A torrential downpour blanketed the entire city. The endless sheets of rain felt almost poetic, drenching Togawa Sakiko to the bone while further weighing down her already heavy heart.
Life never hesitates to deal its blows to everyone. This time, however, the hit that landed on her was particularly brutal—enough to nearly knock her off her feet. Sakiko had never imagined that she would one day be troubled by money, yet here she was, completely consumed by it. The truth was, she no longer had even the slightest energy to devote to the band she had once loved so deeply, the one she had once seen as her fated companions.
Fated companions... The phrase itself now felt like a cruel joke at her own expense. How naive she had been, daring to stake her future on something so uncertain when she was nothing more than a student.
Today, Togawa Sakiko was here to sever all ties with CRYCHIC.
She walked down the all-too-familiar path to their usual practice room. Stopping at the door, she instinctively tried to straighten her soaked clothes—her pride refusing to let her appear too disheveled. But her efforts were in vain. She sighed. Nothing has gone right since that day…
Pushing open the door, she was met with a variety of reactions from her bandmates.
Nagasaki Soyo, always the most considerate of the group, immediately pulled out a handkerchief upon seeing her drenched state. Takamatsu Tomori let out a quiet breath—perhaps relieved that Sakiko's unexplained absence had not meant something worse. Shiina Taki spared her only a brief glance, as if silently asking whether they could start practice now. And Wakaba Mutsumi, who already knew something was amiss, remained seated in the farthest corner, her back turned to everyone. Is she refusing to witness what's about to happen?
Someone was missing.
Sakiko immediately noticed the absence. The band's rhythm guitarist, Kikukawa Kyo, wasn't here.
But this minor surprise wasn't enough to deter her. Sakiko swatted away Soyo's outstretched handkerchief and forced her voice to remain steady.
"I'm quitting CRYCHIC."
"…Eh?"
Soyo's voice wavered. The heavy, rain-laden air seemed to clog her throat.
"Wait—let's sit down first. Can we talk about this? Did something happen? Is it… something we did?"
"It's my own problem," Sakiko cut her off without room for discussion, shutting down any possibility of negotiation.
The unexpected coldness in her words shocked everyone—everyone except Mutsumi, who remained still.
But it didn't matter anymore. Whether they tried to plead with her, blamed themselves for being abandoned, or lashed out in anger—it was all meaningless now. All the conflict, all the emotions, were ultimately swallowed by the chilling finality of her next words:
"I never really enjoyed being in this band."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
That was enough. She had accomplished what she came to do. Staying any longer would only make her hesitate.
"Goodbye."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode out, her hurried steps betraying an edge of desperation.
The rain hadn't let up at all—it had only grown stronger.
Stepping back into the downpour without an umbrella, she left the others behind, her head no longer held high as it once was. Her mind swirled with thoughts she couldn't silence—financial struggles, the band's confusion and anger, the overwhelming uncertainty of her future…
And then, out of nowhere, one final thought surfaced.
I forgot to say goodbye to Kyo.
A hazy image of Kikukawa Kyo formed in her mind—her face, her peculiar habits.
Have I really let the pressure get to me this badly?
Sakiko had completely overlooked a simple truth—Kyo was always late on rainy days.
That girl had an oddly romanticized view of rain. She liked wandering around in it.
A harmless quirk, one that had always stood out but never caused any real trouble. Until now.
And now, it was an inconvenience Sakiko couldn't ignore.
Her pride and sense of responsibility wouldn't let her leave things unfinished. If she was going to cut ties, she had to do it properly. Even if it hurt. Even if saying goodbye in person meant facing even more pain. Even sending a message over LINE felt like an unacceptable form of cowardice.
That was why, despite knowing how much it would hurt to see everyone's faces as she left, she had still come in person today—to end things the right way.
So if Kyo wasn't there, she had to find her.
But where?
Should she go back to the practice room and wait for Kyo to show up?
Absolutely not. That would mean facing the people she had just hurt, hearing their reactions, seeing their emotions—no, she wasn't putting herself through that again.
Lost in thought, Sakiko came to a halt without realizing it.
She stood there in the rain, her body growing colder with every passing second. The sting of raindrops against her skin had become sharp.
I'm definitely going to catch a cold.
Oddly enough, her first thought wasn't about her own well-being.
It was about how much the medical bills were going to cost.
Trouble never comes alone, huh?
She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.
Then, dragging her increasingly heavy body forward, she continued walking.
"Sakiko, what are you doing here?"
A cool, clear voice rang out from the rain, drawing Sakiko's attention toward its source. And there she was—the very person who had unknowingly become the source of her troubles. Kikukawa Kyo.
