SHINTA:

My jaw hung open as I stared at the monstrosity before me. My heart hammered against my ribs, my hands trembling uncontrollably. I wanted to run, yet my legs refused to move—frozen to the pavement as though cemented in place. The cloud that loomed before us transcended mere size, commanding the sky like some forgotten deity awakened from its thousand-year slumber.

A single raindrop splashed against my knuckle, its chill shooting up my arm. Then, as if the heavens split open, the downpour crashed down on us like icy marbles, each one a tiny shock against my exposed skin, pelting down almost with a purpose as if guided by some malevolent force. The air filled with the deafening sound of water hammering against concrete, distant thunder rolling across the sky like massive stones tumbling down a mountain.

Volnaria's street gutters gurgled and choked. Water surged between buildings, slowly swallowing the sidewalk despite the city's advanced drainage system. Soon enough, the water rose past my ankles.

Then I felt it, a gentle touch across my face. It was soft, but I was so terrified by what was happening in front of me that all my other senses had dulled for a while, and then they all surged back at once, causing me to jump in my place, literally. I looked over to the person who had touched me, and there was Aya, her warm eyes filled with concern despite her own visible fear. Her lips quivered, raindrops streaming down her delicate cheeks like tears. Her shoulders hunched forward against the downpour, making her seem smaller, more vulnerable, yet somehow braver than anyone else on the street.

While I'd been paralyzed by terror, my sweet, courageous girlfriend was fighting through her own fear to reach me. I'm supposed to be protecting her, yet here I was, trembling like a child while she gathered the courage to act.

"I... I am so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I was just... It's just that..." her voice cracked as she tried her best to explain, her eyes reflecting nothing but tenderness and worry for me. I hugged her before she could finish, feeling her tense body gradually soften against mine as she let out a shaky breath against my shoulder, her fingers gently clutching the back of my shirt like she always did when she needed reassurance but was too selfless to ask for it.

"I know love, I'm the one that should be apologizing. I don't know what's happening, but we should hurry and find a place to hide away from the water. As much as I hate to say it, I think the water level will only get higher, and the rain will only get more intense." My voice cracked with guilt as I scanned the chaos around us.

Aya nodded, her eyes—warm amber even in this gloomy downpour—darting between the rising water and the darkening sky. She bit her lower lip, a habit I'd come to adore whenever she was trying to be brave for my sake.

I grabbed her hand, gently but firmly, so as not to lose her as we joined crowds of people running in every direction. Her fingers intertwined with mine, squeezing back with surprising strength—that quiet reassurance she always managed to give, even when she was scared herself.

Then I stopped and looked at Aya.

"Oh... and thank you," I murmured, a brief smile touching my lips before dissolving under the weight of our situation. I turned away, tugging her forward before she could respond, though I caught the slight widening of her eyes—surprise mixed with something deeper.

I could feel Aya's hand shivering from the cold rising water, the heavy pouring rain, and to top it off, the already frigid autumn air. Glancing back, I noticed her skin had taken on a bluish tone, her cherry-red nose standing in stark contrast.

Despite her visible trembling, she straightened her posture when she caught my eye, forcing the corners of her mouth into what might have passed for a reassuring smile if not for the way her teeth clenched to keep from chattering. She'd always been like this, enduring discomfort in silence, never wanting to be a burden. That quiet strength about her both mystified and captivated me—how someone so gentle could be so unbreakable.

I first met Aya in elementary school. She moved through the hallways with quiet grace, eyes downcast yet somehow drawing everyone into her orbit with her genuine warmth. Meanwhile, I was a loner throughout my childhood and early teen years. I was fit and, if I do say so myself, good-looking, with long black hair tied in a ponytail. I'd even consider myself charming; my only flaw was my inability to socialize with others. Whenever I'm around someone, I get uncomfortable and awkward, so I distance myself from most people.

I was fine being alone, really. I tried not to entertain fantasies where I miraculously found myself in a relationship. Yet year after year, the universe played its cruel joke, placing me in at least one class together with the girl I had a crush on—close enough to observe but worlds apart in social standing. My heart would skip whenever she'd tuck a strand of hair behind her ear during exams or when her voice, soft yet confident, answered a teacher's question. Yet my words died in my throat whenever opportunity arose.

That rainy evening in high school changed everything. The classroom clock had ticked well past six when I finally finished my cleanup duties. Stepping into the downpour, my sneakers splashed through puddles reflecting the streetlights above. That's when I saw her—sitting on the sidewalk ahead, her knees drawn to her chest, uniform plastered against her quivering frame. Raindrops crashed against her bowed head, running down her face as she stared blankly into the distance. Unrecognizable without her usual composure, vulnerable in a way I'd never imagined possible. It was Aya.