Chapter Text
Rain in early May always came without warning.
When Nakamura Okuto（中村男久斗） was about to leave the convenience store, the rain had just begun to fall. At first it was only a few drops, tapping softly against the plastic awning by the entrance. People on the street hurried past, and those without umbrellas began squeezing into the store one after another.
The entrance was soon wet all over. Nakamura stepped aside to make room for two high school students rushing in to take shelter; when he looked back, the wind had carried damp air into the store, and the rain had thickened.
"How annoying. I folded my umbrella for nothing again," he muttered under his breath, pulling a blue folding umbrella from his bag. Ever since he was young, he had paid attention to small details, and it had given him the good habit of preparing for rain before it fell.
The rain grew heavier. Nakamura checked the time, angled the umbrella forward, and hunched his shoulders as he wove through the pedestrians. Fortunately, the station was not far from the convenience store. He made it onto the platform before his shoes and socks were soaked through.
The lights on the platform blurred through the rain haze. The chime announcing an approaching train mixed with the sound of the station broadcast. People waiting for the train stood here and there in small groups. Nakamura stopped behind the yellow line, closed his umbrella, and slowly ran his fingers along the ribs to shake off the rainwater.
After spring passed, it had been a full year since he became a junior high school Japanese teacher. Yesterday, his family had come all the way to Tokyo to celebrate with him, and they had dinner together at a family restaurant. His parents agreed that he looked thinner and asked whether school had been too busy. His younger sister, Kana, gave him a bouquet of flowers and said she hoped her idiot older brother could hang in there a little longer instead of running home to mooch off the family before even two years had passed.
"No respect at all..." Nakamura muttered at the thought of his sister. Then again, the fact that she had been willing to give him a gift was already a great improvement.
A year after graduating from university, his social circle was limited to his coworkers. His classmates had all gone their separate ways, and contact between them had gradually become holiday mass messages and the occasional like on social media. Teaching and administrative work at school were both tedious and complicated. His probation period had barely ended before the head teacher handed him the duties of student council advisor, and the pile of documents on his desk grew another layer.
The station chime sounded again. Nakamura pulled his thoughts back. The train he was waiting for was slowly entering the station. Just as he was about to move forward, a familiar voice caught his ear through the noise.
"It's all right. Hold the statement until tomorrow morning... Yes, I know. They're very emotional right now, so we shouldn't provoke them again tonight... Let's sort out the situation first, then decide on the wording."
The voice was not loud, but it was clear. It was a little lower than Nakamura remembered, yet it still had a certain cheerful, bright quality.
He looked toward the sound. There were too many people on the platform, and the train pulling in blocked his view. All he could see was a person in a pale trench coat standing not far away with his back turned. A phone was held between his shoulder and ear. In one hand he had an orange umbrella; with the other, he was quickly taking notes on a small tablet. His brown hair was neater and shorter than it had been in high school, and the outline of his profile was blurred by the lights and the rain.
"Doors closing. Please stand clear."
The announcement rang out, and the crowd surged toward the doors. Someone behind Nakamura nudged him lightly, and only then did he come back to himself and step into the carriage. The doors closed behind him, cutting off every sound in an instant.
Through the glass, he saw the umbrella-holding figure on the platform turn halfway around. The man was still on the phone, his brows slightly furrowed. In the next second, his eyes curved into a smile.
The train pulled away from the platform. Nakamura lowered his head and clenched the umbrella cover in his hand, his palm faintly damp with sweat.
Maybe he only looked similar. Tokyo was so big. Mistaking a voice and a silhouette was nothing strange.
"No way..." he whispered, so softly that almost no one could hear.
There was no way Hirose would be here.
Before his emotions could settle, the phone in his pocket lit up. It was a message from Matsumura Kosei（松村高青）.
Matsumura: Hello~
Nakamura stared at the screen for a few seconds.
Matsumura: Still alive, Nakamura-sensei?
Nakamura: What do you want?
Matsumura: What a shame.
Nakamura: Are you here to congratulate me?
Matsumura: Of course. Congratulations on surviving one whole year in the world of minors.
