Chapter 87: Whispers Between the Raindrops
The rain returned to Hoshikawa City—not in torrents, but in a quiet, steady rhythm that matched the emotional haze lingering in Naoto's heart. The festival had ended, the laughter had faded, and all that remained now were the silent echoes of unresolved feelings.
Naoto sat beneath the awning of a small bakery on the corner near his apartment. The scent of fresh bread wafted into the air, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were too far away—back to the quiet conversation he had with Rika under the sakura tree, her hands trembling, her words faltering, but her gaze unshaken.
She had confessed. Not directly, but in a way that only someone like Naoto could decipher. And he had remained silent.
"You're not looking too good, Hayashi."
Naoto looked up to see Souta standing there, umbrella tilted sideways, already soaked from the walk.
"Souta," Naoto said, offering a faint smile. "You always appear when the sky's about to cry."
"Or when you're about to."
They shared a brief silence before Souta dropped beside him, letting the rain touch his shoulders.
"You okay?"
Naoto hesitated, then answered, "No."
Souta didn't press him, and that alone made Naoto speak more.
"I keep thinking I can carry all this," he murmured. "The promise I made to Himari. The job. Rika... She's changing. And I... I'm the reason."
Souta nodded. "And what about you? Are you changing too?"
Naoto didn't answer.
---
Meanwhile, across town, Rika sat in her room, sketchbook open on her lap. She wasn't drawing flowers or landscapes anymore. Her hand moved, absent-mindedly creating the curve of Naoto's silhouette—standing by the bridge, his back to her.
She sighed, then flipped the page.
A knock on her door startled her.
"Rika, can I come in?" It was her father.
"...Sure."
Shinji Hayato entered, holding two cups of tea. He placed one on her desk and sat beside her.
"You haven't been yourself lately."
"I'm fine."
He didn't speak for a moment. Then, gently, he said, "I know I've forced things on you. Asking Naoto to tutor you, dragging him into our lives. But I did it because I trusted him."
Rika looked at him. "Did you ever wonder how I felt about it?"
"Every day. But I also believed you'd grow. And I was right. You have."
Her eyes welled. "I wish I hadn't."
He reached over, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It hurts now, but pain changes us. I just hope it makes you stronger."
---
Later that night, Naoto found himself on the rooftop of his apartment building. He often went there to think.
The city lights blurred through the misty rain. He took out his phone and stared at Himari's last message.
"Even if the world changes, promise me you'll never lose yourself."
"Too late," he whispered.
Behind him, a voice spoke.
"Still thinking about her?"
He turned. It was Aiko.
"How did you get up here?"
"Souta let me in. He's downstairs, eating your curry."
Naoto chuckled lightly. "Of course."
Aiko approached, her expression softening. "I know you're caught in between, Naoto. But you're not alone. We're all here."
He glanced at her. "I know. It's just... Himari saved me once. Pulled me out of the darkest place I'd ever been. And now I owe her my future."
"And what about the present? Who's saving you now?"
That question echoed through him like thunder.
---
Somewhere far away, Himari stood on a hill overlooking the sea. The wind caught her hair, and she held her phone close to her chest.
She hadn't called Naoto in days.
"Just a little longer," she murmured. "Then I'll come back. And I'll explain everything."
But she knew—by the time she did, the world around Naoto might have already changed.
---
Back in Hoshikawa, Rika made a decision.
She called Souta.
"Can we talk? Tomorrow? Just us."
"Of course," he said. "I'm always here."
Her fingers trembled as she ended the call. But she felt something stir inside her.
Not hope.
Closure.
---
The next morning, as the rain cleared, Naoto received a message from his father's old friend.
"Your mother's condition is worsening. You should come. Soon."
He clenched the phone, heart thudding.
And so, the next chapter of his life—of all their lives—began to unfold.
With rain still whispering between the raindrops, and farewells hiding in the silences they were too afraid to speak.
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