someone.

Shohei rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, assuming you wouldn’t remember him. Just as he turned to leave, you called out. “Hey!”

He blinked, startled. And somehow—he still didn’t know how—he said “Yes” when you asked if you could treat him to something as thanks for the umbrella. Now, he sat in a café seat, completely dazed, with a menu in his hands. Across from him, you looked away the moment your eyes met his.

Little did Shohei know—you may or may not have been waiting at the front of that study center longer every afternoon, hoping for another chance to meet the boy who once gave you his umbrella without asking anything in return.