The soft patter of rain against the windows echoed through the quiet classroom, a rhythmic sound that seemed to carry with it the weight of the world. Outside, the sky was an endless gray canvas, with thick clouds swallowing the last remnants of daylight. The scent of rain lingered in the air, fresh and calming, as though it had cleansed the streets and washed away the dust of the day.
Sojo Tanaka sat at the back of the classroom, his eyes half-closed as the rain's steady beat pulled at the edges of his consciousness. He wasn't tired, but there was something soothing about the sound, something that made the usual buzz of the classroom seem distant and unimportant. His fingers drummed absentmindedly on the desk, matching the rhythm of the rain, his mind wandering to thoughts he couldn't quite grasp.
"Are you even listening, Tanaka?"
The voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. He blinked, slowly lifting his gaze to meet the curious eyes of his classmate, a girl whose name he always forgot to remember. She was one of those people who never seemed to blend into the background, always loud, always asking for attention. Sojo gave her a noncommittal shrug.
"Yeah," he muttered, though his focus had never shifted. His thoughts were elsewhere. "I'm listening."
She stared at him for a moment longer before rolling her eyes and turning back to her own work, not waiting for a real answer. Sojo wasn't sure why he tried to lie—he wasn't paying attention at all. Not to the lesson. Not to anything. It was as if the classroom had faded into the background, and the only thing that mattered was the rain.
Across the room, Yoshina sat by the window, her back to the rest of the class. Sojo's gaze drifted over to her, as it always did when his mind had nowhere else to go. There was something quiet about her, something that made her seem like she didn't belong to the bustling world of high school life. She was often alone, her face expressionless, though anyone who had spent any time around her could sense the weight she carried—something unspoken, a quiet sorrow that seemed to hang in the air whenever she was near.
Her long black hair cascaded down her back, a stark contrast to the rain-darkened glass she stared through, her eyes focused somewhere far beyond the limits of the classroom. Sojo could never quite place her. They had shared classes for years, but she always seemed out of reach, as if she were standing in a different world entirely.
The rain outside intensified, growing heavier, its sound louder against the windows, pulling Sojo deeper into his thoughts.
Why does she always sit there by the window?
It was a question he had asked himself more times than he could count. There was something oddly serene about the way she sat there, unmoving, watching the rain fall. Sometimes he wondered if she, too, heard the rhythm that seemed to quiet everything around them. But he didn't know her. She didn't speak much. And though they shared classes, there was always a distance between them, a wall that neither of them had ever bothered to break.
Until now.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of class, Sojo gathered his things, the usual hustle of students packing up and leaving in waves. He wasn't in a hurry, not today. His steps slowed, the rain outside now a steady roar, and he glanced over at Yoshina one more time.
She was still by the window, unmoving, her face pale in the dim light. She seemed almost ghostly, as if the rain had drawn her into a trance. Sojo hesitated. He could walk out the door like everyone else, drown in the noise of the school's crowded hallways, or—
"Yoshina," he found himself calling before he even realized it. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the rush of students.
She turned, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment. There was no surprise, no confusion, just that same quiet gaze that always seemed to see through everything. The silence between them stretched for what felt like an eternity, filled only by the sound of the rain.
"Are you… alright?" he asked, his voice a little softer than he intended. It was a simple question, but it held more weight than he knew how to express.
For a long moment, Yoshina said nothing. Her gaze flickered down to the rain-soaked window, then back to him. Her lips parted as though she might say something, but the words never came. She simply nodded, a small, almost imperceptible motion.
"I'm fine," she whispered, the sound barely audible above the rain.
But it wasn't the answer he was looking for. Sojo knew it wasn't the truth. But he didn't push further. He didn't know how to.
As he turned to leave, he heard her voice again, faint but clear in the stillness of the classroom.
"Thank you."
He paused, unsure whether she had said it to him or to the rain, but something about the way she said it made him feel like he had stepped into something deeper. Something that had been waiting beneath the surface, unnoticed by anyone else, but now… now it had been touched.
And in that moment, as the rain fell harder outside, Sojo felt like he had just made the first step into a world that he couldn't yet understand.