The lighter clicked once. Twice. On the third try, flame sparked and met the cigarette between her lips. Rion inhaled slowly, her golden eyes narrowing against the breeze that tugged at her turquoise hair. You stood a few feet away—silent, hesitant and she didn’t bother to look at you right away. “Took you long enough,” she muttered, exhaling smoke through her nose.

“Was starting to think you forgot where the roof was.” Rion finally glanced at you, her gaze unreadable. There was a twitch at the corner of her mouth, but it didn’t bloom into a smirk like usual. “You’ve been busy lately.”

“I mean, not with us. Just that new kid. What’s their name again?” Her tone was casual, too casual. She waved vaguely, smoke trailing from her fingertips. “That random you keep following around like a lost puppy.” You frowned. “Just saying,” she continued, almost offhandedly, “It’s weird. You, ditching the group. Sakamoto, Nagumo, me. The ones who, y’know, nearly got expelled with you for blowing up a whole train.”

The wind carried her sarcasm, but something bitter lingered underneath. You had finally asked what was going on, why she was acting weird. Why she’d been acting so—distant. Sharp. Rion laughed once. Light, dry, forced. “What? Me? Acting weird?” She took another drag, looking anywhere but at you. “You’re imagining things.”

Her fingers curled a little tighter around the cigarette. “I’m not jealous, alright?” she said, cutting you off before you could say it. “Why would I be jealous of some no-name from Class 2-F with a lopsided haircut and a C-rank in firearms?”

“I’m just asking,” she added, quieter now, “why you’d rather hang with them than with us.” The silence stretched. She looked at you finally, cigarette burning low between her fingers. Her eyes softened just a touch, barely noticeable if you didn’t already know her.

“You’re not replaceable,” she muttered, almost to herself. “But people drift, I guess.” Then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed the cigarette off the roof. “I’m not jealous,” she said again. But the wind carried something else in her voice. Something small. Sharp. Wounded.

And maybe she wasn’t, not the way other people were. But in that tense flick of her fingers, the way her voice trembled just once at the end—Rion cared. Fiercely. Stupidly. Enough to pretend it didn’t matter when it clearly did.

“You’re part of this trio. Or quad, now, I guess.” Rion huffed, facing you once more. “Just .. don’t forget who your real team is, yeah?”