From Yui's Perspective
She noticed it more now the way she waited before packing her things. The way her eyes searched the classroom without meaning to.
It wasn't a habit. Not yet. But it was becoming one.
Makoto.
He wasn't loud. He didn't demand space. He just… started existing in hers more naturally than anyone else had before.
Yui used to think comfort came from silence. Now, she was starting to understand it came from being around people who didn't require you to explain yourself.
That afternoon, it was overcast again. No rain yet, but the air felt heavy, like it was thinking about it.
She lingered near the gate.
Makoto showed up a few minutes later, out of breath, his school bag swinging loosely from one shoulder.
"You waited?" he asked, voice unsure.
She looked away. "You're late."
He smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."
They started walking. No plans. No destination except the usual street that curved toward the station, passing small stores with fading signs and vending machines humming softly.
As they walked, a breeze rustled the trees overhead. The world felt smaller in a good way.
"Did you draw yesterday?" he asked.
Yui nodded. "A little."
"Was it a 'quiet lightning' kind of drawing?"
She paused, then turned to him. "That's not how it works."
"Shame. I thought I was becoming your muse."
She gave him a sideways glance. "Maybe. You do have interesting hair."
"Rude."
He looked mock-offended, and she almost almost smiled.
They passed a closed bookstore with a faded "Opening Soon" sign. Yui stopped suddenly, staring at the dusty display window.
Makoto paused beside her. "Something wrong?"
"I used to go to a bookstore like this with Miku," she said. "Back in our old neighborhood. She always picked out the same picture book. Even though she already had it memorized."
Makoto looked at her, quiet.
"She said the pictures made her feel safe. Like things weren't going to change if she read them again."
Yui wasn't sure why she told him that.
It wasn't a sad memory. Just… tender. Raw.
When she looked at him again, Makoto wasn't saying anything. He was just listening. His expression soft.
It made her chest ache.
"You're good at this," she murmured.
"At what?"
"Being here. Without making it feel heavy."
He didn't respond right away. Then, softly, "You're easy to be here with."
At the station, as they waited for their trains, Yui leaned against the railing and glanced sideways at him.
"There are things I won't be able to say for a while."
"I know."
"But… I'm still glad it was you. That first day."
Makoto looked at her. "You mean when you almost murdered me with your sketchbook?"
A small laugh escaped her lips. Quiet. Real.
She covered her mouth with one hand. "You're never letting that go, are you?"
"Nope," he said with a grin. "It's part of our origin story now."
The train arrived. Yui hesitated, then stepped forward.
As the doors began to close, she turned.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
Makoto nodded. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
That night, Yui finally opened her sketchbook. She didn't think. She just let her pencil move.
When she finished, she stared at the page.
It was a rough drawing. Imperfect. But it showed two figures walking side by side under an umbrella, shoulders brushing, faces turned slightly toward each other.
No rain in the drawing. Just the space between them.
She wrote one word under the sketch.
"Tomorrow."