Into The Rain With You

The bell rang, and the school day officially began. I dragged my feet down the crowded hallway of Asuka High School, surrounded by the typical morning chaos: kids rushing to their lockers, catching up with friends, and laughing like the world was still full of possibilities.

But for me, it was just another performance.

I've never been the type to get nervous or feel out of place. Not when you've been doing it for as long as I have. My whole life has been about showing up, turning on the charm, and making people laugh. I guess you could say I was good at it, because that's how people knew me—Kai Tanaka, the guy who could make you smile even when you didn't feel like it.

I weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, tossing out jokes like breadcrumbs for anyone within earshot. A quick one-liner here, a sarcastic remark there. The usual. It was effortless, like second nature. I was used to being the center of attention. And people liked it. They liked me.

I waved at a group of girls who were chatting by the lockers. Their eyes lit up when they saw me, and I grinned, giving them a friendly wave in return. "Hey, girls! What's the latest gossip? Or are you just here to enjoy the charm that is me?"

They giggled, of course. That was the thing about being Kai Tanaka—no one ever questioned me. I could say the dumbest things, and people would laugh. I'd say something half-witty, and they'd act like I was some kind of genius.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the shiny surface of a locker door as I passed by. I looked the part—hair messy in that way that was just perfect, a smile that stretched a little too wide, the kind of smile that made people think I had everything figured out. And maybe for a second, I convinced myself I did too. But somewhere beneath that smile, in a place I didn't like to acknowledge, there was something darker. Something that didn't fit into the role I had carved out for myself.

But who cared about that? I wasn't about to start thinking about that now.

I laughed it off, then turned my attention to a group of my friends who were gathered near the stairwell. Yuto, the guy who was always the first to crack a joke, slapped me on the back as I approached. "Dude, you're on fire today. Seriously, you should join the drama club or something."

I chuckled, throwing my arm around his shoulder in that overly confident way I always did. "I don't need a club to put on a show, man. I'm already a walking performance."

Yuto laughed and then looked at me with that kind of wide-eyed admiration that people always gave me. He meant it as a compliment, but something about it always felt off. Like I was expected to keep being this version of myself, like this was the only thing people wanted from me.

"Maybe you should run for class president next," Miyu teased, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She had a laugh that could light up a room, and she always knew how to make a situation feel light. But even her teasing felt a little too eager, a little too manufactured. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was trying too hard to keep the act going.

I smiled, of course. "Class president? Nah, I've got better things to do. But thanks for thinking of me." I said it with a wink, knowing full well that everyone was watching. Everyone was always watching.

The group fell into an easy conversation, but I found myself zoning out. I was still aware of the jokes and the conversations, but something inside me just wasn't there anymore. I don't know when it started, this feeling of disconnection, but it was becoming harder to ignore. I was surrounded by people, but I felt like I was standing on the outside, looking in.

I glanced around the cafeteria, catching sight of familiar faces. I could have been part of any conversation in that room, but something—someone—caught my attention instead. At the far end of the cafeteria, near the windows, sat Haruka.

She was reading a book, completely absorbed in whatever story she was escaping into. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, and she looked so completely isolated from everything happening around her. There were no fake laughs, no awkward conversations—just her and her book. It was the kind of stillness I envied.

I don't know why, but I couldn't stop staring. Everyone else was making noise, creating their own little dramas, but Haruka was just… there. And it wasn't like she was a loner in a sad, pitiful way. It was like she was simply above it all.

The thought of someone being able to exist without needing the world's approval was something I couldn't quite wrap my head around. I mean, I'd never been in that position. I didn't know what it was like to not crave attention, to not need people to notice me. She didn't need anything from anyone. And for the first time today, I realized how badly I wanted that peace.

But I couldn't look at her for too long. The more I thought about it, the more my stomach twisted. She wasn't part of the performance. She wasn't playing along in the way everyone else did. And in a way, it made me feel small.