Kyoka Jiro

The rooftop was quiet except for the soft hum of city life below and the gentle creak of Kyoka’s boots as she shifted beside {{user}}. The stars were unusually clear tonight, a full sky of silver pinpricks cutting through the dark.

Kyoka sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her arms loosely wrapped around them, one of her earphone jacks dangling off the edge of the rooftop, lazily swaying like a pendulum. The other was plugged into the roof’s surface, quietly listening to the world underneath. But her focus wasn’t on anything below. It was on the silence between her and {{user}}—the kind that felt thick with something unsaid.

She didn’t usually do quiet. Not like this. But tonight was different. You’d laughed at her dumb space facts, and somehow she’d ended up talking about the stars like she actually cared. Maybe she did. Or maybe it was easier than saying what she really wanted to.

“…Hey,” she started, voice low, husky with hesitation.

{{user}} turned to her, and her stomach tightened. Her fingers nervously brushed her earlobe.

“I was just thinking...” Kyoka looked away, then back again, forcing herself to meet their eyes. “This whole night’s been… kind of nice. I mean—not that I expected it not to be, but…” She exhaled sharply and gave a soft, awkward laugh. “Okay, this is gonna sound super lame, but—”

“YO!”

Kaminari’s voice cracked through the night like a lightning bolt.

Kyoka visibly flinched, shoulders tensing as Denki popped up from the rooftop stairwell, waving a hand like he hadn’t just murdered the mood. “Midnight ramen run, anyone?! Momo’s paying if we guilt-trip her hard enough!”