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The rooftop of Sobu High was a quiet refuge, the spring breeze carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms and the distant hum of Chiba's streets. Miwa Aoi leaned against the chain-link fence, her fingers curling around the cool metal, its texture rough and grounding as she gazed out at the horizon. The sun hung high, its warmth kissing her cheeks, but her heart was a storm, stirred by the memory of the café—Hachiman's knee brushing hers, his guarded eyes meeting her confession. "I feel seen when I'm with you." The words had been a risk, a piece of herself laid bare, and his response—cautious, noncommittal—had left her teetering between hope and fear.
She'd come to the rooftop to escape the cafeteria's noise, to steal a moment alone with her thoughts. Her lunch, a simple bento, sat untouched on the bench beside her, the rice cooling in the breeze. Her fingers traced the edge of her notebook, tucked in her bag, where she'd written her vows to be careful, to not lose herself in her longing for Hachiman. But careful was hard when every glance, every word from him felt like a spark, igniting something she couldn't control.
The rooftop door creaked open, and Miwa turned, her pulse quickening. Yuigahama Yui stepped out, her ponytail swaying, her smile bright but tinged with something sharper—concern, maybe, or resolve. She carried a pastel lunchbox, her fingers gripping it tightly, and her eyes locked onto Miwa's with an intensity that made Miwa's stomach twist.
"Miwa-chan!" Yui called, her voice cheerful but strained, like a note held too long. "I thought I'd find you up here. Mind if I join you?"
Miwa hesitated, her fingers tightening on the fence, the metal biting into her skin. Yui's warmth had always been a comfort, but the wariness in her eyes, glimpsed in the courtyard, was unmistakable now. "Sure," Miwa said, forcing a smile, her voice softer than she intended. "It's… nice up here."
Yui nodded, settling on the bench, her lunchbox clicking open. The scent of tamagoyaki and pickled vegetables drifted over, homey and warm, a stark contrast to the tension building between them. "Yeah, it's like a little escape, right? Hikki comes up here sometimes, when he's dodging people."
Miwa's heart skipped at Hachiman's name, and she looked away, her cheeks warming. "Does he?" she said, aiming for casual but hearing the eagerness in her voice. She cursed herself silently, gripping the fence harder, the cool metal a lifeline against her racing thoughts.
Yui's smile faltered, her fingers pausing on her chopsticks. "Miwa-chan," she said, her tone softer now, but firm, like she was bracing for impact. "Can I ask you something? About… Hikki?"
Miwa's breath caught, her body tensing. The breeze stung her cheeks, sharp and cold, amplifying the weight of Yui's question. She nodded, unable to trust her voice, her fingers trembling against the fence.
Yui set her lunchbox aside, her hands clasping in her lap, her nails digging slightly into her palms. "You've been… really focused on him," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Like, the way you look at him, the way you… touch him. I'm not trying to be mean, but… what's going on? Are you… into him?"
The question landed like a blow, raw and direct, stripping away Miwa's defenses. Her face burned, and she turned to face the fence, her eyes fixed on the distant rooftops, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Yui could hear it. "I… I don't know," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's just… different. He doesn't pretend, you know? It's… refreshing."
Yui's eyes softened, but the wariness remained, a shadow in her gaze. "Yeah, Hikki's like that. He's real, even when it's annoying. But… Miwa-chan, you're kinda intense about it. Like, the way you fixed his collar, or how you're always watching him. It's… a lot."
Miwa's throat tightened, Yukino's warning echoing in her mind—intense, unsettling. She gripped the fence harder, the metal's rough edges digging into her palms, grounding her against the shame flooding her chest. "I'm not… trying to be weird," she said, her voice cracking. "I just… I've never met someone like him. At my old school, people looked through me. They didn't care. But Hachiman… he sees things. He sees me. Or… I think he could."
Her words spilled out, raw and unfiltered, and she hated how desperate they sounded, how they bared the wounds she'd tried to hide. She turned to Yui, her eyes pleading, and reached out, her hand brushing Yui's arm in a fleeting, trembling touch. The contact was soft, Yui's sleeve warm and slightly textured under her fingers, but it carried the weight of Miwa's vulnerability, a plea for understanding.
Yui's expression shifted, surprise giving way to empathy, but before she could respond, the rooftop door creaked again. Hachiman stepped out, his bag slung over his shoulder, a can of MAX Coffee in hand. His eyes flicked between them, narrowing slightly, as if sensing the tension in the air.
"Am I interrupting something?" he said, his tone dry but cautious, his gaze lingering on Miwa's flushed cheeks and Yui's clasped hands.
