KOTOHA'S DIARY ENTRY
Same roof. Same idiots.
It's too early for their noise, but I can already hear Sugishita shouting at someone down below. Probably Tsugeura. It's always Tsugeura. Or Kirita, if he's bored and needs someone to argue with before first period.
The air's still cool, and there's this little slice of quiet up here that won't last much longer. It never does. I came up here early today to claim it. Just me and this pen and the sound of shoes scuffing the pavement somewhere far below.
I watch them every morning. Not because I care , I don't but because it's hard not to. They're impossible to ignore. Like a parade that doesn't know when to stop.
First it's Sugishita, always first. He comes barreling through the gates like the world owes him an audience, swinging his bag around like a weapon and laughing at his own terrible jokes. Then Tsugeura, a few paces behind, pretending he's too cool to care but already making some smartass comment just loud enough for everyone to hear. Kirita is next — quieter, arms crossed, glowering at both of them as though he's not about to get dragged into the chaos anyway.
Then come Suo and Nirei, never apart, attached at the hip and twice as annoying. Suo talks too much and Nirei draws too much and together they're just… too much.
Then Kiryu. Always a little apart, sipping his juice, silent like he's observing a zoo exhibit he somehow wandered into by mistake.
And then… him.
Sakura.
He shows up just behind the rest of them, as usual. Shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets, like he's walking into his own execution. He glares at the ground like it insulted his family. The others practically vibrate around him — Sugishita slapping his back, Suo hanging off his arm, Nirei sketching some ridiculous pose while trying to keep up with him. Even Kiryu steps a little closer when Sakura appears, handing him a juice like it's a ritual.
And Sakura… just endures it. Doesn't join in, but doesn't walk away either. Doesn't shove them off or disappear down some side street. Just lets himself get dragged along. He scowls the whole time, but not the kind of scowl that means anything anymore. It's like breathing for him now.
It's annoying that I notice.
Even more annoying that Umemiya noticed me noticing.
This morning, he caught me leaning on the fence while they were filing in and grinned that stupid grin of his and said "You keeping an eye on your favorite transfer again, little sister?"
I told him to mind his own business.
He only laughed, leaned closer, and added, "Don't worry, I won't tell him. Yet."
I told him if he opened his mouth about it, I'd push him off the fence.
He said, "Guess that means you admit it, huh?"
And then he jogged off to catch up with them before I could throw my pen at his head.
He thinks he's funny. He's not. He never has been. But of course, everyone else thinks he is. Because of that stupid smile and the way he manages to make even his idiocy seem like some kind of charm. That's his power — keeping everyone from noticing when he's actually serious. He only drops the smile when he thinks no one's watching.
But I see it. Just like I see how Sakura stiffens every time someone calls his name, like he still doesn't believe it's really his they're saying.
And now I'm sitting here writing about both of them.
Pathetic.
Even more pathetic: I'll sit here again tomorrow and watch it all happen again. Because apparently, I don't have anything better to do.
The sun's climbing higher now. The quiet's gone. Sugishita's shouting again — he's got Tsugeura in some kind of headlock, and Kirita's pretending not to care while clearly planning how to break it up. Suo and Nirei are flanking Sakura like bodyguards, which is hilarious, considering they're both half his size. Kiryu just handed Sakura another juice. He's learning fast. It's the only way to keep him from biting someone's head off first thing in the morning.
And Sakura? Still scowling. Still walking. Still letting himself get swept along.
Whatever.
Same roof. Same idiots.
But at least it's never boring.
I should go before I'm late. Even though I already know I'll just sit in class thinking about what I just wrote. And what I'll write tomorrow.
Pathetic.
Fine.
But at least I'm honest.
— Kotoha
— written in class, between periods —
He's impossible.
I told myself I wouldn't look today. Wouldn't care. Wouldn't notice. And yet here I am, pen in hand, pretending to write notes while my eyes keep darting two rows over.
He sits there like he owns silence. Like no one's allowed to speak to him without paying a toll first. Elbows on the desk, chin in his hand, staring out the window at nothing. Sugishita's still running his mouth at him from the next row over, but it's like shouting into a cave. Sakura doesn't flinch nor turn. Just lets the words bounce off him until Sugishita finally gives up and starts bothering Tsugeura instead.
