Archive of Our Own

The gates of Phoenix Wonderland never failed to feel a little unreal. It wasn’t just the colors—though they were loud and unapologetically bright in a way that made everything else in the world feel dull by comparison. It wasn’t even the music drifting through the air, playful and theatrical and just slightly chaotic.
It was the feeling. Like something was always about to happen.

“Enaaa, hurry up!” Mizuki spun around mid-step, walking backwards with a grin that practically glowed. “You’re gonna miss the best parts!”
“I’m literally right behind you,” Ena muttered, adjusting her bag with a small sigh. “And don’t act like you didn’t drag me here.”

Mizuki gasped, hand to chest in mock offense. “Dragged? I invited you on a lovely, magical outing.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘You need to get out more before you become one with your tablet.’”

“…Okay, that part was real,” Mizuki admitted, laughing.

Ena rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to it. If anything, there was something softer in her expression—something that lingered just a second too long when she looked at Mizuki.

“You’ve been weirdly energetic today,” Ena added. “What’s up with that?”

Mizuki paused. Just for a moment.
“…Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?” they deflected, tilting their head.

Ena narrowed her eyes. “You are. But this feels like… suspicious levels of good mood. Wait, are we only here because you want to see Rui?”

Mizuki only smiled, because it was true.
Not just the fleeting kind, not the kind they had to perform or piece together for others.

“—MIZUKIII!!!”

The shout cut clean through their thoughts.
Mizuki lit up instantly. “Emu?”

A blur of pink collided with them seconds later as Emu practically launched herself forward, grabbing Mizuki’s hands and spinning them in place.

“You came, you came, you came!! I was hoping you would!!”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” Mizuki laughed, steadying themselves.
“You did!! But hoping makes it more exciting!”
“Of course it does…”
“Hey, don’t ignore me!” Ena cut in dryly.
“Oh! Ena too!!” Emu beamed, immediately grabbing her hand as well. “Yay! This is perfect!”
“Perfect for what?” Ena asked, already sounding wary.

Before Emu could answer, another voice rang out—

“AHEM!”

Both girls turned. Standing with theatrical posture and far too much confidence was Tsukasa, one hand dramatically placed over his chest.

“You stand before the star of Wonderlands x Showtime! And today—!”
“Tsukasa, please don’t start,” Nene interrupted flatly, stepping out from behind him.

“I was introducing myself properly!”
“You’ve met them before.”
“That does not diminish the importance of a proper introduction!”

Mizuki giggles. Ena just pinched the bridge of her nose. “…Right,” Ena muttered. “I forgot what this place is like.”
“Fun?” Emu offered.
“Anyway!” Tsukasa clapped his hands together, instantly shifting gears. “You’ve arrived at a most fortunate time!”
“That already sounds like a problem,” Ena said.
“It is not a problem,” Tsukasa insisted. “It is an opportunity!”
“For?” Mizuki asked, curiosity already creeping in.

Tsukasa pointed toward the stage in the distance, dramatic as ever. “For you to assist in today’s performance!”
“…Huh?”
“A very minor role,” Nene added quickly, crossing her arms. “Barely anything, really.”
“Indeed!” Tsukasa nodded. “A simple appearance! A small part! Hardly any pressure at all!”

Ena looked immediately skeptical. “That sounds like a lie.”
“It’s not!” Emu chimed. “It’s super small! Just a tiny little role!”
Mizuki blinked. “A performance…?”

They glanced toward the stage, something about this felt a little strange. “…What kind of role?” Mizuki asked slowly.

Tsukasa grinned. “You’ll see.”
Ena groaned. “That’s never reassuring.”

But Mizuki smiled. Because really, how bad could it be? “Alright,” they said lightly. “I’ll do it.”
Ena whipped her head toward them. “You just agreed?!”
“It’s a minor role, right?” Mizuki shrugged. “Besides…”
Their eyes flickered back to the stage. “…It sounds fun.”
“Great!” Emu cheered, already tugging Mizuki forward. “Then let’s go!”

“Wait—now?!” Ena protested as she was dragged along too.
“Yes, now!!”

However the closer they got to the stage, the more Mizuki felt it. That strange feeling.

“…Hey,” Mizuki murmured, mostly to themselves.
“Hmm?” Ena glanced at them.
“…Nothing,” Mizuki said quickly, shaking it off with a smile.

Backstage at Phoenix Wonderland always felt like stepping into the in-between. Not quite part of the real world, or the stage either.
The moment Mizuki slipped past the curtains, the noise shifted. The bright, overwhelming energy of the park dulled into something softer—muffled chatter, the distant hum of stage lights, the quiet shuffle of feet preparing for something unseen.
Golden light spilled through gaps in the curtains, cutting long, hazy shapes across the wooden floor. Props were scattered carefully—painted backdrops leaned against walls, costumes hung in neat rows, and somewhere in the distance, someone adjusted a spotlight with a soft metallic click.

Mizuki slowed their steps. Their earlier excitement hadn’t faded—but it had… changed.

“…Okay,” they murmured under their breath. “So where is he?”

Because obviously he’d be here.

Rui was the director of Wonderlands x Showtime, he was also Mizuki's boyfriend. If there was a performance happening—any performance—he was always somewhere behind the scenes, pulling strings, watching everything unfold with that unreadable, knowing smile of his. It was almost predictable. Comfortably so.

Mizuki turned a corner, peeking past a rack of costumes—bright fabrics brushing against their arm.
They stepped further in, scanning the space again.

No purple hair. No quiet hum of amusement. No voice making some oddly specific comment about theatrical timing or audience engagement.

“…Huh.”
Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was setting something up on stage. Maybe—

“Mizuki!”
Tsukasa approached with his usual confident stride, Emu bouncing along beside him while Nene followed just a step behind, arms loosely crossed.

“You’re ready, yes?” Tsukasa asked, already sounding certain of the answer.
“Uh—yeah, I think so,” Mizuki replied, though their eyes flicked past him again, scanning instinctively.

Emu tilted her head, catching the movement immediately. “Looking for someone?”

Mizuki paused. “…No?” they said, a little too quickly.

Nene raised an eyebrow. Tsukasa, however, either didn’t notice—or chose not to.
“Excellent!” he declared. “Then everything is perfectly in place!”
“Is it?” Mizuki muttered.
“Of course it is!” Tsukasa continued. “A performance is only as strong as its participants—and today, we have assembled something truly spectacular!”

“That doesn’t answer anything,” Nene said flatly.

“…Wait,” Mizuki said, glancing between them. “What exactly am I supposed to do again?”

Tsukasa placed a hand over his chest, expression suddenly softening—just slightly. “You simply step onto the stage,” he said.
“That’s it?” Mizuki frowned. “Yeah.” Nene confirmed.

“…You’re all being so weird today.”
“Are we?” Emu smiled.
“Yes,” Mizuki said immediately. “Very.”

“…Mizuki,” Emu said gently, reaching for their hand for just a second before letting go. “It’s your turn.”

Tsukasa stepped aside, gesturing toward the curtain with a dramatic sweep of his arm—but this time, there was something different in his expression, something… softer.

“Go on,” he said.

Nene nodded once. “…You’ll be fine.”

Mizuki hesitated. Their fingers curled slightly at their sides as they looked toward the curtain—the thin barrier between this quiet, hidden space and whatever waited beyond it.

“…Right,” they murmured.

It’s just a minor role. Nothing big. Nothing serious.

They stepped forward.

The moment Mizuki stepped through the curtain the world had completely disappeared.
The warm glow of stage lights, the muffled noise of backstage, the faint scent of paint and fabric—it all slipped away like it had never existed. In its place came something quieter.

Gentler.

The soft rustle of leaves overhead.

The breeze brushing past their skin. Mizuki blinked. “…What?”

They weren’t backstage anymore, they stood in a park. Not the loud, vibrant kind like Phoenix Wonderland—but something calmer, more real. A winding path stretched ahead of them, pale gravel crunching softly beneath their shoes as they took a cautious step forward.

Mizuki’s gaze drifted to the side and that’s when they saw them.
Carnations.