Kyo wasn't carrying a guitar. She never did, always renting one from the live house instead. In her hand was a long-handled umbrella, though she hadn't opened it, choosing instead to walk through the rain like Sakiko. But unlike Sakiko—who looked utterly defeated, a stray dog caught in a storm—Kyo moved with an effortless ease, embracing the rain rather than enduring it.
Her pearl-gray hair was loosely twisted into a bun at the back of her head, delicate features left untouched by makeup, glistening with raindrops that only enhanced her clarity, as if she were part of the rain itself. She wore a crisp white button-up paired with dark trousers, the soaked fabric clinging to her frame, outlining her slender waist. She looked less like a person and more like a spirit born of the downpour—fleeting, ethereal, and breathtakingly beautiful.
"Practice already ended?" Kyo blinked apologetically, her clear blue eyes reminiscent of raindrops themselves. "Sorry, it's been a while since we've had rain like this. I got a little carried away."
Before Sakiko could respond, Kyo finally opened her umbrella and tilted it toward her, shielding her from the relentless downpour.
"Here, take it. I won't be late for practice next time—you can return it to me then."
Sakiko stared at the umbrella hovering over her, at the girl holding it out to her with an easy smile, completely unfazed by the storm. Carefree, unbothered—just like always. As if nothing in the world could trouble her, even for a moment.
Maybe it was the shield from the rain, maybe it was just Kyo's presence, but for the first time in a long while, Sakiko felt a hint of relief.
Yet after a brief hesitation, she gently pushed the umbrella back.
"No need. Thanks, but… I already quit CRYCHIC."
Kyo gave her a puzzled look but didn't retract the umbrella. "And what does that have to do with you needing an umbrella?"
That's what she took from that?
No shock. No sadness. No anger. Not a single reaction Sakiko had expected.
For a moment, she had no idea how to respond.
"You look like you're waiting for me to react more strongly to your big declaration."
""That's not—I mean, if I've quit the band, then we have nothing to do with each other anymore, right? No need for you to pity me like this."
"Pity you?" Kyo gave her another long look. "Well… you do look pretty miserable right now."
"..."
The bluntness was almost too much to take.
Sakiko knew she looked awful. She knew her situation was pitiful. But hearing it said out loud still stung.
Her pride—her pathetic, fragile pride—was the only thing she had left. And she lashed out before she could stop herself.
"Someone as aimless as you wouldn't understand what it's like to feel this way. You'll never hit rock bottom, never struggle. Of course, you can sit back and talk big about someone else's misery!"
Kyo remained completely unfazed. "It's not just how you look. Seems like you're in a pretty terrible mood too."
She sighed, as if talking to a child throwing a tantrum.
"But… do you think snapping at me is going to change anything?"
Silence.
"By the way, you didn't tell Tomori and the others you were quitting like this, did you?"
"..."
"They must be pretty hurt. Well, except for Taki. She's probably more pissed than anything."
Sakiko knew.
She knew she had acted like a completely different person today—abandoning all the manners she had been raised with, stripping away the dignity she used to pride herself on. She had lashed out, careless and cruel, more like a bitter wreck than the refined young woman she once was.
But she was so, so tired.
She didn't even have the energy to make herself look presentable anymore.
She couldn't even tell if the wetness on her face was from the rain or from tears she had failed to hold back.
Kyo studied her for a long moment before sighing.
"You need a hot shower. And some tea."
Then, casually—like she was inviting her over after school—she added, "If you don't mind, come home with me. You can say whatever you want after you get changed into something dry."
"I don't need— You don't have to—"
"Enough, Sakiko."
For the first time, Kyo's voice took on a firmer edge.
"You've already hurt other people. And now, you're acting like you don't even matter. I don't know what you think you're trying to protect, but this? This isn't it."
Then, without warning, she took Sakiko's hand.
A gentle, steady warmth wrapped around her fingers.
Then came the tug—firm but not forceful—as Kyo started walking, pulling her along.
Sakiko could only stare at the figure in front of her.
The pounding of the rain against the umbrella drowned out the sound of her own heartbeat, growing faster with every step. The silver sheen of Kyo's rain-drenched hair shimmered like moonlight, giving her an otherworldly glow.
It felt unreal.
But the warmth in her hand was real.
And for some reason…
…Sakiko didn't pull away.
---
Much later, Sakiko would often look back on this moment.
That day, when she had been at her most cynical, her most bitter—Kyo had effortlessly dragged her along like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Maybe…
Maybe the rain had just clouded her vision.