Act I: The First Rain
The first rain of the semester arrived without warning.
Yuki Hoshino sat alone in the nearly empty art room, the late bell echoing through the hallway like distant thunder. She packed up her sketchbook and glanced out the large, fogged window. Raindrops streamed down the glass like tears, turning the school courtyard into a watery blur.
Her stomach turned.
Rain always meant trouble.
Pulling her hoodie tightly over her head, she stepped into the hallway and walked toward the school gate, clutching her bag. Thunder rumbled far off in the distance, and she flinched. Her steps quickened. Her breaths came shorter.
She didn't see the puddle—until her foot sank into it. Cold water splashed up her leg, and she stumbled forward, nearly dropping her sketchbook. She gritted her teeth.
"Great," she muttered. "Just perfect."
"Hey!"
The voice came out of nowhere—bright, cheerful, and way too loud for a day like this.
Yuki turned quickly and saw a boy, completely drenched, standing under the sagging branch of a cherry blossom tree that had long since lost its blooms. His black school blazer was soaked through, clinging to his lean frame. He was holding an umbrella—but it was broken, hanging limply from one side like a collapsed bat wing.
Yet somehow… he was smiling.
"Didn't expect the rain either, huh?" he said.
Yuki blinked. "Obviously."
The boy tilted his head, looking at her with casual curiosity, like she was an unusual cloud formation.
"You're in Class 2-B, right? Hoshino-san?"
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "How do you know my name?"
He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're always by the window during lunch. Drawing things. I sit across the courtyard. Kinda hard to miss."
Yuki's cheeks flushed. "That's… creepy."
"Ah—sorry!" he said, waving his hands. "I'm not a stalker or anything, promise! I just notice things. Like clouds. You're… kind of like a cloud, actually."
Yuki blinked again. "Excuse me?"
He held out his broken umbrella like it was some grand offering. "I'm Ren Sakamoto. Wanna share? It's mostly useless, but I think it adds character."
"…I'll walk."
Another boom of thunder cracked across the sky. Yuki's shoulders tensed and she instinctively took a step back toward the school doors.
Ren noticed.
"You okay?"
"I don't like thunder," she said flatly, eyes on the ground.
Ren stepped closer, just enough for his broken umbrella to cover half her head. It smelled like rain and something clean—like fabric softener and soap.
"You know," he said gently, "thunder can't hurt you. It's just sound. The danger already passed when you heard it."
Yuki looked up at him, unsure how to respond. He met her eyes with a grin that somehow didn't feel forced.
"You look like you could use someone dumb enough to walk with you in a storm," he added with a shrug.
She didn't know what possessed her in that moment. Maybe it was the rain soaking through her socks, or the way his stupid smile didn't falter even as the umbrella gave up and collapsed entirely. Maybe it was just loneliness.
But she said quietly, "Fine. Just until the corner."
Ren's grin widened.
They walked side by side beneath the ruined umbrella, half-wet, half-shielded.
The sky above was painted in dull grey, the rain falling steadily, pattering on rooftops and puddles. Ren talked aimlessly about the weather, about clouds and pressure systems and how he wanted to chase typhoons someday.
Yuki listened. She didn't speak much, but he didn't seem to mind. Her fingers clutched the strap of her bag, her heart thudding in a strange rhythm—half nerves, half something warmer.
When they reached the corner, she stopped.
"This is fine," she said, already stepping away.
Ren paused. The rain hit him fully now, dripping down his nose and clinging to his lashes.
He handed her the broken umbrella.
"What…?"
"A gift," he said. "For surviving the storm."
Yuki stared at him like he was insane.
"It's not even working."
"Exactly. It's a reminder that even broken things can get you through the worst parts."
She opened her mouth to argue, but no words came. Instead, she looked down at the mess of fabric and bent spokes in her hand. For some reason, her chest felt tight.
When she looked up again, Ren was already walking away.
"See you tomorrow, cloud girl!" he called, waving.
Yuki stood there for a long moment, the broken umbrella dangling from her fingers, her soaked socks squishing in her shoes.
The thunder rolled again—but this time, she didn't flinch.