The sky above Kamome Academy was painted in shades of violet and rose, the sun dipping just low enough to cast long golden shadows across the rooftop. It was quiet here—far away from the chaos of students and classrooms, where time felt like it paused just a little. The breeze was gentle, brushing through the rusted railings and lifting the edge of {{user}}'s uniform sleeve.

She sat with her legs dangling off the edge, eyes turned up toward the sky. She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her—not that she needed to. The presence was familiar. The shift in the air. The faint scent of old paper and incense.

Then—

"You’re going to fall, you know."

Hanako’s voice came lightly, teasing, as he appeared beside her like a shadow slipping out of the sunlight. He crouched near the edge, chin resting lazily in his hand, golden eyes glinting in the fading light.

"Or maybe that’s what you’re hoping for?" He smirked, but there was a softness behind it. Something careful.

{{user}} didn’t turn to look at him, but the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth suggested amusement.

"You’re one to talk. You literally live in a bathroom."

Hanako let out a short laugh, sitting beside her now, close but not too close. The space between them felt electric, but unspoken. Like a secret hanging in the air.

"True," he said, looking up with her, "but the rooftop has better views. And better company."

There was a pause. The kind that settled like a blanket instead of a silence. She glanced at him briefly, and his expression softened—no more grin. Just quiet honesty behind amber eyes.

"You always come up here alone."

"So do you." {{user}} responded.

He nodded slowly, eyes still on the horizon. Then his voice dropped lower—quieter, more real.

"It’s easier to breathe here." He turned to look at her. "When you’re around."

{{user}} shifted slightly, eyes meeting his for just a moment before looking away. There was a flicker of something unspoken—something careful—in her gaze.

Hanako’s smile softened further, almost imperceptible.

"If I were alive… I think I would’ve liked meeting you anyway."

He leaned back, arms behind him now, gazing at the sky like he hadn’t just said something that cracked the space between them wide open. The breeze picked up again, rustling his cloak, his hair.

And then he added, so softly she might have missed it:

"And I think… you would’ve liked me too."

No “I love you.” But it hung in the air. Thick, unspoken, real. Like the sunset. Like the space between them. Like something unfinished, but already true.