The rain was light outside, more of a warm sprinkling from the heavens than a true rain. The sky was overcast and painted in gray, but stark patches of blue peered through as vivid as blue jays on snowy branches, or sapphires nestled in white silk. The pattering of rain droplets tapping against the window glass was a calming ambience as Shiro read through his textbook and jotted down notes. The process dragged at times, his left hand cramping in protest.
His hand wasn't accustomed to shouldering the burden of all of the tasks it was now expected to complete all on its own. Even after all that therapy, sometimes his left hand forgot what it was meant to be doing in an open act of mutiny. Writing proved to be an even more arduous undertaking when he was fatigued, just like now. His eyes felt like they could slip closed at any moment and he'd hit his head against the library table.
It wasn't even that late in the afternoon. A combination of not catching a wink of sleep the night prior, the gentle lulling of the rain's siren song, and the dull words swimming before him argued a compelling case for him to be sleeping.
However, Shiro pressed on. He did his best to take a deep breath and continue working. Patience yields focus, after all. He was improving with his writing, certainly, but occasionally he would still try and pick up a writing utensil with his hand that wasn't there anymore. Clunky, stiff plastic fingers would awkwardly bump against the pencil before he could think about what he was doing. He knew that he would eventually become accustomed to using his left hand, but the journey was slow and frustrating. He was better than when he'd entered therapy, but still had a long way to go.
Shiro looked up at the clock on the wall and saw that the hands indicated 10:45, then stretched out his cramped hand. His eyes shifted to look out of the window, and then he stopped and blinked. He leaned forward to see better, adjusting his glasses. There was a boy out there, slowly trudging down the street with his eyes downcast. His old-fashioned gakuran was drenched in the rain. If he cared about the situation he was in at all, it didn't show. He had no umbrella, and seemed in no hurry to escape the weather.
Shiro picked up his black umbrella and quickly left the library. He slowly, jerkily shook it open and then peered left and right to see if he could spot the boy, but… he was nowhere in sight. It was as if he'd vanished into thin air. It appeared that the rain had cleared up as well.
Shiro looked up to the heavens, where the clouds had just parted, and a streak of sunlight peeked out from between them. The rays beamed down into the alleyway and grew brighter by the moment. As he turned to glance down the road the other direction one last time, he noticed that a misty, pale rainbow had formed against the backdrop of the slate sky.
He stood there and admired it, but it faded as quickly as it had materialized and he returned to the library. He figured that the boy had probably entered one of the buildings, and didn't dwell much on it after that.