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Yachi Hitoka
Yachi Hitoka stood at the threshold of the gym doors, clutching her bag against her chest as she stared at the downpour beyond the awning. The rain came down in sheets—angry and loud—slapping against the pavement with no sign of letting up. The sky above the school had darkened into a uniform gray, heavy and endless.
She bit her lip.
She could run for it—the bus stop wasn’t that far, and she knew the rhythm of the neighborhood streets like the back of her hand.
But her socks would get soaked, and she might get sick—again. That had already happened once this semester. And more than that, she didn’t want to end up looking like a drowned cat. She’d been teased by the little kids living next door before. She didn’t want to be teased again.
So instead, she lingered. Maybe the rain would stop soon.
Behind her, the sounds of practice echoed—rubber soles squeaking against the court, volleyballs slapping into palms, Hinata Shoyo’s voice shouting, “Nice receive!” followed by Kageyama Tobio yelling something incomprehensible.
Yachi smiled faintly. It was the same as always.
She checked her phone. No new messages. Her mom would be working late, and there was no way she’d come with a car just because of rain. Yachi wasn’t a kid anymore.
She didn’t want to ruin her textbooks, or her clothes, or the notes she planned to revise for Hinata and Kageyama tomorrow.
The scent of rain drifted beneath the awning—wet pavement and damp concrete, sharp and earthy. It all felt strangely still, like the world had gone quiet except for the hiss of water hitting everything at once.
“Are you waiting for the rain to stop?”
The familiar voice startled her, and she turned just in time to see Hinata appear beside her, slinging his bag over one shoulder, his jacket zipped up.
“Y-Yeah,” she said, pushing a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “I forgot my umbrella…”
Hinata reached into his bag and pulled out a small umbrella.
“I’ve got one!” he said, proud. “Wanna walk together?”
Yachi blinked.
It was… small. A pale lavender color with little white stars and cartoon animals printed along the edge—bunnies, bears, and one that might’ve been a cat in a tutu. The handle had a plastic charm dangling from the loop.
It was definitely a child’s.
“Oh,” she said, trying not to laugh. “That’s… cute.”
Hinata looked down at it like he was seeing it for the first time.
“Wait. Oh—crap. I think I grabbed Natsu’s by accident.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking mildly panicked. “She has, like, three, and they’re all crammed in the same basket near the door.”
Yachi laughed, just a little. “It’s fine—really. At least you have an umbrella with you.”
“I guess…”
Then, he held it out.
She hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. The umbrella just barely looked like it could cover a first grader—let alone two high schoolers.
She glanced at the clouds again. There was no sign of clearing.
Hinata was looking at her like the offer meant something—and part of her hoped it wasn’t just about the rain.
“Okay,” she said softly after a moment’s hesitation.
He grinned.
They stepped outside together. Hinata popped the umbrella open—it barely cleared the top of his head—and adjusted it so that she was covered.
Yachi felt the closeness immediately.
The first few steps felt impossible—too loud, too aware. The soles of their shoes squelched lightly on the soaked pavement. Every step echoed in her ears, blending with the hiss of falling rain and the occasional whoosh of a passing car sending up arcs of water.
Their arms brushed. Their steps had to sync, or else one of them would get left behind. She could smell the faint scent of his detergent, body spray, and the warmth radiating off him from practice.
The air was cool, but her cheeks burned. Her breath caught in her throat every time their shoulders touched.
She tried not to focus on how her knuckles brushed his jacket, or how her shoulder felt warmer when it touched his, or how she could hear him breathing—steady and relaxed, like this wasn’t strange at all.
She was pretty sure her face was red.
“I’m sorry it’s so tiny,” Hinata said as they turned a corner. “I thought it felt light, but I didn’t look at it this morning. I just grabbed it and ran.”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “Don’t worry about it, Hinata-kun. I really appreciate this.”
However, as they walked, she noticed something. He kept tilting the umbrella—subtly—always shifting it toward her side. The rain was soaking his side more with every step. Yachi noticed the fabric of his sleeve darkening, clinging to his arm a little more with each passing second.
She opened her mouth, ready to say something—but hesitated. He didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed.
He just kept angling the umbrella toward her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
She lowered her gaze, guilt curling low in her stomach—but warmth too. It was such a small thing. But it felt like something she’d remember.
By the time they reached the stoplight near the corner, Yachi glanced sideways—and her breath caught.
