The rain fell unhurriedly.
It wasn't a downpour that forced people to run, but rather a downpour that made the Japanese city feel slower than usual. The wet streets reflected lights, the rooftops glistened faintly, and the air carried the scent of damp earth.
The camera seemed to move upward—
past intersections, bus stops, rows of houses—
and then stopped on a large high school standing quietly in the middle of town.
In one of the second-floor classrooms.
A male student sat by the window.
Ayano Kei.
His gaze was blank, piercing the raindrop-streaked windowpane. His fingers rested on his chin, his shoulders slumped slightly, as if his thoughts were far from this classroom.
The teacher's voice rang out… softly.
"Ayano."
There was no response.
Several students turned, some smiling slightly.
"Ayano."
Still silent.
The teacher took a breath, then—
"AYANO KEI!"
Ayano gasped.
"Huh—?! Yes!"
The class erupted in laughter.
The teacher glared at her.
"You're daydreaming again. Answer me. What page are we on?"
Ayano glanced quickly at the book, trying to guess.
"…Page… 47?"
"Wrong."
The teacher sighed. "Listen to the lesson, Ayano."
"Yes… sorry."
Ayano lowered her head.
Her gaze returned to the window—
to the rain that continued to fall, as if unconcerned about who was missing what.
The dismissal bell finally rang.
Chairs shifted, small chatter erupted, and one by one the students grabbed their bags. Outside, the rain hadn't stopped. Many opened their umbrellas, some groaned softly.
Ayano walked out of the classroom, down the stairs to the first floor.
She stopped in front of a vending machine in the corner of the corridor. The machine's light was bright, contrasting with the gray afternoon sky.
She inserted a coin.
Thud.
A drink can fell.
Ayano opened it and took a slow sip.
That was when—
she saw someone sitting alone on a bench near the corridor window.
A girl.
Her light brown hair was neatly combed, her uniform was clean, and her posture was straight. Her gaze was straight ahead—cold, sharp, and discouraging.
Nao Karuizawa.
A girl in her class.
Famous for being strict.
Famous for being cruel.
Famous for not being fond of small talk.
Ayano stared at her for a few seconds.
Then—
she returned to the vending machine.
Thud.
Another can fell.
Ayano walked closer.
Nao noticed her presence and immediately turned around. Her gaze hardened.
"What's wrong?" her voice was cold.
Ayano stopped in front of her and held out the can.
"Here."
Nao was taken aback.
"What do you mean?"
Her tone was harsh, defensive.
"Drink," Ayano replied simply. "You don't have an umbrella."
"I didn't ask."
He looked away.
Ayano remained standing there, her hand undrawn.
"It's okay," she said calmly. "I bought an extra."
A few seconds passed.
Nao finally grabbed the can quickly.
"…Thank you," she said briefly, almost sounding forced.
Ayano smiled slightly.
She sat down next to him—keeping her distance, not too close.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked softly.
Nao fell silent.
Her shoulders tensed slightly.
The can hadn't been opened yet.
"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine," Ayano continued. "I'm just… curious."
Nao looked down.
The rain could be heard more clearly outside the window.
"…My father," she said finally.
"He died… yesterday."
Ayano fell silent.
Nao gripped the can tightly.
"I can't focus. All the sounds in the classroom feel distant," she continued, her voice even but fragile. "That's why… I probably seem annoying."
Ayano swallowed.
"…My mother too," she said quietly.
"Just a while ago."
Nao turned her head quickly.
"What…?"
Ayano nodded.
"The days feel empty. Daydreaming has become a habit."
Nao stared at her for a long moment.
The intense gaze slowly faded.
"…So," he said softly, "we're the same."
Ayano smiled slightly.
"Yes."
For the first time, Nao opened her can of drink.
Psht.
She took a slow sip.
They sat side by side, not speaking—
but for the first time that day,
the rain didn't feel so cold.
And without them realizing it,
that simple encounter was the beginning of something that would grow slowly, warmly, and truly.
The next morning was quieter than usual.
Sunlight streamed in through the curtains of Ayano Kei's room, illuminating the cool wooden floor. She opened her eyes slowly, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before finally sitting up.
Saturday.
A day off—
a day that usually felt empty since her mother left.
Ayano went downstairs to the first floor. From the kitchen came the sound of footsteps and the rustling of fabric. Her father stood there, dressed in a neat shirt, adjusting his watch.
"Dad?"
Ayano stopped in the kitchen doorway. "Where are you going so early?"
Her father turned, smiling faintly.
"I have something important to do."
Ayano frowned.
"What is it?"
Her father paused for a moment, then said cautiously,
"Dad… found someone. Someone I want to introduce to you."
Ayano's heart skipped a beat.
"…What do you mean?"
"New mom," her father answered quietly.
Ayano froze.
In her head, the words echoed—
new mom.
Her chest felt tight.
So fast…
Mom just died…
But her face Her voice remained flat.
"Oh," she said simply.
Her father looked at her, as if confirming something.
"Let's talk this afternoon, okay?"
Ayano nodded slightly.
"Yes."