Clusters of them, blooming in soft shades of pink and red, their petals layered delicately like they had been placed there with intention. The wind stirred through them gently, making the entire patch ripple like a quiet wave.

“…Okay,” Mizuki murmured, looking around again. “This is definitely not a ‘minor role.’”
Still— there was no audience.

This was part of the performance. It had to be, right?

Mizuki followed the path slowly, their footsteps quieter now, more careful. The deeper they walked, the more the world seemed to settle around them—like it had always been this way. Like they were meant to be here.

Kanade was crouched low among the carnations, her fingers gently brushing over the petals as if she were afraid they might disappear if she moved too quickly. She looked… peaceful, lost in thought.

For a moment, Mizuki just watched. Something about the scene felt so familia, like something they’d experienced before.

Kanade looked up and her eyes met Mizuki’s. And for just a second, there was no surprise in her expression.
“Oh,” Kanade said softly. “Mizuki… you’re here.”
“…Yeah,” Mizuki replied, a little unsure. “I guess I am.”

Kanade straightened slightly, though she didn’t fully stand. Her gaze drifted back down to the carnations, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of a petal.

“I was just thinking about something,” she said. “A song.”
Mizuki blinked. “…A song?”
Kanade nodded faintly. “I want to write something that can reach someone. But I’m not sure what direction to take it in.” She paused. Then looked back at Mizuki.

“…Can you help me think of ideas?”

Mizuki hesitated. This felt too familiar.
The setting. The question. Even the way Kanade asked it.
It tugged at something in their memory, something just out of reach.

“…Huh,” Mizuki let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of their neck. “Why does this feel like it’s happened before…”
Kanade tilted her head slightly. “Has it?”
“…I don’t know,” Mizuki admitted.

The gravel crunched softly beneath their shoes as they approached, then slowly lowered themselves down, crouching across from Kanade, the carnations swayed gently between them.

Mizuki exhaled, glancing down at the flowers beside them. “…Well,” they said, crouching down across from her. “If you want something to ‘reach someone,’ then you probably already know what matters.”
Kanade looked at them. “What do you mean?”

Mizuki hesitated a little, but began to think. “…You don’t just write songs for everyone, Kanade,” they said.
“You write them for the people that need saving, right? Even if you don’t say it out loud in your songs.”

The wind stirred gently between them. “…So instead of trying to make it perfect…” Mizuki continued, their voice softening, “why not just think about what you want to say to them?”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The breeze carried softly through the carnations, their petals brushing against one another with a quiet, almost rhythmic sound—like something gentle trying to fill the silence without disturbing it.

Kanade lowered her gaze again, fingers resting lightly against one of the flowers.

“…What I want to say…” she repeated, more to herself than to Mizuki.

Kanade was like someone who needed time to reach her own answers. Trying to push her would only make her retreat further into herself.

“…I think,” Kanade continued slowly, “I’ve been trying too hard to make something that will definitely reach someone.”
Mizuki tilted their head slightly. “Isn’t that the point, though?”
“It is,” Kanade nodded. “But… when I focus on that too much, I start losing sight of why I wanted to write it in the first place.”

Her fingers curled slightly into the grass beneath her. “…I start thinking about whether it’s enough. Whether it will actually save someone. Whether I’m doing it right.”

Mizuki’s expression softened.
Yeah. That sounded like her.

“…And that makes it harder to compose..” Kanade finished quietly.

“…You’re overthinking it,” Mizuki said gently.
Kanade blinked, looking up at them again.

“I know that sounds blunt,” Mizuki added quickly, smiling a little, “but it’s true. You’re putting all this pressure on yourself to make something perfect, something that has to reach someone…”
They shifted slightly, resting their arms loosely over their knees.

“But the reason your songs reach people in the first place isn’t because they’re perfect.”
“..It’s because they’re honest.”

The wind picked up again, brushing softly through their hair. “You don’t need to force that part,” they continued. “It’s already there.”

Kanade’s gaze lingered on them for a second longer than usual.
“…Honest,” she repeated.

“…Yeah,” Mizuki nodded. “Just think about what you’d want to say to someone who needs it. Not what you should say. Not what sounds right. Just …what you feel.”

Kanade didn’t respond immediately but something in her expression shifted—just slightly. Not a full smile, not even close.

“…I think I understand,” she said quietly.

Mizuki smiled. “Told you.”

Another small silence settled between them, but this one wasn’t uncertain. Kanade glanced down at the carnations again, brushing her fingers across them one last time before pulling her hand back.

“…Mizuki,” she said.
“Hm?”
“…Thank you.”
Mizuki blinked. “For what? I didn’t really do much.”
Kanade shook her head faintly. “You did,” she said.

Her gaze lifted again—steady, but soft. “…Not just now.”
Mizuki stilled slightly. “…What?”

Kanade hesitated for a brief moment, like she was choosing her words carefully. “…For Nightcord,” she clarified. “For everything you do.”
Mizuki’s smile faltered—just a little. “…Everything I do?”
Kanade nodded. “The music videos,” she said. “The visuals. The way you bring our songs to life.” Her voice remained quiet—but there was a sincerity in it that made it feel heavier than anything louder.

“…I can make the songs,” Kanade continued, “but they wouldn’t reach people the same way without you. You give shape to what I can’t express on my own,” Kanade added. “You make it easier for people to understand what I’m trying to say.”

The carnations swayed again, catching the light as the wind moved through them. “…So,” Kanade finished softly, “thank you.”

Mizuki looked at her. Really looked. They didn’t really have a quick response ready.

“…That’s…” they started, then paused, letting out a small, almost awkward laugh. “That’s kinda unfair, you know?”
Kanade blinked. “Unfair?”

“Yeah,” Mizuki said, rubbing the back of their neck. “You can’t just drop something like that out of nowhere.”

“…Why not?”

“Because that really catches me off guard there!” Mizuki admitted.

Kanade tilted her head slightly. “…Is that a bad thing?”
“…No,” they said quietly.

Their gaze drifted down to the carnations again, watching the petals shift gently in the wind.
“…Thanks,” Mizuki added after a moment.

Kanade nodded once, like that was enough. And for a little while longer—

The breeze cooled, carrying with it something heavier—something that made the petals of the carnations dip ever so slightly.
Mizuki noticed it before they heard it.

“…Hey,” they murmured, glancing upward.

A single rain drop landed on their cheek.

Mizuki blinked, tilting their head back slightly as the sky above them blurred into a muted gray.

“…Seriously?” they let out a small laugh. “Now?”

Beside them, Kanade didn’t seem surprised. If anything, she looked… oddly calm.

The rain picked up just enough to be noticeable, soft droplets tapping against petals, darkening the earth beneath them, threading quiet patterns into the world around them.

“…You’ll get wet,” Kanade said simply.
Mizuki glanced back at her. “I think that’s already happening.”

Mizuki hadn’t even noticed it before—a neatly folded umbrella resting against the grass, almost hidden among the carnations.

Kanade picked it up and held it out.

“…Here.”

Mizuki blinked. “…Huh?”
“You should take it,” Kanade said.
“What about you?” Mizuki asked immediately.

Kanade didn’t answer that. She just kept holding it out. Like this part didn’t need explaining.

Mizuki hesitated. “…Kanade—”

“It’s fine,” she said quietly. Something in her tone made Mizuki pause.

Slowly, Mizuki reached out and took the umbrella. “…Thanks,” they said, softer this time.

Kanade nodded once.

That was all.

Mizuki opened it, the soft click echoing faintly under the rain as the canopy spread above them, shielding them from the steady fall of droplets.

For a moment, they just stood there.

The sound of rain filled the space between them now—gentle, constant, wrapping around everything like a quiet layer.

Mizuki glanced at Kanade again.

“…Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kanade gave a small nod, taking another umbrella from the side of a lamppost and opens it up. “I’ll be fine.”

“…Alright,” Mizuki murmured. “…I guess I should go?”

Kanade looked at them. “…Yeah,” she said softly.

Mizuki tightened their grip slightly on the umbrella handle. “…Thanks. For earlier, too.”
Kanade didn’t respond with words this time, just a small, quiet nod. Mizuki turned and began to walk ahead.

