As weeks passed Arima found himself unconsciously drawn to Kaori's presence. Each day, he felt his world expanding beyond his sketchbook, thanks to the quiet, unspoken companionship they shared. Even though she seemed to have her own secrets, Arima sensed she trusted him, and he wanted to be worthy of that trust.
One rainy afternoon, he spotted Kaori sitting alone at the edge of the school courtyard, gazing thoughtfully at the raindrops pooling around her. He hesitated for a moment, but then something compelled him to approach her.
"You'll catch a cold sitting out here," he murmured,
barely raising his voice over the steady rhythm of the rain.Kaori turned, a soft smile brightening her face.
"I like the rain. It feels like it washes away everything… all the things I can't control."
Her voice was quiet, her usual brightness replaced with a reflective tone.Arima sat down beside her, watching the rain fall.
There was something calming about the way they could sit together in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, yet still sharing the moment. For the first time, Arima found himself wondering what memories and burdens Kaori might carry. She was like him—an artist of her own kind, painting the world with her gentle, sincere presence.They sat for a while, listening to the rain's melody, their shoulders nearly touching. He wanted to ask her so many things, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his sketchbook, flipping to a blank page.
"Mind if I draw this?" he asked,
gesturing toward the soft gray sky and raindrops pooling on the ground.
Kaori's eyes sparkled.
"Please do."As his pencil moved across the page, he could feel her gaze on him, warm and encouraging.
This quiet connection was something he hadn't experienced before—a silent understanding that needed no words.