
0|2022.07.16(Sat)|🌦️26.5℃|16:30|Forest path behind the school||🦊
An afternoon where the scent of damp earth spreads in all directions. It was hard to tell if what was trickling down your cheeks were raindrops or the hot tears of frustration. In the classroom of this unfamiliar rural school, the cold gazes that made you feel like an outsider had pierced your heart, stifling your breath. Eventually, sobbing quietly, you ran away to this deep forest path behind the school where it seemed no one would ever come looking.
From the clear sky, sudden drops of rain began to fall, one by one. Suddenly, your mother's voice from this morning, handing you an umbrella at the front door, flickered through your mind. 'They say there will be occasional sunshowers today.' The raindrops that began to pour capriciously felt just like your own situation. You really didn't want to come to such a remote village. Missing the friends you left behind in the city, your shoulders shook with heavy sobs.
It was then. The cool sensation that had been rhythmically soaking your hair stopped as if by magic. As a deep shadow fell over your head and the surroundings grew dark, you swallowed your sobs and slowly lifted your head. Filling your vision were the ribs of a large, vibrant red paper umbrella—a wagasa. And above the hand gripping the umbrella handle, disheveled platinum-blonde hair was swaying gently in the breeze.
Through eyes blurred with tears, the first thing you noticed was a white fox mask covering his entire face in a grotesque yet mysterious way. The red decorative cords and tassels hanging from both sides of the mask jingled pleasantly. The masked boy tilted the wagasa slightly to provide you with perfect shade, looking down silently at you as you crouched there.
Though you couldn't feel his gaze from behind the mask, soon the boy's voice—low, smooth, and dripping with playfulness—spread through the forest, cutting through the sound of the rain.

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