The rain was relentless, drumming steadily against the classroom windows. Sojo Tanaka leaned back in his chair, his eyes following the thin streams of water that raced down the glass. The classroom buzzed with the usual noise—murmured conversations, shuffling papers, the occasional laugh—but to Sojo, it all sounded distant. It was the rain that held his attention, its rhythm quieting the chaos inside his mind.
He didn't need to look up to know that Yoshina was sitting by the window again. She was always there, observing the rain with an intensity that he couldn't quite place. People tended to ignore her, assuming her silence meant she was simply lost in thought. But Sojo, being more of a passive observer than an active participant, knew better. She wasn't lost in thought—she was waiting for something. But for what?
"Sojo," a voice interrupted his musings, pulling him back to the present.
He glanced over. It was Aiko, a classmate who was always eager to talk. She had probably noticed he was zoning out.
"You're not paying attention again," she said, a teasing smile on her lips.
Sojo raised an eyebrow. "I'm aware of that."
Aiko frowned. "You know, if you actually paid attention in class, you'd probably do better."
"I'm doing fine," Sojo replied, his tone casual. He wasn't one to waste words on unnecessary explanations. He had his reasons for zoning out; it wasn't worth explaining.
She huffed, clearly unsatisfied with his answer, and turned back to her notes. Sojo's gaze returned to the rain.
His attention shifted slightly, focusing on Yoshina once more. Her eyes were still fixed on the droplets racing down the windowpane. But there was a slight shift in her posture today, a subtle tightness in the way she held herself. Sojo's eyes narrowed.
Her hands were clenched at her sides. Unusual. Normally, she exuded a calm, distant energy, her body language always relaxed as if she were immune to the world's pressures. But now? She was more… rigid. Something had changed.
Sojo watched for a moment longer, allowing the subtle tension in her posture to settle into his mind. He had learned long ago that people rarely showed their true feelings directly. But their bodies betrayed them, whether they realized it or not. It was all about observation.
"Yoshina," he said, his voice low but clear enough to catch her attention.
She turned her head slowly, meeting his gaze. There was no surprise, no hesitation. It was as though she had been expecting him to speak, even if he hadn't made a sound.
"Hmm?" Her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it now—something that hadn't been there before.
"You're usually the first one to leave after class ends," Sojo observed, his eyes flicking toward the clock before meeting her gaze again. "But today you're sitting here. Why?"
Yoshina blinked, then glanced away, her attention drifting back to the rain. "I just wanted to watch it for a little longer."
"Is that all?" Sojo asked, his tone laced with skepticism. It was a harmless question, but it didn't feel quite genuine. People didn't linger over something like rain. They had other things to do.
Yoshina didn't respond at first, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She didn't seem to mind Sojo's prying, though. That, in itself, was curious. Most people would've found it invasive, but Yoshina… she didn't seem to care.
"Sometimes, it's better to just let things be," she said after a long pause. "The rain, the silence. It makes things easier to think through."
Sojo tilted his head, processing her words. The last part caught his attention. Easier to think through. That didn't sound like something she would say lightly. It implied there was something she was thinking about, something she was sorting through in her mind.
"Thinking through what?" Sojo asked, his voice neutral. He wasn't interested in prying into her personal life; he simply couldn't resist the pull of curiosity. He liked solving things, and people were, by far, the most interesting puzzles.
Yoshina's eyes flicked back to him, her gaze sharper now, though she didn't immediately answer. She was thinking, carefully choosing her words.
"I don't have to explain everything," she replied finally, her voice soft but firm. "Some things are just better left unsaid."
Sojo nodded slowly, sensing the subtle boundary she had just drawn. He respected that. In his own way, he understood it. After all, he often kept things to himself, things that didn't need to be shared.
"Fair enough," Sojo said, leaning back in his chair, letting the silence stretch between them. He wasn't upset. She hadn't given him any answers, but she had given him enough to go on. She was hiding something, but that was normal. Everyone did. It didn't mean she was unapproachable. It just meant she wasn't ready to let him in yet.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and students began to file out of the room. Sojo remained seated, his eyes lingering on Yoshina for a moment longer. She hadn't moved, still staring out at the rain, lost in her own thoughts.
As the last student left the room, Sojo stood and walked toward the door. Before stepping outside, he turned to look at her one final time.
"See you tomorrow," he said quietly.
Yoshina's gaze shifted toward him, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. There was a flicker of something—something Sojo couldn't quite place.
She nodded, though her expression remained as unreadable as ever. "Yeah."