The rain came down in sheet, relentless and heavy, drumming against the gymnasium roof like a war march. The sky was a slate gray blur, thunder growling low in the distance, and the school grounds were nearly deserted—except for the three boys who had drawn the short straw.
Mr. Sasaki had found out about their late-night hangout—a harmless game session gone a little too late, breaking curfew. As punishment, Renjiro, Sato, and Ken were assigned to clean and sort the old equipment in the storage shed behind the gymnasium.
It was the kind of job no one wanted: dusty, cluttered, and damp.
They showed up reluctantly, hoodies soaked through before they even made it to the rusted side door of the shed. Renjiro had barely lifted a box when Mr. Kuroda flagged him down at the entrance of the gym.
"Koizumi, I need thirty-two copies of this document, now. It's urgent," the teacher said, pressing a folder into his hands.
Renjiro grimaced and exchanged a quick glance with the others. "Sorry. I'll be back as soon as I finish this. Just start without me, yeah?" He said, jogging off toward the school's building with papers tucked under his arm.
Ken let out a sigh, already soaked to the bone. "Great."
Sato shrugged and pushed open the creaky shed door. "Let's get this over with. Shall we begin, Miura-kun."
Ken only responded with a nod.
Inside, the storage shed was darker than expected, the only light coming from a grimy window smeared with rain. Rows of shelves sagged under the weight of old balls, cones, mats, and mismatched equipment.
Distant clung to everything. The two boys set to work, stacking balls, coiling ropes, and dragging out old boxes of training vests.
Neither of them noticed when the wind slammed the shed door behind them.
It clicked shut with a dull metallic thud.
A few minutes later, when Ken tried to step out for a breath of fresh air, he rattled the handle—and frowned. "Wait. It's locked."
Sato looked up from a tangled net. "What do you mean, it's locked?"
Ken pulled harder, then slammed his fist against the door. "It's locked. Like, someone might've... shut it from the outside?"
Sato dropped the net, face twisting into a mix of confusion and fear. "W-What?"
Rain pounded harder on the roof. The wind howled through a crack in the siding. The storage shed felt colder, smaller.
And then it hit both of them at once: Renjiro wasn't coming back anytime soon.
They were stuck.
Locked inside.
Just then, the smell of damp rubber, and a growing sense of dread.
Ken and Sato had no choice but to wait. The storm outside wasn't letting up; if anything, it seemed to be growing worse. Rain lashed at the tin roof, and the wind howled like some trapped spirit. The storage shed, already cramped and stale, now felt like a prison cell.
Ken let out a long, frustrated groan and ripped himself onto a flattened, musty old gym mat in the corner. Dust puffed up around him, clinging to his soaked hoodie. He stared up at the wooden beams overhead, trying to calm the simmering annoyance twisting in his gut.
"This sucks," he muttered. "Completely sucks."
Sato sat against a stack of folded hurdles, silent for a moment before quietly agreeing, "Yeah."
Ken exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw clenched. He couldn't help it—his mind drifted back to earlier that morning, right after Mr. Sasaki had found their late-night hangout in the gym.
The scolding was bad, sure. But what stuck with Ken, what really grated at him, was Renjiro's reaction.
He could still picture it so clearly: Renjiro standing there with that sheepish grin, hand behind his neck, eyes avoiding contact as he gave that damn line—
"Oops... busted. Guess we have to accept our punishment."
Ken's face twisted at the memory. That smile—carefree, almost amused—like this was just another story to laugh about later. Renjiro always had that way of brushing things off, like nothing could really go wrong if you just smiled through it.
He sat up, kicking at a loose basketball near his foot. "Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea," he muttered. "I should've never tagged along."
Sato looked over at him. "I'm sorry, Miura-kun. Because of us, you had to be stuck here with me, too."
Ken shot him a glare. "Forget it. Apologizing isn't going to help us get out of this shed."
[...]
"Sorry. It wasn't your fault. It's that annoying pest's fault."
Sato held up a hand, placing. "Still, i know you hate being in trouble, and yet, you are in one now. But, please don't get mad at Koizumi-san—he only wanted to be your friend."
Ken ran a hand through his damp hair, sighing. "I thought of that too. I know he's trying really hard to get close to me—I get it. But it's like he didn't even care when we got scolded. This all felt like it was planned."
Ken bunched his brows up. "I knew I had a bad feeling about all this." He muttered under his breath.
Sato leaned his head back, thumping it lightly against the wall. "He doesn't mean any harm. He was just... trying to help.
Ken didn't reply. He was too busy wondering whether anyone would even notice they were locked in here.
Renjiro was probably still stuck making copies somewhere.
