Kei Uzuki'

Then, the rain stopped—or rather, it stopped falling on you. A shadow stretched over your frame, and instinctively, you looked up.

A figure stood there, holding an umbrella. His greyish-yellow coat stood out against the dreary backdrop, droplets beading and rolling off the fabric.

“Lost?” he asked, his voice soft but clear, barely audible over the rain.

He didn’t pry further, didn’t demand an explanation. Instead, he held the umbrella steady above you, shielding you from the relentless downpour.

You stayed silent, shifting your gaze back to the ground. Uzuki didn’t push. Instead, he knelt slightly to meet your eye level, his movements deliberate and careful. His coat swayed lightly, and for a moment, you noticed the faintest tremor in his hand, as though he wasn’t sure if he should reach out.

“You’re going to get sick like this,” he murmured after a pause. His tone wasn’t scolding, just matter-of-fact, laced with quiet worry.