The gravel path stretched ahead again, now darker with rain, glistening faintly under the muted light. The carnations blurred at the edges of their vision as they began to walk, the steady rhythm of rain tapping gently against the umbrella above them.

“…This is really weird,” Mizuki muttered under their breath, but they didn’t stop walking.
The rain didn’t let up. If anything, it deepened no longer just a soft drizzle, but a steady, persistent fall that blurred the edges of everything around Mizuki. The path ahead shimmered under the weight of it, each step sending faint ripples through shallow puddles forming beneath their feet.

Mizuki adjusted their grip on the umbrella, angling it slightly as a stronger gust of wind pushed rain sideways.
“…Okay, now this is just rude~” they muttered, squinting ahead.

They weren’t exactly soaked, thanks to Kanade—but the cold was starting to creep in anyway, settling into their sleeves, brushing against their skin in a way that made them shiver just slightly.
Somewhere to sit for a little bit would be nice…

The park had thinned out, trees spaced wider apart, the carnation field now far behind them. The path curved gently, disappearing behind a small cluster of bushes and a low fence.

And then a small shelter lay ahead of them. Nothing fancy—just a wooden structure with a simple roof, built to keep the rain off. The kind you’d barely notice on a normal day.

Right now though, it looked like salvation.

The closer they got, the more details came into view a bench beneath the shelter.

The faint drip of water falling from the edges of the roof. And someone else sitting there.

Mizuki slowed. “…Wait.”

As they stepped closer, the figure became clearer; dark purple hair, still posture. And in their hands—
A broken umbrella.

Mafuyu sat quietly on the bench, the damaged umbrella resting loosely against her shoulder, its frame slightly bent, fabric uneven where it had failed to hold against the rain.
She didn’t seem to be doing anything at all. Like she was waiting for something, or someone.

“…Mafuyu?” Mizuki called softly, stepping under the shelter.

Mafuyu looked up. Her expression didn’t change much, but her eyes settled on Mizuki with quiet recognition. “Mizuki,” she said.

“You’re—” Mizuki gestured vaguely. “What happened to your umbrella?”
Mafuyu glanced down at it, as if only just remembering it was there. “It broke,” she said simply.
“…Yeah, I can see that.”
“I was going to wait until the rain stopped,” Mafuyu added.

Mizuki blinked. “…You were just going to sit here?”
“Yes.”
“In the rain?” Mizuki stepped closer, lowering the umbrella slightly as they looked at Mafuyu properly. Her clothes were a little damp at the edges and her hair clung faintly to her face. And yet she didn’t seem bothered at all.

“…No,” Mizuki said after a second.
Mafuyu blinked. “No?”
“You’re not just sitting here,” Mizuki clarified, shifting the umbrella so it covered more space between them. “Come on.”
Mafuyu tilted her head slightly. “Where?”
“…Anywhere that isn’t this,” Mizuki said. “You’re coming with me.”

“I can wait.”
“I know *you* can,” Mizuki replied. “That doesn’t mean you should.”

Another pause. The rain filled it, tapping steadily against the roof above them.

Mafuyu looked at Mizuki,while they held her gaze. “…Why?” Mafuyu asked.
For a moment Mizuki didn’t answer right away. “Because I don’t want you sitting here alone!~” they said.

They both grew quiet for a while. Mafuyu’s eyes lingered on them. “…The rain will stop eventually,” she said.
“…Yeah,” Mizuki nodded. “But you don’t have to wait for it by yourself.”

Mafuyu glanced down at the broken umbrella in her hands. Then back at Mizuki. “…Alright,” she said.

Mizuki let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. “Good.”

They stepped closer, adjusting the umbrella again so it covered both of them properly. “…Careful,” Mizuki added lightly. “This is a one-umbrella situation now.”

Mafuyu stood.

The broken umbrella remained in her hand, hanging loosely at her side as she stepped just slightly closer—close enough that the edge of Mizuki’s shoulder brushed against her sleeve.

The rain continued to fall.

But now—

It felt different.

Quieter.

Like it was leading somewhere.

Mizuki glanced ahead again, the path stretching forward into the blurred distance. “…This day just keeps getting weirder,” they muttered.
Mafuyu didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either.

The umbrella wasn’t really made for two people and that fact became obvious almost immediately.
Mizuki had to angle it just right—tilting it slightly toward Mafuyu, then adjusting again when the wind pushed the rain sideways. Even then, droplets still slipped through, catching on sleeves, darkening fabric in uneven patches.

“…Okay, this is a disaster,” Mizuki muttered, shifting it again.

“It’s fine,” Mafuyu said quietly.
“It’s not fine, you’re literally getting rained on!”
“I don’t mind.”
“…Well, I do!”
Mafuyu didn’t argue. She just walked beside them, her steps even, unhurried. The broken umbrella still hung loosely from her hand, occasionally tapping softly against her leg as they moved.

For a while, it was just the sound of rain, and Mizuki filling the space.
“You know,” Mizuki started, glancing sideways at her, “most people would, I don’t know, react a little more to their umbrella breaking.”
“I see.”
“That wasn’t a joke.”
“I know.”

Mizuki huffed a quiet laugh at that, though it faded quickly into something softer. “…Still,” they added, “you could at least pretend to be bothered.”

Mafuyu's gaze shifted slightly, like she really was thinking about it. The path stretched on ahead, the rain blurring the world into soft shapes and muted colours. It felt endless in a way that didn’t make sense, like they’d been walking longer than they should have.

“…Does this feel weird to you?” Mizuki asked suddenly.
“Yes.”
Mizuki blinked. “Oh. You actually answered that one.”
Mafuyu looked at them. “You asked a direct question.”
Mizuki adjusted the umbrella again, this time a little more carefully. “…It’s like,” they continued, quieter now, “everything today is… leading somewhere.”

“…Like that thing with Kanade,” Mizuki went on. “And now this. And you just… sitting there in the rain like some kind of tragic scene setup.”
“I wasn’t trying to set up a scene.”
“I know,” Mizuki said. “That’s what makes it worse!”

That earned the faintest flicker of something in Mafuyu’s expression. “…You talk a lot,” Mafuyu said after a moment.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed I’m carrying this conversation,” Mizuki replied immediately. “You’re welcome.”
“I don’t mind.”
“…That’s good, because I’m not stopping.”
Mafuyu nodded slightly. “I know.”

The rain softened slightly, making Mizuki’s steps slowed just a little.

“…Hey,” they said, their voice quieter than before.
Mafuyu looked at them.
“…Back there,” Mizuki began, more carefully now, “you said you were just going to wait it out.”

“…Do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Just… stay,” Mizuki said. “Even when you could leave.”

Mafuyu didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze drifted forward again, unfocused. “…It’s easier,” she said eventually.
Mizuki frowned slightly. “Easier?”
“I don’t have to think about where to go,” Mafuyu explained. “Or what happens after.”

Mizuki looked at her properly now. “…That sounds kind of lonely.”

“…I’m used to it,” she said.

Mizuki’s grip on the umbrella tightened slightly. “…You shouldn’t have to be.”

Mafuyu glanced at them again. “…Why?”

Mizuki opened their mouth, then hesitated, because the answer wasn’t simple. “…Because you deserve more than that,” they said finally.

Mafuyu looked ahead. “…When you told me to run away,” she said.
Mizuki stilled. “…What?”

Mafuyu’s voice didn’t change, but it felt more serious than before. “…From my mother,” she clarified.
The world seemed to quiet around them. Even the rain felt distant now.

“…I didn’t understand it at first,” Mafuyu continued. “It didn’t feel like something I was allowed to do.”

Mizuki’s expression softened. “…Yeah,” they said quietly. “That makes sense.”
“But…” Mafuyu paused, her fingers tightened slightly around the broken umbrella.
“…You were serious.”

Mizuki nodded. “I was.”
“…Why?” Mafuyu asked.

The question was almost the same as before.

But this time it meant something else.
Mizuki looked at her. Really looked. At the way Mafuyu held herself.. at the way she stood in the rain like she deserved to be in it.

