The day had begun warm, unseasonably so for early spring. But by late afternoon, the clouds had gathered, rolling across the mountains like a slow, sluggish tide. Haruka hadn't bothered to take her umbrella when she'd departed her apartment. The sky had been clear then, almost promising.
Now, standing in front of the small general store across from the bakery, she looked on in dismay as raindrops dotted the sidewalk. The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour.
She stepped back under the small awning, hugging herself. Her cardigan was already damp.
"Of course," she muttered. "The one time I attempt to venture out by myself."
A scooter burst into the alley, splitting the curtain of rain. It slowed alongside the bakery entrance. Haruka blinked. Kaito.
He leapt off, shaking water from his sleeves. A plastic delivery bag was still strapped to the back.
"Haruka?" he yelled, spotting her across the street.
She lifted a hand in half-wave, half-defeat. "Caught in it," she said, uselessly.
Wordlessly, Kaito jogged over, stepping into the meager shelter beside her. His hair was getting wet.
"Umbrella?" he asked.
"I didn't bring one."
He looked up at the sky as though it might change its mind. Then, half-smiling, he went on, "I was just about to head back. Want to come after me? I'll walk you."
Haruka hesitated. "We'll get wet."
"Yeah," he said, smiling. "But it's just water."
She gazed at him, blinking. Then she laughed—short, surprised.
He spread his hand, not for her to take, but simply in gesture, as if inviting her to trust him.
They dashed toward the front awning of the bakery, already drenched by the time they reached the shelter of it. Rain drummed against the canopy like muffled applause.
Haruka wrung water from her sleeves. "I look ridiculous."
"You're like spring rain," Kaito said, then cleared his throat hastily. "That is, you're wet. But in a poetic way."
Her eyebrow went up, and a faint smile tugged at her mouth.
They were sitting on the wooden bench just beyond the shop window. Kaito dug into the plastic delivery bag and produced a small towel—half-wrinkled, the sort you'd only be carrying if you were used to getting caught in the rain.
He handed it to her. "It's clean, I think. Mostly."
She touched her hair, then noticed Kaito running his fingers through his wet hair. She hesitated, then reached out and gently tousled the towel over his head.
He tensed for a moment, surprised, then allowed her.
"Your hair's longer than I thought," she said quietly.
"And yours smells like. peach?"
"Shampoo," she said, laughing quietly.
The moment hung. Their laughter fell into the rain.
Kaito turned slightly to face her, water still trailing from his jaw. "I like this," he said.
"This?"
"You. Here. Us, like this. No rush. No pressure."
Haruka looked down at her hands. They were damp, chilled—but her chest felt warm.
A breeze swept through, pulling a shiver from her. Kaito noticed and took off his hoodie, draping it gently over her shoulders.
"You're going to freeze," she protested.
"I'm fine. You're the one who forgot an umbrella."
"Wasn't expecting to get stuck in a K-drama moment," she replied.
He chuckled. "Well, this is country life. We do realism here."
Rain kept falling, soft and steady, like the world had slowed down just for them. Haruka rested against the wall, hoodie pulled tight around her, and looked sidelong at Kaito.
He was already looking at her.
Not in a way that demanded anything. Just. looking.
For once, she didn't look away.
Eventually, Kaito reached into the delivery bag again and pulled out a folded sticky note, slightly curled from the moisture.
He handed it to her without a word.
She opened it.
"You're allowed to be caught in the rain. And sometimes, someone shows up—even if all they have is a half-dry towel and a quiet smile."
She breathed out what felt like the knot in her chest coming undone. She carefully folded the note and tucked it into her pocket.
Beside her, Kaito smiled.
They sat for a long while, doing nothing but listening to the sound of the rain.
And despite being soaked through to the bone, Haruka did not want to be anywhere else.