Scene 1: The Forgotten Station

“Haruki, today’s destination is… a weather station!”

That’s what she said one summer morning, grinning as if she had just announced a trip to Disneyland.

We biked for nearly an hour, the asphalt shimmering with heat, until we reached a lonely hill overlooking the town. At the top stood a squat concrete building, its windows clouded with dust, its paint peeling into pale flakes. A crooked sign read Meteorological Research Center.

“It looks abandoned,” I muttered, parking my bike against a rusted railing.

“Which makes it perfect,” Hikari said, already tugging me toward the entrance.

Her words had become predictable by now, but somehow, I never got tired of hearing them.

Scene 2: The Watchtower

Inside, the air was cool and still, thick with the smell of old paper and rusted metal. Maps of cloud patterns peeled off the walls, and broken instruments littered the desks.

Hikari ran her fingers over a shattered barometer like it was some kind of artifact. “Imagine all the storms they predicted here,” she whispered. “All the ones that came… and the ones that never did.”

She pulled me up a narrow staircase that spiraled into the tower. When we pushed open the hatch, a gust of hot summer air hit us.

From the rooftop, we could see everything: the town stretched below, the river winding like a silver thread, and the mountains standing hazy in the distance.

Hikari spread her arms wide. “Welcome to the place where people tried to read the sky.”

Scene 3: The Notebook of Clouds

She sat cross-legged on the roof, pulling out her sketchbook. But instead of drawing, she began to write.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making my own weather record.”

She scribbled quickly:

Sky today: blinding blue.

Clouds: thin like scattered feathers.

Chance of rain: zero.

Chance of happiness: one hundred percent.

She giggled at her own words, then shoved the book toward me. “Your turn. Write something.”

I hesitated, then added beneath hers:

Chance of embarrassment: increasing rapidly.

She laughed so hard she nearly dropped the pen.

Scene 4: The Cough

We stayed up there for hours, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky. It was the kind of place where time felt slow, like the world had forgotten to move forward.

But then, as Hikari stood to stretch, a sudden coughing fit wracked her body. She doubled over, clutching the railing, her face pale.

“Hikari!”

She waved me off quickly, forcing a smile between coughs. “I’m fine, really. Just… the air’s too dry.”

But when she pulled her hand away from her mouth, I thought I saw the faintest trace of red.

My stomach knotted.

She tucked her hand behind her back, still smiling, as if nothing had happened. “Hey, don’t look so gloomy. The sky’s still clear, right? No rain.”

Scene 5: The Rain That Never Fell

On the ride home, the air grew heavy, thick with humidity. Clouds gathered above, dark and swollen.

“Looks like rain,” I said, glancing up.

Hikari looked too, her hair sticking to her forehead from the heat. Then she shook her head, smiling softly. “No. I think it’ll hold. The rain’s not ready yet.”

She said it with such quiet certainty that I almost believed her.

And sure enough, though the clouds loomed, not a single drop fell that evening.

But the weight in my chest remained—like a storm gathering just out of reach, waiting for the right moment to break.

[To Be Continued in Chapter 9, releasing on 24th August]