Chapter 3: Lunch on the Rooftop

The rooftop was quiet that afternoon, a sanctuary away from the noisy hallways and crowded classrooms. A gentle breeze carried the faint perfume of cherry blossoms even up here, tugging at Haruto’s hair as he leaned against the railing.

The city below stretched into lazy hills, rooftops scattered like children’s blocks, while clouds drifted lazily across the blue spring sky. It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

“Minami-kun!”

Haruto sighed. He should have known. Yui burst onto the rooftop like sunlight, carrying… nothing, of course. She never carried a bag or a bento, yet she always showed up when he opened his lunch.

“There you are!” she chirped, spinning once before plopping down on the concrete beside him. “I was looking for you.”

“You didn’t have to look very hard,” Haruto muttered, settling cross-legged with his bento on his lap. “I’m always here during lunch.”

“That makes it easier for me, then.” Yui grinned mischievously. “See? We’re already in sync.”

Haruto gave her a sidelong glance, but she only swung her legs happily like a child on a park bench.

---

He opened his bento, revealing neatly packed rice, tamagoyaki, and grilled salmon. His mother had tried her best, though the tamagoyaki was a bit burnt. Yui leaned forward eagerly, eyes sparkling.

“Wooow, that looks so good! Your mom must love you a lot.”

Haruto poked at the egg roll. “She tries.”

“You’re lucky. My mom… well, she’s not the best cook.” Yui giggled, resting her chin in her palms. “She once tried to make curry, and it turned into soup. My dad and I had to eat it with spoons.”

Haruto smiled faintly despite himself. “That’s… pretty bad.”

“It was awful. But we laughed so much that night. Dad kept saying, ‘This isn’t curry, it’s curry lake!’” Yui mimicked his deeper voice, puffing her cheeks in an imitation that made Haruto chuckle.

But then, as the laughter faded, Haruto frowned slightly.

Yui’s “dad”? Her “mom”?

He thought back to yesterday—the abandoned house with broken windows he’d passed on the way home. It had been covered in dust, as though no one had lived there for years. The nameplate on the gate had read “Hanabira.”

“…Your parents,” Haruto began carefully, “they live nearby?”

“Mmhm! Just a few streets over. I usually walk home with friends, though.” Yui beamed, then paused, eyes drifting as if recalling something. “Except lately… I guess I’ve been walking alone more often.”

Haruto swallowed, his chopsticks pausing midair. “And your friends? Who are they?”

“Oh! You don’t know them. There’s Kana-chan, she’s always braiding her hair, and Shun-kun, he makes the best puns—though the teachers hate them.” Yui’s voice grew warmer as she listed names. “And there’s… hm.” She blinked, lips parting as if trying to recall another, but nothing came.

The silence stretched.

Haruto shifted. “What class are they in?”

“2-B, of course. Same as us.”

He froze. “But… I’ve never seen them.”

Yui giggled, waving her hand dismissively. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention. You always look so serious in class.”

But Haruto had been paying attention. He’d memorized nearly every face in that room. None of the people Yui mentioned existed.

A strange chill threaded through the sunlight.

---

Yui leaned closer suddenly, breaking his thoughts. “Oh! You should try adding soy sauce to your rice like this.”

Before Haruto could protest, she mimed sprinkling sauce from an invisible bottle. Of course, nothing came out. She laughed at herself. “Oops, forgot I can’t.”

Haruto rolled his eyes, hiding a reluctant smile. “Then why bother pretending?”

“Because it’s fun. Food tastes better when you imagine it.” She closed her eyes, inhaling dramatically as though savoring his salmon. “Mmm. Delicious. Ten out of ten.”

Her silly expression made Haruto laugh, the tension in his chest loosening.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, but his voice was softer than before.

“Ridiculously cute?” she teased, eyes twinkling.

Haruto choked on his rice, coughing. “D-don’t say stuff like that!”

Yui burst out laughing, clapping her hands together. “Your face is so red! You’re like a tomato, Minami-kun!”

He turned away quickly, but the corner of his lips betrayed him, curving upward despite himself.

---

They ate—or in Yui’s case, watched—while the breeze played with the petals that drifted onto the rooftop.

After a moment, Yui lay back on the ground, staring at the sky. “Hey, Minami-kun… doesn’t it feel like time stops up here?”

Haruto glanced down at her. Her hair fanned across the concrete, catching stray petals like a crown. Her eyes reflected the blue sky, sparkling as though she held the whole spring inside them.

He swallowed. “…Maybe.”

“Like… no matter what happens down there, the rooftop will always be the same. Quiet. Gentle. Safe.”

She smiled softly, almost wistfully. “I used to come here with my friends a lot. We’d eat snacks, gossip about teachers, argue about which boy band was cuter.” She giggled at the memory.

Haruto tilted his head. “Used to?”

Yui’s smile faltered for a heartbeat. “…Yeah. Used to.” She brushed a petal from her sleeve, then sat up quickly, flashing another grin. “But now I have you. So it’s fine.”

The warmth of her words hit him harder than expected. Haruto looked away, ears warming. “You say embarrassing things too easily.”

“But they’re true,” she replied simply.

---

The bell rang faintly from below, calling students back to class. Haruto packed his bento, rising to his feet. Yui stretched her arms, then hopped up beside him.

“Thanks for lunch, Minami-kun. I’ll join you again tomorrow!”

He gave her a tired look. “You don’t eat.”

“But you do. And watching you eat makes me happy.”

Haruto sighed, brushing past her toward the door. “You’re impossible.”

Yui skipped behind him, humming. “Impossible, but unforgettable. Right?”

He didn’t answer. But as he descended the stairs, he couldn’t shake the feeling of her laughter lingering in the air—bright, fragile, and achingly alive.

And though her stories didn’t add up, though her classmates didn’t exist, though her home seemed abandoned, Haruto realized something unsettling:

He wanted to believe her anyway.