Chapter Text
The rooftop hadn’t changed.
It still carried the same crooked shadows. The same unreliable wind. The same worn-down silence of a place no one cared about, and no one disturbed.
Satoru pushed open the rusted door with the side of his hand. It groaned the way it always did. He didn’t look surprised to see her already there.
Ame stood near the railing, arms resting loosely against the metal. The wind caught strands of her hair, pushed them gently across her face. She didn’t move to fix it.
She didn’t turn to him.
“You always show up late,” she said, quiet.
“I always show up,” he answered.
That made her smile—just slightly. Not enough for her to be caught in it.
He joined her, keeping space between them.
Below, the city blinked slowly to life—neon signs and traffic lights bleeding color into dusk. From here, it looked far away. Softer. Like a memory instead of a place.
“He opened his eyes yesterday,” Ame said. “For about six minutes.”
Satoru glanced over. “Did he say anything?”
“No. Just looked at me. Like he didn’t know who I was.”
Her voice didn’t crack. But it landed hard in the air between them.
She tightened her grip on the railing. Not from pain—just to stay grounded.
“I didn’t either,” she added, softer now. “I kept thinking I should feel something.”
“Did you?”
“I felt cold. That’s all.”
Satoru didn’t reply. His hands were deep in his coat pockets. He didn’t look at her.
But he stayed.
“When I was a kid,” she said, “he used to disappear for weeks. He’d come back with bloodshot eyes and forget which grade I was in.”
The wind tugged harder now. Still, she didn’t turn her face away.
“But when they called me to the hospital, they said I was the only one listed as emergency contact. Like he decided, somewhere along the line, that I was the last person left.”
She let the silence fill in the rest.
Satoru shifted his weight. The sky above was dimming. The edge of twilight smoothed the lines of everything below.
“You think about leaving?” he asked.
“All the time.”
She paused.
“But I don’t.”
“Why not?”
Ame tilted her head back slightly, eyes on the colorless sky.
“Because if I left, no one would know he died.”
That silence afterward felt like glass between them—clear, cold, unbreakable.
Satoru didn’t tell her what he was thinking. About how people leave without dying. About Geto. About the way the world could turn on its axis and still pretend nothing happened.
Instead, he said, “I hate hospitals too.”
That was all.
Ame turned to him. Just for a moment. The city behind her flickered.
“Good,” she said. “I was starting to think you didn’t hate anything.”
“I do,” he said, eyes forward. “I just don’t show it to strangers.”
She watched him for a breath longer. Then turned back to the wind.
And neither of them left.