So there's this "30 Days of Writing" thing where you have thirty days and thirty prompts and a prompt a day, and this is an exceedingly bad idea but why don't I give it a shot?

I don't Persona 4 et cetera; Atlus.

The girl was not his friend, not exactly. He wasn't an expert at friendship, but he was certain friends knew each other's names, at the very least. As it stood, he didn't know hers, and he had no idea if she knew his (on one hand, he'd never given it to her; on the other, it couldn't be too difficult to pick up gossip about the newest transfer).

Still, for two people who weren't friends, they spent an awful lot of time together.

The girl smiled at him, the edge of her umbrella tracing an uneven orbit around her head. Occasionally it tilted towards him, flecking small droplets of water into his hair.

"Want me to give you a weather forecast?" she asked.

He nodded.

The question was routine. He'd been skeptical, at first, of this girl and her claims of "I'm always right", but a couple of weeks' worth of predictions and matching results had been enough to sway him to the side of cautious belief. Still, even then he'd seen her only as an additional resource, a way of checking up on the weather without the hassle of returning to his uncle's home just to switch on the TV. It'd been convenient, even if she wasn't a meteorologist, not really.

He hadn't understood, then, the meaning of those words.

"I'm always right". Not a boast, but a promise.

The rain had come a day early. He'd taken two conflicting forecasts, weighed them, and, in the end, gone with the one backed by radar and satellites and newscasters in good suits. The Shadow had nearly killed them. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"...and on Tuesday there'll be rain again." The girl finished, and he realized, to his embarrassment, that he'd largely tuned her out. Something must have shown, because the girl leaned forwards to peer at his face. "I'm sorry," she said. "Is this too fast?"

For a moment, her umbrella covered them both.

He shook his head. "No," he said, "thank you," and when he left she was still there, smiling, her eyes turned out past the horizon to await the end of rain.