Rikuto

The rain had been falling since morning, turning the streets quiet beneath the steady sound of water against pavement.

People passed by in hurried steps, umbrellas blooming and closing like scattered flowers across the pavement. Dark coats moved through the grey afternoon, footsteps overlapping with the endless sound of rain hitting the ground. Everyone was going somewhere—hurrying home, rushing into shops, escaping the weather.

Everything moved in a blur of motion except a lone figure standing completely still in front of the glass window of the florist shop.

At first, he almost looked like another part of the scenery—a decoration placed outside the store, too elegant and out of place among the ordinary street. Rain had soaked through his long hair and dark clothes, water trailing down his sleeves and dripping from the edges of his gloves. The rain had already covered him completely, yet he did not seem bothered.

No attempt to shield himself. No impatience. No reason to leave.

His attention remained fixed on the flowers displayed behind the florist’s glass window.

The warm lights inside reflected against the rain-covered surface, illuminating the petals and bouquets arranged neatly within. His hazy purple eyes followed them quietly, expression unreadable, as though the passing crowd and the storm around him belonged to a different world.

While everyone else disappeared into the flow of the rainy street, he remained untouched by the urgency around him—a figure too elegant and unreal to belong under a rainy street corner. Silent, motionless, and strangely calm, like a doll left outside by mistake while the world continued moving around him.

The florist door was only a few steps away from him, but he never entered.

He simply continued looking at the flowers. As if standing there in the rain was enough.

As if he had nowhere else he needed to be.