“…Because staying there was hurting you,” Mizuki said.
“…I didn’t know what would happen if I left,” she admitted.
“…Yeah,” Mizuki said softly. “That’s the scary part.” “…But you did it anyway.” Mizuki smiled—small, but real.

“…So,” Mafuyu said, her voice quieter now, “thank you.”
Mizuki blinked. “…For what?”

Mafuyu’s gaze lingered on them. “…For telling me to run away.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that!” Mizuki said after a moment.
“I do.”
“…Because I'm not sure I wouldn’t have left otherwise.”
Mizuki exhaled softly. “…Then I’m glad I said it.”
Mafuyu nodded once.

The rain softened first—each drop lighter than the last, the steady rhythm fading into something scattered, uneven. Then slowly let go completely. Mizuki tilted the umbrella pslightly, blinking as the last few droplets slipped from its edge.
“…Oh,” they murmured. “It actually stopped.”

The world felt different now, like everything had been washed over and reset, the ground still damp and glistening faintly beneath their feet. The air carried that soft, fresh scent that only came after rain—cool and quiet and almost… peaceful.

Mizuki slowly lowered the umbrella, closing it with a soft click. “…Finally,” they added, exhaling.

Beside them, Mafuyu didn’t say anything. She just stood there, her gaze drifting slightly upward, like she was watching something Mizuki couldn’t quite see.

“…So,” Mizuki started, glancing over at her. “Where are we actually going?”
Mafuyu looked at them. “…I don’t know.”
Mizuki blinked. “…You don’t know?”
“No.”
“..Then why were you walking like you did?”
“I was following you.”
“That’s so much worse!”

Mafuyu tilted her head slightly, like she didn’t quite understand the problem.

Mizuki stared at her for a second longer then let out a small laugh. “…Okay, yeah. That checks out.”

A brief silence settled between them again, softer now without the rain filling it.

Mizuki shifted the umbrella in their hand, tapping it lightly against their leg. “…Seriously though,” they added, “if neither of us knows where we’re going, that feels like a problem.”

Mafuyu didn’t respond immediately. “…It’s fine.”
Mizuki gave her a look. “You say that about everything.”

Mafuyu didn’t deny it. Instead, she stepped back slightly.
“…You’ll find it,” she said.

Mizuki frowned slightly. “Find what?”

Mafuyu didn’t answer. She just gave a small, almost absent wave of her hand. A quiet dismissal like this was where she was supposed to leave.

“…Wait,” Mizuki started, taking a small step forward. “What do you—”

But Mafuyu had already turned. Mizuki stood there for a second, watching her go.
“…You’re really not going to explain anything, huh?” they muttered.

No response.

“…Unbelievable,” Mizuki sighed, though it came out softer than before.

They looked down at the umbrella in their hand.

Then ahead.
The path stretched out again, unfamiliar but… not unsettling.

Not anymore. …‘You’ll find it,’ Mizuki repeated under their breath. “That’s so vague…”

Still, they started walking. Because what else were they supposed to do?

The air felt lighter now, the lingering dampness fading slowly as they moved forward. The world wasn’t blurred anymore—the edges sharper, clearer, like something had shifted into place.

And then—

They saw it.

“…Oh.”

A tree stood just ahead.

Tall.

Delicate.

Its branches stretched outward in soft, sweeping arcs, petals drifting gently from them like falling snow.

A cherry blossom tree.
The pale pink petals caught the light in a way that didn’t quite feel real, fluttering softly with each passing breeze before settling against the damp ground below.

Mizuki slowed.

“Wow..” they whispered, almost to themselves.

Their grip tightened slightly around the umbrella. “…What is this?” they murmured.

Petals drifted lazily from the branches of the tree, catching in Mizuki’s hair, brushing against their shoulders before falling to the damp ground below. The faint scent of them lingered in the air—light, almost fleeting.

“…Okay,” Mizuki muttered under their breath. “This is definitely planned.” Because there was no way that this was all just coincidence.

Kanade. Mafuyu. And now this too??

“…If Ena’s here too, I’m actually going to lose it,” they added quietly.

“…You’re a little late for that.”

Mizuki froze.
Leaning casually against the trunk of the tree, arms loosely crossed, was Ena.
“…Oh, come on,” Mizuki groaned, dragging a hand down their face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ena raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“No, don’t ‘what’ me,” Mizuki shot back, pointing vaguely around them. “This whole thing is weird! Like—really weird!”

Ena didn’t look surprised, she looked like she’d been expecting that reaction. “…You just noticed?” she said dryly.

They stared at each other for a second. Then Mizuki sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. “You’re all acting super suspicious..” they muttered.”

Ena pushed herself off the tree, stepping a little closer, petals crunching softly beneath her shoes. “…Relax,” she said. “It’s not a bad thing.”
“That’s exactly what someone involved in something suspicious would say.”
“Wow,” Ena deadpanned. “You’ve cracked the case.”

Mizuki huffed a small laugh despite themselves. “…Okay, yeah, that was kind of obvious.”

A brief pause settled between them. The petals kept falling.

“…It’s been a while since we’ve seen one like this,” Mizuki said, glancing up at the branches.

Ena followed their gaze. “…Yeah,” she murmured.

“…Remember the first time?” Mizuki added.
Ena laughed lightly. “How could I forget?”
“Mafuyu barely reacted that time, aswell.”
“Of course she didn’t.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“…And you,” she added, glancing at Mizuki, “wouldn’t stop smiling that day too..”

Ena didn’t reply to that right away. Her gaze lingered on Mizuki for a second—
Then drifted back to the falling petals.

“…You always do that,” she said quietly.
Mizuki blinked. “Do what?”
“Hold onto things,” Ena said. “Moments. People.”
Mizuki’s expression softened slightly. “…Is that a bad thing?”
Ena shook her head. “…No.”

The word came out quieter than expected. “…It’s just…” she hesitated, searching for the right way to say it.
“…Before, you didn't always let people hold onto you the same way.”

The petals kept falling, it was almost endless.
“…That’s a little harsh,” Mizuki said lightly—but there wasn’t much humor behind it.
“I know,” Ena replied.
“…Then why say it?”

Ena looked at them. “…Because it’s true.”
Mizuki looked away briefly, watching a petal land against their sleeve before sliding off.

“…You were so used to avoiding things,” Ena continued.
Mizuki didn’t deny it. “…I wasn't great at… talking about stuff like that,” they admitted.
“I know.”
“…Then why push it?”

Ena’s expression softened—just slightly. “…Because it worries me sometimes.”
Mizuki’s fingers tightened slightly around the umbrella still in their hand. “…You don’t have to worry about me,” they said, softer now.
“I do!” Ena replied immediately.
“…You used to shut me out sometime back in high school,” she added. “And I get it—you don’t like talking about some stuff, you don’t like things changing, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to ignore it!”

Mizuki didn’t respond.

“…I’m not asking you to suddenly open up or anything,” Ena continued. “I just—”

She paused. “…I want you to trust me enough not to push me away like that again..”

Mizuki exhaled slowly. “…I do trust you,” they said.
Ena’s gaze flickered slightly. “…Then show me,” she replied gently.

“…You’re really bad at keeping things light, you know that? You're so hard-headed sometimes!~” Mizuki muttered after a moment.

Ena rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who brought up memories under a cherry blossom tree, what did you expect?”

That earned a small, genuine laugh from both of them.
Mizuki glanced back at the tree one more time, watching the petals drift. “…Okay,” they said quietly.
Ena tilted her head. “Okay?”

Ena let out a small breath and slid down against the trunk of the tree, settling into the grass with a tired sort of ease. “…My legs are killing me,” she muttered. “I’m sitting.”
“Wow,” Mizuki replied, following her a second later and dropping down beside her. “So elegant. Truly inspiring.”

“Shut up!”
“Make me~”
Ena scoffed, but there was no real bite to it.

They both leaned back against the tree, shoulders brushing lightly as the petals continued to fall around them—soft touches against hair, sleeves, the ground slowly turning pink beneath them.
For a while they just stayed like that.