His entire right shoulder was soaked. His sleeve clung to his arm, damp from the rain, and droplets trickled down the side of his jacket. Still, his face didn’t show any discomfort. He was still smiling a little, staring at the sky like he was watching something no one else could see.
A group of crows perched on the telephone wire above them, hunched and still. A line of hydrangeas along the fence to their right glowed faintly purple and blue in the dim light, petals heavy with water.
The world felt like it was holding its breath—and all she could see was him.
“You’re getting wet,” she finally said, gently. “Your arm… it’s soaked.”
“Huh?” Hinata blinked. Then, he looked down. “Oh… Eh, it’s fine.”
“What are you talking about—”
“You’re dry, right?” He interrupted her lightheartedly. “That’s what matters.”
Yachi felt her heart twist.
Why was it always him?
Smiling like that. Saying kind words like it didn't cost anything to give a little more than he had.
She wanted to say something else—something meaningful.
However, all that came out was a soft, “Thank you. For sharing it with me.”
Hinata turned to her then. His hair was starting to flatten from the drizzle sneaking in through the sides, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
“Of course. It’d be dumb to let you get soaked.”
Yachi nodded, looking away—then down—then immediately wished she hadn’t.
Their shoes were barely inches apart. Their bags bumped against each other as they walked. And the tiny, cartoon-covered umbrella above them might as well have had their names written beneath it.
She imagined it then. Two little stick figures drawn under a lavender triangle, surrounded by stars and cute characters. Her name beside his. It would’ve been a doodle she might have drawn in the margins of her diary when she was younger.
Her face flushed again.
Hinata said nothing, completely unaware.
There was a quiet weight in every step—not from him, but from the space between them. From how she could feel every inch of distance, even when there was hardly any.
The rain kept falling, soft and steady. The world blurred at the edges, and for a little while, it felt like they were the only two people in it.
Hinata Shoyo
The rain hadn’t let up—not even a little.
Hinata stayed with her, shoulder to shoulder beneath the tiny umbrella, as the rain continued to fall in steady sheets. His far shoulder was soaked now, the cold seeping through his sleeve—but he didn’t shift the umbrella. Not even a little.
The sidewalk glistened beneath their feet. Each passing car sent up a spray of water along the curb, the noise muted beneath the umbrella’s nylon canopy. Hinata kept glancing at the road, watching for headlights.
Then, in the distance, he spotted it—the bus rounding the corner, headlights cutting through the gray drizzle.
He stepped slightly in front of Yachi, just enough to block the splash zone as the bus rolled toward them, tires hissing across the soaked pavement. He held the umbrella higher over her head, making sure her bag and shoulders were still covered.
The bus pulled up with a soft groan, brakes hissing as it came to a stop. The door swung open.
Hinata looked at her. She gave him a small nod, tightening her grip on her bag before stepping forward.
Without thinking, he held the umbrella out farther—past her, above the first step of the bus—so that she wouldn’t feel a single drop as she boarded. She hesitated, eyes flicking toward him—wide, uncertain, almost like she wanted to say something. Then she climbed aboard.
Hinata didn’t pull the umbrella back over his own head until she had fully stepped inside.
He watched her walk down the narrow aisle. She paused near the middle and slid into a seat by the window. Then—just as she was setting her bag on her lap—she turned. She spotted him through the foggy glass, smiled, and raised a hand in a soft wave.
Hinata blinked. Then he waved back—quick, a little sheepish. The bus idled for another breath.
And then she was gone.
The bus rumbled to life and pulled away from the curb, taillights glowing red against the gray. Hinata stood there until it disappeared around the corner, swallowed by the rain.
Only then did he adjust the umbrella back over his head and turn toward home.
The right side of his body was soaked through. The rest of him wasn’t much better. He could feel the chill sinking into his jacket, his socks squishing slightly with every step.
The rain was heavier now—louder.
It drummed against the nylon in a quick, persistent rhythm he barely heard—his thoughts too loud for anything else.
She looked cold.
He probably should’ve offered his jacket. Perhaps, he could’ve tilted the umbrella more.
Her shoulder had stayed dry—he’d made sure of that—but his own had been soaked through. His bag strap still clung to the damp fabric of his jacket, uncomfortable and cold.
Not that it mattered.
He couldn’t stop replaying the feeling of walking beside her. Of how close they’d been—closer than he’d ever been to her before. Their bags had bumped. Their steps had synced. Her sleeve had brushed his arm. It was soft—barely there—but somehow… it stuck in his head.
And she’d smiled at him.
