You and I [Completed!]

Rain

By the end of May, the snow in Hokkaido had vanished and cherry blossoms sprouted in sporadic places. In Tokyo, a light rain swept the heated city. Arata packed to return home.

May had seen the sudden spike in their respective phone bills. After work, both would connect and talk about the events of the day-like the old days, life before the night at the beach. They pretended that the waves hadn't touched their bare feet and their lips hadn't kissed the other's. Like the fog that hung over the city skyline, however, the moment hovered.

Arata returned to Tokyo on the third of June–a day early than expected. It was raining heavily that day. Rain slapped on the flimsy umbrella he'd purchased at the station. Traffic was slow, the inside of the car humid and cold at the same time. He was uncomfortably drenched and only wanted to reach home. When he did, he found the door locked. Sunday. No school. She had probably gone out to the store. He fumbled in his pocket for his copy of the key. He couldn't find it.

With a sigh, Arata wiped his hands with a damp kerchief, producing no drying result, and took out his phone. He called Hanami. The phone rang once, twice. No answer. He tried again.

"Hello?"

It wasn't her voice.

"Hanami? It's Arata."

"Mr Miyama? It's Mari."

Irritated at her teasing manner,he straightened. "Why do you have her phone?"

"She left it with me."

"I need to talk to her."

"Too late, Mister Miyama. She left–" He glanced back at the dog pawing his leg. The neighbor apologized with a sheepish smile, and continued down the stairs."–to Kyoto. Must've taken a cab. The bags were heavy."

He gulped. She left for Kyoto.

"Damn it. When?"

"Why are you–"

"I asked when."

"An hour ago, the train's departing at 11 from the main station. But why on earth are you so worried–What did you do?"

He ran a hand through his hair. Why Hanami?

"Mr Miyama–"

"Thanks,"he said, and cut the call. He left the luggage at the doorstep and dashed down the stairs, skipping two steps at the time as if he were a twelve year old boy and not a man in his thirties. It was 10:20 am. He could make it if he drove and took the fastest route to the main station. He stepped out into the rain.The seat soaked wet when he entered the car.

The car slid through the road and a hope rose that he could make it. Unfortunately, he lived in a city with the population of roughly nine million people. He got stuck in traffic. It was a mistake to drive. Fifteen minutes passed in waiting. Nothing moved, the world had gone still. Only rain drops traced thin lines on the windshield. In frustration, he put his head in his hands.

Kyoto wasn't a different planet. But something told him it was now or never. He couldn't let her sit on the train. All that talking, all that laughter and he failed to see her hurt beneath it all. Too busy drowning in self pity. He glared at himself in the mirror. "You're a selfish bastard, Miyama."

At a turn, he parked. It would probably warrant a ticket, but he was willing to take that risk. A lone man running through the streets of Tokyo in a drenched business suit turned heads.

The sky grew darker at the edges. Clouds rumbled, ready to spew more rain. The water seemed endless. As he jostled his way through the crowd, he could barely see anything beyond the flapping fabrics of umbrella, the dark wet clothes and water blurring into his eyes.

When he set foot at the entrance, he glanced at his watch. 10:50 am.

As always, it was crowded. More so, thanks to the bobbing umbrellas. Everything was painted a shade of gray, all colors paled. The rain sounded muffled. The train to Kyoto. He'd taken it often. He knew the line. Heart beating fast, he reached the spot. People stood on the platform. Some sat on the benches. He glanced at his watch again. 10:50.

10:50?

He realized that the watch had given up. He glanced at the big schedule boards hanging by the roofs. His heart sank. 11:05. Trains were rarely late in Japan.

He stared ahead at the crowd of people, lost, as if he didn't know his way back. A few of them gave him an irritated look for standing in the middle. He shuffled to the side.

He spotted a red umbrella. Then Hanami as she stepped down the platform.

Sometimes, life isn't affected by the big, shaking moments. It's the small ones that flip it over. Like the moment she glanced towards him and their eyes met in the rain. In the cold, drenched second, he knew he was in love.

Arata walked to her and stood close enough to see that her eyes had grown wide. She raised her hand and held the umbrella over his head. It cast a reddish tint to both of their faces.

"What are you doing here?"she asked. Her other hand touched the lapel of his jacket with worry. "You'll get sick like this."

Arata bent to her level and pressed his forehead against hers. He gathered his breath, and told her.

"I love you."

The umbrella quivered with the shake of her hands. Small drops of rain kept dripping down the points circling it. She closed her eyes, wet lashes brushing her cheek.

"I love you as much... and a little more."

Throwing his usual caution to the wind, he tipped her chin up, and kissed her. Hesitation, decorum, all be damned. In the rain, her lips were warm, sweet and accepting. They shared a smile when she stumbled back and he wrapped a hand around her to keep her from falling.

Parting, he asked, "Why were you leaving?"

"Leaving?"

"To Kyoto."

"Me? No, It was Kyoko who was leaving. I was here to drop her. Her train left at 11."

He scratched the back of his head. She was quick to piece the two and two together."You thought I was going away? So you just ran through the city?" She laughed, stepping back from him. Flushed, and now exposed to the gaping, curious and disapproving public, he followed her out of the station. Regret, he had none.

It kept spilling. The smell of soil rose up in the air. Rain washed the old grime clean, and the fog hanging over the city was beautiful.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