Over the years, he and Matsumura had kept in fairly regular contact. It was strange, really. After high school graduation, the person who most often talked to him about the past was this former rival who had once caused him such headaches. Matsumura occasionally mentioned Hirose, always in a casual tone, as if he were passing on some trivial bit of news.
"Hirose-kun seems to be in Tokyo."
"He's pretty busy with work."
"Looks like he's still popular."
Whenever Matsumura sent something like that, Nakamura would secretly digest it on his own. He never asked follow-up questions. He did not want to seem too concerned.
He looked at his phone and hesitantly typed a line.
Nakamura: Do you know where Hirose works?
It was information he had deliberately avoided.
The train passed through a junction, and the carriage jolted noticeably. A passenger beside him reached up to grab the strap. Nakamura stared at the line he had typed for a while, then deleted it all.
Matsumura: Hey, suddenly reading and not replying is rude.
Nakamura: Sorry, the train signal was bad.
Matsumura: You're on a train in Tokyo and the signal was bad? Did you drill down to the center of the earth?
Nakamura: Mm-hm.
Matsumura: There you go brushing me off again!
Matsumura: Hey!
The train was passing through a tunnel. Nakamura put his phone away and ignored Matsumura's complaints. He looked up at the dark window. The glass clearly reflected his figure: he had paid attention to keeping his appearance neat, but after a full day of classes and meetings, his shirt and slacks were no longer crisp. Only his bangs had barely kept their shape from that morning. Hirose had once said he would look better if he cut his bangs a little shorter. Since then, every time Nakamura got a haircut, he would remind the stylist how to trim them.
He would have to use extra hair oil tonight.
The next day, after school, the rain had only just stopped.
Nakamura stood at the staff room door with a stack of essays in his arms when he heard the head teacher call his name from inside.
"Nakamura-sensei, please check the student council activity application forms for next week again."
"Yes."
"And the second-years' book reports. The Japanese department needs to compile them by tomorrow morning."
"Yes."
"Can you finish today?"
"Yes."
By the time everything was handled, the sky had already darkened. He said goodbye to a few students on duty at the school gate and watched them run off noisily before slowly heading toward the station. Usually, he did not take the route by the convenience store when he went home. That direction was a detour and inconvenient for transfers. Yesterday he had only gone that way to buy a new dessert flavor Kana had recommended.
So there was absolutely no need to go today.
Nakamura thought so, but his feet stopped at the intersection. To the left was his usual way home; straight ahead led to that station. The light changed from red to green, and pedestrians scattered in different directions.
He stood where he was, the bag full of teaching materials dragging heavily at his hand.
"...I'm just changing up my commute," he thought. "This route isn't that far either."
Ten minutes later, he was standing on yesterday's platform. Without the noise of the rain, the announcements sounded much clearer. His gaze moved through the crowd, searching for a pale trench coat, an orange umbrella, or the side of a face that could make his heart move.
Nothing.
He sighed and rubbed the space between his brows.
"What am I even doing..."
On the third day, he had no intention of going to that station.
After school, the Japanese department held an impromptu meeting. The head teacher announced the schedule for next month's open class and reminded the younger teachers to pay attention to classroom discipline. Nakamura sat at the end of the conference table, listening seriously and taking careful notes on every item. When the meeting ended, the evening clouds in the distance were still bright, while the clouds nearby had turned a grayish blue, a sign of rain.
As a coworker stood up, they asked, "Nakamura-sensei, are you working overtime today?"
"No." Nakamura put the folder into his bag. "I'm going home today."
He left school and somehow ended up on that route without anyone noticing.
He still did not run into him.
He returned to the convenience store and bought a mentaiko rice ball and a bottle of black coffee. Bitterness spread across his tongue. The cold liquid slid down his throat, clean and refreshing. He thought of Hirose in high school, who had liked café au lait, cocoa, and those drinks in cute packaging whose ingredient lists alone made one's teeth ache. Hirose had once taken a very serious sip of Nakamura's black coffee, then wrinkled up that adorable face and said, "Nakamura, can people really drink this?"
What an adorable angel.
"Cough, cough... I've really lost it." He hurriedly screwed the cap back on, his ears slightly warm, and began reflecting on his behavior over the past few days. He did not even know whether that person had really been Hirose, yet he had spent days staking out this place. This was clearly the kind of thing Matsumura would do.