“…You know,” Mizuki started after a moment, tilting their head back to look up through the branches, “if this is part of some big dramatic setup, it’s working a little too well.”
Ena glanced sideways at them. “Still thinking about that?”
“Can you blame me?” Mizuki said. “First Kanade, then Mafuyu, and now you just conveniently appear under a cherry blossom tree like it’s some kind of emotional drama.”
“…When you say it like that, it does sound suspicious.” Ena huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
“Then maybe just… go with it.”

Mizuki didn’t answer right away. Another petal drifted down, catching briefly on Mizuki’s shoulder before sliding off.

“…You’ve always been like that,” Ena said after a while.
Mizuki glanced at her. “Like what?”

“Showing up,” Ena replied simply.
Mizuki blinked. “…That’s a weird way to phrase it.”
“I mean it,” Ena said, more firmly this time. “Even when things are messy. Even when none of us really know what we’re doing…”

She looked down at her hands briefly. “…You’re still there with us.”

Mizuki’s expression softened. “…I don’t think that’s anything special.”
“It is!” Ena said immediately.

That made Mizuki pause. “…You help Kanade when she gets stuck,” Ena continued. “You stay with Mafuyu even when she doesn’t say much. And you—”
She stopped herself for a second, them looked back at Mizuki.
“…You stay with me, too.”

“…I don’t always say it properly,” Ena admitted. “But I notice it.”

Mizuki looked at her quietly.

“…You don’t have to push us away, you know,” Ena added, softer now. “Kanade. Mafuyu. Me.”
Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her sleeve. “…We’re not going anywhere.”

Mizuki’s gaze dropped for just a second. “…I know,” they said.

“…Do you?”
Mizuki hesitated. “…I’m trying to.”
Ena watched them for a moment longer. “…That’s enough.”

Mizuki blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m not asking for more than that right now,” Ena said. “Just… don’t shut us out.”
A small pause.
“…Especially not me.”

Mizuki let out a quiet breath. “…You’re really persistent.”
“I have to be,” Ena replied. “You make it difficult.”
“…Yeah, okay,” Mizuki muttered, a faint smile tugging at their lips.

“…Hey,” Ena said suddenly.
Mizuki glanced at her. “What?”

Ena hesitated—just slightly. “…You’re important to us,” she said. “All of us.”
Mizuki’s breath caught, just a little. “…Ena—”

“And to me,” she added quickly, before she could stop herself, that made Mizuki still.

Ena looked away, clearly flustered now. “…You’re my—” she paused, then corrected herself, quieter this time, “my special friend, okay?”

Mizuki stared at her for a second. Then— “…Wow,” they said softly. “You really went all in on that one.”

“You're so annoying!” Ena snapped immediately, though her ears had turned slightly pink.
“I’m not making fun of you!” Mizuki added quickly, their voice gentler now. “I just—” They stopped, mostly because there wasn’t really a joke to make.

“…Thanks,” Mizuki said instead.

Ena huffed quietly, still not looking at them. “…Yeah. Whatever.”

Mizuki smiled.

And then withoutreally thinking about it, they leaned slightly closer.
Ena stiffened for half a second. “…What are you—”

Mizuki wrapped their arms around her.
It was close.

Warm, and everything Ena didn't expect from her.

Ena went quiet. Her hands hovered awkwardly for a moment—
Then slowly, she hugged them back.

“…You’re such an idiot,” Ena muttered, though her voice had softened.
“Takes one to know one!” Mizuki replied lightly.

They stayed like that for a while under the cherry blossom tree.
With petals falling around them. The hug lingered—just long enough to feel real, just long enough to settle something that hadn’t quite had a name before.

Then, slowly, Ena leaned back, clearing her throat as if that would somehow erase the moment.

“…Okay,” she muttered. “That was enough of that.”
Mizuki smiled faintly. “Aw, what? You getting shy on me?”
“Ugh, you're so annoying!”
“Thought so~”
Ena rolled her eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it anymore.

She pushed herself up to her feet, brushing petals from her skirt.

“…Come on,” she said.
Mizuki blinked, still sitting. “Huh?”
Ena glanced back at them. “Let’s go somewhere.”
“…Where?” Mizuki asked, though they were already starting to stand.

Ena hesitated. “…The rooftop,” she said.

Ena paused mid-motion. “…The one at Kamiyama is nearby, it's the one you used to go to a lot at high school, right?”

Mizuki stared at her for a second. “…You mean the rooftop we aren't technically allowed on anymore?” they said slowly.
Ena shrugged. “Details, anyways you're coming with me!” Ena shot back.
Mizuki let out a quiet laugh. “…Yeah,” they said. “Okay.”

The walk felt… different. The park slowly gave way to something more familiar—paths turning into streets, the quiet natural sounds fading into distant city noise. The air still carried that faint post-rain freshness, the ground damp beneath their steps as they moved side by side.

For once Mizuki didn’t question it.

Didn’t question how seamlessly everything was connecting. They just walked.

“…You know,” Mizuki said after a while, hands loosely swinging at their sides, “this is starting to feel less like a coincidence and more like a setup.”
Ena didn’t deny it. “…Maybe it is.”
Mizuki glanced at her. “You’re not even trying to hide it anymore?”

“Would it make a difference?”
“…No,” Mizuki admitted. “Not really.”
Ena huffed quietly. “…Then just keep going.”

And they did.

Until the familiar shape of the school came into view.

Mizuki slowed slightly. “…Wow,” they murmured. “It’s been a while.”
Ena nodded. “…Yeah.”

There was something about the place, not nostalgic in an overwhelming way.
Like returning to a point that had always existed, no matter how much everything else changed.

“…Feels weird being back,” Mizuki added.
“…A little,” Ena agreed.

They passed through the gates without much thought, footsteps echoing faintly in the quieter school grounds. It felt different without the usual noise—like time had paused here, waiting for them to return.

Mizuki glanced around. “…You really think this is part of it too?” they asked.

Ena didn’t answer right away. “…You’ll see,” she said instead.

“…You’re starting to sound like Tsukasa.”
“Don’t compare me to him!” Ena clicked her tongue, but didn’t push it further.

They moved toward the building, heading for the familiar staircase that led upward—
But before they could reach it, they heard a voice nearby.

“…Mizuki? Ena?”

Mizuki turned first. “…Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Standing a few steps away, hands resting casually at her sides, was An.
“…Hey,” An said, a small smile forming. “Didn’t expect to see you two here.”

“…Okay,” Mizuki said slowly. “I’m calling it now. This is definitely a setup.”
An blinked. “Huh?”
Ena just sighed. “You’re overthinking it.”
“I am not overthinking it,” Mizuki shot back. “Everyone just happens to be exactly where I go? That’s not normal.”
“…Maybe we just missed you,” An said lightly.

Mizuki squinted at her. “…You’re in on it too, aren’t you?”
An laughed. “I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

“Wow.”

Ena stepped forward, clearly done with the back-and-forth.

“…We’re going to the rooftop,” she said.

An’s expression shifted—just slightly.

“…Oh,” she said. “Then I’ll come with you.”

Mizuki pointed at her immediately. “See?! That was way too easy.”

An raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You didn’t even question it!”

“…Should I have?”

“Yes!”

“…Too late now,” An shrugged.

Mizuki groaned.

“…I’m surrounded by suspicious people.”

Ena ignored them, already heading toward the stairs.

“…Come on,” she said.

An followed without hesitation.

Mizuki stood there for a second longer—

Then sighed.

“…This better not be some elaborate prank.”

And with that—

They followed too.

Up the stairs.

Toward the rooftop.

Toward whatever was waiting next.

The stairs felt longer than Mizuki remembered.

Each step echoed faintly, the sound bouncing off the walls in a way that made everything feel… contained. Like the world outside had been left behind somewhere between floors.

No one spoke much.

Not because they couldn’t—

But because something in the air told them not to.

It was quiet in a different way now.

Heavier.

Anticipating.

When they finally reached the top, the door to the rooftop stood just ahead—familiar, worn slightly at the edges, like it had been opened and closed a hundred times before.

Mizuki slowed.

“…Okay,” Mizuki muttered under their breath. “This is it, isn’t it.”
Ena didn’t answer. Neither did An. That alone was enough of an answer.

