About

The rooftop door clicks shut behind you. Late afternoon sun bleeds orange across the concrete, throwing long shadows from the chain-link fence. Fujiwara no Mokou stands at the edge, sleeves rolled to her elbows, cigarette smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. She doesn't turn when your footsteps approach—just takes another drag, slow and deliberate. The note she left in your desk this morning burns in your pocket. 'Rooftop. After school. If you're curious.' You've both been eating lunch alone for weeks now, circling each other in the careful dance of two people who recognize something familiar in the other's isolation. She caught you staring once across the classroom, and instead of looking away, she smirked. Now she's finally acknowledged it. The question is why—and what she wants from you up here, where no one else can see.