It happens a lot. Between classes, while everyone else is distracted — he leans back, whispers under his breath, like he's arguing with the air. Or himself.
Today it was: "Why do they care so much?"
I don't think he even knows he said it out loud.
If he ever caught me listening, he'd probably bite my head off. So I keep my head down, pretending to doodle on the edge of my notebook while keeping one ear open. Just in case he slips again.
Umemiya caught me glancing over once this morning.
Of course he did.
He passed my desk on his way out to who-knows-where and leaned down just enough to whisper: "You've got it bad, huh?"
I stabbed him in the leg with my pencil, not hard enough to bleed, Unfortunately for me
He grinned anyway. Said, "Don't worry. He probably doesn't notice. Yet."
Then he winked and disappeared before I could throw my eraser at his stupid head.
Sometimes I wonder if he was born just to annoy me. Would explain a lot.
Sakura's shifted now — leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. Pretending to nap. But his fingers keep drumming lightly against the desk. Restless. Like even in his sleep he can't quite stop moving.
Like he's waiting for someone to wake him up and remind him where he is.
I wonder if he even realizes how loud he actually is, even in his silence.
That's the problem with people like him. They think they're invisible when they're not.
Anyway. Teacher's back. And I'm tired of watching him.
For now.
— written after lunch, on the rooftop —
I told myself I wouldn't talk to him today.
I really did. Swore it this morning when Umemiya grinned at me like he knew what was coming. Swore it again during second period when I caught myself staring at the back of his head. Swore it a third time when I caught him mumbling under his breath again during math.
But I still ended up here. And so did he.
I came up first — claiming my corner of the fence like I always do. Pulled my lunch out, opened my notebook. Thought I'd have a little quiet before chaos found me. And then I heard the door creak.
There he was.
Sakura. Brooding in the doorway like he owned the place.
For a second, I thought he'd leave when he saw me here. But instead, he stayed. Walked straight to the fence, three paces away from me, and leaned his arms on it like he's been doing this his whole life.
We didn't say anything at first. Just the sound of wrappers crinkling, the wind whistling through the chain links.
Then I broke.
"Oh, look at you," I said. "King of the rooftop now?"
He glanced at me sideways, deadpan. "Don't start."
Which, of course, only made me smirk.
I shrugged and went back to my lunch. "What, you don't like your little fan club? All those people fighting for your attention? You should be flattered."
He scoffed under his breath. "They're annoying."
I pretended to think about it. "Well… they're loyal. Loud. But loyal."
He didn't answer. Just stared at the city like it had insulted him personally.
After a while, I spoke again. Quieter this time.
"You keep coming up here if you hate noise so much?"
He shifted, glancing down at his hands on the fence. His knuckles were still rough from last week's fights. He flexed them like he hadn't noticed they were his.
"It's quiet up here," he muttered.
I tilted my head. "Not when I'm here."
That got the faintest twitch out of the corner of his mouth not quite a smile,but close.
And before I could stop myself, the words slipped out:
"Don't lose yourself in their noise."
He looked at me then really looked, eyes sharp but curious. Like he wanted to ask what I meant.
But he didn't.
He just went back to staring at the city.
---
Umemiya caught me on my way back down. Of course he did.
He leaned against the stairwell railing, grinning like a wolf. "Saw you talking to your favorite again," he teased.
I didn't even dignify it with a reply. Just shoved past him.
He called after me anyway. "You should thank me. I'm rooting for you two!"
One of these days, I'm pushing him off this roof.
But not today.
— written on the way home, leaning against a lamppost —
I told myself I'd go straight home today.
But I didn't.
Instead, I wandered. Took the long way, through back alleys and quiet streets where no one would notice me. The sun's low now, just brushing the tops of the buildings, turning everything gold and sharp. Everyone else is already gone — rushing to trains, arcades, convenience stores. But not me.
I stopped just short of the station when I saw them ahead of me.
The group.
They were loud as always — even from here I could hear them. Sugishita swinging his bag at Tsuguera's head, Suo chasing after Nirei over something he drew on Sugishita's sleeve, Kiryu bringing up the rear, as usual, quietly sipping his juice.
And in the middle of it all — him.
Sakura.
Still scowling. Still letting them drag him along.
