He knelt down and placed the flowers before the tombstone. They were a bunch of fragrant lilies, her favourite. Affectionately, he gazed at her name etched in the cold, white stone.

"I think…" he began hesitantly, "I think you would have been proud, oneechan." Then he turned and walked away, shoulders hunched and hands in pockets.

He'd barely taken three steps when rain splattered through the trees from the grey clouds which had rolled in unnoticed. He wasn't scared of a little rain, of course, but the dark clouds overhead ominously warned of more. He hurried towards a small, nearby shelter.

When he reached the shelter, he shook the water from his coat and waited for the rain to subside. Not long afterwards, another entered the shelter and took refuge beside him. He could tell that it was a girl from her physique. Her head was down and her dripping hair covered her face. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to keep warm, hugging a bundle of violets close to her.

He was about to look away when it struck him that there was something oddly familiar about her. It was the way she stood, feet apart, that conveyed a sense of fierce pride and confidence he'd only ever seen in one girl. Then he noticed the purple tinge of her hair and the wet uniform she wore. She must have come straight from school, he surmised.

"Fuuko?" he ventured tentatively, still uncertain.

The girl turned, startled by the sound of his voice. "M-mikagami!" It was indeed his teammate who stood beside him.

The ensui-wielder waited expectantly for an angry barrage from Fuuko for frightening her, but it never came. Curious, he turned to peer at her and was surprised to observe that an air of subduedness hung about her. Then he realised there had been no buoyant "Oi Mi-chan!" or teasing remark. Fuuko's trademark mischievous smile was absent as she shivered uncontrollably, clad in her inadequate wet school uniform.

Without a second thought, Mikagami took off his coat and settled it gently on the girl's shoulders. "Don't, I'm fine Mikagami," Fuuko protested, trying to shrug it off.

'The idiot, trying to be tough as always,' the older boy thought with annoyance. Yet with his irritation came respect. Fuuko had earned that from everyone who had witnessed her fights in the Ura Butou Satsujin. She had demonstrated unshakeable courage (and not to mention obstinacy) in situations that would have broken men twice her age.

During her bout with Gashakura she'd been electrocuted, flung to corners of the arena like a rag doll and had nearly been ripped to shreds by her opponent's Morning Star, but when she'd fallen she'd always gotten up by sheer will and her pride as a fighter.

Mikagami had watched the fight at first with indifference, then with growing admiration as the girl battled on with a steely resolve. Then she'd done the unthinkable. After defeating Gashakura, she'd held her ground to face his intimidating and evil brother Magensha. Knowing defeat was inevitable, the battered Fuujin-wielder had stood firm, hoping to reveal any weaknesses Magensha had to make victory easier for Ishijima. She'd never given up. Even when she was being sucked into Magensha's black hole, she fought to the very end.

Immediately after the Hokage had been determined as the winners of that round, Mikagami had come upon Fuuko unexpectedly. She had been sitting, her back towards him, outside on the grass as far away from the fighting arenas as possible within the compounds of the ground. The others were looking for her as she'd disappeared without having her injuries treated. Recognising the same need for peace and solitude he'd often had in another individual, he'd walked away silently and only shrugged when the others asked if he knew of her whereabouts.

When she reappeared, she was the normal, joking and teasing Fuuko again. With a brave face, she had waved her friends' concerns away, protesting that she was feeling fine although she had clear burns on her body and couldn't walk without limping. She'd endured so much and yet never uttered a word of complaint. That was the type of person she was. Still, sometimes her stubborn air of bravado made Mikagami want to tear his hair out, as he felt like doing now.

"Leave it on Fuuko or you'll catch a cold," he said, (then added as he realised how out of character that sounded) "Sakoshita-san wouldn't be very happy if she knew I let you go down with pneumonia."

She didn't seem to register what he'd said. "Fuuko?" he tried again, a bit worried.

The girl turned her head towards him in surprise, as if she'd already forgotten his presence. "Oh, sorry Mikagami. What did you say?"

Mikagami almost threw his hands in the air in frustration. "I said to leave the coat on or you'll catch a cold," he sighed, exasperated.

"But what about you?"

"What about me? I'm the 'iceman', remember? Icemen don't catch colds." Mikagami didn't know why he had even referred to that well-known nickname for him. He'd always loathed it although it had contributed to his reputation as an awe-inspiring and untouchable god. Maybe he was unnerved by the absence of Fuuko's laughter (which was usually directed at him, not with him). Still, his lame attempt at humour made him wince.

But she didn't laugh or mock him at all. "Thankyou," was all she said.

A long silence ensued as the two looked at their grey, dreary surroundings. The heavy curtain of rain blurred the scenery devoiding it of its colour and vitality.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mikagami watched Fuuko gaze at the rain, an unusual glint in her eyes. She seemed a completely different person to her usually cheerful and often irritating self. The silence stretched out to a few minutes as the rain showed no signs of easing. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, more of a companionable one.

Transfixed by the beating of the rain on the roof, Mikagami didn't hear footsteps approaching from behind him.

"Tokiya, what are you doing out here? Don't you know you'll catch a cold?" the beautiful brown-haired girl scolded as she took hold of his shoulders.

"Oneechan, why does it rain? Where does all that water come from?" the little Mikagami asked, his curiosity aroused by the seemingly endless cascade of water that poured out of nowhere.

Mifuyu smiled fondly as she looked down at her brother. She could never stay angry at him for long. "Why, you really are an odd little boy, aren't you Tokiya-chan?"

She knelt down beside him on the wooden floorboards. "High up in the sky even higher than the stars lives a very beautiful and kind goddess who loves all children on the earth, like you and me, as if we were her own. Whenever any of us feels sadness so deep that it hurts just thinking about it, our feelings reach the goddess and she weeps, sad that she cannot reach out and comfort us as a mother would do. Her tears reaches us as rain to show that she is grieving with us."