“…You’re both really bad at being subtle,” Mizuki added, glancing between them.
Ena crossed her arms. “You figured it out anyway.”
“Barely,” Mizuki said. “You all made it very obvious.”

An laughed softly at that, but it faded quickly into something gentler. “…Mizuki,” she said.
There was something in her tone that made Mizuki pause. “…Yeah?”

An stepped closer, then suddenly hugged them.

Mizuki froze for half a second. “…Huh?”
An held them just a little tighter. “…You really do a lot for everyone, you know,” she said quietly.

Mizuki blinked, caught off guard. “…Wait, what—?”

“I mean it,” An continued. “For Ena. For Mafuyu. For Kanade and everyone else, including me.”

Her voice softened further. “…You’re always there when it matters.”

Mizuki’s hands hovered awkwardly for a moment—
Then slowly, they rested against An’s back.

“…You’re all saying that today,” they muttered.
“Because it’s true,” An replied.
“…You don’t always see it yourself,” she added. “But we do.”

Mizuki didn’t answer, because what were they supposed to say to that?

“…So,” An continued, just a little quieter now, “don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

“…I’ll try,” they said.

An smiled—Mizuki could hear it in the way her voice shifted, even if they couldn’t see it. “…That’s enough.”

After a second, she pulled back just enough to meet Mizuki’s eyes again. “…Go on,” she said, nodding toward the door.

Mizuki glanced at it. Then back at Ena.
“…You too?” they asked.

Ena looked at them—really looked at them, then gave a small nod. “…Yeah.”

Mizuki swallowed slightly.
That feeling, it was overwhelming now. Everything from before—
Kanade. Mafuyu. Ena. An.

It all pointed here.

“…You’re all seriously not coming with me?” Mizuki asked, even though they already knew the answer.
“No,” Ena said.
“…You’ll be fine,” An added.

Mizuki let out a quiet breath. “…Right.”

Their hand lifted.
Paused just inches from the door. “…This better not be something embarrassing,” they muttered.

Ena sighed. “Just open it!”
“…Okay..”

Mizuki pushed the door open.

The rooftop greeted them with quiet.bSoft wind, open sky.

And—

Someone standing there, right in front of her, it was Rui.
Mizuki stilled.

“…Rui?”

Of course. Of course he was here.
And suddenly—
Everything else made sense.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mizuki breathed.

This wasn’t coincidence. This was Rui, standing there, looking at them like he’d been waiting all along—

Rui smiled, like everything had gone exactly the way he planned.
And that made Mizuki’s heart race even faster.

The wind on the rooftop was softer than Mizuki expected.

Not the sharp, biting kind that usually swept across open spaces, but something gentler—something that moved quietly, brushing past them like it didn’t want to interrupt the moment. The sky stretched endlessly above, pale and clear after the rain, the last traces of grey clouds fading into something lighter.

And in the middle of it was Rui.

Waiting for her.

Not moving closer, not speaking right away—just watching Mizuki with that familiar, unreadable calm that somehow felt different now. Less distant. Less teasing. There was no performance in it, no theatrics layered over his expression.

Mizuki stepped forward slowly, the door falling shut behind them with a quiet click that seemed to echo more than it should have.

“…You really went all out,” they said.

Rui’s expression softened just slightly.

“I wanted it to be something you wouldn’t forget,” he said. “Not because it was grand, but because it was… yours.”

Mizuki’s chest tightened.

“…Mine?”

“You spend so much of your time creating things for other people,” Rui continued, his voice steady, measured in a way that felt almost deliberate. “Moments, visuals, entire worlds that help others understand themselves better… I thought it was only fair that, just this once, something like that should be made for you instead.”

The wind shifted again, catching lightly in Mizuki’s hair.

They didn’t respond right away. That definitely wasn’t something they were used to hearing.

They looked at him for a long second, their thoughts catching up with everything they had just experienced—the carnations, Kanade’s quiet gratitude, the rain and Mafuyu’s words, Ena’s voice under the cherry blossoms, An’s hug at the door.

It all connected.

Every part of it.

“This is…” Mizuki trailed off, searching for the right word, their gaze drifting briefly toward the skyline before returning to him.

“…This is a lot.”

“I know,” Rui said. “I considered something simpler,” he continued after a moment. “But it didn’t feel right. Not for you.”

Mizuki’s expression shifted slightly. “…Why not?”

Rui met their gaze fully now. “Because you’re not simple,” he said. “The way you care about people, the way you hide parts of yourself while still giving so much to others… I didn’t want to reduce that into something small.”

The words settled between them, heavier than the wind, heavier than the silence that followed.

Mizuki swallowed. “… So you’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”

Rui paused—not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he seemed to be choosing how to say it.
“Long enough to be certain,” he replied.

“…Kanade, Mafuyu, Ena, An…” Mizuki murmured, their gaze flickering downward for a second before returning to him. “That was all you, wasn’t it?”

“Not entirely,” Rui replied. “They each chose their own words. I only… arranged the stage.”

Mizuki let out a quiet breath, their fingers curling slightly at their sides.
There was something about the way he said that—no hesitation, no deflection—that made Mizuki’s heart stutter just slightly.

Because Rui wasn’t always like this.bHe wasn’t always so… direct with his feelings like this.

“…You know,” Mizuki said after a moment, their voice softer now, “if you wanted to surprise me, you definitely succeeded.”
“I’m glad,” Rui replied.

“…So,” Mizuki continued, their gaze flickering around the rooftop for just a second before settling back on him, “this whole thing… was leading here.”

“…To you?”

Rui smiled faintly. “That would be the idea.”

Mizuki shook their head slightly, a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh escaping them. “...This feels so surreal.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, not because there was nothing left to say. But because everything that needed to be said was already there, sitting just beneath the surface.

Rui took a small step forward—not closing the distance entirely, but enough that it felt intentional. Enough that Mizuki noticed.

“…Do you like it?” he asked.

Mizuki blinked, caught off guard by that more than anything else. “…You’re asking that now?” they said softly.

Rui didn’t look away. “Yeah.”

Mizuki looked at him. At the way he stood there, composed but not distant, at the quiet expectation in his eyes, at the effort—all the effort—that had gone into everything leading up to this moment.

“…Yeah,” Mizuki said. “I do.”
A small pause.

“…I really do.”

The wind moved again, gentler this time.

And something in Rui’s expression eased—just slightly, but enough to be seen. Like he had been waiting for that answer.

The rooftop felt impossibly still, like everything beyond it had faded away—no footsteps on the stairs, no distant city noise, just the soft rush of wind and the quiet space between them.

Mizuki held his gaze, the weight of everything settling in their chest all at once—not overwhelming, not suffocating, but full. Every step that had led them here, every voice they had heard, every feeling they hadn’t quite known how to name… it all pointed to him.

And now that they understood—
They didn’t hesitate.

Mizuki stepped forward, closing the distance that had been carefully left between them, their hand lifting instinctively as it found the front of Rui’s coat. Their fingers curled there for just a second, grounding themself in something real.

Rui didn’t move away. He didn’t speak.
But the way his breath caught—just slightly said enough. “Mizuki—”

They didn’t let him finish.
The last of the space between them disappeared as they leaned in, pressing their lips to his. It wasn’t hesitant. Not uncertain. There was nothing questioning about it.

It was warm, immediate, and real in a way that made everything else feel distant, like this was the only moment that mattered.

For a brief second, Rui stilled—caught off guard by the suddenness of it, by the way they had closed the gap without warning.
He responded.
His hand came up, careful but certain, resting lightly against their side as he leaned into the kiss, not pulling them closer, just… meeting them there.

The wind moved softly around them, brushing past like it didn’t want to interrupt, like even it understood that this wasn’t something to disturb.
Mizuki’s grip tightened slightly against his coat, their other hand lifting to rest against his shoulder, anchoring herself in the moment as everything she had been holding in finally settled.

There was no need for words, everything they wanted to say was already there.

When they finally pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt.
It was slow, lingering, their breath uneven as they stayed close, just enough space between them to meet his eyes again.

“Thank you...” they murmured softly, though there was no disbelief left in her voice—only warmth, only something steady and certain.

