The lunch bell echoed through the school,

sharp tone cutting through the muffled monotony of the morning.

Ryuya stayed in his seat as the room emptied, the noise of shuffling feet and chairs scraping against the floor fading into the hallway.

He hadn’t planned to go to the rooftop. But as he stood and walked through the quieting corridors, his feet carried him toward the stairwell without a thought. 

The noise of the day—the voices, the footsteps, the bursts of laughter. The rooftop was better, quieter.

The door creaked faintly as Ryuya pushed it open. He stepped out onto the rooftop. The fog had thickened since the morning, curling low over the schoolyard and swallowing the edges of the skyline.

 The city beyond was gone, dissolved into an indistinct gray, leaving only the rooftop and its cold, metallic railing visible.

The air was cool, carrying the faint smell of rain yet it was still safe. Ryuya moved to his usual spot by the railing, lowering himself to the ground, the floor slightly wet but not enough to be a concern. 

For a second the rooftop felt like the only place left in the world.

 He carefully pulled his sketchbook from his bag along with a pencil, flipping it open.

He stared at the blank page for a long moment waiting for the pencil to move.

“...”

A resigned sigh; Nothing came yet it wasn’t frustration that clung to him.

Figures..

The fog curled closer, softening the world’s edges. Ryuya absently listened to the murmurs of the school below, the sounds distant. It reached him in waves, blending with the occasional creak of the metal railing. 

The minutes stretched.

The pencil hovered and the page remained empty.

The fog didn’t care.

It kept shifting, curling, pressing against the edges of the rooftop like it was trying to swallow it whole.

He leaned back against the railing, letting his eyes close, his thoughts slipping. 

"…"

A metallic creak broke the quiet,

the rooftop door was pushed open.

Footsteps.

Ryuya’s eyes flicked toward the rooftop door.

There, three figures emerged from the stairwell. 

A burst of laughter rose loudly, scraping at the silence like a fork dragged across a plate.

Ryuya sat motionless as the group stepped further onto the rooftop.

Their voices rose and fell in scattered bursts, fragments of conversation drifting and fading.

“...You seriously thought—”

“Yeah, but then she—”

“You should’ve seen her face—”

Nothing distinct enough to discern.

The girl at the front moved with a confidence that felt out of place against the fog’s quiet insistence.

She led the group toward the far edge of the rooftop, pausing halfway to glance around as though surveying her territory.

Ryuya didn’t look directly at them.

Laughter rang out again—

louder than it needed to be.

He reflexively glanced in their direction, something the girl seemed to notice.

Her gaze caught his for a moment then swept the rooftop.

She said something to the two boys behind her, her voice dropping just enough that Ryuya couldn’t make out the words. 

They turned briefly in his direction, glancing at him with passing interest before continuing toward the door.

The girl stayed where she was.

The rooftop quieted again as they left through the door.

The girl didn’t follow.

Instead, she stepped closer.

Ryuya’s hands tightened around his pencil. 

“Hey.” She said. 

“So you’re back.” She added.

The girl was one of his classmates.

Ryuya didn’t answer. His eyes flicked toward the edge of the rooftop.

Her footsteps stopped a few paces away.

“Didn’t think anyone else came up here.”  she said, her tone light.

He didn’t reply, letting the silence linger. She didn’t move closer, but she didn’t leave either. 

“So,” she said finally, her voice breaking the stillness again.

“Do you always just sit here?”

Ryuya took a moment but eventually shifted his gaze toward her.

“Do you need something?” He asked bluntly.

Her brow furrowed. “No. Do I need to?” 

He didn’t answer. The silence hung between them, thick and deliberate. It said more than words could, though not in a way that offered her clarity.

She gazed at him for a second before her lips parted.

“I’m just here to check in on the ghost.”

Ryuya's gaze sharpened as he noticed the smirk curving on her face. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He answered with an unusual edge.