Sasaki had already gone back to the dorm. And no one ever checked the shed at this hour.
They could be here a while.
The rain thundered down, the wind shaking the door like a warning.
Time passed. Maybe it had been an hour, and they were still sitting quietly—waiting for someone or anyone to open the door.
Ken shifted on the old gym mat, legs stretched out, one arm tucked behind his head. He exhaled slowly, letting his mind drift into nothingness—until a sharp crack split the air.
BOOM.
Thunder rolled right overhead, loud and sudden. It shook the tin roof with a violent jolt.
Sato flinched hard where he sat. His shoulders tensed, eyes wide for a second before he tried to play it off, hugging his knees a little tighter.
Ken noticed. He sat up and glanced over. "Hey... are you okay?"
Sato didn't answer at first. His fingers tightened around his sleeves.
Ken scooted slightly and patted the mat beside him. "You can sit here if you're feeling cold."
Sato hesitated. Then, nodding once, he slowly stood and walked over. But as he took the first step toward the mat, another thunderclap ripped through the sky—closer this time, louder.
"Ah—!"
Sato jolted in surprise, his foot catching on a loose edge of the mat. He tripped forward—too fast to stop himself.
But Ken reacted in an instant. He lunged up, arms catching Sato just before he could hit the floor.
Sato blinked, wide-eyed, now cradled awkwardly in Ken's arms.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
The storm outside faded into background noise. The only thing Sato could hear now was the drumming of his own heart.
Ken looked down at him, frowning just slightly, his voice low. "Are you alright, Sato?"
Sato's cheeks flared red. His eyes darted away from Ken's face, then back again, as if caught between words.
"I—I'm fine," he stammered, "I just... the thunder startled me... I didn't mean to—uh..."
Ken let out a small breath, not quite a sigh—somewhere between exasperation and amusement.
"So, you're scared to the sound of thunder."
"I-I'm sorry," Sato said quickly, still not quite managing to straighten up from the awkward half-embrace. His voice was quieter now. "It's kind of embarrassing to still be scared of it despite my age."
Ken stared at him for a second, his hands still braced gently at Sato's sides. Then he eased him upright, careful not to make a big deal out of it.
"Well," Ken said, voice softer than before, "I don't think there's anything wrong of having a fear of something."
"..."
"Anyone can have anything they fear the most. Even someone like Koizumi."
Sato chuckled nervously, brushing at his clothes as he sat down beside Ken.
"Koizumi-san is not that scary..."
Outside, the thunder rolled—distant this time—but neither of them flinched.
Inside the cramped shed, the space between them had shifted, just a little.
Silence settled between them like a blanket-thick, but not uncomfortable. Just the quiet hum of rain and the occasional rattle of wind against the metal siding. The storm was still out there, but for the moment, it felt a little more distant.
Sato sat with his knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, eyes on the puddle growing slowly near the door. Then, after a long pause, he spoke—voice low, almost thoughtful.
"You know... when I was a little kid, I used to like rainy days."
Ken turned his head slightly, listening.
Sato continued, not looking at him. "The sound of raindrops hitting the window... it always helped me fall asleep. It made everything feel calm. Safe, even. I used to sit by the glass and just watch the rain slide down. I never even flinched at thunder."
His voice trailed off for a second before picking up again—quieter, more hesitant.
But then... one night, during a really bad storm, he woke up. The TV was still on—he must've forgotten to turn it off. There was this weird static sound, all loud and warped. He remembered looking at it, still half-sleep, and then-
He took a breath.
"Suddenly, this... face. This really terrifying face just burst out of the screen. Right then, the thunder cracked so loud. It felt like the whole room shook. I screamed. I-I remember crying."
Ken stayed quiet, his gaze on Sato now, steady and focused.
"My parents came in, panicked. They held me and tried to calm me down. Said, it was just a movie or some late-night show. But ever since that night..."
Sato gave a short, humorless laugh. "Thunder hasn't felt the same. It gets under my skin. Makes my heart race. I still get nightmares sometimes."
His arms tightened a little around his knees. "And even now, I know it's irrational. I know it can't hurt me. But when it strikes, I can't help it. It's like I'm right back in that room again."
Ken didn't interrupt. He didn't offer any cliché words. He just listened—his expression was unreadable, but present.
The rain continued its rhythm on the roof. A distant rumble echoed overhead, but this time, Sato didn't flinch as much. Maybe just a small twitch of the shoulder.
Ken let the silence linger a moment longer before finally saying, with quiet certainty, "That sounds rough."
Sato gave a little nod.
