Rain on Wednesdays: Arc 1 “Threading Gray Clouds”
Kazuki trips over his shoelace. It’s wet. Again, the forecast was off—that’s the fifth rainy Wednesday this month. The boy, with messy hair and a mind that drifts, hates rain. It brings memories. Memories have weight, don’t they? Somewhere near the stairs, Sorano waves. She’s smiling, a book tucked tight under her arm. She’s early.
Rain on Wednesdays falls slow but the town of Minamiura gives in each time. No one expects much: bikes creak, old cats vanish under eaves, and the reedy river turns dull. Sasha and Kenta walk side by side, arguing softly, sharing Akiko’s scarf in a poor trade for an umbrella.
“How long you think till it stops?” Kenta asks, his shoes already soggy.
“Does it matter?” Sasha fires back. “We’re still late for Class Rep’s speech.”
“You’re always running on words, you know that?”
She nudges him—just a small act, only friends do it without being told. But aren’t friendships built slowly, raindrop by raindrop?
Kazuki slows at the west gate, keeps his head down. There’s gum under the register bell, left from some fast, careless hand. Sorano sees him, walks closer. How do you cross a gap if you can see the end? She reaches out, taps his elbow. “Lift up, Kazuki. The rain’s not heavy—just cold.”
He flinches but nods. By now everyone tries to smile a bit, some half heartedly. Kazuki doesn’t get why this day’s mask feels heavier. “Any plans for the week?” Akiko pipes up—she’s near the field fence, balancing a frog in her palm.
Nobody answers for a bit. Akiko lets the frog leap away. She tells her friends, “I wish rain would come once, then leave things alone instead of washing and leaving smudges.”
Nobody’s sure what to make of it. Pause—a gust. Uniform skirts flare out, hands tug them back down. Minamiura High isn’t really a place for drama, but everyone feels everything sharper on a wet day. Why is that?
The student council meets, piles of damp flyers scattered. They argue over the spring festival. Sorano offers an odd idea: hanging ribbons so students can write things they hope will ‘dry out’ before summer. Is that too sad for a school event? Awe falls over the room. Kazuki mumbles, “Maybe that… could help.”
Time slides on. A secret brews—someone’s been stealing shoes from the entryway. Kenta saw a shadow, or maybe he saw nothing. But stories spin regardless.
Here’s the core: Kazuki fears you can’t wash worry away that easy. Akiko bets everything she has on the truth behind clouds. Sorano just wants people to see that small thoughts count if you let them echo a while.
A forecast glides through the speakers. Next week: cloudy with a chance of rain. The group’s laughter’s thin, but real by now. Is this how storms sneak into your heart or sneak out?
But then—a new transfer. Two wet feet cross the yard just before lunch. Black shoes (strange), wild look (wilder), and a radio in hand that buzzes out music old enough for their grandparents. He drops a soaked envelope with Kazuki’s name smudged in red ink.
The last shot: Kazuki clutching the envelope, wondering if odd luck arrives just when you’re tired enough to care.
What do you think the alien transfer knows about this rainy town? Would you want a fresh start if every day began with showers?
To be continued…