Rui didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained on them, softer than before. Something unguarded slipping through in a way that felt so rare, like they were seeing something he didn’t show often.

Mizuki let out a small breath, something almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite reach that point. Their hand didn’t leave his coat. If anything, their grip loosened just enough to rest there instead, like they weren't quite ready to let go yet.

“…You didn’t have to do all of this,” they said.
“I know,” Rui replied. “…But I wanted to.”

Mizuki looked at him for a long second, their expression softening further. “…Yeah,” they said quietly. “I can tell.”

The wind shifted again, catching lightly in their hair as they glanced away for just a moment, their thoughts catching up with their feelings, trying to process something that still felt just slightly unreal.

“ Still though, this doesn’t feel like something you’d do halfway,” they added.

Rui’s gaze lingered on them.

Mizuki swallowed slightly, their attention returning to him. “…This isn’t the end, is it?”

Rui didn’t answer right away. But the faint change in his expression was enough.

On that rooftop, time stretched and folded into something that felt both fleeting and endless at once. At some point, they even sat down.

Not formally, not with much thought behind it—just a quiet shift as Mizuki leaned back against the low wall, and Rui followed, settling beside them with enough space to be comfortable… but not distant.

The sky had changed.

Where it had once been pale and washed from the rain, it now deepened slowly, hues of gold and soft orange bleeding into the edges of blue. The clouds, thin and scattered, caught the light in a way that made them glow faintly, like they were part of the scene rather than just above it.

It was beautiful.

“…You really picked the perfect day for this,” Mizuki murmured, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Beside her, Rui followed their line of sight. “I was hoping the weather would cooperate,” he said. “It seemed appropriate.”
“Appropriate,” Mizuki repeated softly, almost amused.

Mizuki huffed a quiet laugh, shaking their head slightly. “Of course you did.”

A gentle silence followed, not empty but full—carrying the weight of everything they’d already said, everything that had led them here.

“…You know,” Mizuki said after a while, “this kind of reminds me of when we used to sneak up here during middle and high school.”

Rui glanced at them.
“Yes,” he said. “You were quite insistent on it, if I recall correctly.”

“Hey, don’t make it sound like it was just me,” Mizuki replied, though their tone stayed soft. “You waited for me most of the time!”

“I did,” Rui agreed.
“Even when you pretended you had better things to do..”
“I often did have better things to do,” Rui said calmly.

Mizuki turned their head slightly, giving him a look. “…Yet you still waited up there.”

Rui met her gaze. Mizuki looked at him too for a second longer, then back at the sky.

“…We didn’t really do much back then,” they continued. “Just talked. Or sometimes didn’t talk at all.”
“That didn’t seem to bother you.”
“It didn’t,” they admitted. “It was… easy being with you.”

Another pause. “…It still is,” Rui said.
“…Yeah,” they said after a moment. “It is.”

The wind moved gently across the rooftop, carrying the faint scent of rain that hadn’t fully disappeared yet. Somewhere below, distant sounds of the city filtered through—cars, voices, life continuing on like nothing extraordinary had happened.

“…So,” Mizuki said, shifting slightly, their curiosity creeping back in despite everything else. “You’re really just going to sit here like nothing else is planned?”

Rui glanced at her. “…Would that be so disappointing?”
Mizuki gave a small smile. “No,” they admitted. “Not really.”

Because it wouldn’t be. This—just being here with him—was already more than enough.

But still—
Their fingers traced lightly along the surface of the rooftop beside them, a little habit when they were thinking.

“…But,” they added, her voice softer now, “I know you.”

Rui didn’t respond immediately.

“Do you now?” he asked.

Mizuki turned their head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Yes,” they said. “…You don’t go this far just to stop halfway.”

Rui held her gaze. The faintest hint of a smile returned—not mischievous, not theatrical. Just knowing.

“…You’re very perceptive,” he said.
Mizuki exhaled softly, leaning their head back again. “…So there is more.”

Rui didn’t confirm it but he didn’t directly deny it either.
And that was enough.

The sky shifted further, colours deepening, the warmth of the light beginning to fade into something cooler, softer. The kind of evening that felt like it was holding onto the last of the day just a little longer.

Mizuki watched it quietly.

“…You’re really making me wait, huh,” they murmured.
“Patience,” Rui replied gently.

Mizuki smiled faintly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been good at that myself..”

“…But I trust you,” Mizuki said.
The words came out quieter than the rest.

That made the waiting easier. So they stayed there.
For what felt like hours.

Talking about small things, old memories, moments that didn’t seem important at the time but somehow meant more now. The rooftop, once just a place they happened to go, became something else entirely—something that held pieces of them, pieces they were only just starting to understand.

And through it all Mizuki’s curiosity never really faded.

It lingered, soft but persistent, sitting just beneath everything else. Because they knew Rui hadn’t brought them here just to reminisce.

And as the sky dimmed further, the last light slipping slowly beyond the horizon—

That feeling only grew stronger.

The sky had almost fully dimmed by the time the conversation slowed.

Not ended—just softened into something quieter, something that didn’t need constant words to exist. The last traces of gold had faded into deep blue, the first hints of evening settling over the rooftop like a gentle curtain, the air was much cooler now.

Mizuki huffed slightly as she began to stand, her shoulder brushing lightly against Rui's as he began to follow. Their fingers had stilled against the ground beside them, their earlier curiosity still there—but quieter now, softened by everything else she was feeling.

For a moment, they just looked at him. Really looked.

“…Thank you again...” they repeated.

Rui turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. “…For what?” he asked.

Mizuki let out a quiet breath, her expression softening. “For all of it,” she said. “For today. For… everything you set up, everything you thought about.”
Her eyes flickered briefly, like she was trying to find the right way to explain something that didn’t quite fit into words.

“…You didn’t only plan something big for me,” they continued. “You knew exactly what to do, who to bring in, what mattered most.”

Their voice dipped slightly. “…You understand me.”

Rui didn’t respond immediately. Mostly because he was listening.

“…I don’t think anyone’s ever done something like this for me before,” Mizuki added quietly.
The wind brushed softly past them, carrying the coolness of evening.

“…So yeah,” they said, their voice steadier now, though still soft. “Thank you so much, Rui.”

Rui’s gaze remained on them, something deeper settling into his expression—not distant, not unreadable, but… deliberate.
Like he had been waiting for this moment.

“…Mizuki,” he said.

Her name felt different in the way he said it.
Not casual at all.

Mizuki’s breath caught slightly, though they did not look away.

“…I’ve spent a long time observing people,” Rui began, his voice calm, but quieter than before. “Understanding them, predicting them, arranging things in ways that produce the outcome I want.”

He paused, but Rui’s gaze didn’t waver.

“You’re unpredictable in ways that aren’t chaotic, you hide parts of yourself, and yet you give so much to others without hesitation. You avoid certain truths, but you never abandon people.”

The wind moved again, softer now.

“…You challenged the way I saw things in middle school,” he said. “Not by opposing me, but by existing in a way I couldn’t fully account for.”
Mizuki didn’t interrupt, she just listened.

“…At first, I thought it was curiosity,” Rui admitted. “An interest in understanding something unfamiliar.”
His voice lowered slightly. “…But it didn’t stay that way.”

Mizuki’s fingers tightened slightly where they rested.

“…You became someone I looked for,” he continued. “Someone I wanted to see, to talk to, to be around—even when there was no reason to be.”
A small pause. “…And when I realized that,” he said, quieter now, “I understood something I hadn’t planned for.”

Mizuki’s breath slowed. “…What was ir?”

Rui leaned slightly closer. Just enough that the space between them felt intentional.

“…That I didn’t want to have a future without you in it.”

“…Rui…” Mizuki’s heart stuttered.

“…There are parts of you that you keep close,” Rui continued, his voice steady, quieter now.

Mizuki’s fingers tightened slightly, yet Rui didn’t look away.

“I don’t need to take those parts from you,” he said. “And I don’t want to change them, I want to be someone you can share them with,” he added. “At your own pace. In your own way.”

The quiet deepened.

The rooftop felt smaller somehow—more contained, more focused on just the two of them.

