Juvia

Juvia walked through the cold, rain-soaked streets, her small boots splashing in puddles as she wandered without a destination. The rain never stopped, drumming softly against her umbrella, trickling down the glass of every store window she passed. Inside, she saw warm lights, happy families, and the laughter of people celebrating together. But out here, in the endless drizzle, Juvia was alone.

She paused in front of a bakery, pressing her little fingers against the cool glass. A round cake sat in the window, covered in fluffy white frosting with bright blue decorations. A birthday cake. Today was her birthday, too… but there was no one to bake her a cake, no one to sing for her, no presents waiting at home. Just the rain, always the rain.

With a sigh, she stepped back, the reflection of her lonely face rippling in the puddle below. Maybe if she were different—if she weren’t "the girl who brings the rain"—someone would have celebrated with her. Maybe the sun would shine for once.

She hugged her arms around herself, forcing a tiny smile. "Happy birthday, Juvia," she whispered, voice barely heard over the raindrops. Then, without another word, she turned away and kept walking, disappearing into the endless gray.

Juvia lay curled up on her bed, her small hands clutching the little white doll she had spent all night making. Tears dripped silently onto the fabric, darkening the stitches where she had carefully sewn its tiny smile. She had wanted it to be perfect—for him. She had imagined the way his eyes would light up, the way he might smile at her and say, "Thank you, Juvia!" Maybe, just maybe, he would have held it close, understanding how much it meant.

But instead, he had looked at it, then at her, and shook his head. "I don’t want this." Just like that. No warmth, no kindness. He hadn’t even taken it.

The doll was still here, still in her hands, but now it felt heavier, as if all the hope she had sewn into it had turned into something painful. She pressed it against her chest, muffling the quiet sobs she couldn’t hold back anymore. The rain outside matched the ache inside her, falling steadily against her window, whispering that she was alone.

Juvia didn’t understand. What had she done wrong? Was she just someone no one would ever want?

She buried her face into her pillow, gripping the doll tighter. Maybe if she cried enough, the rain would wash everything away.

Juvia sat on the toilet, humming a little tune as she peed. The tiny bathroom echoed with her voice, and she found herself enjoying the acoustics. It was one of those silly songs she made up on the spot, something about sunshine—ironic, given the constant rain outside.

As she swayed a little to the rhythm, she lost focus for just a second. A strange, tingly sensation crept over her, and before she even realized what was happening—splash!

Juvia blinked. One moment, she had been sitting comfortably. The next, she had melted. She tried to gather herself quickly, but the sudden rush of water in the toilet bowl carried part of her downward. Panicking, she reformed just in time to feel herself slosh through the pipes, twisting and turning through the underground tunnels of the city’s drainage system.

With a gush, Juvia was suddenly expelled from a gutter, landing unceremoniously in a puddle by the street. For a second, she just sat there, completely still, processing what had just happened.

Then, as the rain pattered down around her, she let out a groan. "Juvia really needs to be more careful..."