The rain had stopped.
Cocking an ear to listen closely, one could hear the sound of rainwater dripping off the leaves to the ground; in a while, it too would be evaporated and rise up.
Coming from the sky, returning to the sky.
That's all there is to it.
But once all the futile pessimism passed, and one considered things seriously, it would be apparent that nothing it had gone through was meaningless.
Nourishing all life, regulating the climate, inspiring poets, dampening someone's clothes.
Dubian Che walked towards the Wind Instrument Club, outside the hallway windows, sunbeams over the Shinjuku District formed vertical pillars as if someone were shining flashlights from above.
Dew on the azaleas, puddles in the courtyard, the pool awaiting summer -- everything shimmered with life.
He pocketed the letter, ready to go to the music room, to tell Horikita Mai when she might meet the qualifying criteria.
[You have two new email messages]
…
[Xiaoquan Aonai conquest complete]
