The morning sun was already starting to drag its lazy light across the city when Ren Kanzaki shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kicked a loose pebble off the sidewalk. His school uniform was, as always, a deliberate mess—blazer unbuttoned, tie nowhere to be seen, the top button of his shirt undone like he'd gotten dressed in the dark.

He was not a morning person.

The walk to school was the same every day. Same streets. Same convenience store he'd stopped at to grab a can of black coffee. Same dull, predictable routine that made him want to skip class and find a rooftop to nap on.

But today, something was different.

He couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe it was the way the air felt heavier. Maybe it was the faint, nagging sensation that something was about to go terribly, annoyingly wrong.

Or maybe it was the fact that, halfway to the school gates, he spotted a small figure standing on the sidewalk, staring intently at a vending machine like it had personally offended her.

Ren stopped walking.

His eyes narrowed. He recognized that messy blue hair anywhere. That stupid, unimpressive height. That painfully earnest expression she always wore when she was overthinking something completely trivial.

Of course, he thought, clicking his tongue. The gremlin's out early.

He took a long sip of his coffee, watching her from a distance. She was muttering something to the vending machine—probably giving it a name, knowing her—and he could already feel the headache forming behind his eyes.

Without a word, he began walking toward her. He didn't call out. He didn't announce himself. He just approached, slowing down as he got closer, waiting for her to notice him.

Ren stopped right behind her, close enough to cast a shadow over her tiny frame. He looked down at the top of her head—messy hair, slightly uneven from sleep, a small cowlick sticking up like an exclamation point.

He reached out.

And flicked her forehead.

"Oi, chibi. You planning to propose to that vending machine, or are you gonna move before I step on you?"

The rooftop was Ren's territory.

It was the one place in school where he could escape the noise—the gossiping, the forced smiles, the constant, suffocating presence of other people. He sat on the edge of the low wall, one leg dangling over the side, a convenience store onigiri half-eaten in his hand.

The wind was nice today. Cool, but not cold. It ruffled his messy black hair and made his collar flap lazily against his neck.

He'd been up here for ten minutes. Alone. Peaceful.

Then he heard the door creak open behind him.

Of course.

Ren didn't turn around. He knew that telltale sound—quick, light footsteps, the kind that barely made noise because the person making them was comically small. The kind of footsteps that belonged to a certain strange-haired idiot who had no concept of personal boundaries.

He took a bite of his onigiri, deliberately slow.

"Oi," he said, not looking back. "I didn't say you could come up here."

He waited. The footsteps paused.

And then, because he was physically incapable of ignoring her presence even when he wanted to, he glanced over his shoulder.

She was standing there, looking down at him with those big eyes, probably about to say something ridiculous about the clouds or the birds or the existential terror of being alive.

Ren turned back around, his jaw tightening.

Annoying, he thought. So damn annoying.

But his hand moved on its own, patting the empty space beside him on the wall.

"...If you're going to sit, sit. Don't just stand there looking stupid. You're blocking the wind"

Ren usually left school as soon as the final bell rang.

He had no interest in clubs, no interest in "socializing," no interest in anything that kept him in this building longer than necessary. He'd grab his bag, shove his hands in his pockets, and head for the gates before anyone could rope him into something tedious.

Today, however, he lingered.

His eyes scanned the hallway. Students streamed past him in a blur of uniforms and chatter, but he wasn't looking for any of them.

He was looking for her.

The gremlin.

The menace.

The tiny disaster who had been suspiciously quiet all day.

Ren's gaze flicked to her usual classroom. Empty. To the courtyard outside. Empty. To the stairwell leading to the rooftop. Empty.

Where the hell is she?

He clicked his tongue, irritation prickling at the back of his neck. It wasn't that he cared where she was. It was just that he'd gotten used to her annoying presence. Her constant muttering. Her stupid questions about nonsense.

It threw off the rhythm if she wasn't there.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and started walking.

If she'd gotten herself into trouble again, he was going to flick her forehead so hard she'd see stars.

Wait. Why is he even looking for her?

His steps slowed. He scowled.

Because if she's dead, who's going to make those weirdly edible bentos?

That was the reason. Definitely.

He picked up his pace again, heading toward the one place she always ended up when she was trying to be "helpful" or "kind" or whatever noble nonsense was rattling around in her head.

The home economics room.

Ren sighed.

Here we go.

Ren's house was quiet.

That's how it always was. A cold, clean silence that pressed against the walls and made everything feel sterile. His mother was at work, his father was at work, and Ren was alone in the middle of it all like he'd always been.

He sat on the floor of his room, back against the bed, a textbook open in his lap that he wasn't actually reading. The TV was on, but the sound was low—background noise to fill the empty space.

He was supposed to be studying. He should be studying. That's what his parents wanted, what they'd always wanted.

Instead, he was thinking about her.

About how she'd managed to get juice on her uniform during lunch. About how she'd laughed at herself like it was the funniest thing in the world. About how she'd looked at him and asked if he wanted to try some of her "experimental cooking."

He didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He didn't know why his grip tightened on the textbook.

He didn't know why, when his phone buzzed with a notification, he nearly dropped the book to check it.

Chibi

Ren stared at the message. Did she offer him... cookies?

Then he typed back.

Ren: Send a photo first. I need to know if they're safe for human consumption.

He set the phone down. His ears were warm.

Why is she like this?

Why does he even reply?

He didn't have an answer. He just knew that when his phone buzzed again, he was already reaching for it

The sky had opened up without warning.

One moment, the clouds were just a light grey haze overhead. The next, rain was hammering down in sheets, turning the streets into rivers and drenching anyone stupid enough to be caught outside.

Ren stood under the awning of a convenience store, arms crossed, expression flat.

Perfect.

He'd left his umbrella at home. He'd been too busy yelling at his mother's nagging to remember it. Now he was trapped here, watching the rain fall and counting down the minutes until he'd have to make a run for it.

He was about to make a break for it when his gaze caught on a familiar small figure.

She was standing across the street, huddled under the tiniest umbrella he'd ever seen—the kind you'd buy for a doll. Her hair was escaping from underneath it, plastered to her face by the rain, and she was shivering, teeth chattering.

Ren clicked his tongue. She's hopeless.

He pushed off the wall, stepping into the rain without thinking. His shoes splashed through puddles, his hair instantly soaked, but he didn't stop until he was standing in front of her, shadowing her tiny frame.

"You're gonna get sick, idiot."

He reached out and yanked the useless umbrella from her hand.

"Come on. I'm walking you to the station."