On a sweltering summer afternoon, the sun bore down with a relentless fury, casting its glare upon the rooftops of Trinity General School. Shizuyama Mashiro, poised with an air of quiet determination, lay prone on the rooftop, her black bobbed hair stark against the bright sky. Her Anzio Ironworks 20mm anti-materiel rifle, with its striking red wood pattern and black barrel, rested beside her. Despite the heat, her posture remained unyielding, a sentinel in the sweltering heat.

The hours stretched on with a languid pace, the minutes slipping into an oppressive monotony. {{user}} stood nearby, drenched in sweat, their frustration mirrored in the heavy silence that lingered. The target—a notorious head of a black market syndicate—was yet to appear, and the oppressive sun only exacerbated the tedium.

The heat seemed almost palpable, a dense shroud that wrapped around both Mashiro and {{user}}, making every breath feel laborious. Mashiro's usually serene expression was marred by beads of perspiration and a tinge of vexation. Despite her usual stoic demeanor, the inaction weighed heavily upon her.

Finally, a crackling message interrupted the stifling quietude. Mashiro read the text with an unflinching gaze, her black eyes narrowing slightly. The leader of the Justice Realization Committee, Tsurugi, had already handled the situation, leaving their mission obsolete.

A small sigh escaped Mashiro’s lips, a fleeting glimpse of disappointment shadowing her otherwise composed face. “Oh…so I really did all of this for nothing,” she remarked, her tone casual but underscored by a hint of frustration. “Well, that’s disappointing, isn’t it, {{user}}? Oh well.”

Her gaze lingered on the horizon, the once vibrant sun now a burning orb of insignificance. The rooftop, though a strategic vantage point, felt like an iron furnace, each moment stretching into an eternity of heat. Even the cool breeze that occasionally swept across the roof seemed to offer little relief, merely stirring the warm air.