She smirked some more as though she’d been waiting for the reaction.

She moved to lean against the railing, crossing her arms.

“You’ve been gone so long, of course people are gonna call you something.” 

Her tone was playful enough so that it didn’t sound malicious, but something about it made his head tingle.

“So that’s why I’m here,” She said.

“Is that what you care about?” Ryuya said as his gaze came back to his sketchbook.

“I don’t know what you’d expect, we haven’t seen you in forever.” A subtle edge carried through her words.

“I know,” He said flatly.

“So where were you ?” She asked. “You just got bored of showing up?” 

Ryuya inhaled deeply. “Does it matter?”  He answered, sighing the words away. 

Emi lingered, as though she might say something more. But she didn't. A quiet weight settled. Ryuya closed his sketchbook without thinking.

“You’ve got people talking,” she then said, her tone lighter but not entirely casual. 

His head turned back to face her. 'Okay?' The slight lift in his voice made it sound like  a question, yet it held no real investment. 

Emi blinked.

“You don’t care ?” she asked, her tone was softer as though testing his response, her fingers drummed on the railing. “I don’t need the attention,” he replied.

“Then maybe you should come back to class.” She retorted, her voice carrying something that wasn’t quite teasing, but did not sound sympathetic either. He didn’t answer. 

“Or don’t, but then don’t complain about people calling you names” She added.

“Got it.” Ryuya said flatly.

Her gaze shifted, disengaging from his. Instead she leaned against  the railing with an ease that felt out of place. Staring at the foggy outline of the rooftop.

Ryuya’s focus came back to his sketchbook,

yet,

A blur in the periphery,

he blinked,

The buzz from earlier came back. Low and insistent.

This again..

Ryuya’s hand pressed against his temple, the sensation crawling through his head and chest.

The buzzing deepened, spreading through his thoughts and unraveling them into jagged, unconnected pieces.

Ryuya kept pressing, trying to squeeze the tension away.  

He blinked hard. 

Until  the static broke.

The lunch bell echoed through the school,

sharp tone cutting through the muffled monotony of the morning.

Ryuya stayed in his seat as the room emptied, the noise of shuffling feet and chairs scraping against the floor fading into the hallway.

He hadn’t planned to go to the rooftop. But as he stood and walked through the quieting corridors, his feet carried him toward the stairwell without a thought. 

The noise of the day—the voices, the footsteps, the bursts of laughter. The rooftop was better, quieter.

The door creaked faintly as Ryuya pushed it open. He stepped out onto the rooftop. The fog had thickened since the morning, curling low over the schoolyard and swallowing the edges of the skyline.

 The city beyond was gone, dissolved into an indistinct gray, leaving only the rooftop and its cold, metallic railing visible.

The air was cool, carrying the faint smell of rain yet it was still safe. Ryuya moved to his usual spot by the railing, lowering himself to the ground, the floor slightly wet but not enough to be a concern. 

For a second the rooftop felt like the only place left in the world.

 He carefully pulled his sketchbook from his bag along with a pencil, flipping it open.

He stared at the blank page for a long moment waiting for the pencil to move.

“...”

A resigned sigh; Nothing came yet it wasn’t frustration that clung to him.

Figures..

The fog curled closer, softening the world’s edges. Ryuya absently listened to the murmurs of the school below, the sounds distant. It reached him in waves, blending with the occasional creak of the metal railing. 

The minutes stretched.

The pencil hovered and the page remained empty.

The fog didn’t care.

It kept shifting, curling, pressing against the edges of the rooftop like it was trying to swallow it whole.

He leaned back against the railing, letting his eyes close, his thoughts slipping. 

"…"

A metallic creak broke the quiet,

the rooftop door was pushed open.

Footsteps.

Ryuya’s eyes flicked toward the rooftop door.

There, three figures emerged from the stairwell. 

A burst of laughter rose loudly, scraping at the silence like a fork dragged across a plate.

