The rain fell in sheets, a relentless curtain that blurred the world into watercolor smudges. Makoto stood beneath the awning of her school, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The chill was barely noticeable. Her sopping socks forgotten. The rivulets of water tracing icy fingers down her spine ignored.
No, the discomfort paled in comparison to the anticipation coursing through her veins.
Today was the day. The day when she'd confess her feelings to him.
In minutes, they'd finally be together.
In seconds, they'd kiss in the rain.
Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt, wringing out droplets that fell unnoticed to the puddled ground. The scent of petrichor filled her lung with each deep breath she took to steady herself. The rain wasn't an inconvenience, because rain brought lightning, and lightning was life.
Besides, this was the perfect backdrop for the romantic scene she'd imagined a thousand times.
Butterflies danced in her stomach, their wings beating a staccato beat that matched the erratic patter of raindrops. Yet under the flutter of nerves, a tendril of dread coiled like a serpent, whispering doubts she fought to ignore.
With a strained creak, the school doors open, and her breath caught. There he was, his silhouette backlit by the florescent glow from inside. She'd know him anywhere, just by the curve of his forehead, the plain of his cheek. Her heart soared for a brief, beautiful moment—and then plummeted.
He wasn't alone.
A girl from their class walked beside him, her delicate hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. She was everything Makoto wasn't—petite, graceful, with a face that belonged on magazine covers. The kind of girl who didn't have to fight to be noticed. Nothing like her. His eyes, the ones Makoto dreamed of, were fixed solely on his companion.
No. There could be a thousand excuses. Perhaps she'd just slipped, and he was helping her. The boy she loved was nice like that.
"Hey!" Makoto launched into movement, nearly toppling on the slick stone. "I've been waiting for you!"
"Oh, hello." He cast a quick glance at the girl by his side.
Makoto ignored that look. "Let's walk home together. I have something important I want to tell you," she smiled at him, hoping the muted light made her skin shimmer.
"Oh," he stammered. "Sorry, I'm walking her home from now on. We're together now."
Her world tilted on its axis.
The rain, once romantic, now felt like needles against her skin. She stared blankly. "But…"
"See you later." He offered a rather pathetic wave.
The words hung between them, as heavy and suffocating as the humidity. She remained rooted to the spot as they turned away. Their figures blurred, not just from the rain but from the tears she refused to let fall.
What went wrong? The question echoed in her mind, a broken record of confusion and pain. She'd been so sure, so certain, that this time would be different. Why did no one want to love her? Was she that unlovable? Was there no one out there for her?
She'd been so sure, so certain, that this time would be different—that she wouldn't be left behind again. Furious, she smashed a fist against the wall. Stone cracked and debris sprinkled down. Typical. She shouldn't have expected anything different. No one ever chose her. Fate wasn't that kind. No, that unyielding force, refusing to release its grip on her.
"Damn."
A gust of wind whipped around her, tugging at her clothes and hair. For a moment, it almost sounded like whispers, like fate itself was trying to tell her something. Then, as if on cue, a crack of thunder split the sky. The sound reverberated through her chest, shaking loose the pieced of her shattered heart.
The happy couple continued to walk away, tucked close to each other under the umbrella.
Taking a step forward, she emerged from under the awning and let the rain soak her more. Prickles of electricity tickled her skin. Cold water struck her fevered flesh, doing nothing but irritating her.
Lightning flashed, chasing away the darkness for a split second. Like it understood her rage.
Thunder split the sky, loud and angry. Like it was cursing fate, too.
In that moment, as sharp and bright as the storm that hovered above, Makoto knew: this place, this life, wasn't for her. Whatever destiny had in store, it wasn't here, surrounded by the ghosts of broken dreams and unfulfilled promises.
The rain continued to fall, but Makoto stood taller.
It was time for a change.
Cardboard boxes teetered precariously in Makoto's arms as she stood before her new apartment building. The scent of unfamiliar concrete and car exhaust assaulted her senses, a constant reminder of how far she'd run from the life she once knew. Each step felt like a battle against fate itself, the weight of her belongings nothing compared to the burden of her shattered heart.