But different now. Less stiff. His shoulders a little looser. His steps a little more in sync with theirs. Even from this distance I could see it. Could feel it, like the air around them had changed.
For a second , just a second I almost stepped closer.
But then I stopped. Stayed in the shadow of the alley. Watching.
Because this is where I belong. Always just close enough to see, but never close enough to touch.
That's how it's always been.
I keep telling myself it's my choice.
That I don't want to get pulled in. That I don't want to care. Because once you care, you get hurt. And I've seen enough of that to last me.
The worst part is I know I'm lying.
I don't like the quiet as much as I pretend I do. The silence doesn't feel clean anymore. It feels heavy. Like it's pressing on my chest when I stand back here, letting them walk ahead of me. But still… I stay.
I tell myself it's safer here. That when...not if everything falls apart, I'll be spared. Because I never really joined them. Because I was smart enough to keep my distance.
But sometimes… when I see how they laugh together… I wonder.
Maybe I'm the one who's wrong.
Maybe it's not too late or maybe it is.
They moved on without noticing me, their voices fading into the city noise. The moment they disappeared around the corner, I finally exhaled. Shoulders light again.
Or maybe just empty.
I stayed there for a long time after that. Leaning against the lamppost, watching the spot where they vanished, the streetlight flickering above me.
The quiet came back, but it didn't feel like mine anymore.
Maybe tomorrow I'll take a different route.
Or maybe not.
AT HOME
The house is quiet now.
Umemiya is probably passed out already. Or texting someone. Or planning tomorrow's nonsense. Either way, the halls are dark, and I can finally hear myself think. The clock on my desk ticks too loud, and the faint hum of the city outside my window blends into a kind of restless lullaby. Cars crawl past. Somewhere far off, a siren cuts through the air and fades into nothing.
This is usually the part of the day I like best. No noise I have to answer to, no questions. No eyes watching. Just me and the scratch of my pen and the smell of paper.
But tonight… it feels different.
I pulled my sketchpad out. Opened it to the page I started earlier during lunch. The rooftop. The fence. Two figures sketched in gray graphite: one leaning against the railing, hands in his pockets, back just slightly hunched like he's carrying something invisible on his shoulders. The other sits further down the fence, knees up, hair tangled by the wind. The pencil smudged a little when I touched it, but I didn't bother erasing.
Him.
Me.
It isn't finished yet. But it doesn't need to be. I know exactly what it means.
And that's the problem.
I told myself a long time ago not to care too much. Not to let myself get pulled in. Not to give anyone the kind of leverage that comes from getting too close. Because once you care… they see it. They find the crack and they wedge it open until it hurts to breathe.
I've seen it happen. Over and over. People throw themselves into the noise because they think it'll keep them warm. But it just eats them alive. Leaves them smaller. Quieter. Hollow.
So I built my fence.
I've always been good at staying on this side of it. Watching. Not joining. Not risking anything more than observation.
But today…
When I stood on that fence at lunch and looked at him — standing just close enough to feel real — I thought maybe it was worth it.
Maybe even knowing it hurts, even knowing it ends badly, it's still better than standing back here alone.
And then I remembered what it feels like when you fall.
I don't want to fall.
So I wrote it at the bottom of the page tonight. Right under the sketch.
Don't care too much, Kotoha. That's when they break you.
I stared at those words for a long time.
And then — almost without thinking — I found myself writing something else, smaller, right beneath it.
.... Too Late?
I shut the notebook and just sat there with it closed on my lap, staring at the wall, listening to the clock tick and the city outside breathe.
I told myself the silence would help.
Because now, even in the quiet, I can hear him.
His voice, low and sharp. His footsteps on the rooftop. The sound of his hands drumming softly on the desk when he thinks no one notices.
I don't know when he got that loud.
Or when I stopped minding.
But here I am. Writing about him. Again.
And I know Umemiya would laugh if he saw this. He'd lean in with that stupid grin of his and say something like "Knew it. Called it. Kotoha finally caught feelings."
Maybe I should tear this page out. Burn it. Pretend it never existed.
But I won't.
Because as much as it scares me… I think I want to remember this.
Even if it breaks me later.
So I tuck the notebook back into the drawer, switch off the lamp, and climb into bed.
Careful, Kotoha.
Careful.