She let her father leave without further question.
The door closed.
The house was quiet again.
Ayano stood in the kitchen for a long time before finally grabbing her jacket and leaving.
The supermarket was bustling with the sound of cart wheels and light conversation. Ayano wandered aimlessly among the shelves, simply picking up a few items.
Afterward, she stopped at a small cafe on the corner.
She sat by the window, ordered a coffee, and then watched the people passing by outside.
Why does it feel like I'm the one left behind?
Is it my fault for not being ready?
The clock on the wall read 10:00 when she finally stood up and left.
When Ayano reached the front of the house—
she stopped.
In front of the door, three pairs of shoes were arranged.
My shoes… Dad's shoes… so whose are they?
Her heart pounded.
Ayano entered.
A voice came from the living room.
"Ayano, come here," her father called.
Ayano stepped into the living room.
There sat a young woman with a gentle expression, and beside her—
a girl about her age.
When the girl turned—
their eyes met.
Time seemed to stop.
"…Nao?"
"…Ayano?"
They said each other's names at the same time.
Both of them fell silent, their faces filled with shock.
Ayano's father frowned in confusion.
"You… know each other?"
Ayano swallowed.
"…We," he said quietly, "are classmates."
Nao gave a small nod, her face stiff.
"Oh," her father said, sounding both relieved and awkward. "I see."
Ayano sat down on the sofa with a slow movement.
Nao looked down, her hands clasped in her lap.
The young woman smiled softly.
"Hello, Ayano-kun. I'm Nao's mother."
Ayano bowed politely.
"…Nice to meet you."
The atmosphere felt awkward.
It wasn't awkward—
more like a silence that was too full.
Nao glanced at Ayano briefly, then looked down again.
Ayano didn't dare look at her for too long, either.
Of all the possibilities she'd imagined this morning—
this one had never occurred to her.
Yesterday's rain.
The conversation in the hallway.
And now—
they were in the same house.
With no one prepared for it.
A Night Too Soon
The dining table was filled with the aroma of home-cooked food.
A yellow lamp hung over the table, creating a warm atmosphere—
but not for everyone.
Seiya and Kana sat side by side, exchanging small stories.
Their voices were light, with occasional soft laughs, as if the world were giving them permission to be happy again.
Meanwhile—
Nao looked down, her spoon moving slowly.
Ayano sat across from her, eating without really tasting anything.
"Ayano," Seiya said with a smile, "Father and Kana are planning to get married… tomorrow."
Ayano's spoon paused.
"…Tomorrow?"
His voice was even, but his brows furrowed slightly.
"Isn't that too soon?"
Kana turned, her face soft but firm.
"We've thought it through."
Seiya nodded.
"Father doesn't want to hesitate any longer."
Nao said nothing.
He simply continued eating, his shoulders slightly tense.
Ayano clenched her fists under the table.
"…If Father has decided."
No one asked any more questions.
Dinner ended in polite silence.
The night was growing late.
The lights in the parents' bedroom had gone out.
In the small garden behind the house, Nao sat on a wooden bench, hugging her knees. The night breeze gently rustled the leaves, and the garden lamp cast a dim light on her face.
Her thoughts were preoccupied.
Tomorrow… they'd get married.
She bowed her head lower.
"…Nao."
Nao was startled.
"H—!"
She turned quickly.
Ayano was standing behind her.
"Sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Nao sighed, her face slightly flushed.
"…I thought I was alone."
Ayano sat down beside her, maintaining a polite distance.
A few seconds passed in silence.
"…You don't seem like your usual self," Ayano said quietly.
Nao stiffened.
Usually—
cold, sharp, untouchable.
But now—
she looked down, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater.
"…I can't talk to guys," she said suddenly.
Ayano paused.
"I'm so fierce because I'm nervous," Nao continued, her voice small.
"I just don't want to seem weak…"
She chuckled, bitterly.
"But actually… I'm shy."
Ayano looked at her.
For the first time—
Nao Karuizawa looked… cute.
"…I didn't expect that," Ayano said honestly.
Nao glanced at her briefly, then quickly looked down again.
"That's why you shouldn't tell anyone."
Ayano nodded.
"Calm down."
Silence fell again.
Then—
"...You still haven't moved on, have you?" Ayano asked.
Nao nodded slowly.
"My father just died," she said softly.
"I still often wish I could go home and see him in the living room."
Ayano swallowed.
"…me too."
Nao turned her head.
"I'm upset," Ayano continued, her voice calm but heavy.
"Why were our parents able to find replacements so quickly… when we weren't even ready to accept the loss?"
Nao hugged her knees tighter.
"…I'm confused, too."
They fell silent.
Not because they had nothing to say—
but because their feelings were too similar.
"…Ayano," Nao said quietly.
"If You don't mind..."
Ayano turned her head.
"...Maybe we can help each other."
Ayano smiled faintly.
"Yes."
The garden lights glowed softly.
Two children, not yet ready to take the next step—
were brought together in the same house, by the same loss.
And that night, for the first time—
they didn't feel alone.
(Volume 1 ends)