The rain followed her, though now a soft mist that clung to her skin, dampening her clothes as she juggled the weight of her belongings.
"Don't worry, guys," she murmured to the potted plants nestled among her possessions. "Welcome to our new prison. Juban District, can you believe it? Miles away from… from him."
She swallowed hard, forcing down the lump of emotion threatening to show itself to the world. "We'll get you inside soon enough. I know. I know. Running away because I couldn't bear to see his face every day was pathetic."
The wind picked up, rustling leaves and sending a shiver down her spine. It almost felt welcoming, like nature itself was greeting her. Or perhaps that was her attempt at comforting herself. Perhaps it was mocking her, laughing at her predicament. She was so long in her internal turmoil that she didn't notice the pot at the top begin to tip.
"He picked her. And why wouldn't he? She's beautiful. Perfect. And I'm…"
Time slowed. She watching in abject horror as her favorite fern—the one she'd nurtured from a tiny sprout—plummeted towards the unforgiving concrete. It was more than just a plant falling. It was every dream, every hope she'd ever had to be loved, crashing down.
"No!"
A rather attractive forearm materialized, catching the pot mere inches from disaster. Makoto's eyes traveled up the sculpted forearms to broad shoulders, and finally landed on a face that made her breath catch.
Time stretched, every second dragging out like it didn't dare move forward.
The stranger stood there, cradling her plant with such effortless care that for a second she thought it was some kind of hallucination. A handsome mirage conjured up by the universe to mess with her even more. His eyes, a striking blend of darkness and light, locked onto hers.
He was undeniably handsome with chiseled features, flowing auburn hair, and eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the stars. But it was more than that. An electric current of recognition shot through her, so powerful it nearly brought her to her knees.
"I… do I know you?" the words tumbled out before she could stop them. Her voice trembling with an emotion she couldn't name.
The man's brow furrowed. A flash of something—recognition? confusion?—crossing his face before it smoothed out into a neutral expression. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Nephrite."
"Makoto," she replied automatically, still reeling from the intensity of her reaction.
An image flashed in her mind. The two of them, walking side by side in the rain, laughter on their lips despite the downpour. The vision was so vivid, so real, that for a moment she forgot to breathe. No, it was only because of the boy who broke her heart. He'd left her in the rain. It had nothing to do with this man. Right?
"Makoto," he said, her name rolling off his tongue as if he'd said it a thousand times before.
Pure electricity rippled around her body as her name tumbled from his lips. After him, she swore she wouldn't give her heart so easily. But if this stranger kept saying her name like that, she'd be a goner.
His eyes narrowed slightly, studying her face with an intensity that made her skin tingle. "Are you sure we haven't met? There's something… familiar about you."
"I—I don't think so," Makoto stammered, her usual confidence deserting her. "But I feel it too. The familiarity, I mean."
Nephrite stepped closer, still holding her plant. The air between them seemed to crackle with an unseen energy. "Strange, isn't it? Like a half-remembered dream."
His proximity was intoxicating, a mix of an earthy scent and something else—ozone, like the air before a lightning strike. Makoto's heart raced, torn between the lingering pain of recent heartbreak and this inexplicable pull towards a stranger.
"You should be more careful," Nephrite's deep voice cut through her thoughts, gesturing to the plant. "These clearly mean a lot to you."
She nodded, unable to form words. It was maddening, infuriating. Hadn't fate tormented her enough? And now this—this connection she couldn't explain, didn't dare to hope for.
"Are you lost? New to the area?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost concerned.
Makoto shook herself, unwilling to appear more vulnerable than she already had. "Is it that obvious? I… I needed a fresh start."
Nephrite's eyes flashed with something—understanding? Regret? It was gone before she could decipher it. "Running away solves nothing," he said, his voice taking on a strange, almost prophetic quality. "Only cowards run away. Instead, you need to stand and fight."
