A few days had passed since the school festival.
The decorations were gone, the noise had faded, and the school had returned to its usual quiet rhythm.
Everything felt normal again.
But something between them wasn't.
—
The final bell rang.
Students packed their bags, their voices blending into a familiar hum.
Minato Itsuki stretched his arms.
"Man… I'm exhausted," he said. "That festival really drained me."
From behind him, Shin Hitori remained silent.
"But it was worth it," Minato added with a faint smile. "Our horror house was one of the best."
"…Hm."
Minato chuckled.
"That's all you've got?"
No response.
He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Still… moments like that are nice," he said as they walked out. "You know… something you can remember later."
This time—
Shin replied.
"Yes… of course."
Minato glanced at him, slightly surprised.
"Memories are part of life experiences," Shin continued.
They walked down the hallway together.
"When you have nothing… you remember them," he said.
"You can laugh… feel embarrassed… regret things…"
His voice remained calm.
"They exist to fill empty spaces."
Minato looked at him quietly.
"…That doesn't sound very positive."
"It's not meant to be," Shin replied.
—
They reached the school entrance.
Rain had already begun to fall.
Students stood under the roof, some waiting, others opening their umbrellas.
Minato pulled out his umbrella and opened it with a soft click.
"…Guess we're lucky," he said.
Beside him, Shin opened his own umbrella just as quietly.
For a moment, they stood there—
then stepped out into the rain together.
—
The steady sound of raindrops hitting their umbrellas followed them as they walked.
The world around them blurred slightly behind the curtain of rain.
The rain fell steadily, tapping softly against the umbrellas as they walked side by side.
The road was quiet, washed clean by the downpour, reflecting faint lights from the street.
For once—
the silence between Minato Itsuki and Shin Hitori didn't feel heavy.
It felt… normal.
Minato adjusted his umbrella slightly, then glanced at Shin with a mischievous smile.
"Hey… my little dear precious friend," he said playfully.
Shin didn't even look at him.
"…What?"
Minato's grin widened.
"Have you ever thought about your future?"
A brief pause.
"…Umm… nah," Shin replied casually.
Minato blinked.
Then suddenly—
Shin added, almost as if thinking aloud,
"But… as you suggest… I think I can teach."
For a second—
there was silence.
Then Minato's expression broke.
"Really?" he said, trying to hold it in. "Oo… yeah, why not—"
And then he started laughing.
Not loudly—
but enough to be clearly mocking.
Shin slowly turned his head toward him.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…What's so funny?"
Minato tried to control himself, but another laugh slipped out.
"No, no… I'm just imagining it," he said. "You… teaching?"
He shook his head, still smiling.
"That's actually scary."
Shin stared at him.
An annoyed look settled on his face.
Not loud.
Not expressive.
But clear enough.
"…You're annoying," he said flatly.
Minato only laughed more.
And beneath the sound of rain—
that small, ordinary moment quietly passed between them.
The rain continued to fall, steady and unchanging.
Minato's laughter slowly faded, though the smile still lingered on his face.
"You… teaching," he muttered again, shaking his head. "I still can't believe it."
Shin Hitori said nothing.
They kept walking.
Only the sound of rain filled the space between them.
After a moment, Minato spoke again—
this time, more casually.
"But seriously… why teaching?"
Shin adjusted his umbrella slightly.
"It's simple," he said. "People don't know things. You tell them. They learn."
Minato blinked.
"…That's it?"
"Yes."
Minato let out a small breath.
"You really make everything sound so… empty."
Shin glanced at him.
"It is empty."
Minato frowned slightly.
"No, it's not," he said. "Teaching isn't just about giving information."
Shin didn't reply.
"It's about guiding someone… helping them grow," Minato continued. "There's meaning in that."
Shin's voice remained calm.
"That's just your interpretation."The rain fell harder now, each drop striking the ground like a quiet echo of the tension between them.
Minato stood there, his grip tightening around the handle of his umbrella.
"…You're contradicting yourself," he said quietly.
Shin Hitori's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…No."
"Then explain it," Minato said.
Shin looked away.
"There's nothing to explain."
That—
was the breaking point.
"You always do this!" Minato snapped. "You shut things down when things don't go your way!"
Shin's gaze turned cold.
"And you," he said slowly, "do the exact opposite."
Minato frowned.
"What?"
Shin stepped slightly closer, his voice calm—but sharper than before.
"That's the problem with people like you."
The words landed heavily.
"You never accept anything that hurts you."
Minato's expression stiffened.
"You divide your reality with some stupid imagination… just to avoid being hurt."
Silence.
The rain grew louder.
For a moment—
Minato couldn't respond.
Those words didn't just sound harsh.
They felt precise.
Too precise.
"…What are you even saying?" he muttered, but his voice lacked strength.
Shin didn't look away.
"You talk about memories, meaning, feelings…" he continued. "But all of it is just your way of protecting yourself."
Minato clenched his jaw.
"That's not true."
"It is," Shin replied immediately.
"You just don't want to see things as they are."
The air felt heavy.
Almost suffocating.
"At least I try to feel something!" Minato snapped. "I don't run away from it like you!"
Shin's eyes sharpened.
"I don't run."
"You do," Minato said. "You just call it 'logic' instead."
A pause.
Rain poured between them.
"You reject everything before it can affect you," Minato continued. "So you don't have to deal with it."
For the first time—
Shin didn't respond immediately.
But his silence didn't last.
"…Believe whatever you want," he said finally. "It won't change anything."
Minato let out a bitter breath.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe it won't."
A long silence followed.
Then—
he stepped past Shin.
"I'm going."
Shin didn't stop him.
Didn't speak.
He just stood there—
alone in the rain.
—
And this time—
both of them had said something they couldn't take backMinato walked away without looking back.
Each step felt heavier than the last, yet he didn't stop.
Didn't slow down.
Didn't turn.
—
Shin Hitori stood there—
right at the point where their paths divided.
One road stretching forward.
The other drifting away into the rain.
He didn't move.
His eyes followed Minato's figure as it grew smaller—
farther…
and farther…
and farther.
The rain blurred everything.
The road.
The distance.
Even the outline of his back.
Until—
he was gone.
—
For a moment—
there was nothing.
No voices.
No footsteps.
Just the sound of rain falling endlessly around him.
Shin remained still, his umbrella barely shielding him now.
His expression hadn't changed.
It never did.
But something—
something deep inside—
felt… different.
Unfamiliar.
Like a small crack in something that had always been certain.
—
He slowly shifted his gaze forward.
The empty road stretched ahead.
Quiet.
Cold.
Unchanging.
—
And for the first time—
standing at that crossing—
Shin Hitori didn't immediately know which path to take.