"It's raining…" I muttered, standing still at the edge of the main hallway. Tilting my head back, I gazed at the sky, lost in the shifting expanse above me.
Heavy, dense black clouds loomed overhead, swallowing what little light remained. They sprawled across the horizon in uneven clusters, their edges fraying like torn fabric against the muted gray backdrop. Slowly, the patches began to merge, forming a seamless canopy of darkness.
The wind picked up, howling as it tore through the courtyard. It swept past the trees, shaking the fiery orange and crimson leaves loose from their fragile stems. One by one, they twirled and danced in the air before surrendering to the cold, damp ground below.
The chill in the air grew sharper, infused with a faint moisture that seemed to seep into everything. The world around me felt smaller and quieter, as the cold breeze carried the promise of an impending storm, curling into the hidden corners and crevices of the space.
And then, the first drops fell.
Tiny, delicate beads of water kissed the earth, their rhythm soft at first, like hesitant footsteps on a path. Gradually, the drizzle turned into a steady patter, and then the heavens opened up.
The rain poured with a relentless intensity, soaking the ground in mere moments. The world seemed to blur under the onslaught, the sharp edges of reality softened by the curtain of water.
And I had forgotten to bring an umbrella.
Pursing my lips, I stood there, watching the steady flow of people around me. Everyone else seemed prepared, their umbrellas blooming like colorful shields against the rain. And for those who hadn't brought one, there was always someone else ready to lend theirs.
It was in moments like this that I felt it most—that quiet, aching sense of detachment.
In this interconnected world, where people naturally reached out to one another, I stood apart. Isolated.
Well, no use dwelling on it.
Rolling my eyes, I sighed, already forming a plan in my head. I could just use magic. Create a barrier of ice—a temporary shield to keep the rain off me as I walk.
It wasn't the first time I'd found myself in this situation. It probably wouldn't be the last.
This was routine by now, and honestly, I didn't feel the sadness as strongly as I used to. Not anymore.
That's right. I'm not sad…
"Hoshizora? You didn't bring an umbrella?"
Before I could summon my ice barrier, a voice called out, cutting through the rain's soft murmur.
I froze, instantly recognizing who it belonged to.
Kurumi Kirishima.
The so-called perfect woman. Her presence was like a spotlight, drawing everyone in with her flawless demeanor and the friendly, approachable aura that made her the darling of the school.
But to me, something about her was... off.
She felt fake. Too polished. Too composed.
And if that wasn't enough, there was the fact that she had interrupted my precious time with Shinji not long ago, asking to speak with him in private. The memory alone was enough to stir irritation within me.
Annoying.
I don't like her at all.
And if I had the choice, I wouldn't bother replying or even acknowledging her.
But life isn't that simple. I had to stay polite, act in line, and keep up appearances. Because if I messed up again—Shinji would be angry with me.
I couldn't let that happen. Not ever.
"Yes, unfortunately, I forgot," I replied, forcing my tone to remain neutral. Turning to face her, I gave a slight nod, just enough to be courteous without overstepping into friendliness.
Kurumi's crimson eyes narrowed slightly as they met mine, scanning me with that same unshakable composure. Her gaze felt like a weight, probing for something beneath the surface.
And then she smiled.
A bright, friendly smile that might have charmed anyone else. But to me, it was nothing more than a mask—a facade of artificial kindness. I had seen smiles like that before.
"Oh, I can give you mine," she offered, holding out her umbrella with a graceful gesture.
Her voice carried just the right mix of sweetness and concern, loud enough for the bystanders to hear. The subtle weight of attention shifted to me, their gazes curious and expectant.
On the surface, it looked like a simple, selfless act. Friendly. Generous.
But I knew better.
Kurumi wasn't just offering an umbrella—she was crafting a situation. She was an idol at school, adored by everyone, and by making this offer in front of so many people, she left me no choice but to accept.
Refusing would make me seem rude or ungrateful, and worse, it would raise questions.
And if I accepted?
She'd find a way to leverage it later. Even something as small as this could be spun into a thread of obligation—a debt I'd owe her.
What a cunning little manipulator!
I hated it.
I hated her.
I hated hypocrites and everything about people like Kurumi Kirishima.
I needed to find a way out. But how?
Then it hit me. Of course. I didn't need to play along. I just needed to show her I didn't need her help.
"I appreciate your kindness. Really," I said softly, letting just a hint of gratitude seep into my voice.
As I spoke, I raised my hand and began channeling my magic. A delicate ice crystal formed in my palm, shimmering faintly. It grew rapidly, expanding in intricate patterns until it took the shape of a flawless, translucent umbrella.
The air around it grew cold, and a faint mist swirled at the edges.
"But if I take your umbrella," I added, looking up at her, "then how would you get home?"
I smiled at her, my lips curling into the same kind of artificial, perfectly polite smile she always wore. A mirror image of her own.
Though subtle, I caught it—the slightest twitch of Kurumi's eyebrows. Her perfectly composed expression tensed for just a moment.
I had ruined her plan.
But she wasn't going to give up so easily. This woman was more stubborn than I'd anticipated.
"Aha," she laughed lightly, her voice carrying that practiced charm. "I like your consideration, but I actually brought two umbrellas."
Her smile widened, almost triumphant, as she gestured to the bag slung over her shoulder.
"And also," she added, her gaze flicking briefly to the ice umbrella in my hand, "isn't it a bit cold to use something like that?"
Annoying.
"No, the cold never bothers me," I replied in the same calm tone, refusing her offer without hesitation.
What I said wasn't just a brush-off—it was the truth.
My affinity for ice magic had always been unnaturally high, and it only grew stronger after that traumatic experience. An experience that changed more than just my magic.
Now, I didn't feel the cold. Not anymore. The chill that used to bite at my skin every time I used my ability has disappeared. Now, it only feels a bit cool.
I stared at Kurumi, my icy barrier glinting faintly in the yellow light of the main hall. Her calculated kindness might work on others, but it wasn't going to touch me.
Realizing that I couldn't be fooled, Kurumi could do nothing but stare. Her composure faltered; I saw her fist clench slightly, and her lips pressed into a tight line.
"And now, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way," I said, bowing politely to thank her, though the gesture was as hollow as her offer.
I turned, ready to step out into the rain, my ice umbrella gleaming faintly under the overcast sky.
That was when I saw him.
Shinji.
He was walking toward us, his familiar figure cutting through the blurry line of mobs into the main hall.
Did he see all of that?
My chest tightened, my steps faltering. For a moment, I couldn't tell what weighed heavier—the thought of him misunderstanding or the realization that Kurumi might use this to her advantage.
But maybe I was overthinking it.
As Shinji walked closer, I noticed something unexpected—Kurumi's face grew red. A deep crimson flushed her cheeks, an expression far removed from her usual composed facade. She looked... embarrassed.
Her gaze flickered at him briefly before she abruptly turned away.
And just as he was about to reach where I stood, Kurumi bolted.
Without a word, she darted off, avoiding Shinji's presence entirely.
I watched her retreating figure disappear into the rain, leaving me both puzzled and amused. For someone who prided herself on control, she had unraveled surprisingly quickly.
She looked pathetic
Well deserved, in my opinion.