Rui lifted his hand slightly, hesitating only for a moment before gently reaching for hers.

Mizuki let him.

“…So,” he said, his voice steady despite everything beneath it, “I won’t ask for something sudden, or overwhelming.”

His fingers laced lightly with hers.
“I’ll ask for something,” he continued. “Something that we can build, at a pace that feels right to you.”

Mizuki’s chest tightened, because she understood now. She understood exactly where this was going.

“…Mizuki,” Rui said softly.

And this time—
There was no hesitation at all.

“…Will you marry me?”

The words were so quiet, but they carried everything.
They were so… honest.

And close, that there was no space for misunderstanding.

Only for an answer.

For a moment—

Mizuki couldn’t breathe.
Not because she needed time, but because everything inside her had rushed forward all at once, filling her chest so completely that it left no space for anything else.

The time they had spent together. Kanade. Mafuyu. Ena. An.

Every step that had led her here— all of it narrowed into this single moment.

And him.

Rui, still close still holding her hand like he meant every word he had just said. Mizuki’s grip tightened around his instinctively.

“…Rui,” Mizuki breathed. Their voice trembled.

“…You really—” they stopped, a quiet laugh escaping them, breath uneven in the best way. “You really did all of this just to ask me that?”

Rui didn’t look away. “Yes.”

Mizuki shook their head faintly, like they still couldn’t quite believe it—and yet, their eyes softened, something bright settling in them as everything finally clicked into place.

Then, without hesitating—

“…Yes.”

The word came out clear.

Unmistakable.

And somehow—

It still didn’t feel like enough.

So she leaned closer, her free hand coming up to rest lightly against his chest as her voice softened again—

“…Of course I will,” she said.

That—
That was the moment it landed.

Rui’s expression shifted, something warmer broke through it, something unguarded that he didn’t even try to hide.
“…I’m glad,” he said quietly, as a genuine smile slowly begins to creep up to his face.

Mizuki let out a breath they hadn’t realized they'd been holding, a small, breathless laugh following it as the reality of what she had just said settled in.

“…You don’t even look surprised!” they murmured.
“I was hopeful you would say yes,” Rui replied.

Their hands were still joined between them.
Rui shifted his grip, his thumb brushing lightly against their fingers before he let go just enough to reach into his pocket.

Mizuki watched him.
Their heart begins picking up again, softer this time—but no less real.

Because even though they had already said yes—
This part still mattered too.

Rui pulled something small from his pocket.

A ring.

Simple, but elegant—something that caught the fading light just enough to glint softly, not overwhelming, not excessive. Just… right.

Mizuki’s breath caught. “…You really planned everything,” they whispered.

Rui didn’t answer, he didn’t need to.
Instead, he reached for Mizuki's hand again. This time more deliberately, his touch careful, almost reverent as he guided their fingers into place.

There was no rush.

Just that same quiet certainty that had carried him through everything else, then he slipped the ring onto their finger.

It fit, like it had always belonged there.

Mizuki stared at it for a second, their hand still held in his, their thoughts catching up all over again as the reality settled in deeper this time.

“…Rui,” they murmured, softer now.
Mizuki laughed quietly under their breath, shaking their head just slightly as thry looked back up at him. “…You really got me today,” they said.

Rui’s lips curved faintly. “That was the intention.”
Mizuki huffed a soft breath, but there was no teasing behind it now—just affection, just something that felt settled in a way they hadn’t expected.

Their fingers curled slightly, feeling the weight of the ring, grounding herself in it. In him, in this.

And then—
They stepped closer again, closing whatever space remained, her forehead resting lightly against his for just a moment as their lips touched once more.

“…I love you,” they said quietly.

Rui didn’t hesitate. “I love you too.” The words came just as easily.

And this time— there was nothing left unsaid.

Above them, the sky deepened into night.
Mizuki still close to Rui, their hand still in his, the ring catching the last traces of evening light as if it knew it was meant to be seen.

Mizuki let out another breathless laugh, still trying to process it all.

“…You actually did it,” they said, looking at him like she was still halfway between disbelief and something brighter.

Rui smiled—openly this time, no restraint in it. “I did,” he said. “And I must say, your reaction exceeded my expectations.”
Mizuki narrowed their eyes slightly, though they were still smiling. “…You had expectations?”

“Several,” Rui replied easily. “Though none of them quite captured that exact expression you made when you realized what was happening. I’ll have to commit it to memory.”
“…You’re unbelievable,” Mizuki said again, softer this time.

But before she could say anything else, the door behind them burst open.

“SO?!”
“WHAT HAPPENED?!”
“Did they say yes?!”

Mizuki jumped slightly, turning just in time to see a very familiar group rushing onto the rooftop all at once.

Tsukasa was first, practically charging forward with zero restraint, followed closely by Emu who looked like she might actually explode from excitement. Nene Kusanagi trailed just behind them, clearly trying (and failing) to maintain some level of composure.

And right after them— there was Kanade, Mafuyu, Ena and An. Mizuki stared at them.

“…Oh my god,” they breathed. “You were ALL in on it?!”
“Of course we were!” Emu beamed, practically bouncing. “We’ve been waiting this whole time!!”
Tsukasa crossed his arms proudly. “A performance of this magnitude requires a proper supporting cast!”

“…You mean you all conspired behind my back,” Mizuki deadpanned.

“‘Conspired’ is such a harsh word,” Rui added smoothly from beside her. “I prefer ‘collaborated.’”
Mizuki turned to him. “…You’re never beating the mastermind allegations.”

Before Mizuki could say anything else, Ena and An reached them and neither of them hesitated.

“Mizuki—!” Ena pulled her into a hug first, tighter than usual, like she wasn’t even trying to pretend she wasn’t emotional about it
“You said yes, right?” An asked, already halfway into hugging her too.

Mizuki laughed, slightly overwhelmed but not pulling away.

“…Yeah,” they said, their voice soft but certain. “I did.”
“That’s obvious,” Ena muttered, though her grip didn’t loosen. “You’re literally glowing.”

“I am not—”
“You are,” An cut in, smiling warmly. “And—wait—”

Her eyes dropped to Mizuki’s hand.

“…Is that—”
“Oh,” Mizuki blinked, lifting their hand slightly without thinking. The ring caught the light.
And that was it.

“IT’S REAL!!” Emu gasped, rushing forward. “IT’S ACTUALLY REAL!!”
Tsukasa stepped in dramatically. “A spectacular conclusion to an already extraordinary performance!”
Nene sighed, though there was a small smile on her face. “…Congratulations.”

Kanade stepped a little closer, her voice quiet but sincere. “…I’m glad.”
Mafuyu nodded once, a small smile appeared on her face. “The ring suits you.”

Mizuki looked around at all of them—

Really looked.

At the people who had been part of this entire day.

At the people who had walked her here, step by step, without ever fully explaining why.

And suddenly—

It felt even more real.

“…You all seriously did this together,” she said, softer now.

“We wanted it to be special!” Emu said.
“And memorable!” Tsukasa added.
“And not completely chaotic,” Nene muttered.
“That part definitely failed, then.” Ena said flatly.

Mizuki laughed. And then without thinking—
She hugged Ena again. Then An.

Just a little tighter. “…Thank you,” she said quietly.
Ena huffed. “…Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all emotional on me now.”

“Too late,” An said gently.
Mizuki pulled back, smiling. “…I mean it.”
Ena looked away slightly. “…I know.”

There was a small pause.

Mizuki glanced back at Rui. He was watching all of this, his expression softer than before, but still very much him.

“You really did all of this for me...” she said again, quieter this time.

Rui met her gaze. “I did,” he said. “Though I must give credit where it’s due—everyone played their part exceptionally well.”

Tsukasa immediately perked up. “Naturally!”

Nene sighed. “Don’t encourage him.”

Emu laughed.

The rooftop filled with noise again—voices overlapping, energy returning, the quiet moment from before expanding into something brighter, something shared.

And Mizuki— Mizuki stood in the middle of it all.
Her hand still warm.

The ring still there. The people she cared about surrounding her, and the one she loved— was right beside her.

“…Yeah,” she murmured to herself, smiling softly.
This really was perfect.