Chapter 6 — Rainy Day Realizations
The sky was painted a weary gray by the time Monday morning arrived. Clouds gathered thick above the school grounds, and the faint sound of raindrops tapping against the windows set the mood for the day—subdued, introspective, as though even the heavens felt the shift in the air.
Inside Class 2-B, the usual murmur of idle chatter was quieter than usual. A few students huddled near the heaters, others exchanged glances, their eyes darting from Elira and Elena to Mika, then to Kaito, and back again.
The delicate tension that had been building over the past week now hummed beneath the surface like a taut string waiting to snap.
Elira sat quietly, her notebook open but untouched. Her thoughts were scattered, lingering on the words she'd written last night—the unfinished story, the unnamed girl, the unspoken longing. She traced the edge of a blank page with her fingertip, her eyes glazed with a distant look.
Elena, beside her, seemed far more composed. She was sketching again—only this time, her strokes were softer, more fluid, almost dreamlike.
She wasn't drawing a person, but rather a place: the quiet rooftop garden they had discovered behind the art wing the week before. A place they hadn't yet shared with anyone else—not even Kaito.
He entered a few minutes later, umbrella in hand, rain still clinging to the hem of his uniform jacket. His eyes found them immediately, and a brief smile flickered across his face.
"Morning," he said, walking over.
"Morning," Elena replied without looking up.
"Hi," Elira murmured, barely audible.
He placed the umbrella beside his desk and sat down. Mika didn't greet him today. She was quiet, her posture stiff, her eyes trained out the window.
...
By lunchtime, the drizzle had intensified into a steady rain. Most of the students opted to eat indoors, but Kaito, notebook in hand, rose and approached the twins' desks.
"Want to eat in the library?" he asked.
Elira looked up. "Won't we get in trouble?"
He grinned. "Not if we stay quiet."
Elena raised an eyebrow but stood anyway. "Better than staying here."
The three made their way through the rain-dampened halls. The library, though mostly empty, offered a warm solace from the world outside. They found an alcove near the back—just large enough for the three of them.
Kaito pulled out his lunch and sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor. "This okay?"
Elira hesitated before nodding. She settled beside him, while Elena leaned against the shelf, her sandwich still wrapped.
"What are you writing?" Elira asked quietly, peeking at his notebook.
Kaito turned it so she could see. "Nothing serious. Just some thoughts."
She read the top few lines:
People carry invisible weights. Some heavier than others. But when someone chooses to sit with you, rain or shine, maybe that's how you know you're not alone.
Her chest tightened, but she smiled faintly.
"That's beautiful."
Kaito shrugged. "Just honest."
The bell rang too soon, and by the time they returned to class, the rain had turned into a full downpour.
Mika watched them enter together.
She didn't speak—not to them, not to anyone—but her grip on her pen was so tight her knuckles paled.
She hated this feeling. Not because they were happy. But because she felt left out of something she didn't know how to reach anymore.
After school, Kaito surprised the twins by inviting them to the rooftop.
"It's raining," Elena reminded him.
"Just trust me."
Curious, they followed.
Up top, the sky was a wash of grey and silver, the rain gentle but constant. Yet under the awning near the greenhouse, it was dry and peaceful. Kaito had even brought three cups of canned hot chocolate.
He handed them out with a grin.
"I figured this might be a good spot. Quiet, out of sight, and—"
"Warm," Elira said, sipping. "You thought of everything."
Kaito looked modest. "I just wanted a place where you could feel safe. Both of you."
Elena was silent for a moment. Then she sat, cross-legged on the ground, her eyes fixed on the misty view beyond the glass.
"Why do you care?" she asked.
Kaito blinked. "What do you mean?"
"No one's ever done this for us before. You're not like the others."
He didn't answer right away.
"I guess…" he said, after a beat. "I know what it's like. To feel like you don't fit. Like you're always outside looking in. So if I can make things even a little easier for someone else, then maybe that's worth something."
Elira looked at him with wide eyes.
"I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to," he replied gently.
They sat there for a while, listening to the rain. Then Elira reached into her bag and pulled out the folded page from before.
She handed it to Kaito without a word. He read it slowly, the silence stretching.
What if someone really saw me?
He folded the paper again and returned it to her.
"I do," he said.
...
Meanwhile, in a classroom still buzzing with leftover voices, Mika sat alone. Her hands trembled as she packed her things. Outside the window, the sky darkened further.
When she stepped into the hall, she heard voices from the stairwell.
"…he said he sees me. Not just like a classmate, but like… a real person."
It was Elira's voice.
Mika froze.
"I think I'm scared," Elira continued. "That if I believe it… it'll be taken away."
Elena responded, firm but soft. "You're not weak for wanting something real. And he's not the type to leave."
Mika turned and walked the other way, her heart pounding.
She didn't understand how everything had changed so fast. How someone like Elira—quiet, awkward Elira—had become the center of something Mika had always thought belonged to her.
But she wasn't angry. Not really. She was afraid. Afraid that she had been given a chance once too, and lost it by not knowing how to hold it.
The next day, the rain continued.
In class, Mika stood up when the teacher stepped out.
"I have something to say," she said, her voice louder than expected.
The class turned. Her eyes locked on the twins.
"I was wrong," she said. "About you two."
A few students whispered, confused. Mika ignored them.
"You're not weird. Or clingy. You're just… yourselves. And that's okay. I should've seen that sooner."
The silence that followed was thick and unsure. Then Kaito stood.
"Thank you for saying that," he said.
Mika sat down slowly, avoiding eye contact. Elira, for the first time, smiled at her. Just a little.
...
The storm outside had not ended, but something inside the room had shifted. Just enough.
And maybe that was how real change began—not with dramatic declarations or grand gestures, but with a few honest words spoken on a rainy day.
To be continued...