Kusama-sensei is undeniably a master of short stories, and among them, The Rain That Stops at Dawn—the title work of this collection—is the one that resonates with me most. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it. Each time, I discover something new—a flicker in a character’s expression, a subtle gesture I missed before.
When I first read it, I didn’t fully grasp the story. I was focused on the dialogue and inner monologues. But Kusama-sensei’s work demands more than that. It requires you to read between the lines, to pay close attention to the artwork. She never spoon-feeds the reader with exposition or lengthy narration. Instead, her stories breathe through silences, through glances, through what’s left unsaid.
This isn’t a cute or fluffy story. The Rain That Stops at Dawn is a serious, weighty piece about Satomura, a court clerk whose younger brother took his own life—leaving behind a love confession note that never reached its intended recipient. Yuuki, a detective, accidentally intervened and kept the note from being delivered. Their connection begins with a lie, continues with a lie, and will never end with the truth being revealed. Yuuki chooses to carry that secret to the grave, so that Satomura won’t be consumed by self-blame.
This is the kind of quiet kindness Kusama-sensei writes so powerfully—never declared, never explained, just felt. She doesn’t tell you her characters are kind. She lets you feel it. And that, to me, lingers far longer than any words ever could.