On the fourth day, it rained again.
During the last class of the afternoon, the sky outside was gloomy, and the students' attention sank along with the air pressure.
Today's lesson was on tanka. Nakamura wrote the characters for "lingering emotion" on the blackboard. "Yojou is widely used in tanka. It is a writing technique where you do not say everything outright." He turned around, chalk dust on his fingers. "You leave the unsaid parts for the reader to feel."
The bell rang, and the students instantly came back to life. As Nakamura packed up his teaching materials, he reminded them not to run in the hallway. Managing students took a lot of energy, but he was satisfied with the results of his efforts so far.
Work ended earlier than he had expected that day, and the head teacher did not assign anything new. Nakamura opened his folding umbrella and once again headed toward that intersection.
He no longer bothered looking for excuses.
On a rainy day, the convenience store was crowded around the hot drinks and lunch boxes. The automatic doors kept opening and closing, the electronic chime ringing again and again, and the floor mat had been trampled wet.
Nakamura decided to buy a boxed dinner and a drink to get through the evening. Carrying a shopping basket, he dodged through the cramped space and was accidentally pushed toward the medicine section. All kinds of medicine and supplements were crowded together on the shelves, their labels bright enough to sting the eyes. Beside them stood a temporary display of disposable raincoats and clear umbrellas. The umbrella rack was almost empty, with only the last few stuck crookedly in the corner.
A figure stood in front of the shelf, holding an energy drink in his left hand and a phone in his right. The sleeve of his pale trench coat was damp from the rain, his tie hung loose, and his brown hair was not as neat as it had been on the platform, probably blown out of place on his way there. He looked down at the drink's label, his brows slightly furrowed. From time to time, he responded to the person on the other end of the call with brief hums, his lively voice lowered by fatigue.
"I understand. Let them rest for now. Continuing to communicate tonight will only make things worse. We'll handle it together tomorrow."
Nakamura stood at the corner of the shelf, his whole body going still.
It really was Hirose.
He had imagined that if this day ever came, he would at least manage a decent "It's been a while." As it turned out, he had overestimated himself. His first reaction was only to run.
Almost instinctively, he stepped back. The basket hit the shelf beside him with a light clatter.
The moment Hirose raised his head, Nakamura immediately turned away.
"Nakamura?" The voice came from behind him.
Nakamura's feet stuck to the tile floor.
There were a few seconds of silence behind him, then footsteps drew closer.
"It really is Nakamura!"
"Hi... Hirose." Nakamura slowly turned around, his voice dry beyond belief.
Hirose stopped two steps away from him. When he smiled, he still looked the way he had in high school, and Nakamura felt there was nowhere to run.
"It's been a while," Hirose said.
Nakamura nodded. "It... it's been a while."
The store broadcast was announcing the weekly specials. From the cashier came the words, "Thank you, please come again." People kept passing by them, reaching for energy drinks on the shelf. The two of them fell silent, but only Nakamura knew that his heartbeat was loud enough to drown out the rain.
"Nakamura." Hirose looked at him and suddenly blinked.
"Mm..."
"Just now..." Hirose tilted his head slightly. "Were you trying to pretend you hadn't seen me?"
For one second, Nakamura's mind went blank. "N-no!"
Hirose smiled. "Really?"
"Really." Nakamura tried to make himself sound reliable. "I just suddenly remembered there was, um, something else I needed to buy."
"Only after you saw me?"
"No!" He answered too quickly, which only made the air in front of the shelf more awkward. Nakamura wished he could stuff himself into the promotional tissue box beside him. He was already an adult. During the day, he could stand at the front of a classroom and teach so many students, yet the moment he saw Hirose, he could not even come up with a decent excuse.
Hirose did not press him further. He lowered his eyes to Nakamura's shopping basket. It was completely empty.
"Are you here to buy dinner?"
"Yes." Nakamura immediately grabbed onto the ordinary topic. "School ended a little late today... Ah, I'm a Japanese teacher at a junior high school—"
"I know." Hirose looked as if everything had already been explained. "Ko-Chan told me. He said you're teaching in Tokyo."
