Kuro despised rainy mornings.
They were too still.
Full of mories that he would prefer to forget.
mories could easily get lost when it rained, just like falling raindrops through the small cracks in his mind that he had sealed up very tightly.
The soft tap of rain against the kitchen windows as the house ca to life.
Akari was sitting at the dining room table complaining in a dramatic way.
"Why does school have to be in session when it is raining?"
Aoi was sitting nearby, calmly sipping tea.
"Because the world continues to have to operate," she said.
"How unfair."
And Kuro silently stood by the refrigerator holding a large carton of milk and not moving and not thinking.
Just looking.
And then he looked over to the small calendar that was hanging to the side of the kitchen shelf.
It was May 29.
The room was completely still.
He had an expressionless face.
Not much facial expression at all.
But the entire environnt around him had beco much quieter than it was before he looked at the calendar.
After a brief mont he quickly looked away.
"I am leaving."
Akari blinked.
"You’re leaving already?" she asked.
"Uh-huh."
Then he grabbed his bag and left before anyone could ask him anything else.
As Kuro stepped out the front door, it closed gently behind him.
The aftermath of his leaving was felt in a sudden silence that fell over the kitchen.
At first, Akari appeared bewildered.
"What was that all about?"
Aoi’s response did not co imdiately.
Instead, her gaze slowly moved over to the calendar on the wall.
She suddenly froze.
Realization.
anwhile, Shizuka Kurogane had lowered her gaze toward the floor beside the stove.
Unlike the others, she had recognized the date from years before.
It was always the sa date.
Kuro had changed on the sa date every year.
Next, Akari spoke softly again, "Did sothing happen?"
Aoi hesitated a mont before finally responding in a quiet voice, "It’s his mom’s death anniversary ."
Akari froze.
All of the excitent from earlier in the day disappeared.
"Oh."
Akari’s voice was small, quiet.
Now that she had made the connection, everything fit together.
Kuro’s facial expression earlier today. The distance Kuro kept from her today. The vacant expression in his eyes earlier today.
Finally, after about a minute had passed after Aoi had answered Akari’s question, Shizuka spoke softly,
"He tries to act normally at this ti of year, but he rarely sleeps well during that week."
"He also stops talking about unimportant things."
Akari looked down slightly. "I didn’t know."
"He hides it," Aoi said.
Even though Aoi sounded calm, there was sadness hiding below the surface of her voice.
Unlike Akari, Aoi had noticed this trend for many years that Kuro began to beco more quiet around this ti of year, more distant, and less energetic.
He never had the chance to talk about what was bothering him.
Not once.
Kuro walked to school, alone, through the pouring rain in his own little world.
Umbrella down.
Hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Expression unreadable.
However, inside his mind all the mories kept moving around.
A woman, laughing lightly; a set of warm hands gently caressing his hair; a voice he can hardly recall now.
But sohow not being able to rember her hurts the worst.
He stopped for a brief mont at the vending machine before heading into the station.
Then he just stared blankly at the selection of drinks as if he could not see them anymore (which was true).
Just then "...Kuro?"
Very familiar voice.
Kuro lifts his eyes montarily.
Glancing over he sees Rika Saionji standing there, holding her umbrella above her head carefully.
Imdiately after that her face softened.
Because she saw the failure in him instantly.
Sothing was wrong.
Not wrong in the dramatic sense.
Wrong in a quiet sort of way.
A dangerous sort of way.
Rika walks toward him slowly.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"More or less."
Normally, she would tease him lightly about lying; however today she didn’t.
Instead Rika reached into the vending machine and handed him a can of warm coffee.
"Here."
Kuro blinks slightly.
"You bought this for yourself."
"Yes."
"Then why are you giving it to ?"
Rika looks away from him briefly.
"You looked cold."
A very simple answer.
However, sohow a very simple act hurt Kuro in a way that he could not explain.
Because, on days like today, small things are the most important things.
Then softly Rika looked at him in silence for a bit. Then she asked quietly .
"Do you want company?"
This was a powerful emotional gesture that made it difficult for Kuro to move at first because normally no one would be quiet around Kuro.
No one would even try to have a conversation near him, and yet, here was Rika doing this.
She asked him as if she understood that so days, just having soone around who cares is enough, more than anything else.
After about 4 seconds of silence "Maybe".
That small response was the most truthful thing he had said so far and it made Rika smile gently.
The train ride to school felt very different that day; the atmosphere was very serene. No one teased Kuro or made him feel uncomfortable about talking to him.
Rika sat next to Kuro on the train while the rain ca down outside and she didn’t pressure him into having a conversation. She just sat there with him.
There was sothing about this that was comforting to Kuro.
Back ho, Shizuka picked up around the kitchen while she was reminiscing about how things were with Kuro.
This morning, Kuro looked like he had been run over by a truck. He looked like he could use so one to talk to. But Kuro has never let on that he was ever in pain before.
Then softly, Aoi asked "Will he be okay?" Shizuka glanced at Aoi for a mont, then turned back to the dishes.
For the first ti that day, her smile started to fade away. "He always says he’s fine."
Then softly, from Aoi, "That worries ."
Kuro sat looking out the window of the train while rain was running down the glass. The noise of kids talking and laughing echoed all around him.
The sounds of the normal morning were distant.
A sudden vibration ca from his phone below the desk.
What is this?
A text ssage from Shizuka.
"Co ho early tonight."
It was brief and straightforward.
However, he had spent too long looking at the words.
He could feel her notice, like always; she always noticed.
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