Ryuya sat motionless as the group stepped further onto the rooftop.

Their voices rose and fell in scattered bursts, fragments of conversation drifting and fading.

“...You seriously thought—”

“Yeah, but then she—”

“You should’ve seen her face—”

Nothing distinct enough to discern.

The girl at the front moved with a confidence that felt out of place against the fog’s quiet insistence.

She led the group toward the far edge of the rooftop, pausing halfway to glance around as though surveying her territory.

Ryuya didn’t look directly at them.

Laughter rang out again—

louder than it needed to be.

He reflexively glanced in their direction, something the girl seemed to notice.

Her gaze caught his for a moment then swept the rooftop.

She said something to the two boys behind her, her voice dropping just enough that Ryuya couldn’t make out the words. 

They turned briefly in his direction, glancing at him with passing interest before continuing toward the door.

The girl stayed where she was.

The rooftop quieted again as they left through the door.

The girl didn’t follow.

Instead, she stepped closer.

Ryuya’s hands tightened around his pencil. 

“Hey.” She said. 

“So you’re back.” She added.

The girl was one of his classmates.

Ryuya didn’t answer. His eyes flicked toward the edge of the rooftop.

Her footsteps stopped a few paces away.

“Didn’t think anyone else came up here.”  she said, her tone light.

He didn’t reply, letting the silence linger. She didn’t move closer, but she didn’t leave either. 

“So,” she said finally, her voice breaking the stillness again.

“Do you always just sit here?”

Ryuya took a moment but eventually shifted his gaze toward her.

“Do you need something?” He asked bluntly.

Her brow furrowed. “No. Do I need to?” 

He didn’t answer. The silence hung between them, thick and deliberate. It said more than words could, though not in a way that offered her clarity.

She gazed at him for a second before her lips parted.

“I’m just here to check in on the ghost.”

Ryuya's gaze sharpened as he noticed the smirk curving on her face. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He answered with an unusual edge.

She smirked some more as though she’d been waiting for the reaction.

She moved to lean against the railing, crossing her arms.

“You’ve been gone so long, of course people are gonna call you something.” 

Her tone was playful enough so that it didn’t sound malicious, but something about it made his head tingle.

“So that’s why I’m here,” She said.

“Is that what you care about?” Ryuya said as his gaze came back to his sketchbook.

“I don’t know what you’d expect, we haven’t seen you in forever.” A subtle edge carried through her words.

“I know,” He said flatly.

“So where were you ?” She asked. “You just got bored of showing up?” 

Ryuya inhaled deeply. “Does it matter?”  He answered, sighing the words away. 

Emi lingered, as though she might say something more. But she didn't. A quiet weight settled. Ryuya closed his sketchbook without thinking.

“You’ve got people talking,” she then said, her tone lighter but not entirely casual. 

His head turned back to face her. 'Okay?' The slight lift in his voice made it sound like  a question, yet it held no real investment. 

Emi blinked.

“You don’t care ?” she asked, her tone was softer as though testing his response, her fingers drummed on the railing. “I don’t need the attention,” he replied.

“Then maybe you should come back to class.” She retorted, her voice carrying something that wasn’t quite teasing, but did not sound sympathetic either. He didn’t answer. 

“Or don’t, but then don’t complain about people calling you names” She added.

“Got it.” Ryuya said flatly.

Her gaze shifted, disengaging from his. Instead she leaned against  the railing with an ease that felt out of place. Staring at the foggy outline of the rooftop.

Ryuya’s focus came back to his sketchbook,

yet,

A blur in the periphery,

he blinked,

The buzz from earlier came back. Low and insistent.

This again..

Ryuya’s hand pressed against his temple, the sensation crawling through his head and chest.

The buzzing deepened, spreading through his thoughts and unraveling them into jagged, unconnected pieces.

Ryuya kept pressing, trying to squeeze the tension away.  

He blinked hard. 

Until  the static broke.