Mikagami stood solemnly, pondering what she'd said. After a while he said, "So I should never be sad or cry, should I oneechan?"

"I wouldn't say 'never', Tokiya-chan. It's okay if you're sad every once in a while. To keep you grief bottled up inside is worse. Crying helps you to release those emotions. After all, the rain gives life to the plants and animals living in the wild. Without it, the earth would die. And without sadness, people would not be human."

Mifuyu then smiled at him as she stood up. "But for now, I want to see my Toki-chan happy, okay?"

The little boy named Mikagami smiled back. "I can never be sad when oneechan is around."

It was odd, thought a now older and wiser Mikagami, that he'd forgotten such a precious moment like that. But then again, he'd never had the time to actually stop and watch the rain. Ever since Mifuyu's death, his mind had been preoccupied with… other things.

"Mikagami…" the ensui-wielder nearly jumped at Fuuko's voice. He turned to look at her.

"Mikagami," she repeated, "do you like rainy days?"

'Like rainy days?' he frowned. It was a strange question - especially when it came from Fuuko. "It's the same as any other day for me," he said shrugging.

Fuuko continued to gaze at the unrelenting onslaught outside. "I hate rainy days," she said sadly. Her voice was barely audible over the pounding of the rain on the roof of the shelter, but Mikagami heard her.

It hadn't always been like that. As a child, Fuuko had loved it when it rained. Instead of walking straight to elementary school, the little girl would linger to catch each cold drop on her upturned face. Jumping into the forming puddles was also another of her favourite pastimes. It wasn't her fault that getting a wet dress was an unavoidable part of it.

But her parents didn't seem to share her beliefs. Every time she came back soaked they would scold her and she would feel guilty. But the next rainy day, when she felt the thrill of the first drops on her face, she would forget and the same thing happened all over again.

Eventually her parents grew so tired of her exploits that they were forced to forbid her leaving the house when it rained. But with both of them working, neither had time to drive her to school or stay home to look after her. So when grandfather Daisuke passed away and his wife came to live with them, their problems were solved.

Fuuko had never seen grandmother Ayumi before as she and her late husband had lived quite a distance away and were too old to travel so far to visit. She had the impression that all grandmothers smelt like medicine and had hairs sticking out of their noses and ears since her other grandmother was like that, so that was how she envisaged grandmother Ayumi.

To her great surprise Ayumi was a small and wrinkled woman with a kind face. And to her relief, she didn't smell like a walking doctor's clinic – rather, she smelt more like…freshly-picked flowers.

"Ah…" the old woman said, "this must be Fuuko-chan, the little rain-child."

Fuuko bowed her head in shame. "I can't help myself. When I see the rain, I feel like running and jumping in it."

Ayumi had a smile and winked at her. "Well we'll see what we can do about it, ne?"

And so began the happy times for Fuuko. When she came home from school, grandmother Ayumi would let her help with the baking of cookies or other snacks, she would bathe her and help her with any homework. Then at night she would tuck her in bed and read stories to her until she fell asleep.

But Fuuko preferred it when it rained. This was when she could spend the whole day with her most favourite person in the world as her parents was now able to enforce their taboo. On these special days she would help grandmother Ayumi complete the morning chores as quickly as possible so that they had more time for leisure. When the work was done, they would sit down together and Ayumi would tell her all about her childhood spent in the country and teach her traditional Japanese songs she had learnt as a little girl. These were the times most treasured by Fuuko.

By the time Fuuko was seven, she'd been in her first fight where, humiliatingly, Recca had saved her from being beaten to a pulp. This time she had returned home second best, but she promised herself that this would be the first – and the last – time.

While her parents had chided her about her torn uniform and how unladylike it was to fight, grandmother Ayumi had held her close with understanding. "Oh my Fuuko-chan, I was like you when I was young, full of energy and spirit," she had said shaking her head half with pride, half with sorrow, "but you are going to grow up to be an even more formidable woman than I was. Full of pride and courage that it will set you apart from others and you will feel very alone in this world. But, my little whirlwind of trouble and sweetness, you must always be strong."

It was not long after that when Ayumi became ill. Each day, Fuuko watched her beloved grandmother grow weaker and so thin that she was almost unrecognisable with her sunken cheeks and yellowish skin. But her smile was still there. Warm and kind, it remained there, unchanging as ever.

Fuuko remembered that it had been raining when grandmother Ayumi died. In the blink of an eye, the most integral part of her life had been removed. She was inconsolable, but kept the deep sorrow and emptiness she felt inside and moved on. Life didn't stop for anyone to grieve and she had to be strong, just like her grandmother said. While once the rain had brought joy and release to Fuuko, it now only stirred up a dormant sadness.

"Fuuko?"

The fuujin-wielder started and turned to meet Mikagami's concerned gaze. Then she realised the rain was subsiding, pattering down at more irregular intervals. Her grip on the violets in her arms relaxed and she felt the aching feeling of loss fading.

"Mikagami," she said, knowing he was probably having unflattering thoughts about her, "I'm just feeling a bit…the rain has that effect on me." Fuuko groaned inwardly. If he hadn't thought her weird before, he'd definitely think she was a raving lunatic now.

To her surprise, Mikagami didn't smile (his equivalent of bursting out in laughter) or give her one of his weird looks. Instead, he looked down at his hands and said, "It has that effect on everyone."

Fuuko tried to detect any trace sarcasm or mockery in the older boy's voice, but all she heard was sincerity. She hid a smiled of gratitude. 'So Mikagami can be nice after all,' she thought, touching the coat he'd placed on her shoulders with one hand.