Nakamura's fingers tightened around the basket handle. Matsumura, that bastard, had been talking again.
"I hope he didn't add any nonsense," Nakamura said.
"He said you'd definitely be bullied by your students until you quit." Hirose laughed brightly. The sound was exactly the same as it had been in high school.
That bastard!
"But teaching feels like it suits you," Hirose said. He put the drink back on the shelf and took another one that looked milder. "Nakamura would listen to students very seriously, wouldn't he?"
The sudden compliment left Nakamura at a loss for words. All he could do was lower his head and blush at the edge of his shopping basket.
"What about you, Hirose?" he asked, trying to regain the rhythm of the conversation. "What kind of work do you do now?"
"Public relations. I deal with troublesome interpersonal problems and corporate image issues."
"That sounds amazing." Nakamura looked genuinely surprised. No wonder Hirose had looked so formal both times he saw him.
"It only sounds amazing." The convenience store light fell across Hirose's lashes, casting soft, uneven shadows. "In reality, it's just apologizing nonstop, writing statements, calming people down, and reminding everyone to sit down when they all want to start arguing."
"That must be hard." Nakamura was staring at Hirose's face and answered almost mechanically.
"Sometimes it is. But—" Hirose paused. "Nakamura, you've been staring at me this whole time."
Nakamura nearly dropped the basket. "Ah! I just, I was just..."
Hirose watched him fail to come up with a reason and laughed even more happily. "You're still so easy to fluster."
Looking at Hirose's adorable smile, Nakamura's tense shoulders slowly relaxed, and he smiled shyly.
Just then, Hirose's phone rang again. He glanced down at it, his brows drawing together lightly.
"If you have work, I shouldn't keep you..."
"It's not urgent." Hirose quickly turned off the screen. "I'm already off work."
"But from your call just now..."
"If I spoil them, they'll harass me twenty-four hours a day," Hirose said with complete confidence.
They walked together toward the refrigerated lunch shelves. The aisles were not wide, and their shoulders brushed from time to time. Every time it happened, Nakamura's nerves tightened.
He picked up a chicken bento and looked at the calorie label, adding it to what he had eaten for lunch in his head. That amount of calories was nothing to worry about with his current build, but he had to find something to do.
Hirose picked up another boxed lunch and handed it to him. "Didn't you used to like this kind?"
Nakamura reached out and accepted the curry beef bento, stunned. "You still remember..."
Hirose blinked. "Of course I remember." As he spoke, he leaned forward curiously, trying to check Nakamura's expression. The distance between them kept shrinking.
"Why is your face so red?"
"It's too hot in here..." Nakamura said guiltily.
"Terrible excuse. Rejected, sensei."
Nakamura felt that if he stayed any longer, he would melt in front of the freezer. He hurriedly took the bento and a carton of milk and headed for the register.
When they stepped out of the convenience store, the rain was a little lighter than before. The street had been washed bright, and car lights dragged red and white halos through the puddles.
Nakamura took the blue folding umbrella from his bag. Hirose held his orange umbrella in his hand. For a moment, neither of them moved forward.
"Which line do you take now, Nakamura?"
Nakamura told him the station name.
Hirose raised his brows slightly. "This area isn't very convenient, is it? I remember the station to the west has a direct line."
"It's... it's not that bad."
"A detour?"
"I change up my commute once in a while." How is this adorable rascal so sharp? Nakamura felt he could barely breathe.
"The person on the platform three days ago really was you, wasn't it?"
The rain grew heavier again at that moment. Nakamura looked at Hirose in surprise, disbelief filling his voice. "I didn't think it was really you... You looked busy with work, so I didn't interrupt."
"I was surprised too, running into you here." Hirose smiled. "Are you going straight home after this? I'll walk you to the station."
He had not really intended to ask for Nakamura's opinion. He walked straight to the edge of the awning and opened his umbrella. Rain slid along the canopy, weaving fine lines beside his shoulder.
Nakamura felt that he ought to decline politely, but when he opened his mouth, a different sentence came out.
"...Okay."
Hirose tilted the umbrella toward Nakamura.
"Let's go together, Nakamura-sensei."