Yui recovered first, her smile snapping back into place, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Hikki! Nah, we're just… talking. Girl stuff, you know?"
Hachiman raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Girl stuff that looks like it's about to start a war? Yeah, I'll pass."
He moved to the bench, setting his coffee can down with a soft clink, the metal gleaming in the sunlight.
Miwa's heart raced, her hand still tingling from touching Yui's arm, her body hyper-aware of Hachiman's presence. She wanted to shrink away, to hide from the exposure of Yui's confrontation, but his eyes were on her now, sharp and unyielding, and she couldn't look away.
"Miwa-chan was just… telling me about her old school," Yui said, her voice softer, a half-truth to smooth the moment. "It sounds like it was tough."
Miwa nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She gripped the fence again, the metal cool against her overheated skin, and forced herself to breathe, the breeze stinging her cheeks like a reprimand.
Hachiman leaned back, his arms crossed, his gaze shifting between them. "Tough's one word for it," he said, his tone flat but not unkind. "Sounds like she got dealt a bad hand. Doesn't mean she's gotta keep playing it."
Miwa's eyes snapped to his, her breath catching. His words were blunt, almost dismissive, but there was an undercurrent of understanding, a recognition that made her chest ache. He wasn't pitying her, wasn't coddling her—he was acknowledging her struggle without making it her identity. It was more than she'd expected, more than she'd dared to hope.
Yui frowned, her hands unclenching. "Hikki, that's… kinda harsh, don't you think?"
Hachiman shrugged, his smirk faint but present. "Harsh is telling her to keep chasing ghosts. She's here now, isn't she? That's more than most people manage."
Miwa's heart swelled, a mix of gratitude and longing that made her eyes sting. She wanted to thank him, to tell him how much his words meant, but her voice was stuck, trapped behind the weight of her emotions. Instead, she met his gaze, her trembling hand loosening on the fence, the metal's texture a faint echo of her fading fear.
Yui sighed, her shoulders relaxing, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're such a weirdo, Hikki. But… yeah, okay. Miwa-chan, I'm sorry if I came on strong. I just… worry, you know?"
Miwa nodded, her voice finally breaking free. "It's okay," she said, her tone shaky but sincere. "I… I get it. I don't want to make things weird. I just… want to belong somewhere."
Hachiman's eyes softened, just a fraction, before he looked away, sipping his coffee. "Belonging's overrated," he muttered, but there was no bite in his words, only a quiet acceptance that felt like a gift.
The lunch break ended soon after, the bell echoing faintly from below. Yui packed her lunchbox, her movements quick, and offered Miwa a genuine smile, the wariness fading but not gone. "Let's hang out again, okay? No pressure."
Miwa nodded, her heart lighter but still heavy with the weight of her admission. "I'd like that," she said, meaning it. Yui's kindness, even laced with caution, was something she wanted to hold onto, a reminder that connection didn't have to mean Hachiman alone.
Hachiman lingered as Yui headed for the door, his coffee can empty now, his fingers tapping the bench. Miwa stayed too, pretending to gather her bento, her fingers brushing the plastic lid, its smooth surface cool against her overheated skin. The breeze was gentler now, the cherry blossom scent fainter, but the tension between them was palpable, a thread stretched taut.
"You didn't have to do that," Miwa said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Defend me, I mean. But… thank you."
Hachiman grunted, his eyes flicking to hers, sharp and unreadable. "Don't read too much into it," he said, his tone gruff. "I just don't like seeing people ganged up on. Been there, done that."
Miwa's lips curved, a small, fragile smile. "Still means something," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She wanted to reach out, to brush her fingers against his, to feel the spark she'd chased since the classroom, but she held back, the memory of Yui's confrontation a quiet warning.
Hachiman stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder, his movements casual but deliberate. "Come on," he said, nodding toward the door. "We've got class, and I'm not explaining to Yukinoshita why we're late."
Miwa followed, her bento tucked under her arm, her heart a tangled mix of joy and ache. Hachiman's defense had deepened her attachment, a tether she couldn't—wouldn't—break. But Yui's words, Yukino's warning, lingered, a reminder to tread carefully, to not let her longing consume her.
As they descended the stairs, the rooftop fading behind them, Miwa's fingers brushed the notebook in her bag, its cover smooth and worn. She'd write about this later, about the breeze on her cheeks, the warmth of Yui's arm, the weight of Hachiman's words. She'd write to remember, to hold onto the spark, but also to remind herself: Be real, but be steady. He's worth it, but so are you.