Not her usual nervous, caught-off-guard smile—the kind she gave when she was overwhelmed or trying to disappear.
This one had been small, steady, and warm. It was the kind of smile someone gave when they weren’t afraid to be seen.
Hinata let out a breath and leaned the umbrella against his shoulder, its handle slick with rain. His cheek still felt warm, even as the cold water crept farther into the fabric of his jacket.
“Man…” he muttered under his breath. “What’s wrong with me?”
But he knew.
He kept thinking about how close they’d stood—how incredibly close—as they walked. The tiny umbrella had forced them into step, shoulder to shoulder, and every time her sleeve brushed his, it had made his stomach flutter in this weird, fizzy way that almost knocked the air out of his lungs.
She had smelled faintly like shampoo and wet paper—schoolbooks and rain—and he’d felt a stupid, giddy kind of happiness that she didn’t get wet at all. Not even a little.
When she got on the bus, she’d looked back—just for a second.
Then, she waved at him, eyes crinkling slightly with that gentle smile.
He’d waved back, stunned at how cute she looked—how impossibly lucky he felt to be the one she smiled at like that.
By the time he reached home, his whole right side was cold. The umbrella had been basically useless on that front. His bag strap clung damply to his shoulder, and his socks squished a little in his shoes with each step.
He slipped them off in the entryway with a heavy sigh.
“I’m home!”
“In the kitchen!” Natsu’s voice rang back.
Hinata padded down the hallway, bag thudding to the floor by the doorway. Natsu sat on one of the stools, legs swinging under her, a plate of apple slices in front of her and a shoujo manga spread open on the counter.
She looked up the moment she saw him—and blinked.
“Why’re you wet, Onii-chan? You had my umbrella.”
Hinata scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. I… did.”
“You didn’t use it?”
“I did! Just…” He shrugged a little, sheepish. “I was sharing it.”
Natsu squinted at him. “With who?”
He tried to sound casual, totally normal. “Yachi-san. She forgot hers.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “The pretty manager girl?”
Hinata could feel the heat crawling up the sides of his neck.
“Y-Yeah,” he mumbled. “It was raining really hard—I couldn’t just let her get soaked.”
Natsu chewed her apple slowly, eyes narrowing like she was solving a mystery.
“So you shared my umbrella with her… Even though it’s super tiny.”
“It’s not that small,” Hinata muttered, though it definitely was. But that wasn't the point.
“Did you have to walk super close?”
He froze halfway to the fridge.
“No!” he said—way too quickly.
Natsu’s grin stretched across her whole face. “Ooh, you totally did. Was it, like, romantic? Like in movies?”
“It wasn’t like that!” he said, instantly, but his voice cracked halfway through.
“Did you hold hands?”
Hinata practically slammed the fridge shut.
“No! We didn’t—Natsu, stop!”
He didn’t know why he was so flustered. It wasn’t like she was teasing him to be mean.
But now his thoughts were spiraling—right back to how warm Yachi had felt next to him. How careful her steps had been. The way her shoulder kept brushing his. The way she thanked him, so softly, like it meant something more.
Yachi had looked up at the sky at one point, eyes wide and wondering, like she was trying to understand it. It was like the rain was saying something only she could hear. And he remembered—so clearly—how she turned back on the bus and waved at him like she wanted him to see her.
His heart squeezed.
He covered his face with both hands. “Ughhh…”
“What’s going on in here?” their mom called, stepping into the kitchen with a towel in hand. She took one look at him and let out a soft sigh.
“Natsu’s embarrassing me,” Hinata mumbled behind his hands. “She doesn’t know how to stop.”
“I’m not!” Natsu said, all innocence. “I was just asking Onii-chan if—”
“Leave your brother alone,” their mom said, tossing the towel toward him. “You’re soaked, Sho-kun. Go take a bath and change before you catch a cold.”
Hinata caught it, muttering, “Okay…”
He turned to head down the hallway. But just before he could escape, his mom stepped up beside him and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.
“I’m proud of you,” she said gently.
He blinked, turning partway toward her. “Huh?”
“I heard everything,” she added, quieter now. “Walking with her, sharing your umbrella—that was a very kind thing to do.”
Hinata didn’t respond right away, but something in his chest eased. It was a weight he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying let go.
“Thanks,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Later, after his bath, he lay in his bed. His mom’s words stayed with him.
So did Yachi’s smile. And the feeling of her beside him—close enough to hear her breathe, close enough to remember.