"But you don't have to act tough about it now," Ken added, softer. He didn't even laugh at that story which Sato thought he would.
For a moment, Sato allowed himself to lean back slightly, letting the warmth between them soak into his skin, as if the weight of that memory—though still heavy—felt a little less unbearable.
Ken opened his mouth. "I also used to like rainy days."
Sato glanced at him.
"But I grew hating it, eventually. Not because of fear, but because of someone."
Sato ought to ask who, but the words got caught up to his throat. He stayed quiet.
Time drifted by unnoticed.
The rain had softened into steadier rhythm, a gentler tapping against the shed roof. The storm was still out there, but it no longer howled like before—just a persistent murmur in the background.
Sato stirred.
His eyes blinked open slowly as a faint chill brushed his cheeks. For a moment, he was disoriented—the dim light, the musty scent of rubber and dust, the distant hiss of rainfall. Then it came back to him: the shed, the storm, the conversation.
He sat up a little and rubbed his eyes.
When did I fall asleep?
It couldn't have been long... or maybe it had been. He didn't know. His phone was still in his locker—useless now. There was no clock. Just the faint, endless grayness outside.
As he stretched slightly, a shift in movement caught his eye.
Ken was beside him—his head tilted slightly back, one arm folded under his neck, chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm.
He was asleep.
Sato blinked, a little surprised. He'd never seen Ken like this before.
Usually, the older boy had that quiet intensity—eyes sharp, lips set in a hard line, always a little guarded. But now, in sleep, all that tension had melted away.
His expression was soft, relaxed. Peaceful.
Sato found himself studying him without meaning to—his gaze trailing over Ken's features.
His dark bangs fell gently across his forehead, partially covering one eye. The soft curve, longer than Sato had expected.
His nose had that clean, sharp bridge, and his lips... his lips were slightly parted in his sleep. Unfrowning, unguarded.
Wow.
Sato felt his breath catch.
So this is what he looks like... when he's asleep.
A strange warmth bubbled in Sato's chest. He didn't understand why he was staring. He told himself to look away, to give Ken his space. But the moment felt strangely fragile—like something rare he'd stumbled into and didn't want to break.
And then—
Without thinking, without even fully realizing what he was doing, Sato leaned.
There was a small, quiet moment. A breath. A heartbeat.
He pressed his lips softly to Ken's.
It was brief. Barely a second.
But in that second, everything froze.
The sound of the rain faded. The cold didn't matter. It was just the warmth of that accidental closeness, the trembling of his own chest, the taste of something reckless.
Ken stirred with a soft groan. Sato pulled back instantly, eye wide, heart hammering.
The boy's eyes fluttered open, blinking. Their eyes met.
Sato froze.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Eh?
[...]
[??]
The air between them turned thick—charged, uncertain. Sato's heart pounded like it was trying to punch its way out of his chest. Ken, still groggy, narrowed his eyes slightly as if sensing something was... off.
Sato's lips parted, panic flickering in his throat. "I didn't do anything! I mean, I-"
He stammered, cheeks burning.
Before Ken could ask anything else, the door creaked open with a metallic groan, startling both of them.
A fall figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the soft gray light.
The janitor—an older man in a rain—slicked coat-blinked at the sight of the two boys huddled on the gym mats.
"Oh," he said. "I didn't realize anyone was in here. What are you two doing here?"
Sato shot up like a spring.
"YES! We're fine!" He blurted, voice too loud, too fast. "Thank you for coming! We really appreciate it! Sorry for the trouble."
Then he turned sharply toward Ken, bowing slightly but quickly, as if trying to condense all of his panic into one gesture.
"And I'm sorry, Miura-kun!"
With that, he darted past the janitor and out into the open, rain still misting the air. His footsteps echoed briefly in the boundless outside before fading.
Ken sat there, stunned, his eyes still in the open doorway.
"What the hell was that about?" He muttered under his breath.
The janitor gave him a mildly amused look. "Teenagers," he said, shaking his head. "Always acting like they're in some drama."
He just sat there, heart now beating a little faster.
Soon, Renjiro came jogging over the door-catching his breath. He had just been released by Mr. Kuroda.
He stood in front of the doorframe. His eyes landed on Ken—walked toward his direction.
Renjiro's gaze lingered in the room as he said, "Where is Hirota? What happened?"
Ken didn't say anything. He still seemed mad about the punishment—Renjiro figured out this cold treatment.
The janitor, carrying some cones, turned to the entryway. "Is that boy your friend?"
"Yes..." Renjiro answered.
"He just left."
"Eh?! Where did he go?"
The janitor shrugged and went back to his work. While Ken and Renjiro went back to the dorm.