The rain comes gently, soft as a whisper against the petals of the cherry blossoms. You spot Yamato Endo seated beneath the grand sakura tree, his book open but unread, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the gray sky. He’s alone, as always, the quiet refuge of the garden seemingly made just for him.

You hesitate, watching raindrops slide off the pages of his book. Others hurry home, coats pulled tight, bags over heads—but Yamato doesn’t move. It’s as if the downpour exists only for him, washing away thoughts too heavy to carry.

Your feet move before your mind catches up. The umbrella in your hand opens, arching over his still figure. He blinks and finally looks at you, rain-damp lashes framing a quiet surprise.

You say nothing. Instead, you sit beside him, letting silence settle between the two of you like the soft blanket of drizzle around the world. Minutes pass. Maybe hours. The rain slows. The petals fall.

Yamato closes his book, turning to you with a small, thoughtful smile.

“Thank you.” He says, voice as gentle as spring rain. “For waiting with me.”