"Hey!" Makoto bristled, her momentary awe replaced by indignation. "Who are you calling a coward?"
The boxes nearly tumbled to the ground again. Nephrite's lips tugged into a smile that seemed both familiar and foreign, and he helped straighten them.
"Obviously not you," he said, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Or you'd chuck a box at me."
She laughed, because that's exactly what she'd do. The tension between them eased, replaced by something warmer, more comfortable. It felt right, like slipping into a favorite sweater she'd forgotten she owned.
Nephrite's expression sobered. "Makoto," he said, her name again sending shivers down her spine, "I feel like… like I should be warning you about something. But I don't know what."
The playful atmosphere vanished, replaced by a heavy sense of foreboding. Makoto's breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. "I don't know. Just… be careful, okay? Juban… it might not be what you expect."
With that cryptic statement, he carefully placed the plant back in her arms. His fingers brushed against hers, and for a moment, Makoto could have sworn she saw a flash of something—a crystalline lake, bathed in moonlight, the two of them kissing under the stars. But then he stepped back, and the vision faded.
"I hope we meet again, Makoto," Nephrite said, his voice low and intense. "I feel like… like we have unfinished business."
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, his figure soon swallowed by the bustling crowd of Juban. Makoto stood there, her arms full of boxes and plants, her mind reeling from the encounter.
As his figure disappeared around a corner, she let out a shaky breath. "Damn you, fate. What game are you playing now?"
Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if answering her. Casting a last glance at where Nephrite vanished too, she lingered for a moment longer, the weight of their brief encounter settling heavily on her heart. Something about him gnawed at the edges of her mind, like a forgotten dream that hung after waking. But with a sigh, she pushed the feeling aside and entered her new apartment.
The elevator ride was blessedly short, and soon she was unlocking the door to her new home. Carefully setting down the boxes, she stood at the threshold of her new life. Each step felt like a battle against fate itself, like she fought the world.
The door clicked shut behind her, sealing out the bustling sounds of Juban. In the sudden quiet, her racing thoughts seemed to echo off the bare walls. She sank to the floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes and the greenery of her only family.
Fate was so cruel. Taking her parents. Denying her love. Now dragging her to the edges of the world to wallow in her isolation. Outside, the rain picked up, plinking against the glass in a steady beat. The worst part is she could sit on the floor for a month and no one would know. Why? Because fate denied her love.
"Oh, who am I kidding?" she sighed, gently stroking a leaf. "I wasn't entirely truthful before. Not with Nephrite or with myself."
Her gaze drifted to the window, where the raindrops traced lines down the glass. The steady rhythm soothed her frayed nerves, grounding her in this strange space.
"The truth is," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "it was about him. Yes, the heartbreak hurt. It always does. But there's something more. Something bigger."
She hesitated, unsure if she should put these feelings into words. "It's like something called me here. To Juban. It was like the wind itself whispered the name, tugging me towards this place." A rueful smile played on her lips. "Crazy, right? But I can't shake this feeling. I'm needed here. Like there's some greater purpose waiting for me."
Lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating the room. In that split second of brilliance, she could have sworn she saw a figure in the glass—a warrior, strong and proud, with lightning as her weapon and friendship as her motivation. But then darkness fell again, and the image was gone.
She leaned back against the door and let out a breath. "Maybe. Or this is just the next stop in my restless journey to find something fate has denied me over and over."
Time passed, the light outside growing progressively dimmer. Still, the rain continued its relentless march against the unmoving glass. Standing, she stretched out her stiff limbs and moved to the window, pressing her palm against the cool glass.
Outside, the storm intensified, almost responding to her call. A loud crack of thunder shook the building, but instead of flinching, she smiled. Makoto felt the stirrings of something new. Something powerful. Something that felt remarkably like hope.
She may have come to Juban running from heartbreak, but she would stay to embrace her destiny. To fight fate and find love. And heaven help anyone—or anything—that tried to stand in her way. She was the storm, and she'd show fate what power truly meant.