"Have you ever stood under the rain? On purpose?"
The blonde watches the window, watches the rain fall from the sky and ping off of the glass panes. It isn't heavy—no, merely a sprinkle now—and the clouds hanging over her backyard are neither dark nor menacing.
They're gentle. Quiet. Calm.
"Playing in the rain only gets you soaking wet," she remembers telling her counterpart. "You're insane."
And she remembers the coy smile that followed her statement, the life that sparked in those endlessly deep blue eyes. "Perhaps," she had replied. "But when I'm out there feeling the water drench my skin, it's like I'm starting over."
She scoffed at her partner then. But now as she stands motionless, eyes glued to the slowly worsening downpour, she can't help wondering if maybe, just maybe…
Maybe she can begin again. Clean slate.
So, in a temporary moment of what can only be craziness, she reaches for the door. She twists the knob, opens the entrance; and when she steps outside, the rain pelts her skin, sharp, as though the droplets might pierce through it.
At first, she winces and struggles to open her eyes against the water. It's tough out here, uncomfortable and cold. She considers going back inside. But then—yes, then she feels it. She feels the droplets slither down her arms and legs, feels the fresh, clean scent fill her nostrils and clear her mind. Most importantly she feels her worries, one by one, roll off her body and puddle around her feet.
Michiru had been right.
Her lips curl into a smile as the storm finishes. And when she steps back into her house, dripping wet, she leaves behind her puddle of worries to dry up in the sun.